“The art of misdirection is to make them look where we want them to,” said Juice. “Let’s put it in front of their faces. Let’s set the farmhouse on fire.”
“Marco and Anna’s home?” He picked up the backpack and started walking toward the farm. “The materials of construction are not flammable.”
“But the books and old furniture inside are. And we have accelerants—cooking oil, rubbing alcohol and, of course, Marco’s whiskey. At the moment the first soldier drops, I’ll run to the house and set a fire in the front. When it’s going good and has everyone’s attention, I’ll run out the back to the barn. You meet me there.”
He walked for a bit in silence, then stopped and turned to her. “My conclusion is that we have a higher probability of getting to the barn undetected if we do not start a house fire. And our exit strategy after we get Criss will be complicated by the certain attention a house fire will bring.”
She’d been brainstorming out loud and recognized the flaws of her plan after he pointed them out. And the fact that he’d thought ahead to their exit boosted her confidence in him. She couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling, though, that she was putting her life in the hands of a relatively simple crystal, albeit one trained by Criss.
“Okay. Step me through your idea.”
“We circle around the perimeter of the field so you are positioned for the shortest run to the barn. I will be on the same side as you, but positioned so I have the shortest throw to hit the soldiers. You watch and as soon as one of them drops, you run to the barn, open the secure vault entry, and wait inside. If anyone other than me comes through the barn door, close the vault immediately, get to Criss, and ask his help on what to do next.”
“How long will it take you to get there?”
“After I throw, I will run through the woods and then across to the barn. I expect to be less than a minute behind you. There are many eventualities that are unknowable in advance, making it difficult for me to be precise.”
They saw the farm fields up ahead and, staying under cover of the forest, began the trek around the boundary of the field. They’d been at it for just minutes when the drones made another pass. In a now-practiced motion, Juice moved near a large rock and hid under her thermal blanket.
They resumed walking, remaining in the forest as they traced the perimeter of the clearing. The back field was deceptively large, and the journey took longer than she’d anticipated. They reached a spot on the far side, and Crispin stopped and studied the Kardish.
The sun, low in the sky, cast long shadows. She tried to imagine hitting the soldiers from where they stood. It would take an amazing throw, but then again, no more amazing than knocking the leaves off the tree.
Moving back into the cover of the forest, Crispin said, “I assess this as a good spot from which to throw. I will wait two minutes for you to get into position.”
She looked skyward and scanned back and forth. “We should wait for the next drone pass before executing.”
He followed her gaze. “Yes, that will give us the largest window of time after I throw before they return.”
“Good luck.” Juice put her hand on his arm and gave a quick squeeze. In her heart, she still saw him as Criss and was not ready to accept Crispin as a permanent reality. She moved through the trees to a point nearest the barn and picked her way to the edge of the clearing. The barn stood comfortably close, but when she looked back at the Kardish transport, she realized a corner of the building blocked her line of sight to the aliens standing guard.
Slipping back in the woods, she moved in Crispin’s direction. When she peeked out again, she could see the soldiers, though the gathering dark made them appear as silhouettes. Looking at the barn, she gauged the longer sprint she’d have from this spot. She’d be exposed for a couple of seconds more, but she didn’t see that she had a choice.
She found a shallow rock overhang near the spot and, squatting beneath it, covered all but her head with the blanket. The minutes passed slowly as she waited for the drones. With her com disabled, she didn’t have a clock. She counted off minutes in her head and became certain the patrol should have passed. She waited some more.
Something’s changed. Climbing out from beneath the overhang, she peered through the trees, trying to remember exactly where Crispin was hiding. As she stepped toward him, she heard the hum of the drones flying above the horizon.
Scrambling for the overhang, she stumbled in the gathering dark. With no time to spare, she fell to the ground, curled into a ball, and pulled the blanket over her as best she could. The drones passed above, and she held her breath, listening as the sound faded in the distance. Sitting up, she gathered the blanket into a compact size and gripped it in her left hand.
She moved to the edge of the clearing to watch, but it had grown so dark she couldn’t see the soldiers. If I can’t see them, can they see me?
Not sure if Crispin had thrown yet, she crouched low and strained to see, hoping for some glimpse of something that would serve as a signal. She heard shouts, lights flashed on, there was a metallic clang, and then silence.
The lights were bright, and she squinted as a natural reflex. Shielding her eyes, she sprinted to the side of the barn. She moved down its length, and as she rounded the corner to the front of the building, her toe snagged on something jutting up from the ground.
“Oomph,” she grunted, falling hard onto the dirt and gravel surface. Scrambling to her feet, she dashed for the entry. As she looked for signs of pursuit, she grabbed the handle of the old-style sliding door and pulled to the side. It didn’t budge, and her right hand protested in pain.
Working as fast as she could, she tucked the thermal blanket under her chin and used both hands to force the door to the side. She cringed as the door squealed and squeaked, but kept at it until she could slip inside. Turning, she pushed the door shut.
Wow, it’s really dark, she thought as she got her bearings. She’d visited the secure bunker several times in the past two years and was familiar with the layout inside the barn. Taking careful steps with her hands out in front, she moved until she felt the rough-hewn fence slats of the first goat pen. The barn now stored equipment and supplies, and she was grateful there were no animals to contend with.
