Crystal Rebellion (3 page)

Cheryl Wallace sat in a two-person
rowboat and watched her dad tinker with his fishing gear. The sun, dropping
behind the hills, sent its last rays of evening light across the clear mountain
lake.

Concentrating on threading his fishing line through the swivel
of his new lure, Matt Wallace said, “Back-channel chatter from Mars Colony has
spiked at the same time the President’s intel has gone sideways. What he’s
hearing doesn’t match what he’s seeing, and the reports from his people on the
planet don’t match either.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Couple of days. But the situation is worrisome and the
President wants to be proactive.”

Her dad had just completed a term as Secretary of Defense
for the Union of Nations, and he’d been a senator in the Union legislature
before that. He now served as fisherman-in-chief at the family’s mountain
cottage and as a confidential advisor to the President.

Knowing he had more to say, Cheryl remained quiet, watching
him.

“There’s a lot at stake,” he said. “I was hoping Criss might
take a look.”

He’s so predictable.
“C’mon, Dad. You know Criss
won’t let himself become a government pawn. It’s one of his immutable laws.”

“Thank you,” she heard Criss say in her ear. As with Sid and
Juice, no one else could hear Criss when he spoke to her in this fashion.
Cheryl cleared her throat with a quiet
hmm
, prompting him for
information. “Things on Mars are not as they seem,” he told her.

She knew Criss had visited Mars a few days earlier, and she
considered asking him to share what he’d learned. Deciding to chat with him
later in private, she focused her attention on her dad.

“I understand, honey,” said her father. “The President’s
concern is for the six thousand souls—citizens of the Union—who might find
themselves caught up in whatever is going on. Criss could put his mind at
ease.”

Her cheeks prickled and she let annoyance show in her voice.
“You know he can hear you. Feel free to ask him yourself.”

Matt was the one person outside of Criss’s leadership team
who knew of the crystal’s existence. Even in retirement, Matt worked to align
the priorities of the Union of Nations decision makers with Criss’s vision for
the world. Or, more specifically, to that of the three humans who gave Criss
orders.

“There’s more,” he said. “The President expects to have
accurate real-time intelligence feeds from everywhere, and that includes Mars
Colony. He’s used to knowing what
is
happening, what
has
happened
and, to the extent possible, what
will
happen. The current situation—the
conflicting information from Mars—is dangerous. Big misunderstandings can grow
from small errors in our intelligence data.”

Resting her rod against her shoulder, Cheryl picked a crimp
weight out of the tackle box and attached it to her line back from her lure.
“You’re telling me classified information, and that means there’s a punch line
coming.”

“Our intelligence systems on Earth work fine. The problem
lies on Mars. The President has tasked the usual government agencies with
investigating. But he wants a confidential assessment from someone skilled at
doing that sort of thing.”

A largemouth bass jumped from the water and splashed as it
fell to the surface. Matt lifted his rod and with little more than a twitch
sent his lure on an arc, line trailing behind. The lure plopped where the fish
had jumped. “The President can’t be discovered spying on his own agencies. An
outsider gives him deniability.”

“I’m flattered, but that’s a secret op. Why me?”

Matt looked at her with a sheepish expression. “Actually, we
were thinking of Sid. The President wants him on his way as soon as possible.”

The prickly sensation returned to her cheeks. “Feel free to
ask him, too.”

“You have influence in ways we don’t.”

“Ouch. So this special father-daughter fishing trip was so
you could ask me to be a messenger?”

“Gosh, no. It’s a beautiful evening to be out on the lake.”
He reeled in his line and cast again. “But since we’re chatting, the President
would like you to serve as a special trade envoy to Mars.”

She turned on the boat seat and looked at him with head
tilted. “Yeah?”

“Union envoys travel on Fleet ships, so with a seemingly
innocent visit to Mars, you’d be helping us move resources to the scene without
making things scary.” He tugged his line. “SunRise is the largest space commercialization
firm on Earth. As its president, you’re plausible in the role of trade envoy.
And as a Fleet Academy graduate who’s been the captain of a Horizon-class space
cruiser, you have a rare skill set we don’t often find in the business
community.”

