Out Through the Attic

by Quincy J. Allen

  “God damn company,” Carson muttered, releasing the safety-straps and pushing away from his bunk’s magnetic field. In the near-zero gravity, his momentum carried him straight into the head. He slipped out of his sleep-suit and sent it drifting back towards the bunk. The metallic fibers within the cloth got caught in the magnetic field, and the garment settled back onto the bunk in a big wad. Without turning on the light, he pulled the oracleanser from its notch below the mirror, placed it in his mouth, and held the slack tubing in his hand. It activated as he bit down, and a cool, minty blast of water shot into his mouth while built-in microfilaments vibrated along every surface of his teeth. The water was sucked out when the cycle ended, taking the dirty cocoon with it, and he returned the cleaner to its notch.

  Carson swung out of the bathroom and sailed towards the suit hatch at the back of his cabin. Grasping its latch as he landed, he pulled down the release lever. He heard a muffled metallic clunk, and the door slid open. Interior lights revealed the open back of his security suit. It was his old, military-issue combat armor. After Carson’s discharge from the Marines, then-Major Benjamin Visili had let him keep it. Visili had been ranking Fed officer at Mael Duin where Carson got his third Purple Heart. He got it for taking a plasma blast while saving Visili’s life. It was the third Heart that got Carson an honorable discharge for services above and beyond, and that’s when he took up working xenogeology for the Feds.

  He slipped his legs into the gaping maw of his suit and pressed his arms into their receiving sockets, causing the suit’s power systems to spin up. He heard the faint, familiar sound of servos whining, and with a thought directed through his internal system, the back of the suit closed with a quiet hum and click. He reached up, pulling down the helmet from its storage-cradle. Since his first day in zero-g combat training, Carson had always enjoyed being in combat armor. There were times when he felt more comfortable in a suit than he did clothing. The helmet slid over his head, the collar-latches hooking under his neck-ring, and there was a brief vacuum-thunk and hiss as the pressure equalized. He drew his heavy service blaster and checked the charge, making sure it read full. It hadn’t been fired since he and Hysom had gone target-shooting two weeks before. Satisfied, he slid the blaster back into the holster on his thigh.

  He hit the air-lock cycle button, closing the hatch behind him. With atmosphere throughout the station, the outer door opened quickly. Stepping out into the dull gray hallway that stretched off in both directions for twenty meters, he turned right and strolled past the crew hatches lining the hall on both sides. His magnetic boots allowed him to stride easily down the hall towards the mining shaft hatch. He punched his access code into the panel beside the door and a claxon sounded three times. When it opened, he made his way through the airlock and stepped into vacuum. The main shaft was five meters wide, made of rough, carbonaceous rock and angled down at 45-degrees. A row of panel lights stretched off along both sides of the shaft for a hundred meters, which then opened into the main chamber.

  His internal electronics responded to his thoughts, sending signals to his suit thrusters and giving him precise control over his velocity and trajectory. Carson activated the thrusters and drifted to his right towards the security terminal. His boots latched onto the steel plate in front of the terminal, and he keyed in his code.

  A menu appeared, and he selected the option for a three-dimensional view of the mine complex, which quickly resolved on the screen. There were color-coded dots for the personnel within the mine, and he could see six crewmembers gathered just outside the newest deposit-chamber. Carson zoomed in to see who was present. Names appeared next to each dot, and it was just as he expected. The first shift—Hysom, Redding, Murdock, Rodriguez, and Akira—was down there, plus Coffee who normally didn’t enter the mine unless there was a problem. They stood in a rough circle, but it was clear that Hysom was by himself with the others facing him. Showdown, Carson thought.

  He logged out, twisted, and pushed himself towards the bottom. A few sharp jets from his thrusters sent him sailing down the shaft, light panels streaming by. He considered accessing the comm, but they’d hear him chime in, costing him the element of surprise. The brighter glow of the main chamber filled his view as he passed through the entrance. The main chamber, a forty-meter sphere used for storing equipment and extra cargo-containers, was roughly at the center of the asteroid. From there crews bored out to each of the targeted deposits, excavating the closest ones first.

