Crystal Escape

by Doug J. Cooper

  This time Sid kept quiet, looking at her and not moving. “I want the transaction to be divided between five banks. That’s way too much money to put in one place. And that was half up front.”

  “Done,” said Lazura.

  “Done,” said Sid. “Send me the specs on your starhub and your drive pods. I’ll be ready when you arrive.”

  When Sid and Criss faded, Cheryl faced Lazura. “Criss won’t let any of that happen as long as there are hostages.”

  “So you have three and a half hours to find a solution,” said Lazura.

  Chapter 20

  MacMac felt uneasy, but he didn’t know what to do about it. From his perspective, the AI named Criss and his human leaders were finalizing plans to save themselves. But he hadn’t been included in the discussions, not in any meaningful way, so it wasn’t clear if or how he fit into whatever came next.

  He took solace in their apparent concern for the other hostages. He’d been afraid at first when Cheryl had described the role of a midlevel hostage—someone they cared about, but only a little bit—feeling certain they’d been talking about him. But they seemed sincere about saving all the guests, so he should at least have that level of protection.

  He drifted over to the couch and watched her work the tech bench. “Can I help?”

  Pointing to a navigation chart displayed in front of her, she said, “Aurora’s going to expect us to use a traditional approach vector and to stand off until invited in. Do you think Lazura is handling that, or does she expect us to?”

  The technical sophistication of her question gave MacMac pause, then he nodded. “That’s right. You were a Fleet captain before you became a corporate big shot.” He bent forward and looked at her diagram. “I agree with your approach plan, but I’m confident that Lazura will be making these decisions. I guess it couldn’t hurt if we document the particulars and put it out for her to see, just in case.”

  He sat next to her and they talked through it, finalizing details on Vivo’s approach vector, how to board ‘Tommy’ to fix the starhub, how to transport the fuel-stacks to Vivo, and how to move the hostages to Aurora.

  MacMac’s worries weren’t lessened by the exercise, though, because the whole time he was there, Cheryl was holding a parallel discussion with Criss, one he couldn’t hear. It wasn’t overt on her part. But she’d stop responding for a moment, her eyes drifting from focus, and then she’d reengage, offering MacMac new insights or additional facts.

  He did his best to stay involved despite the awkward situation and welcomed the distraction when Juice came over.

  “I want to go check on Willow,” she said.

  “Why?” asked Cheryl.

  “After Lazura’s threat about taking her, I want to see that she’s okay. I also want to talk through communication strategies with her in case we’re separated.”

  “I’ll go with her,” said MacMac, standing.

  “Do you think she’ll let you walk around?” asked Cheryl, frowning.

  MacMac went to the door, and when it opened, he leaned out and looked both ways. “No guards.”

  “If she’s sincere about this swap,” said Juice, walking to the door, “then she needs our involvement and cooperation. She has to let us wander.”

  Cheryl looked from Juice to MacMac. “Be back in an hour. Things are going to heat up here pretty soon.”

  Juice’s expression had remained impassive when MacMac offered to accompany her, and now he felt like an interloper. He blustered onward nevertheless. “Off we go.” He led the way out to the lobby and onto the lift. “Subdeck,” he said as the door closed.

  “Willow’s not on the subdeck,” said Juice, her tone showing annoyance.

  “I know. But it’s where you were going all along.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll help you rescue them.”

  Juice studied him for a moment. “But you hate synbods.”

  “I like them well enough when you’re around to control them. They treat you with a deference I don’t see when they work with me. It’s subtle but it’s there.” He gave a quick smile. “And having them on our side will improve our odds should things get crazy.”

  Juice’s face lit with a genuine smile. “I don’t know why I keep underestimating you, MacMac.”

  The lift door opened, and they stepped onto the subdeck. MacMac inhaled and his smell test told him all was normal. The steady thrum in his chest from the drive pods added a second confirmation to that conclusion.

  “Do you think Lazura will let us do this?” asked MacMac, surveying the area.

