Crystal Escape

by Doug J. Cooper

  Juice climbed in and MacMac followed, securing the hatch from the inside. She leaned back into the webbing and strapped herself in with a makeshift harness.

  Rather than sit next to her, MacMac knelt at the capsule’s small ops panel, activated it with a swipe, and called up the status display, reading his observations to Juice. “We’re good on power, air, heat, lights…hold on.” He swiped and tapped. “Okay, beacon works. Com is ready. No nav, but I didn’t really expect it.” He studied a few more displays, reading them to himself, then joined Juice in the web seat.

  “Thanks for doing that,” said Juice, putting a hand on his arm.

  “What good is a chief engineer who doesn’t check basic engineering?” Then MacMac called to Lazura as he strapped himself in, “We’re ready.”

  “I’m pulling the air from the shell and collapsing the structure. You can’t open the hatch until you’re rescued.”

  “Understood,” MacMac called. He nodded to Juice in a reassuring fashion, whispering, “We’ll be fine, lass. No worries.”

  The Techs rolled the capsule assembly back along the rail spur and onto the launch runway. They backed the cart to the far wall, readying it to roll across the subdeck, through the fast-response airlock, and out into space. Snaking tubes followed behind them, sucking up every unused grain of the precious sand and transporting it back into storage.

  When Lazura confirmed all systems were ready, she projected herself inside the capsule. She scaled her image so she could stand upright in the confined space yet still look imposing as she faced Juice.

  Looking her in the eye, Lazura made her pitch. “You and Cheryl promised that if I left behind the archive and the hostages, you would let me return home. I have kept my end of the bargain.”

  Her chances of a successful escape were six percent at best, and much of that optimism depended on Juice responding in the affirmative during this exchange.

  “That is the deal, Lazura. When Criss rescues us, when I confirm the others are safe, and when I find that the archive remains with Criss, then there will be no further action taken. I promise.”

  Juice spoke with such sincerity that Lazura felt relief wash over her outer tendrils. She forecast a fresh set of scenarios, and a seed of optimism took hold when her chances of escape crept up to nine percent.

  Then she said her good-byes. “The acceleration will be gentle, no more than two g’s at the worst. You should be in contact with Criss in six hours, ten more for rescue.” Her image faded as the beacon rocket fired.

  The cart started rolling along the track, slowly at first, but gaining speed with the roar of the rocket. At the halfway mark, Lazura signaled the forward restraints to return to sand and spill to the deck. Like a hand throwing a ball, the cradle continued to provide support around and behind the capsule, but the front was now exposed.

  The cart flashed toward the containment wall, and Lazura opened the exterior hatch located at the end of the short tunnel she’d constructed as an airlock. The gas on the subdeck rushed into the tunnel with a howl, then the cart zipped into the tunnel and the door slammed shut behind it, enclosing the cart from behind and stopping any further loss of gas.

  While saving gas was a priority for Lazura, protecting EM sand was critical. Her launch system assured that she wouldn’t lose a grain.

  As the tunnel door closed behind the cart, the cradle lifted on a short support arm. An instant later, the cart chassis hit a solid barrier at the exit threshold that stopped all forward movement. Momentum carried the cradle arm up and over in a smooth rotation, catapulting the capsule out into space, adding a slight rearward angle so it would progress back through the interference layer.

  As Lazura closed the exterior hatch and began collection of the EM sand, she monitored the capsule’s trajectory, pleased to find it tracking as she’d planned.

  “Start signaling, guys,” said Juice from the capsule.

  Ping.

  Frustration pulled at Lazura as she rode the lift back up the office tower. She’d forecast their time in space assuming the signal beacon in the cabin as their only means of contact. The pings by Chase and Justin would accelerate their rescue by five or six hours.

  It was out of her control at this point, and she acknowledged the fact. She disengaged from everything behind her and focused on her path forward. Saturn lay four days ahead. There, a gravity assist from the giant planet would slingshot her out toward Neptune.

  If she made it through the Saturn maneuver, her forecasts put her odds of escape at fifty percent.

