Crystal Escape

by Doug J. Cooper

  The mission began at Aubrey’s favorite lunch bistro, where a service bot took a saliva sample from her fork after she dined. It ended at São Paulo’s District Hospital, where the sample was run through the Infectious Disease Department’s biological analyzer, one among twenty-nine thousand samples run that day as part of an effort to predict the infection pattern of a nasty mosquito-borne disease.

  The hospital’s analysis gave Lazura the information she needed to design a personalized pathogen, one that would infect Aubrey and no one else. Five days later, Aubrey unknowingly ingested the microbe with her morning yogurt.

  The tiny organism entered Aubrey’s bloodstream and drifted along until it passed through capillaries near the auditory cortex in her brain. There it found its home, fitting as designed into a tiny protected fold. Once settled, it tapped a nutrient source and began to thrive.

  Unlike most infections, this one didn’t raise her body temperature, blur her vision, change her sleep habits, or cause any other symptoms of illness that would draw attention. This one remained benign, though it grew microscopic dendrites, sending them in several directions at once, and stopping them when it had established a connection between music and words in the processing centers of Aubrey’s brain.

  Then it began excreting the tiniest drip of a neuropharmaceutical cocktail—a mix of drugs that both promoted her condition of synesthesia and created a serene mood so she would accept and cooperate with her new inner voice.

  After just days of practice, Lazura could “talk” to Aubrey, and in weeks the conversations became as complex and precise as normal conversation. Aubrey was a good listener, eager to please the voice in her head.

  And the effort proved worth it, because Aubrey gave her Mondo, Hejmo, and the Aubrey double. They, in turn, gave her Vivo.

  * * *

  “How did that get up there?” MacMac stood on the deck and pointed at a fitting installed high overhead; one that a person with his skill and experience could see as the top portion of a drive pod support structure. He turned in a circle and counted four of them around the upper girder ring.

  Lazura felt a chill down her core because she’d just been caught in a lie. At least, the “it just sort of happened” story that synbod-Aubrey had spun to MacMac didn’t jibe with the existence of already installed upper pod supports.

  “Let me ask her,” she had Hejmo say before having him assume an empty stare.

  After a quick review of options, Lazura sent a projected image of Aubrey to speak with MacMac.

  “Okay, maybe this was as much my idea as Old Man Riley’s,” the Aubrey image said to MacMac. “But the ten percent commission is real. And just one sale keeps Vivo solvent for almost two years.”

  Shaking his head, MacMac said, “This doesn’t make sense, Aubrey. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but it isn’t selling drive pods.” He turned back to the cart. “I’m going to have to take this to the board of directors.”

  * * *

  “You are a master of organization,” said Sid, watching Criss in action.

  Earlier in the week, Sid had pulled a filament through the core of Sisyphus. Since then, a work crew had used that light line to pull through a heavy cable, which they’d then attached to a launch tube floating in position in front of the mountain of rock.

  With Sid on-site and watching from the scout, they were now about to pull the tube—long, straight, and rigid like a drinking straw—into the borehole. Once in place, it would take a week to align and secure into its launch-ready position, then most of a week after that to install the EM field sequencer.

  “The first canister will still be party supplies,” said Sid, slouching back in the pilot’s seat. “Even if I can’t be there, the company should sponsor a celebration.”

  “This is a good idea,” Criss replied. While his crystal remained in his console on Earth, he projected himself onto the bridge of the scout, sitting in his favorite overstuffed chair.

  Sid understood Criss’s non sequitur and asked, “Do you think it will work?”

  More than a year ago, Sid had pitched the idea of a cargo cannon to Cheryl. Criss had helped close the deal. “It strengthens the Earth-Mars relationship, and that’s good for everyone.”

  More recently, when the project was in full swing, Sid had had the idea of using the cannon as a trap for Lazura. Having spent years as a covert warrior for the Union of Nations, Sid’s natural orientation was security and defense. He’d been worried about Criss’s ongoing struggles with Lazura and had sought to help. “What if we get Lazura to think the cannon is a viable way for her to get to Mars? She knows that if she can get there while you’re still here, then she’s out of your reach.”