  “She’s so overwhelmed with everything going on, she won’t even know.”

  He pointed straight across an expanse of deck to a steel-blue building with a half-dozen rust-orange doors spaced along the wall. “That’s central stow. If your instincts are correct, they’re in one of those storerooms.”

  Juice walked at a brisk pace toward the building, and MacMac struggled to keep up.

  “I use those two units all the time.” He pointed to the two doors on the right. “They hold tools, supplies, and small equipment.” He motioned to the other four doors. “These others are storage. Let’s see what’s listed in the manifest.”

  He accessed his visual display and tapped and swiped. “This says that it’s props for guest activities, so chairs, tables, group games, that sort of thing.”

  The storage building—placed in the middle of a huge open space with little nearby to serve as a reference—seemed to grow in size as they approached. The walls were made of the same material used for the other buildings in Vivo, but this one had wide doors across the front, the kind that lifted overhead.

  “Are they locked?” asked Juice. “Will we have to break in?”

  “No. With a synbod workforce and a high-end guest clientele, vandalism and petty theft don’t get a passing thought.” He pointed to the left. “Let’s start at the end away from my stuff.”

  Juice marched down to that door and banged her fist three times on the outside in rapid sequence. “Justin! Chase! Are you in there?” She put her ear to the door and listened, then gave MacMac a thumbs-up.

  MacMac tapped and the door lifted like a stage curtain, revealing the two synbods standing side by side.

  “Hey, guys,” said Juice. “Are Charlie and Damn with you?”

  “No,” said Justin.

  Juice stepped up to Chase and reached for his left arm. “Show me your injury.”

  Chase twisted his arm to show her a neat wound along the inside below the elbow. “Justin made a repair. The arm functions as designed, though the load it can bear is reduced to about seventy percent of maximum.”

  “Thank you for that, Justin.”

  MacMac thought Juice’s respectful behavior toward the synbods was atypical—most people he knew treated them like furniture. While he didn’t dwell on the observation, it did cause him to wonder if perhaps that was why they treated her with such high regard.

  Thinking they should up their defensive game, he tested an idea with Juice. “What do you think about getting them weapons?”

  “I’m guessing that would push Lazura too far. In fact, we should get out of here while we still can.” She motioned for the synbods to follow. “Let’s go, you two.”

  They stepped out of the storage room, and the big orange door began lowering behind them.

  “Stop!” Mondo appeared around the corner of the building and strode toward MacMac and Juice, pointing as he approached. “You two are in violation. You don’t have permission to be here.” Then he pointed to Chase and Justin. “You two are under detention. Move back inside the storeroom.”

  Chase and Justin moved toward the door as instructed, but spread apart so there was a good five paces between them.

  “You will follow me to the lift,” Mondo said to Juice and MacMac.

  As he spoke, Justin stepped away from the building and circled out, keeping Juice and MacMac between him and Mondo.

  M
ondo pointed to the open door. “You two, back inside.”

  When he motioned with his hand, Chase and Justin launched at him like football linemen reacting to the snap of the ball. One hit high, the other low, both at the same time.

  Mondo fought hard, and soon it became a wrestling match. But Chase and Justin, who’d been programmed by Criss with advanced defensive skills to protect Cheryl and Juice, gained the advantage.

  Justin used his legs in a scissor hold to trap one of Mondo’s arms against his abdomen. Chase used a similar move to immobilize Mondo’s legs. Together they controlled his free arm.

  Then, in a coordinated action that gave MacMac chills, they reached into their waistbands, pulled out shanks they’d sharpened while waiting in captivity, and started stabbing Mondo.

  The first swing targeted Mondo’s chest, where it severed the main connectivity between the crystals and the biomechanical body. Chase then moved to the neck while Justin stayed on the abdomen.

  Three quick strokes each…stab, stab, stab…placed in precise locations. The stabs to the neck severed the ear, eye, and voice feeds. The additional thrusts to the abdomen severed the secondary and tertiary backup links.

