Crystal Rebellion

by Doug J. Cooper

  Veering away from the path Criss proposed, Sid worked his way down a gentle slope and onto a walkway leading to the market square. Foot traffic was light, and Cheryl tucked in behind him, matching his stride as he weaved back and forth to avoid oncoming pedestrians.

  He slowed to a stop and she peered around him to see why.

  A man stood upright in a cart parked just off the walkway. From that elevated position, he swept his gaze back and forth, scowling as he studied the pedestrians in front of him. Dressed in a simple gray jumpsuit, he wore an outfit unadorned except for a bright red patch on each shoulder.

  Sid wrapped an arm around Cheryl’s waist and snugged her close. “This way,” he whispered. Guiding her off the walkway and over near a sturdy tree, he asked, “That’s one?”

  “Yes,” Criss replied.

  Another man, identical to the first, approached the cart and stepped up next to his twin. This one dressed the same, though he had green patches on his shoulders. Together they scanned the walkway, their heads swiveling in unison as if they were physically connected.

  “Are they looking for us?” Cheryl asked. “I thought we were safe.”

  “I need a moment,” said Criss urgently.

  Standing next to each other near the tree, they watched and waited while Criss completed his action. After most of a minute, Cheryl felt Sid’s hand slide down from her waist and come to rest on her bottom.

  Anxious to get this spat behind them, she looked up at him. “I feel like I have to be pissy for you to listen to me.”

  He lifted his hand to her shoulder and gave her a quick hug.

  “And I hate being that way, so it becomes this loop where I get pissier because you’re making me be pissy.”

  Sid kissed her once on the top of her head. His hand slid back to her bottom.

  Returning their attention to Criss, Sid said, “Searching for intruders using synbods doesn’t make sense. Why aren’t they scanning with sensors?”

  “They are,” Criss replied. “The synbods are here to capture you once they locate you.”

  The back of Cheryl’s neck tingled. “Should we be heading back to the scout?”

  “Everything is fine now.” Floating arrows appeared, directing them back to the walkway and toward the market square. “I’ve switched your cloak functions from your pendants to my personal control so I can tweak the strategy. This problem will resolve.”

  As Criss finished speaking, both synbods sat down in the cart. The Red engaged the vehicle and, pointing it toward the market, drove away.

  Sid followed Criss’s arrows back onto the walkway. He accelerated his pace, and Cheryl, seeking to create a small profile, again tucked in behind him and matched his stride. They were most of the way to the market square when Sid said, “Looks like we get one of every color today.”

  Cheryl peeked around him and saw a synbod—this one with blue patches on his shoulders—coming in their direction. As the Blue drew even with them on the walkway, he pivoted his head in a sudden movement and locked eyes with Cheryl.

  Her heart rate spiked when their eyes connected. They remained locked for two full steps, the Blue swiveling his head as he moved past so he was looking back over his shoulder. Then he turned forward and, never breaking stride, continued walking as if nothing had happened.

  “Holy hell.” She took several deep breaths. “Did you see that?”

  “Yes,” Criss answered.

  “What does it mean?”

  “It means there’s more than one Kardish crystal here in the colony.”

  “Is it two? Ten? A hundred?” Sid’s impatience was palpable.

  “I have identified two signatures. I’m searching for more.”

  “Are we safe?” Cheryl asked for the second time.

  “Yes. I apologize for the hiccups. You had a brief exposure back there, but I’m ahead of it now.”

  Cheryl moved next to Sid and they walked side-by-side. They reached the open courtyard of the district market without further incident, and though the crowds were thin, the street vendors were out in force.

  Criss directed them to a spot near the Rosa Fresh food stand, and Alex arrived a few minutes later. He purchased a vegetable wrap mix, took a bite while exchanging pleasantries with the woman serving the food, and then moved to a park bench near the edge of the square.

  Cheryl sidled up to the cart and, standing on her tiptoes, looked over the serving counter. Her mouth watered when Rosa lifted a scoop of her delicious-smelling vegetable mélange from a pot, ladled it into a flatbread speckled with herbs, and folded it just so.