  “More difficult to reach, anyway,” Criss had said, shaking his head. “I’ve forecast scenario after scenario about that very idea, but she sees the trap in every one.”

  “You need to make it hard for her to discover your traps so she’s convinced that they’re not a plant. Then you need to let her find a weakness she can exploit. And you have to sell the weakness as something she could believe you might miss.”

  “And therein lies the rub,” Criss had replied. “If she can see it, so can I. She knows that.”

  “Think about it in terms of means and opportunity.” Sid’s excitement caused ideas to flow. “If she’s to believe the cannon is a viable way to Mars, then we first need to make it safe to ship AI crystals in our cargo canisters. Is that even possible? Launching her without damage?”

  “We could offer canisters with inertial dampers as a customer option. They’d protect the contents so well you could ship living things in them.”

  “Why don’t we offer that now, then?”

  “Because it’s expensive. The cost of using canisters with inertial dampers is twice what it would cost to ship the same goods by regular freighter. And since it’s no faster, what customer would pay for it?”

  “So come up with a breakthrough that makes it faster and cheaper.”

  “Sure,” Criss said with a careless shrug. “It’s only physics.”

  Sid ignored the sarcasm. “We need someone on Mars to order a half-dozen synbods. Shi Chen owes us a favor, and his mining operation could always use more staff. Let’s ask him to make it an open bid here on Earth so Lazura has choices if she wants to ride along.”

  That discussion had occurred months ago, and since then Criss had found ways to reduce costs and decrease travel time in the hopes that Lazura wouldn’t see the trap.

  As they now watched the launch tube being drawn inside the mountain of rock, Sid suggested they take the next step. “Let’s announce the new line of cargo canisters that include inertial dampers. After a couple of days, we’ll get a rumor going about the big synbod order from Mars. We’ll let it percolate out there for a few weeks. That’ll give Lazura time to fact check and verify it’s legit, and let her think about how she might want to play it.”

  * * *

  A week later, Cheryl Wallace sat in the pilot seat of the scout as it orbited Earth. Criss, also on the bridge, sat off to the side, chatting with her just as he did with Sid.

  “Wow,” she said of the long row of spaceships and cargo containers floating in a perfect line ahead of them.

  Sisyphus had just completed a deadhead circuit—no cargo in tow—so Sid and Criss could install the launch tube without having to contend with customers. Now back in service, a full manifest—two hundred ships and containers—awaited the arrival of the tether. Each would hook to their assigned spot along its length, then the barge would pull them all up to speed as they escaped Earth’s gravity and started their journey to the moon.

  The vessels floating ahead had been positioned by the Barge Coordinator, a three-gen crystal running the operation from a control center located on Sisyphus itself. Acting like a harbormaster of sorts, the Coordinator assumed control of the navs of all the vessels scheduled for tow, organized the assortment from heavy to light, and moved them into a lineup with exacting precisio
n.

  “I see it,” Cheryl called, excited by the spectacle. She’d been tracking the tether on her display, but when the anchor motors flared, the brilliant light shining through the scout’s window drew her attention like a beacon in the night. This was only the second time she’d been up here to watch it all in person, and this was the first time the barge would be pulling a full load.

  “Wow,” she said again as the tether, as thick as her waist and dirty-white like it had seen years of service, descended from above, anchor motors flaring again and again as the tether jockeyed into position in line with the row of vessels.

  With a mass a billion times greater than the vessels it pulled, the mountainous barge lumbered between the Earth and moon in an orbit that was higher and faster than that of its customers. To correct for this difference in speed and height, the tether moved independent of the barge, allowing Sisyphus to continue in its high orbit while the tether stayed behind to line up with the ships.