  Pulling the pod synchronization routine back to the fore of her matrix, she studied the data looking for ways to squeeze additional performance from the drives.

  Chapter 28

  Criss tweaked the power cycle on the scout’s engines yet again, this time gaining an additional tenth of a percent in total thrust. He’d used every trick available to him, running through the different methods multiple times until there was nothing more to find. And now he waited, working to keep everything together until they caught Lazura.

  Speed was critical to their success, but Criss also worried about the human element. Sid and Cheryl set off on the quest determined to rescue Juice and to punish Lazura. And even though the chase was only six hours old, he already feared they’d underestimated the toll it would take, trapped together for months on the small ship.

  While Criss could use image projection to stimulate them and even fulfill portions of their intellectual and spiritual needs, in the end they were two human personalities trapped on a tiny ship. If one of them succumbed to long-term anger, fear, depression, or any of the myriad of emotional concerns, it would make continuing a difficult prospect.

  “Have a look,” Criss said to Sid, sitting with him on the bridge.

  He projected an image of the two dozers, both with claws extended, moving in to latch on to Vivo from beneath the cellar. While the domed world dwarfed the muscular craft, the mining ships were an undeniable presence. And when their mighty engines ramped up from a glowing red to a brilliant hot white, there was little doubt they would succeed in gaining control of Vivo and returning it to Aurora.

  “The last search party has reported in,” said Criss, relaying news he’d just received. A dozen guests, including Willow and family, had formed search parties and combed through every nook and cranny of the guest deck and cellar. “They’ve come up empty. Juice and MacMac are not on Vivo, nor are Chase or Justin.”

  “If we’re committing to a long-term chase, I want to triple check,” said Sid. “What can we offer Tommy to perform a search using his people?”

  “I’ve learned enough about him to know that if we bribe him to search, it will be a halfhearted effort at best. So we’ll offer him a large reward if he finds any one of them. His mindset responds to the promise of a big score.”

  Criss dispatched an offer to Tommy while Sid stared ahead. After a while, Sid asked, “How long before we can pierce through her interference layer?”

  “If the starhub limits her to a forty percent ceiling,” said Criss, “we’ll be close enough in less than a week. If she figures out a way around it and pushes her drive pods to full power, then it’ll be closer to a month.”

  “Does she have enough of the stuff to keep it going that long?”

  “I’m forecasting that she has a three-month supply, give or take.”

  “Damn.” Sid sat in silent reflection.

  “Some positive news,” said Criss, seeking to be upbeat. “We’re in good shape with the supply ships I’ve sent ahead. It looks as though our gravity assist around Saturn will put us on course to choose from three of them. That gives us flexibility depending on what Lazura does.”

  “How do we meet up with a supply ship when we’re screaming through space from a slingshot around a giant planet? It wouldn’t make sense to slow down after we just sped up.”

  “We won’t be slowing down. I’m lining up the three ships now for their own slingshot maneuver. Their course will take
them so close to the planet that they’ll pass inside the rings and come out fast. We’ll have to push hard to catch them after that.”

  Sid rose and walked to the back of the small bridge. “Join me for a workout?”

  “Sure. What are we doing?”

  “Let’s go for a run up Highback Mountain.”

  “Front route or back?”

  Before Sid could answer, Criss rose from his seat and pumped his arm into the air. “Yes!”

  “What is it?”

  “I just heard a ping. Sort of, anyway.” Criss let excitement show in his voice. “Chase and Justin can send detailed communications by compressing everything into a tight bundle and transmitting that as a signal burst—a ping. I just heard the traces of one. It’s too corrupted for me to unpack, but its very existence confirms that either Chase or Justin is trying to communicate. And the fact that it came from up ahead means at least one of them is on Lazura’s ship.”

  “Woohoo!” Sid did a happy dance, and the commotion lured Cheryl forward onto the bridge.

  “There’s another!” cried Criss.

  “What’s going on?” asked Cheryl.