  Carson adjusted his trajectory, moved through the maze of containers and equipment, and angled towards the second shaft on his left. Coming around the corner, he hit his thrusters and shot down the freshly cut shaft. For a moment, he thought he heard singing … it was an inhuman sound that could apparently travel through vacuum. It definitely hadn’t come through the comm, but based on how his head felt, it occurred to him that it was probably just the hangover talking despite Hysom’s warning of hearing voices.

  The crew had set up portable light-stands every ten meters all the way to the widened area just outside the newest deposit-chamber. He was close enough for them to see him if they looked, but fortunately for Carson, all their backs were to him except Hysom’s. They stood around a slab of rock more than a meter in diameter and roughly fifty centimeters thick. Carson recognized it as a deposit-chamber-cap that they’d obviously cut out. Beyond the men stood a tall stack of cargo-containers blocking his view of the deposit-chamber’s entrance. Everyone rested a hand on his blaster except Murdock who leaned on a tall bore-cutter. Now that Carson was close enough, he tapped into the general comm net of the crew in front of him.

  “…you be reasonable, Hysom?” It was Coffee. “This doesn’t have to get ugly.” Carson knew that silky-sweet tone. He’d heard it far too many times when Coffee was breaking rules.

  “What doesn’t have to get ugly?” Carson asked pleasantly as he drifted up. Every head turned to him.

  “Oh shit,” Murdock muttered, but it still came through the comm.

  “Shut up, Murdock,” Coffee ordered in an iron tone. “Miracle!” Coffee’s voice went silky again. “What brings you down here? I thought you were sleeping one off.”

  “Felt like taking a stroll, Coffee,” Carson said sweetly. “Ended up down here. Weird, hunh?”

  Coffee knew right away that Hysom had gotten a message off and stared at the freelancer with a deadpan look clearly visible through his faceplate.

  Hysom interjected, “Miracle, come take a look at this,” and pointed at the deposit-cap at his feet. Carson drifted up to the group, maintaining his velocity and forcing Coffee to get out of the way.

  “Redding, why don’t you let me see that data-pad,” Carson asked politely as he stopped in front of the cap. Redding licked his lips and looked at Coffee. “Don’t look at him,” Carson ordered with a bit of grit in his voice. “You know the drill. When it comes to finds, there’s God and then there’s me, remember?” Redding’s look turned sour as he handed over the data-pad he’d been hiding behind his back. Carson grabbed the pad and leaned over to examine the deposit-cap, easily making out three distinct layers. He activated his helmet lights to get a better view.

  The outer layer was the pocked, carbonaceous rock of the asteroid. The opposing side appeared to be made of interlaced, twenty-centimeter crystals that were an almost shiny black, looking very much like quartz or hematite. It was the middle layer that caught his eye. Neither stone nor crystal, it reminded Carson of dense spider-web. It was a cross-section of woven fibers that glittered faintly with sparse, shifting pinpoints of light tracing along the strands like tiny, moving stars. He’d never seen or heard of anything like it.

  He stood up and examined the molecular analysis on the data pad. At a first glance, the crystals appeared to be a carbon-based diamond-composite which was, in itself, unusual. However, there was a series of extra elements within the molecular structure that could only mean one thing to any xenogeologist worth his salt. With eyes narrowed and lips compressed to a f
lat line, Carson turned slowly and looked Redding dead in the eye. Redding looked away nervously. Blood pounded in Carson’s temples, but now it wasn’t the hangover, it was rage.

  “Everyone wait right here,” Carson’s tone was cold and menacing. He maneuvered around the tall stack of cargo-containers to get a better view of the cavern they had exposed. As he moved around the containers, he saw a faint red glow emanating from within the chamber. He killed his helmet-lights to see better.

  Peering in, he realized it was a massive geode, but the crystals within were not dull black. They glowed with a subtle inner-light that pulsed like a gentle heartbeat. He stepped up to the hole to examine the exposed layer of fibers within the stone, shocked to discover it was alive with energy. Rather than sporadic pinpoints of light, it had an almost solid glow that shimmered with a life of its own. Carson turned and floated back to the group. He held up the data pad for Redding to ponder.