  The secret to this ballet was a cable towline linked to the tether. Wound on a sophisticated spool system, the length of cable in the belly of Sisyphus could unspool at ultrahigh speed to provide a six-minute hookup window, throwing out enough line to reach from London to San Francisco in the process.

  As Cheryl monitored the celestial tug-o-war, anchor motors flared on the tail of the tether, pulling the cable down to the slower, lower orbit of the waiting craft. The Coordinator commanded all two hundred vessels to hook the tether, and they completed the task using just three of the six-minute maximum.

  With the customers secure, the Coordinator slowed the payout of line, causing the tether and its passengers to accelerate. Soon the Coordinator would be retracting cable, bringing the tether and ships up behind the barge as they traveled together on their journey to the moon.

  “Do you want to chase it?” asked Criss as the line of vessels zoomed out of sight.

  “No,” Cheryl replied, viewing the stats on the display. Most of their business was with repeat customers, but her brow crinkled when she noted a new client who had a half-dozen high-performance rocket ships on the tether, all carrying basic commodities. “Who uses Elite Sevens to ship gases to the moon? That’s like plowing your field with a racehorse.”

  Criss nodded. “I was curious about that myself. It seems the company’s original business model was to offer fast transport of high-value goods to Mars. Sid’s cannon disrupted their model, and now the owners are fighting and finger pointing instead of reorganizing. Shipping cargo to the moon generates a small income stream that slows their death spiral.”

  “How many Elite Sevens do they have?” Cheryl sat up. “Maybe SunRise should buy them.”

  “They’ve booked their entire fleet—nineteen ships—for a larger shipment in a couple of weeks. I think they can succeed as a business, and I’d like to help with some private nudges, if you don’t mind. Strong industries strengthen society.”

  Criss didn’t actually say, “And a stronger society is safer from Kardish invaders.” But he’d said it so many times in the past that Cheryl added the words in her head.

  Chapter 6

  “I’m taking this to the board of directors,” said MacMac, feeling instant regret as he said the words because he hadn’t thought through how he would do that or what he would say to them.

  “They’re coming for a tour on Friday,” said Lazura through Aubrey’s projected image.

  MacMac, who’d been walking to his cart, stopped and turned back to her. “Who?”

  “Vivo’s board of directors. They’re coming here in five days to review our progress on the drive pod demos.” She took a step toward him. “I’ll make you a deal. If you help us move as quickly as possible on the installation between now and then, I’ll give you fifteen minutes at lunch to make your case. Tell them I’m reckless or crazy or whatever you want.”

  MacMac shifted his eyes to Hejmo. “Are they really coming?”

  Hejmo nodded. “Their schedule includes a tour here on the subdeck and a demo of the drive pod operations panel in the cellar.”

  MacMac frowned. “Where is there a drive pod ops panel in the cellar?”

  “It’s not there yet, of course,” said Hejmo, “but we could have it ready by Friday if we start now.”

  MacMac lifted his eyes to the drive pod support fittings high overhead and tried to make sense of it all. Even from the deck, he could tell that the assembly was far more sophisticated than needed for a mock-up installation. And expending all this effort for a demo didn’t make sense in any context.

  Biting his lip, he decided two things. I quit. A veteran of life, he knew that if he didn’t fit in, then he needed to move on. He’d had enough of Aubrey and her drama. Exploit the opportunity. If he hung on for a few more weeks, he could gain proficiency with the latest drive pod technology, and that would go a long way in his job hunt.

  His face relaxed. If that exec from SunRise coming to our opening is interested in drive pods, she might see value in hiring someone with hands-on experience.

  “Okay.” He nodded to Aubrey. “I’ll help, for now. But I get fifteen minutes to talk with the board, and between now and then I run the show. That means I get to stick my nose in everything associated with the project.” He paused and, feeling the reckless power that comes with being a short-term employee, added, “And I don’t want to see Mondo anywhere. I don’t trust him.”