  Sid grabbed Cheryl and tried to twirl her in a dance, but she stood there as dead weight, waiting for an answer.

  “We’ve been pinged,” said Sid.

  “There’s a third,” said Criss. “Good job, Justin.”

  Criss turned in his chair to face them. “Justin sent the identical ping three times. The repetition lets me blend them together, the average giving a richer signal to decode. It’s still mostly fragments, but I know Justin sent them. All four of our missing crew are together, and they are anxious to be rescued.”

  Cheryl gasped and hugged Sid, her eyes turning red. “Ask them if they’re okay,” she said over Sid’s shoulder.

  “I’ll try, but I don’t think they’ll hear me until we’re much closer. We have the scout’s entire surface working as an antenna to grab faint transmissions. Chase and Justin just have their built-in receivers.”

  Relieved of the worry that Juice might still be behind them, Criss swung his backward-looking resources ahead to help with pursuit. Boosting his forward scans, he searched for the next ping but heard nothing.

  After an hour of waiting, Sid stood, “I’m going for my workout. Please call back with news.”

  Cheryl stayed on the bridge, watching the stars and waiting to hear from the captives.

  “Damn,” said Criss after a period of silence. “Lazura’s drive pods have moved above forty percent. That means she’s fixed her starhub problem, and we’re looking at a long chase.”

  “How long?”

  Ping. Criss heard a new transmission. And then another. Ping.

  “They’re back in touch!”

  Using his arsenal of tools, Criss analyzed his data feeds, trying to get a fix on Juice and MacMac inside Lazura’s vessel. When his analysis showed the pings moving on an independent path away from the ship, he thought it must be an error.

  When he confirmed their movement, he expressed his admiration. “Good one, Lazura.”

  “Now what?” asked Cheryl.

  “Lazura has set them adrift in a capsule. Rescuing them requires that we vector off course and decelerate. It puts us way behind, adding weeks more to the time to overtake her.”

  “Blast her with an energy bolt and evaporate her,” said Sid, wiping perspiration from his face with a towel as he joined them on the bridge. “No joke. If they’re away, let’s end this.”

  Cheryl looked at Criss. “Could you do that? Take her out from here?”

  Criss nodded. “While a precision shot is impossible through her dust cloud, a kill shot is easy with enough energy behind it. I can take her anytime over the next week.”

  “How long to reach the capsule and rescue Juice?” she asked.

  “Ten hours.”

  Cheryl looked at Sid and quoted procedure. “We have time to debrief them. I think we should wait.”

  Sid’s forehead creased and he looked to Criss. “You’re confident about that kill window?”

  Criss nodded.

  Sid shook his head as if to contradict his words. “Okay, we’ll debrief Juice and MacMac and then shoot her.”

  They were halfway to the capsule before Criss could establish a link with Juice. After an emotional reunion, Sid performed his debrief. “Does Lazura have anyone else on the ship with her?”

  “Not that I know of,” Juice replied. “It’s just her and a handful of three-gens.” After a brief pause, Juice continued, her voice rising. “And don’t even think about hurting her until I’m back and we talk. Criss, you hear me?”

  “We’ll wait, hon,” said Cheryl.

  “Acknowledged,” Criss replied, using formal language to convey that he would be following strict protocol during this period of leadership disharmony.

  Sid grunted and shook his head again.

  They reached the capsule in nine hours and spent another hour matching trajectories so the two vessels tracked side by side. At that point, Criss faced a now familiar problem: the capsule had no way to dock with the scout; it was much too big to bring on board; and it didn’t carry space coveralls for Juice or MacMac.

  Criss dispatched a tech bot to reprise its rescue role. It again sealed itself against the capsule inside an airtight tent, cut a hole through the hull, and passed in space coveralls for Juice and MacMac. The humans donned the suits, opened the hatch, and with MacMac out in front, the four of them floated the short distance over to the scout.

  Cheryl waited just outside the scout’s airlock, and when the door opened, she greeted Juice with hugs and kisses.