  “Redding, is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Redding blurted defensively. Everyone knew Redding was the worst poker-player on the station.

  “Wrong answer, asshole. Those are organic crystals, and you know it. That stuff is alive. I should have been notified immediately. This could be the biggest find since—”

  “Miracle, wait a minute …” Coffee blurted.

  Carson didn’t turn his head. “I’m not talking to you, Coffee.” Carson’s eyes never left Redding’s. “What the hell are you thinking, Redding? I can understand that bastard Coffee pulling something like this, but you? You know better!”

  Redding went through a brief, internal conflict and then sighed heavily. “Business is business, Carson, my boy. The money’s just too good. Sorry.”

  “Miracle!” Hysom shouted. A body hammered into Carson’s side, and he saw the flash of a blaster illuminate the walls. Hysom screamed through the comm, and then a second shot hit Carson in the middle of his back, propelling him into the side of the tunnel. His combat suit absorbed the bulk of the blast, but he crashed into the stone with a clatter of armor on stone.

  Years-old combat reflexes kicked in. He hit his boot jets, thrusting towards the ceiling, inverting himself, pulling his blaster free and spinning to face Coffee’s crew in one smooth motion. Their thrusters alight, Coffee and Redding were already sailing backwards down the shaft with Murdock covering them, the bore-cutter held level and its power-chamber starting to glow. Carson ran across the ceiling as Rodriguez tracked him to take another shot. Carson fired, his heavy service blaster casting the entire chamber with harsh, blue light. The blast caught Rodriguez in the face, and he went spinning back into a wall. A burst of atmosphere from his suit sent a cloud of ice-crystals and blood spewing into the vacuum. Akira yanked his own blaster free, but Carson’s second shot caught the digger in the center of his chest. Akira slammed down backwards onto the floor, and they all heard him scream as atmosphere vented from his suit in a matter of seconds. Akira’s cloud of ice mixed in with Rodriguez’s.

  Amber light from the bore-cutter filled the tunnel. Exploding rock made the walls shudder, and vibrations continued for another thirty seconds, then stopped abruptly. Carson gently maneuvered from the ceiling to the lip of the shaft and peered into a dust cloud. Through the haze, he could see massive slabs of molten and shattered rock filling the shaft, blocking it off completely.

  Carson looked around the chamber and spotted Hysom’s suit drifting behind the cargo containers. “Hysom?” He hit his thrusters, drifted over to his friend, and pulled the motionless body towards him. He knew the truth before he looked in Hysom’s faceplate. Rodriguez’s shot had burned clear through the shoulder of Hysom’s standard enviro-suit … and the flesh and bone underneath. Flash-frozen blood and frost from vented atmosphere coated the charred hole. Carson looked at Hysom’s still face and fought back tears. “After all we been through, you buy it here?”

  Carson brought up the comm signature of the other two freelancers back in the station. “Kip? Jenkins? Do you copy?” He waited for a response but there was nothing. “Kip? ... Jenkins?” Still nothing. Either Coffee had closed Carson out of the station network or the other freelancers were dead. Or both, Carson thought. He was running out of options.

  Carson checked his oxygen reserves. His heavy combat armor had absorbed Rodriguez’s blast, but the air recycler had been destroyed. He only had about six hours remaining. A moment of fear churned in his guts, but he got a grip on himself. Marines didn’t go without a fight. He released Hysom’s lifeless body and looked around the chamber. Tumbling end over end, the data pad drifted slowly down the shaft. He hit his thrusters and caught up with it. Grasping it, he flipped it over, saw Redding’s data and saved it. Clearing the screen, he brought up a security menu and went to work. He had to work quickly if he was going to make it in time. He tapped his armored finger quickly across the data-pad and accessed the security station just inside the mine’s airlock: security code, station transmitter connection, full encryption and sync-up with his internal comm took a minute to process. He set the transmitter to broad-beam, because he didn’t know if his target was even out there, let alone where they might be patrolling. The sync-light went green, and he was live with the station transmitter.