Juice moved sideways along the fence, counting her way to the third stall. She stepped through the stall gate, placed her hands at her sides, and lifted her head. The security system identified her, and a section of the back wall slid away to reveal an imposing vault door. A soft glow from the door entrance provided enough illumination for her to take her final steps with confidence.
Moving up to the vault door, she stopped so her identity could be confirmed a second time. A latch clicked and the heavy door glided silently to the side. She stepped through the opening and turned to watch the sliding door at the front of the barn. Holding her palm above the manual close button, she shifted her stance to hug the wall and reduce her exposure to anyone entering.
C’mon, Crispin, she fretted, counting the seconds in her head. The area near the barn door was impossibly dark. Time passed and she imagined the worst, wondering if she should proceed without him. She waited, though, because the synbod provided more options going forward. And she didn’t want to be alone right now.
The barn door squealed and her heart jumped. The darkness was so complete that she couldn’t even see a silhouette. She shifted her hand so it touched the button and started a countdown. Three…two…
Crispin stepped out of the darkness and through the doorway. As he did, he pushed the top of her hand, closing the vault door behind them. Though they couldn’t see it, the section of wall outside the vault slid back into place, returning the barn to its previous bucolic state.
They stood next to each other, the backpack at Crispin’s feet, as the lift carried them deep below the surface. Neither of them spoke. Juice used the moments to fold the thermal blanket and tuck the thin material into her waistband at the small of her back. Holding her right h
and up in front of her, she studied the nasty scrape across the heel of her palm.
The lift doors opened, and they stepped out into a main corridor that served as the central artery for an underground system of storage chambers. As she looked down the long hallway, Juice recalled that on her first visit, Criss had explained that the warren of caves and tunnels had originally been created to store a collection of seeds that someday might serve to jumpstart civilization if a doomsday event ever struck the planet.
They hurried down the corridor, passing door after door until they came to a room with a sign on the wall that said Flax. The door opened and the lights came on. The chamber was piled high with stacks of crates.
“These are flax seeds,” Juice told Crispin as they entered.
She led him to the back of the room and stopped at a specific spot on the floor. Standing straight with her hands at her side, she faced the rear wall. A stack of crates and a section of the wall lifted to expose a bright tech-room with a polished floor and a burnished custom console along the back.
Entering Criss’s lair, Juice stepped to the console and touched the panel that monitored his crystal housing. She scanned the display and tapped to a secondary page. “Huh.” She stepped back and looked at the small handful of switches and dials on the console surface. “For some reason, his emergency shutdown tripped.” She reviewed the panel a last time and couldn’t find the cause.
Returning to the primary panel display, she moved her hand to reestablish his connection with the outside world. “Welcome back, Criss.”
Chapter 24
Swipe. Lenny spun through the scout’s displays with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. He’d never imagined he’d be given access to such amazing technology. At the same time, he’d never imagined that the price of that access would involve the fate of the world.
At one level, he thought this might be his destiny. Life blessed him with certain talents, and he’d spent years honing them in simulated grand challenges. I’m being tested. While not particularly religious, the line of thinking calmed his nerves and gave him focus.
He’d never practiced with a partner, though, and this one had an intimidating manner and a random-as-hell thought process. He makes rapid-fire demands with no appreciation for what doing them actually entails.
But Juice Tallette had blessed the brute with authority over all these toys. And random or not, Sid behaved with such confidence, Lenny’s instinct was to follow his lead. It’s not like I have much choice.
Sid had asked his help in rescuing some guy from the devastation of Lunar Base, and Lenny struggled as he tried to learn if the guy was alive and where he might be located within the base complex—or what was left of it. He tapped and swiped, exploring how the scout’s subsystems might be used to search for survivors. He couldn’t find a good solution.
He knew the ship had the capabilities he required, but with no one to show him, he needed time to find the right tools and figure out how to use them on his own. Give him a week and he’d master everything on the ship. Give him a sophisticated request and a couple of minutes, and he was stumped.
His hands and eyes moved in unison as he flew through different displays. Hoping for some help, he asked Sid if he had any ideas. “How we gonna find him?”
“Find who?”
Lenny’s hands froze in midair. Here he was, suffering under the pressure of decisions that could affect the survival of civilization, and the big guy couldn’t remember what they were working on? He turned to Sid and made no effort to hide his annoyance. He waved his hand at the image of the pillar of dust. “We’re headed into that mess to rescue your buddy and you forget?”
“Oh. He’s a she. You’ll like her.” Sid replied, followed by a rude comment that made it sound like the idea of Lenny liking girls was somehow deviant. Asshole. Lenny let the comment slide off his back, though. He’d been teased his whole life, and if he harbored ill will toward every one of his tormentors, he’d never have time for anything else.
He checked their progress on the looping course and saw they had a little more than two hours to go before they’d reach the surface on the far side of the dust cloud. Feeling the pressure of time, he decided to go with what he knew. “If you give me access to my bag, I might be able to find your captain.”