  And then it was done.

  When Chase stood, his left arm hung lifeless at his side. Juice went to him and examined the limb. “We’ll need proper equipment to fix this.” Then she looked at MacMac. “I’ve changed my mind about weapons. What do you have?”

  “I have a zip saw in the storage unit on the end. The laser blade will make a pretty good cutting sword. It’s heavy, but these two can handle it.” He eyed Chase’s limp arm. “Well, the one can.”

  Walking quickly, he led them to the storage unit on the far end of the building, the door rising as they approached. He led the way inside, stepping over a pile of parts laid out on the floor as he made his way to the back.

  A countertop cluttered with mechanical parts ran against the wall, and he scanned down it for the zip saw. Not seeing it, he started moving the bulkier items onto a back shelf.

  “There you are,” he said, lifting the saw—a bulb the size of an orange attached to an electronic handle grip. He set it on the counter so the business end pointed to the right.

  The saw had simple controls, and he selected the shortest projection length and the highest beam intensity. When he activated it, a brilliant white light projected down the bench for just over one arm length, notching a hole in the handle of his sealant tub.

  He picked up the saw and moved the energy blade back and forth in front of him. Swoop, swoop.

  “Whoa,” said Juice when MacMac drew the beam across a sturdy wall brace, cutting it in half.

  He showed Justin how to use the controls and helped him practice a few swings. Then he turned his attention to Chase. “Can you still flex your fingers, laddie?”

  “Yes.” Chase wiggled his fingers. “I’ve damaged the flexor regulator, so my elbow won’t bend, but I can move my wrist and hand.”

  MacMac turned to the shelves and rummaged up a flat bar for a splint and a secure seal to hold it in place.

  “Would you help me here, Doc?” he said to Juice as he returned with his find. MacMac spread the secure seal, a sheet the size of a small towel, on a crate and guided Chase’s arm on top of it. Juice positioned the splint against his arm so it ran from wrist to bicep. Then MacMac lifted the seal on each side and activated it, causing it to cinch tight.

  Chase raised his arm at the shoulder and swung the rigid appendage back and forth, wiggling his fingers as he did.

  “Partial use is better than nothing,” said MacMac, turning back to his cache of equipment. He found a clasp gun and hefted it, then said to Chase, “Will you look in that drawer there for some midweight pins?”

  While Chase looked, MacMac removed the cover guard and safety latch from the clasp gun. Pulling the contact switch back, he wedged it in a permanently ready position with a tiny shard from a previous project. Then he dialed the selector on the heel of the tool to the maximum impact setting.

  Chase handed the pins—small metallic darts, really—to MacMac, and watched him load them into the gun. Pointing at the wall a good ten paces away, MacMac pulled the trigger. When nothing happened, he gave a sheepish smile, powered the device, then tried again.

  Thunk-bing. The dart hit the rugged composite wall and ricocheted back toward MacMac. He ducked late, but it had already missed him.

  “I don’t know that this will do much to stop one of your brothers.” MacMac held the gun out for Chase. “But at least it’s small enough for you to carry with your broken arm.”

  Chase took it and, holding it with his splint-supported arm straight out in front of him, shot at the same side wall, only at a higher angle. His dart hit a metal bowl sitting on a shelf, sending it careening into a greeting card propped on the edge. The card toppled and Chase, his gun at the ready, shot a second dart, pinning the falling card to a tack-board behind it.

  “Nicely done!” said MacMac, feeling better about giving the synbod something that barely qualified as a weapon.

  “It seems quite capable,” said Chase.

  “MacMac,” called Juice with an urgent tone, “we have company.”

  MacMac went to the door and saw Hejmo running toward them from the lift, three Techs trailing behind him.

  Justin bent and picked up a heavy metallic disk—a crew cart drive plate—and, holding it near his waist, started twirling his body in place like a discus thrower. Chase, standing to the side, launched a dart at Hejmo that arced across the narrowing space and, in a remarkable display of marksmanship, hit him in the eye. The moment Chase fired his dart, Justin released his metallic disk, sending it whistling to the same destination.