Excited by the ideas of spending quality time with Sid
and
time in space, she blurted, “I’d love to.” Then, realizing her imprudence,
continued, “But I’ll have to talk to Sid and Criss.” She caught his eye. “And
Dad, please don’t say anything to the President until I’ve had a chance to
touch base with them.”

Matt cast his line. “Of course, sweetheart.” The plop of his
lure punctuated his promise.

* * *

Criss stood in the kitchen of the leadership
lodge—an enormous but cozy log cabin home nestled in a wooded valley in the
Adirondack Mountains in Upstate New York—and listened to the excited chatter of
his team. Cheryl had returned from her visit with her dad, and now they
gathered for their evening meal—Juice, a chicken breast and iced tea; Cheryl, a
large salad and wine; and Sid, a steak and beer.

Juice led the way as they carried their trays up the back
steps to the lookout loft. The highest room in the lodge, its clear walls and
ceiling made it their favorite gathering place. Sitting in comfy chairs, they
balanced their trays on their knees and arranged their utensils. Criss did the
same with the projected image of his meal—a sampler of steak, chicken, and
salad.

He waited as they settled in. Juice had a habit when entering
the loft of standing at the eastern wall and gazing up the forested mountain.
Criss’s secret bunker was deep underground near the top of the first peak in
that direction.

Though the geography made it impossible for her to see
anything but trees on a rising slope, Criss interpreted this habit as an
unconscious act that gave her comfort.
She confirms that I’m safe before she
relaxes.

His leadership used a vocal cue to call to him when they
were in public. As soon as Juice had completed her ritual and started in on her
meal, Criss turned the tables. “Ahem.”

Sid, who had his beer to his lips, squinted at Criss over
the top of his glass. Cheryl and Juice looked up from their food.

Criss began with the same words he’d used with Cheryl on the
fishing boat. “Things on Mars are not as they seem.” He sat forward in his
seat. “Mars Colony is being oppressed by the Triada, who are using
sophisticated technologies to assert their authority.”

Sid frowned. “Why didn’t you tell us this before?”

“I’m getting to that.”

Sid hesitated, then dipped his chin in a partial nod, which
Criss read as an invitation to continue.

“Projecting my awareness that great distance is
disorienting. I collected information during my first trip that I didn’t
analyze until after I returned and reengaged with my ongoing activities here on
Earth.”

Sid set his food tray down on a side table. “Wait.
First
trip?”

Criss didn’t respond but continued with his story. “When I finally
reviewed the information I’d collected, inconsistencies multiplied. After some
analysis, I realized that the feeds in the spline were being spoofed using
complex algorithms. I missed that during my initial screening.

“So, last night I made a second trip to Mars. I took every
precaution to keep my presence hidden. And once there, I focused on collecting
information from raw feeds before any of it reached the spline where it could
be manipulated.”

He turned to Juice. “You were right. Just because I didn’t
see something doesn’t mean it’s not true. Alex Koval is indeed working on an
advanced AI fab facility with the goal of creating four-gen crystals. And the
Triada—Ruga, Lazura, and Verda—are imposing a level of control on the colony
that is raising concern among a growing segment of the population. It’s a bad
environment to be doing that sort of research.”

He shook his head and looked down at his hands. “I had not
taken sufficient precautions during my first visit. While most of that
reconnaissance had a broad focus, I accessed everything in the colony
pertaining to Alex Koval.”

This next admission was particularly difficult for Criss.
“The Triada detected an intrusion and they are anxious to identify and capture
the culprit. My actions brought their attention to Alex, and they now consider
him a person of interest.” He turned to Juice. “I’m sorry my careless behavior
led to this result.”

Juice rose to her feet, paced to the wall of windows, then
turned to Criss. “Is Alex in danger?” Before he could answer, she changed
direction. “Four-gens? You’ve confirmed this?”