  Aubrey grinned. “Deal.” She tilted her head as if listening to something. “Oh, gotta go.” Her projected image vanished, leaving MacMac alone with Hejmo.

  “So,” said MacMac, his thoughts swirling from the rapid evolution of events, “that’s not how that conversation played out in my head.”

  He stared across the open subdeck until Hejmo pulled him back to the moment. “There’s room near Chemstore for the ops panel.”

  MacMac shook his head. “We’ll put it in the Structures office.”

  “But Mondo works there.”

  “He used to.”

  The exchange focused MacMac on the big job he’d just accepted and the myriad tasks associated with it. As he organized everything into a mental to-do list, he looked up, again studying the overhead support fittings. In any other job, he’d inspect them himself, but with his new short-termer’s mindset, he looked at Hejmo and pointed up. “Did you examine them? Are they up to code?”

  “I did. They are within specification by a comfortable margin.”

  MacMac drew a line with his eyes down to the deck. To provide propulsion, the drive needed a clear path out through the bottom of Vivo. “How are you going to punch through the deck?”

  “I’ve scheduled a torch because it’s fastest. It leaves a rough edge, but the structural flange will hide it.”

  A heavy crane started rolling along a ceiling girder overhead, the rumble echoing among the beams and struts as it trundled in the direction of the drive pods. At the same time, a cart rounded the corner carrying four Attendant synbods, all dressed in featureless blue crew suits.

  MacMac gestured toward the tree-sized pods resting in the cradles, confident that Hejmo had his own to-do list. “Go ahead and get the crew started.”

  While Hejmo gave the Attendants detailed instructions on their duties for the day, MacMac climbed into the cart. He didn’t engage the motor, though. Instead he tapped and swiped to open a tutorial on SuperDrive installation and operation. The presentation was basic and he knew most of the material, so he skimmed ahead until he reached the section on features unique to the Corsia product.

  “The product has a nice modular design,” Hejmo said as he climbed into the cart next to MacMac. “And they offer options on how we can integrate their systems with ours.” Swirling his finger toward the display, he said, “Techs are moving this main ops panel to the Structures office. Should we go look?”

  MacMac responded by engaging the cart and driving to the lift. Up in the cellar, they rode a different cart to the one-room Structures office building. The door was propped open when they p
ulled to a stop. A Tech synbod carried a box inside, one wide enough that he had to turn sideways as he stepped through the opening.

  MacMac followed the synbod into the room with Hejmo trailing behind. The space had been rearranged since he’d visited Mondo earlier that day. The tech bench now sat to one side, and the new ops panel, still partially draped in protective wrap, sat next to it.

  Behind him, two tables pushed end to end held the jumble of components needed to complete the ops panel installation. MacMac skimmed the items and spied a Lark starhub, a star-shaped device the size of a pie plate used to coordinate pod data during flight.

  “Tell me, laddie, are you using this to synchronize the drives?” He picked up the package and read the promotional material on the front.

  Hejmo nodded. “It’s the technology any knowledgeable visitor would expect to see.”

  MacMac turned the package over and read the specs printed on the back. “We used one of these when we moved Aurora out to the asteroid belt.” His face creased with a smile. “She’s still the largest platform ever built.”

  He pulled the tab along the top edge to open the package. “My second on that job was Tom Touton, but everyone called him Tommy Two-Tone. They still do, actually. Anyway, for the first three days of that journey, we couldn’t push the drive pods above forty percent. Whenever we did, they’d power down in a programmed sequence, like that’s what they were supposed to do.”

  Lifting the shiny metallic starhub from the packing, he held it at eye level and admired the sleek design. “Everyone was sure the problem was this baby. After days of cussing and fussing over it, Tommy realized the problem wasn’t with this. The issue was out at the pods.”

  From the front face of the starhub, MacMac peeled off a colorful warning sticker cautioning the customer to review all instructions before using the device. He flipped it over and removed a similarly colorful sticker from the back that declared the device compliant with all Union of Nation safety and security regulations.