Sid frowned. “You talk about that bag a lot. What’s so amazing in there that you can’t live without it?”
He swiveled in his chair and faced Sid. “My com, for one. And tools I know how to use. We need a solution in the next few minutes, and it will take me hours to figure out these systems.”
“Can’t Lucy locate her?”
Lenny shook his head. “Lucy can barely find herself. She’s well-trained to navigate, pilot, and maintain the ship, but she doesn’t have a whole lot to offer past that.”
“How about if we lower me down and I look around? There have to be some passable halls down there. She’s likely in the command center or her quarters.”
Lenny looked at him and couldn’t help but think of a child. “Your best idea is to wander through the crumbling structure of a blast zone?” He turned back to the ops bench, and his fingers resumed dancing. “If you want me to find her, I’ll need that carryall.”
Lenny could feel Sid staring at the back of his head. He tried to ignore it while he searched for a solution, knowing he’d been through these same displays several times already. He heard a noise and, glancing back, saw Sid disappear into his cabin. Moments later, he exited with the bag. He emptied it onto the floor and poked through the different items.
“Careful,” said Lenny as the rock hammer toppled next to his com. Sid continued digging. “Hey, Sid. Stop. Look at me.”
Sid remained crouched next to the pile but lifted his head.
“Make a decision. Either you need your captain back or you don’t. You want my help or you don’t. Work with me. Help me. Be nice to me. And I’ll bust my ass helping you.”
“Nice speech. You done?”
“For now.”
Sid looked at him for a three count. “Okay. Until she’s on board, I work for you. How can I help?”
Grinning from ear to ear, Lenny jumped from his chair and slid on his knees, stopping in front of the pile. “Come to Papa,” he said as he picked out the small pouch of nibs, the camball, and his com. He scrambled back into the pilot’s chair.
“That’s it?” asked Sid.
“Your first assignment is to put the rest of the crap back in the carryall.”
Lenny opened his nib pouch, picked out the travel pattern nib, inserted it into his com, and set his com on top of the ops bench. He placed the camball into the pouch alongside the other nibs and stuffed the pouch deep into his pocket.
He was so happy to have tools he knew how to use, he began a monologue, explaining to Sid what he was doing. “The scout can collect the com signals from Lunar Base, but I couldn’t figure out how to make sense of the jumble. This nib”—he glanced over his shoulder at Sid—“a nib is a tiny speck of crystal. Anyway, it has procedures I can use to locate positions and track movements.” He tapped here and there. “I connect to the scout.” Colorful displays popped up. “And we are go.”
Lenny leaned in and squinted as he paged through the displays, now augmented and presented in a format of his own design. “I can separate out about twenty com signals. Do you know how many people were on base?”
“Somewhere north of a thousand.”
Lenny sat back and put his hands in his lap. He didn’t turn around.
“Her name is Cheryl Wallace.”
Lenny hesitated, dreading delivering the bad news, then reached up and began reviewing the displays. “Hey, I have her signal. She hasn’t moved in a while, though.” Tap. Swipe. “Her emergency beacon is on, which will help a lot in pinpointing her position. She was tracking oxygen levels.” Swipe. “They’re low. We need to get to her.”
“Let me talk to her.”
Lenny considered what to tell him. “I don�
��t think she’ll hear you.” He swiped the bench surface. “Okay. You’re sending. If she doesn’t respond, it’ll store as a message record.”
“Hang on, sweetie. I’m on my way.”
Lenny waited and then understood that was the complete message. As he’d anticipated, they didn’t receive a reply. After an appropriate time, he closed the connection and tried to make Sid feel better. “She’ll get the message when she surfaces.”
He continued his planning, the whole time thinking that if Sid called her “sweetie” without identifying himself, he wasn’t talking to some commando. They’re in a relationship. And that means he’s playing me for a sucker.
“What can you learn about Hop, Jefe, and Dent?” Sid gave Lenny formal identifying information.
“Their coms aren’t responding. Without some sort of signal or beacon, I can’t locate them.” Tap. “Their last connects all were in different zones from where Cheryl is now.”
“Let’s focus on Cheryl. Once we get to her, maybe she can help with them.” Sid picked Lenny’s hammer out of the carryall and toyed with it. “How long before we land?”
Lenny looked. “Two hours to our original destination, but to hover right over her…” Tap. Tap. His shoulders slumped. “It’s still two hours.”
He paged through the displays and stopped at one. “Hold on.” A pressure pushed them both against their left armrests. It lasted for about ten seconds. “Okay, that’s what I can do. We arrive in an hour twenty.”
“How can we get to her?”
“She’s six levels down. That’s probably why she’s still alive.”
“Help me, Len. How do we reach her?”
“That’s a tough one. I don’t have a schematic of the base. With a dreadnaught orbiting Earth and the Lunar Base systems wiped out, I have no place to grab one.”
Sid leaned forward and stretched, his huge paw reaching over the bench. Lenny heard a quiet click. When Sid pulled his hand away, his com was sitting next to Lenny’s.
“I was up here a few days ago and brought the Lunar Base central record with me. Whatever you need should be in there.”
Crystal Conquest Page 18