  “Hercules, this is H5324, do you copy?” The comm was silent for thirty seconds. “Hercules, I have an emergency message for Commander Ben Visili, do you copy?” More silence. Carson’s hopes started to fade. Coffee probably knew Carson was broadcasting, and if the message didn’t go soon, they’d be able to shut him down. Coffee could then make the whole thing look like a mining accident. “Hercules, this is H5324 …”

  “H5324, this is Hercules.” Carson recognized the voice.

  “Visili, is that you?”

  “Copy, H5324. What’s your emergency?” Carson had never been happier to hear his old commander’s voice.

  “Visili, it’s Miracle,” Carson exclaimed hurriedly.

  “Miracle! Good to hear you, amigo! You got that five-hundred you owe me?”

  “Not on me. Look, I don’t have much time. I need your help. Get out to H5324. Bottom of the main shaft, second off-shoot from the left. If you don’t hurry, you’ll never get that five—” The link went dead, and utter darkness folded in on Carson. Coffee and his men had cut the power.

  All Carson could do now was wait … and hope. He checked his oxygen reading again, and his heart sank. It had only been a few minutes, but the gauge indicated less than five hours remaining. He realized instantly that Rodriguez’s blast had not only wrecked the recycler but opened his suit to vacuum. There was no way the Hercules could get there in time, no matter how close it was.

  “Well, that’s it then,” His voice sounded hollow. “I still got you, Coffee, you son-of-a-bitch.”

  A chorus of voices pulsed faintly in his head, and this time he knew it wasn’t the hangover. He rotated and looked back towards the crystal chamber. He saw a vivid pulsing of ruby light behind the cargo containers, and the glow was bright enough to see by, pulsing in rhythm with the voices.

  Fascinated, Carson jetted around the containers and hovered before the entrance to the geode. The light coming from within was rose-bright … and beautiful. He leaned in, peering around the interior. A twenty-centimeter glowing red shard shot by his faceplate, and he jetted back in surprise. Two more shards darted across the entrance.

  “What the hell?” Carson drifted slowly forward. There were dozens of the things shooting around inside, bouncing off the crystal walls and even changing course as they flew. The crystals were coming alive, and realization hit Carson like an anvil. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Carson checked his oxygen level again. Just over four hours left which meant he had a few minutes. A smile spread across his lips. “Only one thing to do now,” he said casually. Carson stepped forward and sat on the lip of the geode with his legs dangling over the edge. A crystal landed on his leg and rested there, then two more. He hit the recorder in his helmet cam, leaned against the
side of the entrance, and started typing on the data-pad while he waited to die.

  

  “How is he, Doc?” Commander Visili and a squad of Federation Marines filled the medical bay of H5324. Most were standing around the gurney where Carson lay. Visili gripped the data-pad tightly and glared at Coffee and Redding who were on their knees, their hands bound behind their backs. Four Marines stood like statues covering the prisoners with pulse-rifles. A squad of Marines had rounded up the rest of the mining crew and held them in the mess hall, but Visili had everything he needed on the data-pad.

  “He’s alive, but barely,” the doctor replied. “And you say those red things covering him disappeared through the airlock when you brought him in?”

  “That’s right.” Visili stared at four sheet-draped gurneys beyond Miracle. His eyes lingered on the one covering his old friend Hysom, and then he turned hateful eyes upon Coffee.

  Coffee looked up fearfully. “It was all a misunderstanding!” he screamed. “Look, call Dragull and the Federation cops. Let the lawyers sort this out!”

  Visili narrowed his eyes. “Military justice takes precedence, Coffee. Old Miracle here was a reservist … and so was Hysom. You just killed a Marine and almost killed another. I get to be judge, jury,” he stared Coffee down, “…and executioner.” Visili’s steely eyes never left Coffee’s terrified ones. “Sergeant Keller!” Visili shouted with deadly intent.