“Yes, except for fuel.” Criss looked at Sid. “Lazura has to be involved in this one.”
“Good,” said Cheryl. “Not about Lazura. I’m talking about them being flight ready.”
“Wait,” said Criss. “You know about this?” He looked down for a moment, then nodded. “When you accepted the invitation for the free vacation, you wrote ‘Dazzle me’ in the spot where they asked of your interest in Corsia drives. You think all this prep is because of that?”
She gave a smirk. “I want sales people to kiss my ass. It’s their job.”
Sid laughed but Criss shook his head. “The timeline isn’t right. They started this before you accepted.”
“Then maybe they know we’re thinking about putting a pair on Sisyphus.”
“I never understood your interest in putting these on a barge,” said Sid. “I appreciate you need drives to make up for the added mass on the towline, but the engines installed now are plenty powerful for that.”
Cheryl folded her arms across her chest. “It was supposed to be a surprise birthday gift for you. That is, if I like them after my visit.”
“Is ‘them’ the drive pods or the sales staff?”
Cheryl ignored him. “Criss told me that you can fire only nine canisters per loop because Sisyphus waits for natural orbital motions to create the alignment you need. With the SuperDrives, you’ll be able to point and shoot. Criss says you can go from nine to more than thirty canisters per loop without disturbing the barge business.”
“Damn, Cher, no matter how this turns out, that’s thoughtful.” He looked at Criss. “So how is it turning out?”
Criss filled them in on Aubrey’s plan to hop Vivo north to the L.A. coast before saying, “I’m having trouble making sense of it all, though. It’s a huge investment to get those pods up and ready, and working with space thrusters is a dangerous activity no matter who’s doing it. And all for advertising?”
Sid felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m not letting fuel-stacks get anywhere near that island until after their vacation is complete.”
“Is it even stable as a craft?” asked Cheryl. “It’s so big and ungainly, I’m having trouble picturing this thing taking off.”
“That’s another twist. Below deck there’s a comprehensive tank storage farm for isolated operation. If the tanks are full, the island is unbalanced and would shake apart trying to lift off. If the tanks are empty, though, that island is structurally sound and could take flight. The SuperDrives could even lift it to orbit. Quite easily, in fact.”
Sid stood and turned to Cheryl, prepared to disappoint her. “I smell Lazura on this. We need to rethink this vacation idea.”
Her voice went cold. “When I left this morning, you were sure you would catch her with your canister gun. Now you say she’s behind Vivo?” Shaking her head, she shifted her gaze to Criss. “Unless you have evidence, I’m not going to stay at home and hide from shadows. You know me better than that.”
“Then let me go with you instead of Juice,” said Sid.
“No. She’s already upset about your obsession with Lazura and I don’t want to add to it. If you have something solid, of course we’ll cooperate. But until then, we’re both excited about this, and I ask you not to ruin our fun.”
Sid looked at Criss. “I imagine adding this to your monitoring list moves you to reddish-orange.”
“No. This one is so complicated, it moves me to yellowish-red.”
* * *
With its gilded archway, dramatic music, and colored lights, the grand entrance to Vivo appeared garish to Juice. But when she walked through the portal and moved out under the dome, she caught her breath. Squeezing Cheryl’s hand in hers, she let her excitement show. “This was a good idea.”
It had been midday when they’d approached the island, but it was night inside, and convincingly so; Juice couldn’t tell there was a dome around them at all. Overhead, the stars of the Milky Way filled the sky with a brilliant display. Low near the horizon to her right, fireworks flashed with a small bloom of sparkling light, far enough away so it didn’t influence the view, but close enough to add a sense of celebration to the ambiance.
A warm waft of air, humid on her skin and rich with a salty-earthy aroma, made her think they were near water. Qwash. The crash of waves confirmed it was the ocean.
“Hello, ladies,” said a sandy-haired thirty-year-old, his cream-white shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms, a careless grin raising his cheeks. “I’m Justin. May I show you to your room?” He lifted his bangs as he spoke, revealing beautiful blue eyes.
“Show me.” Juice waved her hand, the sight of this gorgeous man adding to her excitement.
“Keep it in your pants,” Cheryl whispered, nudging her shoulder against Juice’s in a playful manner as they started to walk. “Synbod means synthetic body.”
“I know. My theory is that it’s not cheating if it’s with a synthetic.”
Cheryl frowned. “Gross.”
Justin led them on a short walk to a festive doorway entrance. On the other side was a stunning tropical garden filled with fruit trees and orchids.
“Ooh look,” said Cheryl, pointing to a broad blanket of delicate yellow flowers hung so they draped from the branches of an orange tree, itself laden with brightly colored fruit.
At the end of the garden path, they turned a corner, and the scene changed to a breathtaking cliff-side view of the ocean, with the crashing waves below matching the sounds Juice had heard earlier. A glorious full moon reflected across the water, giving an iridescent glow to the whitewater cresting each wave.
“This way.” Justin led them down a somewhat harrowing descent, following stairs carved out of the cliff face itself and wet from the ocean mist. They continued through a mosaic of ferns and moss that added depth to the salty-earthy scents in Juice’s nose, and then into a rocky tunnel leading out to a brightly lit market square.