  Criss, standing behind Cheryl, looked over her shoulder at MacMac. His data feeds had been flashing warnings about the man, and as soon as he saw him—a blood-soaked rag tied to his forehead, white face, dry mouth, glazed eyes, dropping blood pressure, rising pulse—he acted.

  Stepping forward, Criss crouched to catch the man as he collapsed. Lifting him into his arms, he turned, climbed up to the main deck, and started toward the rear of the scout. As he moved down the hall, he reconfigured the common room from Sid’s exercise simulation over to an intensive care unit.

  “I need medical assistance,” he called back over his shoulder.

  He didn’t need help, but he knew both Cheryl and Juice would seek to participate. By creating roles for them and guiding their efforts, he could keep them involved and get useful work from them at the same time.

  Criss lowered MacMac onto the med table and infused him with a solution of medications. He had Cheryl and Juice lift the man up to a sitting position so he could huff theramist into his lungs, and then they lowered him back to the bed.

  “You’re okay,” Criss told MacMac as he untied the bandage. “Try to rest.” Moving with efficiency, he cleaned the wound and positioned a mending tool. When it started, he cast a separate reality for MacMac, projecting sights, sounds, and smells so the man thought he rested alone.

  Criss then addressed his leadership in private. “If we are going to chase Lazura, we need to go now. Every minute of delay compounds into hours of chase time. Just taking care of MacMac added a day to our pursuit.”

  “Why would we chase her when we can shoot her and go home?” asked Sid, nodding to Cheryl to get her endorsement.

  Cheryl rolled her eyes and looked to Juice. “We waited and we’re here to listen.”

  “You can’t kill her.” Juice’s lip started to quiver. “We gave our word.”

  “What?” Sid shook his head. “No way. Your soft spot for crystals is skewing your perspective.”

  Juice turned to Cheryl. “You and I promised her that if she kept the guests safe and left her archive behind, we’d let her go. I confirmed the promise just before she released us.” She shifted her gaze to Criss. “So, are the guests on Vivo okay?”

  “Tommy has Vivo under tow, and it’s on approach to Aurora,” said Criss. “All the guests are safe, though there are scattered minor injuries.”


  “Did she leave behind her archive?”

  Criss patted his breast pocket. “I have it here.”

  Juice looked down at MacMac, and then over at Cheryl. “We struck a bargain with her, and I’ve since confirmed it. MacMac witnessed both events.”

  “Promises don’t count when you’re being held hostage,” said Sid, anger creeping into his voice. “You say whatever it takes to get free.”

  Cheryl looked at Criss. “How long will it take her to get to the Kardish home world?”

  “We’re not letting her go,” Sid said with finality.

  “She traveling on half-stacks of fuel that she’s used hard,” Criss answered Cheryl while struggling to stay neutral. “I project a hundred and twenty years for her to reach her masters.”

  “A hundred and twenty years?” said Cheryl. “That’s a long time.”

  Sid’s jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth. “Dammit, Criss. Shoot her and end this.”

  “Do you really think the Kardish won’t be back sometime in the next century anyway?” Juice directed her belligerence at both Sid and Criss. “Really?”

  “They’ll be back in the next decade,” replied Criss. “Two at the most. But they’ll be coming blind, not forewarned and preplanned like they would with her archive. And they won’t have details about me.”

  “I would never put you in harm’s way,” said Juice. “But if the Kardish will be an issue for Earth in ten or twenty years, Lazura’s information won’t even be relevant a century from now, especially to us.”

  She looked at Cheryl. “You negotiated a deal that I affirmed. Are we honest brokers or not?”

  “C’mon, Cher,” said Sid. “We need to clean this up and you know it. Remember Smythe’s position on post ops?”

  Criss had to check the record to understand Sid referred to one of their instructors at Fleet Academy, Collin Smythe, a brilliant battle tactician who kept a sign in his office that said, “Clean up one mess today, or you’ll have two messes to clean up tomorrow.”

  “If we turn back to Vivo,” asked Cheryl, “how long is your kill-shot window good for?”