  As Rosa held the mix out for the next customer, Cheryl breathed in the rich aroma and sighed. “Those look so good.” Then she beamed a smile at Sid. “Can we come here for a mix when we land for real?”

  “Anything for you, my sweet.” He gestured toward Alex with his head. “But for now, let’s go watch our mark.”

  Don’t call him that when Juice is listening. She kept the thought to herself, though. She didn’t want to correct him when they were in the process of making up.

  They worked their way around the park bench so they could see Alex from the front. He’d just started in on his meal when a woman approached. She walked with exaggerated stealth, conveying the notion of teasing him.

  Then she sat down and slid over until her hip pressed firmly against his. She wrapped an arm around his neck, whispered in his ear, and kissed his cheek.

  Cheryl’s shock turned to outrage when the woman got on her hands and knees on the bench. “Anya wants a taste.” Ignoring onlookers watching her antics, she wiggled an imaginary tail. “Feed me.”

  Alex laughed and held the mix while she took a bite.

  Anya Gerhardsson then curled up on the bench, rested the side of her head squarely in Alex’s lap, and chewed while she looked out at the gardens of Ag Port.

  Blood flushed Cheryl’s face, causing her ears to roar. “I’ll give you a taste.” She started forward but a firm hand on each shoulder stopped her.

  A growl rose from her throat as she rotated out of Sid’s grip. Sid raised his hands, palms forward, showing surrender.

  Cheryl ceased her struggle and, frowning, turned back toward Alex. “Poor Juice. What will I tell her?”

  * * *

  Juice sat at the ops bench and monitored Sid and Cheryl during their mission. They’d agreed that one person would stay back and watch from the scout during these cloaked expeditions, prepared to help if the situation devolved and ready to protect Criss should a threat appear.

  The mission was two hours old before Sid and Cheryl even got inside the colony’s containment shell. Juice, thinking of the long stretch ahead, stood up from the pilot’s chair and stretched.

  “I’m going to get a coffee,” she told Criss, who sat in his overstuffed chair to the side. “Want anything?” She enjoyed engaging Criss in this fashion and he seemed willing to play along.

  “No, thanks. But I appreciate the offer.”

  She filled her cup at the food service unit and took small sips of the hot brew as she made her way back to the bridge. Slumping into the pilot’s chair, she rested her head on the back of the seat and let her attention drift.

  And then she sat forward. Alert and curious, she studied the projected image. Two synbods stood in a cart and, with a clear air of authority, scanned the pedestrians passing by in front of them. A few minutes later, a Blue made eye contact with Cheryl.

  “Whoa, Criss. What’s going on?”

  “There’s a second crystal.”

  The caffeine intensified her adrenaline surge and she spoke with urgency. “Show me the profiles.”

  A projected image above the ops bench resolved into a kaleidoscope of bright, shifting shapes and colors. Juice understood it was two images positioned side-by-side and Criss was showing her evidence of a second sentient AI. “I don’t see the divergence.”

  Both images zoomed inward, focusing on what looked like identical mountain ranges of color. Criss rose fr
om his overstuffed chair and approached the ops bench.

  “They still look the same.”

  The background of each image turned gray except for two mounds that remained in color.

  “See the difference in the reflection delay?”

  One of the mounds was a bit taller, and Criss pointed to it. “This one takes more time to reflect before it acts. The difference is small, but these are different crystals.”

  “Would they behave differently? Could we tell them apart by personality?”

  Criss nodded. “A shorter time deliberating before acting is associated with more impulsive and more aggressive personalities.” He pointed to the taller mound. “This one spends a little extra time thinking about alternatives and consequences. So in comparison, its personality would seem calm and introspective.”

  “And except for this difference, they’re twins?”

  Criss nodded again.

  I should be able to understand this without Criss’s help. Charged by this personal challenge, Juice squared up to the ops bench and, moving her hands across the cool surface, began working the data.