Trendy shops and fashionable restaurants lined the streets of the square. Other guests milled about, laughing, pointing, and having fun. Juice moved next to Justin to avoid a young couple moving past them on the sidewalk.
A man followed behind the couple, and after they passed, he approached Cheryl. Mid-thirties, broad shouldered, and square jawed, he looked at Cheryl when he asked, “Would you like to join me for a drink?”
Tilting her head, Cheryl pursed her lips in a coquettish smile. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Chase.”
“Well, Chase, I think you’ve made me thirsty.”
“You tramp,” Juice said in a loud whisper, happy they had a foursome, even if with a pair of humanoids.
Then, thinking about Criss’s desire to get the crystals swapped as soon as possible, Juice asked Justin, “How far to our room?”
“We’ve been looping around it all along.” Justin pointed down the street. “It’s a short walk this way.”
“My stomach is feeling queasy.” Juice sold it by holding a hand to her abdomen. “Can we stop by the room and then come back?”
“Of course! Follow me.”
“Thank you,” Criss said in her ear.
With the synbods in the lead, the group approached a door between two storefronts. They stepped through into a sumptuous hotel hallway.
“Ahem,” said Juice when the door closed behind them. To anyone listening, she sounded like she was clearing her throat. But Criss would recognize it as a request to talk, and because she looked over at Cheryl as she made the noise, he would know to include her.
She knew that before they could talk, Criss would take control of all the links and feeds in the area, then create and project a false reality that would not raise suspicion while they spoke in private. She was on her second step after clearing her throat when Criss said, “Thanks for moving this along. The Montrose platform has just started its orbit shift procedures and things are already getting snarled up. I’m anxious to free up resources
to monitor it all.”
“Are these our marks?” asked Cheryl, nodding toward the synbods and relying on Criss’s projection to shield her words and actions from everyone but Juice.
“Yes. Aubrey assigned them to you during your stay, so they’re the logical choice. As you may have guessed, she took the time to study each of your personal preferences for male appearance and demeanor, and then selected these two from her inventory. She even tweaked their looks and personalities to enhance their appeal to you. You’re the only guests with dedicated synbods; everyone else is sharing, so she’s clearly trying to impress you.”
Juice looked ahead at Justin’s tight butt below his slim waist. “It’s working.”
“Your suite would be a convenient place to perform the swap,” Criss continued.
“That works for me,” said Cheryl.
Chase and Justin stopped in front of a hallway door. As it opened, they both stepped back so Cheryl and Juice could lead the way in.
As they entered the suite, Juice felt more comfortable than she had anticipated and made a concession to Criss. “I’ll do the swap if it’s in here and Cheryl helps. But you owe me one.”
“Debt noted. I’ve finished mapping both of them,” said Criss, referring to a step in the process of duplicating Chase’s and Justin’s matrices in his special three-gen crystals. “Please proceed when you are ready.”
The suite had a common area with a couch and chairs, a wet bar with a food service unit, and a big window revealing the nighttime sky. Doors on the left and right walls led to two identical bedrooms.
The moment they were inside the suite, Criss jumped his awareness into the three-gen crystals, overpowered them, and took control of the humanoid bodies. Both synbods stayed upright during the takeover, but they slouched more than before.
“Let’s see what you got.” Juice loosened Justin’s shirt and pulled it open. “Not bad,” she said, nodding.
Access to the crystals for these synbods was from the back between the shoulder blades. In an efficient sequence, Juice opened the access panel, removed the mesh-covered crystal from its mount, and turned to Cheryl.
At the same time, Cheryl retrieved one of Criss’s special three-gen crystals from her satchel—the satchel she’d been carrying for weeks to make it appear as part of her normal style—and they made the exchange. After Juice finished with Justin, she repeated the procedure with Chase. Stepping back, she and Cheryl waited for Criss to reanimate the two.
With the built-in locus these synbods now possessed, Criss could come and go as he pleased with modest resources. And he could ride along without Aubrey or her Supervisor synbods—Hejmo and Mondo—knowing anything was amiss.
“Success,” said Criss. “Here we go.”
Justin lifted his head and asked, “Are you ready to return to the market square?”
“I’d rather go somewhere quiet and have a drink,” said Cheryl. “It’s night, so maybe a hilltop view of city lights?”
Enticed by the idea, Juice added, “Maybe an outdoor patio? With soft music?”
“I know just the place,” said Chase.
They followed the synbods out of the room and down the hallway toward the door leading out to the market square.
Halfway along, Criss called to them, his tone reflecting urgency. “There’s been a small explosion on the Montrose and I’m elevating my alert status. I’ll be spread thin for a while. Do you have any concerns?”
“We’re fine here,” said Juice.
“Do what you need to and keep us informed.” Then Cheryl added, “Is Sid okay?”
“Yes. He’s out of harm’s way up on Sisyphus.”
The vacationers and their escorts reached the door at the end of the hall, but this time when they passed through, they stepped onto the slate tiles of an outdoor patio.