  Hejmo stopped in his tracks when the dart pierced his eye. Bringing his hands to his face, he dropped to one knee. That action saved him from the heavy disk, which crashed into the chest of a Tech behind him, knocking the synbod to the ground. The other two Techs stopped as if waiting for instructions.

  “Good one, lads.” MacMac clapped them both on the shoulders. “Let’s get moving.”

  He tapped and swiped to signal the door to shut behind them, and the sharp bark of an explosion shook the floor. Everything went dark, then emergency lights flickered on as the blast echoed and faded.

  Whoosh! A rush of air dominated everything as gale-force winds pulled on them.

  “We’ve had a breach!” yelled MacMac above the roar. “We’re venting air!”

  The winds grew in speed and fury as the infinite vacuum of space sucked the subdeck atmosphere toward the hole. Hejmo, still prone on the ground, started sliding across the floor.

  The tumult tripped MacMac, and he hit the deck with a thump. From that vantage point, he watched a gust lift Juice’s feet from the ground.

  Her face lit in panic. She made a desperate grab for the edge of the door, missed, and as the wind tugged at her, she contorted and tried again.

  Her hand closed on empty air.

  Chapter 21

  When Tommy Two-Tone realized someone was trying to hold him captive on a spaceship, he felt as much sympathy for the fool as he did anger. And, of course, he felt the burning need to exact revenge.

  He’d been a chief engineer for a decade, a second engineer for the decade before that, and had served on more than a dozen vessels in his time. So he could say with certainty that, compared to real challenges like hot-wiring a drive pod, getting out of a locked room was more nuisance than hurdle.

  They were on a tour of a truly spectacular vessel when Tommy started to get suspicious. It’s easy to let your mind use visual and audio clues to override your physical perceptions. But as someone who’d installed and repaired image projection systems, he knew a few tricks.

  The simplest one was to close your eyes and see if the route you actually walked matched the path your mind thought you traveled. He tried it while their hosts led them through the ship’s workshop, and everything held together.

  But something b
othered Tommy, and a few minutes later he tried again. There. With his eyes closed in the dining room, he almost stumbled because he thought he was going straight, but in reality, he was angling to the left.

  “We’re being tricked!” he called to his fellow governors. Then the lights blinked, only to reveal they were alone in a locked room with very few amenities.

  Looking around the room, he said to his two partners, “Get comfortable. I’ll have us out in an hour.”

  It took just thirty minutes.

  Tommy started by examining the walls to understand their construction. Confirming they were built with removable panels, he stepped to the nearest one and tripped the release pin along the top edge. The panel dropped away to reveal a crisscross of conduits, wires, and ducting, with small boxes of different shapes and sizes positioned in the mix.

  He flopped the wall panel into the middle of the room, then repeated the action a dozen more times to expose the inner workings of all four walls. He passed a section of cabinets somewhere around panel eight and grinned when he found a multitool in the top drawer.

  He selected the clippers from the multitool, and giving his partners a quick smile, he began whistling the song “Farmer in the Dell” as a slow dirge, trying to match the behavior of a psycho he’d once seen in a horror vid. As he whistled, he walked along the wall that held the door, delighting in the myriad choices available to him.

  He didn’t believe he could snip or clip anything that would open the door directly. But he felt certain his hosts, Criss and Sid, were watching and would open it for him.

  He fingered a trunk feed, a line as thick as his thumb and distinguished by its dull gray shielding. Snapping at the air a few times to show his intent, he moved the clippers toward the line.

  Halfway to his goal, the room went dark and the door into the hallway opened.

  Tommy laughed. “Here we go.”

  As the women made their way out to the hallway, Tommy walked back to the cabinets, pulled out a drawer, and carried it to the doorway. Positioning it in the threshold, he ensured the door couldn’t close behind them, securing it for future negotiations.