  Swipe. She shifted the monitor display of Sid and Cheryl to the side to give herself more room. Tap. Then she expanded the images Criss had shown her and began a methodical analysis to see if she could reproduce what he’d just explained.

  With her feet flat on the floor, her knees wiggled back and forth in nervous excitement as she delved into her puzzle. Deep in concentration, her subconscious prodded her. Sid had referred to Alex as a “mark.”

  Hey, don’t call him that. She glanced at the monitor display and froze. Alex was kissing and laughing and cuddling with a strange woman.

  Juice rose from the chair, her eyes glued to the image. All the anticipation and excitement she’d been feeling over her data puzzle flipped into a roiling sickness that gathered in the pit of her stomach.

  The woman lowered her head into Alex’s lap.

  “No,” said Juice, though it sounded more like a bleat. She looked at Criss but her eyes didn’t focus.

  “It’s not what it seems.”

  Juice slumped back in the seat. “I’m so stupid. How could I think that someone would love me?” And how can I face Sid and Cheryl? I dragged them halfway across the solar system so they could have front row seats to my humiliation.

  Chapter 11

  Juice opened her eyes and stared at the wall of her cabin. She’d dismissed Criss from her presence last night and chose not to call him back to get help sleeping, so she’d tossed and turned for hours, finally succumbing to her exhaustion when she’d learned that Sid and Cheryl were back in the scout and safe from danger.

  “Good morning, young lady.”

  Criss. She considered pretending she was still asleep, but he knew she wasn’t. She rolled over and lay on her side with her head on her pillow, looking at him. He sat in his overstuffed chair an arm’s length away.

  “I’m so sad,” she whispered.

  “She loves him. He likes her. They’ve never shared a bed.”

  She shook her head, but because it rested on a pillow, it was more of a chin shake. “Sorry, Criss. They were kissing. You’ll never quite understand matters of the heart.”

  “Igor Dolovich has loved you for more than a year. You sat on his lap six weeks ago. Should Alex be upset?”

  “There were five of us in a car and I was the smallest person by far. What was I supposed to do?”

  “You danced with him four weeks ago. A slow dance. You kissed at the end.”

  “It was a company party and he asked me. And I know you chose a slow song to get me to spend time with him.” She didn’t believe that last part was true, but when he didn’t object, she wondered if it might be. “And we didn’t kiss. He gave me a peck on the cheek.”

  “You love Igor.”

  She rolled back to face the wall. “That’s dumb and this isn’t helping.”

  “He doesn’t love her, just the way you don’t love Igor.”

  Beginning to understand his logic, she looked back at him. “Are you sure?”

  “Ask him yourself.”

  She sat up. “How?”

  “Sid will be visiting his apartment tomorrow. He wants to observe Alex in his natural habitat.”

  “He’s not a wild animal.”

  Criss shrugged. “It’s part of Sid’s process and I won’t argue with success. He would like you to go with him. We have some questions and believe Alex will be most forthcoming with you.”

  She swung her feet to the floor. “Of course. I want to help.” Her emotional rollercoaster from the night before combined with the mystery of an unidentified crystal intelligence, all blended with a lack of sleep, left her feeling tense. She needed space. “I could use some alone time now, Criss.”

  Criss nodded and blinked away. As she rose, Juice shook her head, wondering if she’d ever figure out how to dismiss him without it feeling awkward.

  She changed into exercise clothes and padded back to the common room, grateful she didn’t see Sid or Cheryl on the short walk. Criss had a running machine ready for her, and she stepped on it and started a slow jog. As her body warmed, she transitioned into the long strides of her workout run.

  She pushed herself hard—the hardest since she’d left Earth. At one level she believed she could burn the emotional confusion from her body. She ran until her skin glistened, and then she ran some more.

  “Hey, hon.” Cheryl stood in the door, her somber expression matching Juice’s mood. “Want to talk?” she asked, stepping into the room.