An intimate space, it was big enough for perhaps a dozen tables. The back wall was natural stone seemingly cut from the hillside itself. Ivy vines spread across the rock wall, weaving through a scatter of lighted candles perched on different outcroppings. The air, warm and dry, carried a waft of music: a middle-aged man in a vest played ragtime on an old upright piano in the far corner.
But their attention was drawn to the beautiful spread of lights from a city in the valley below, a spread that rose to the dazzle of a much bigger metropolitan area in the distance.
“Our table is this way,” said Chase.
One other guest was on the patio at the moment, and Chase escorted them to his table. A sturdy, middle-aged man with a friendly face, he rose as they approached.
“Hello,” he said with a smile that seemed forced. “I’m Mac MacFarlane. I work for the company.” He twirled a finger in front of him when he said that last part to indicate that “the company” meant Vivo.
He motioned to the chairs at his table. “I’d be honored if you’d join me for a drink.” His smile turned to a frown when he looked at Chase and Justin. Pointing to the far table next to the piano, he used a dismissive tone. “You two sit over there.”
“I recognize this view,” said Cheryl, sitting down. “Those far lights are San Francisco, and that’s the Bay Bridge. This closer city is part of Berkeley.”
“I’ve seen this, too,” said Juice. “We came up here after an AI conference held on the Berkeley campus last year.”
MacMac nodded. “Our research indicated this would be a common experience you both would enjoy for a second time if you shared it together.”
“That sounds like the tactics of a salesman, Mr. MacFarlane,” said Cheryl. “But a salesman would never admit to such manipulation. May I ask your background?”
“Mr. MacFarlane is what they call my father. Everyone calls me MacMac. I’m the chief engineer here, and I’ve been asked to show you our Corsia SuperDrives.” He looked at Juice. “I’m told you might be interested in meeting our Supervisor synbods. I’d be happy to introduce you.”
“Could you introduce me to a drink?” Juice replied. “Since we’re in California, how about a nice pinot noir from Napa Valley?”
MacMac laughed and turned to Cheryl. “And for you?”
“Draft beer, medium dark. And a glass of water and some munchies if that’s possible.”
Juice’s mouth watered at the mention of food and she went into full vacation mode. “Yeah, some sliced veggies and dip, roasted nuts, crusty bread, and a soft cheese.” She slumped back in her chair and then sat up. “Make the dip guacamole.”
MacMac laughed again and drained his crystal tumbler of its clear brown liquid. He held the glass out in front of him and said to the air, “And another of these, on the rocks this time.”
He set his glass down and rested his forearms on the edge of the tabletop. Exhaling with a sigh, he looked out at the city lights as he spoke. “The service here is excellent. It will just be a moment.” Then he looked at Cheryl. “The record says you’re a space hotshot. Not just a desk jockey but someone with real command bridge experience on military and commercial spacecraft.”
“The record is correct,” said Cheryl.
“I mention it because we tried to impress you by fully integrating our drives with the structural and electronic systems. This way we can demo all the features, but it would mean something only to someone who’s been there.”
A service bot approached and distributed the food and drinks in an efficient manner. As it departed, MacMac took a long drink from his glass. When he spoke, his words slurred ever so slightly. “Don’t get me wrong, the drives are really the best technology. It comes down to price on whether it’s worth it to you—and I’ve been told not to talk about that.” He looked left and then right in a conspiratorial fashion. “But you can buy drive pods anytime. Focus on your vacation while you’re here. The experiences on Vivo are really special.”
Juice reached for the plate of carrot sticks, and the tabletop vibrated beneath her hand. Then the ground shook and a throaty roar filled the air.
“What the hell?” said MacMac, who stood a
nd began tapping and swiping the air in front of him.
“Those feel like ship drives.” Cheryl reached out and put a hand on Juice’s forearm as she addressed MacMac, her tone commanding. “You aren’t firing them, are you?”
Bright lights flooded the scene. Everything that had been ambiance—the slate floor, ivy-covered walls, piano player, and amazing view—disappeared. They now sat in a large, circular room with unadorned white walls. The table and chairs remained, as did the food. Chase and Justin sat in the same position they had been before the lights came on.
“Criss!” called Juice, not caring who saw or heard.
“I’m here,” said Criss. “Hold on.”
MacMac’s hands weaved in a frenzy as he manipulated displays only he could see. “This is insane, Aubrey. Where did you get the fuel?”
Chapter 8
With a broad grin, Sid eased the scout into orbit above Earth. Criss, who sat next to him on the bridge, had outfitted the craft with fully automated capabilities, but Sid found pleasure in placing the nav in manual mode and piloting the ship himself.
His flight path today swung him in a single orbit above the planet. Halfway around, he’d start his acceleration sequence, speeding up enough to break free of Earth’s gravity and transition into a path to the moon. That wasn’t his destination, though. His plan was to catch up to Sisyphus, already underway and pulling yet another full towline of vessels.
As he checked the displays, the Montrose rose up on the horizon. Awed by the sight, he took a moment to confirm his path would take the scout wide of the structure.
Fifty times the size of Vivo, the magnificent orbiting command platform served as a floating space field, providing fuel and repair, weapons and supplies, and everything else needed for the orbital service and support of Fleet’s growing number of spaceships.
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