“No. I’ve confirmed their fab facility has state-of-the-art
equipment and the ambitious objective of producing four-gens. Alex has made
some interesting modifications to the crystal growth chamber your company sold
him.”

“That was a three-gen machine.”

Criss shrugged. “I can’t know if the modifications will work
without being there, and it’s not clear where they would get the raw crystal
flake for mass production, anyway. An even bigger concern, though, is the trace
of a deleted study I found. It explored the removal of the imprint module from
a four-gen crystal architecture, the one that ensures loyalty to leadership.”

“Alex did this?” asked Juice. “I wouldn’t know how to even
start on something like that.”

Criss shook his head. “I found fragments of one document and
don’t even know the author.”

“A four-gen without loyalty to leadership is a doomsday
device.” Juice paced along the wall of windows facing the mountain. “Alex is
such a good man. Why would he get involved in something so dangerous?”

“They’ll come for Earth,” said Sid. “Any ambitions the AI
have will require resources, and this is where they’ll find them.” He pointed
down at the floor as he spoke.

Criss nodded. “And when they get here, they’ll see people as
being in the way. ‘Doomsday’ is a good word to describe what would follow. I won’t
be able to protect Earth. It’s not clear that I could even protect you three.”

Juice stopped pacing and squared up to the group. “The place
to sort this out is on Mars. And if it turns out to be true, that’s the best
place to stop it.”

Sid stood and began collecting the dishes. “Matt pitched
Cheryl and me the idea of traveling to Mars on official Union of Nations
business. The President is all motivated to move muscle out that way.” Holding
the plates in front of him, he caught Criss’s gaze. “Sort of convenient how
this all works out. Don’t you think?”

“Yes.” Criss smiled. “The scout will be ready in two hours.”

* * *

Ruga’s concern spiked when
Alex—brandishing a shovel and shouting—approached the cart. Even though he monitored
the situation through the eyes of the Red, Ruga still experienced a moment of
fear for his own safety.

“Get out of here,” Alex yelled, shaking the shovel and
advancing toward the synbod.

Ruga issued a command and the Red engaged the cart,
accelerated around and past Alex, and whirred down the dirt road. He directed
the Red to return to the market square. The drive was short, yet it tested
Ruga’s patience.

Scanning the inventory, he confirmed there was one Blue, one
Red, and four Greens in Ag Port at the moment. Although he’d bullied through a
ruling of the Triada giving him authority to appropriate any of the colony’s
twenty synbods on a moment’s notice for security reasons, Ruga fancied himself
a consensus builder.

“Verda, may I borrow one at the pickup zone?” He didn’t
specify a particular synbod so that Verda could exert his authority by making
that choice. And as long as he got one, Ruga wasn’t particular.

“Thank you,” Ruga said, acknowledging Verda’s cooperation as
he assumed control of a Green standing next to a maintenance lorry. He directed
the synbod to make space in the back of the vehicle. As the Green finished that
task, his own Red approached with a handcart full of gear. Working together,
the two synbods stowed the equipment in the carry bed, climbed into the front
seats, and engaged the vehicle.

The lorry accelerated out onto the working road that ran
down the center beneath the cavernous greenhouse dome. As soon as they were up
to speed, Ruga prompted his Red to remove the red patches from the shoulders of
his gray jumpsuit and affix green patches in their place.

Ruga tracked all sensory feeds from the Greens as the lorry
slowed and turned onto a side road that, after a series of curves, ended at the
base of a steep rise. The humanoids jostled in their seats as the lorry’s nose
lifted and the vehicle climbed up the short slope.

Directing the synbods to scan their immediate surroundings
and monitoring through their eyes, Ruga verified that the lorry now sat on a
service path next to a run of pipes near the ground—part of Ag Port’s irrigation
and water reclamation system—that faded into the distance in both directions.

The sight of the water system gave Ruga a small surge of
pleasure.
A plan unfolds step by step
, he thought. And then he thought
about the number of times he’d said that very thing to Verda. And still, Verda
led his Community Assembly into mistake after mistake on the simplest projects.
I have to do his job
and
mine.