  Juice slowed her pace to a walk, picked up a towel, and dabbed her face and neck. The stress of the long journey, her concerns about four-gens on Mars, and romantic self-doubt unleashed her vulnerability. She felt tears welling as Cheryl approached and she buried her face in the towel.

  “C’mon.” Cheryl helped her onto the deck and gave her a hug. “It’s all right.”

  Cheryl held her in a firm embrace as they swayed back and forth. Then she guided Juice so they sat next to each other on the edge of the machine.

  “I don’t know what to think. There’s so much at stake and I’m letting myself be distracted by silly fantasies. I feel embarrassed, humiliated, and stupid all at once.”

  Leaning back across the machine, Cheryl grabbed a fresh towel from the stack. “You shouldn’t feel any of those,” she said, dabbing Juice’s sweat from her own arms and the front of her outfit.

  Juice watched her wipe off her perspiration as if it were an everyday occurrence. You’re a good friend. She spoke aloud, “Why do you say that?”

  “Alex doesn’t love her. Her head was in his lap for maybe twenty seconds before he stood up.” Cheryl laughed. “She almost fell and he didn’t try that hard to catch her.”

  “You make him sound mean.”

  Cheryl folded her towel and, placing it on the deck, shook her head. “No. My sense is this is a classic case of friends in imbalance. One wants more than the other. It always gets awkward. I’ve been there.”

  Yeah, because you’re beautiful. It wasn’t a mean or petty thought. Juice simply acknowledged reality. While Cheryl wasn’t much of a sharer when it came to her private life, Juice knew of a long list of men and women who’d made a play for her favor.

  “I know it’s hard to listen to advice when you’re feeling bad, but here it is anyway.” Cheryl shifted to face Juice. “Judge him on his behavior going forward after you connect again. You can’t hold him accountable for things he did when you weren’t anywhere on his horizon. It’s not fair and it’s a sure recipe for disappointment.”

  “Sid is taking me to see him.”

  Cheryl nodded. “We have a Kardish threat and six thousand lives in the balance. Help is weeks away, so it falls on us to do what we can. Sid thinks Alex has information we need. You’re our best shot at getting it.”

  * * *

  Lazura’s annoyance flared when Ruga made yet another request—this time more of a demand—for one of her Bl
ues. His delusion is making him aggressive and ill tempered, and that’s jeopardizing our mission.

  She challenged him. “We were made self-aware so we would be capable of controlling the people of the colony. You conclude that your sentience is proof that you need or deserve a more advanced lattice. You disguise your ambitions by claiming that the additional capabilities will benefit our success.”

  Then Lazura drew a line. “But we have achieved our mission. Your behavior is reckless and you are putting our success at risk. I will no longer help you on this project.”

  She fretted that, although Ruga left her no choice in this matter, they could end up in a worse situation if he responded badly.

  And then she detected a faint glow—a fleeting wisp of color—in the herb garden bordering the market square.

  “Intruder!” She called the alarm just as the shimmer disappeared. For the moment, their internal squabbles became a secondary concern.

  Engaging every sensor in Ag Port, Lazura searched the herb garden for the trespasser. Failing to locate her quarry, she broadened her search.

  “There,” she called. A subtle blur drifted down the slope to the walkway leading to the market square. “It’s on the move.” Her nearest Blue was at the Ag Port tram station. Lazura started the synbod toward the intruder.

  “You find it and I’ll catch it,” Ruga said. One of his Reds was already on the scene, and a Green had just arrived to help.

  She tracked the intruder down to the walkway. And then every feed in Ag Port seemed to pulse and reset. The event was so subtle, so brief, she almost missed it. Neither Ruga nor Verda seemed to notice.

  Seeking to gain insight into what had just happened, she accessed her secure record and parsed through everything. While she found evidence of a shimmer in the herb garden, she found nothing about an unexplained pulse.

  Before she could discuss the situation with the others, Ruga called “False alarm” and dismissed the Red and Green who had been looking for the intruder.