Crystal Deception

by Doug J. Cooper

  Sid was glad he’d made the decision to evaluate the situation from outside the ship. As he studied the scout and racer together, he realized the sizes and proportions he was seeing didn’t match his mental picture. When he’d visited Fleet’s Blackworks hangar, the scout had appeared tiny. But that perception was formed relative to the other craft in the hangar. Looking at it now, he realized the scout was the size of a family home. It was hard to imagine sneaking up on the Kardish in something so big.

  He pulled himself hand-over-hand and took a tour of the scout’s underside. He began at the bow of the ship and studied the layout and construction as he moved back. It became clear that, given their size, a device to grab and hold the scout to the Kardish vessel would need to be a substantial mechanism.

  The space racer was docked in the middle of the scout’s underside, and he had to maneuver around it during his inspection of the scout’s struts, skids, and other features. He realized that, though small relative to the scout, it too was larger than he imagined. As he pulled himself around it, he came to a realization. “We’ll have to jettison the racer before we approach the Kardish.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are there pieces we can cannibalize from it to create a gripping unit?”

  “The struts and skids on the racer are similar to those on the scout. They provide extra material for us to use, but there is nothing unique about them.”

  Criss must have already considered this idea, Sid realized, pleased that his thought process was at least within the realm of what the crystal was thinking.

  “What do we know about the material on the outside of the Kardish vessel?” he asked. “I remember looking at their ship through a scope and seeing that the exterior surface was smooth and unbroken. Yet we all saw it open up when it ate the Alliance. How do we reconcile those two things?”

  “Fleet has been collecting scope images of the Kardish vessel since its arrival in Earth orbit,” Criss said. “I have viewed all two decades of their image record. Every time one of their small craft has entered or exited the vessel, a hatch opens. The exterior surface repairs itself after the hatch closes.”

  “Would you say that the outer layer is hard like metal, or gooey like rubber?”

  “It is more malleable like rubber,” said Criss. “In my review of the Fleet image record, on three occasions I have watched as a floating object hit their vessel. On each occasion, the outer layer absorbed the impact, and a ripple rolled out on the surface like a wave on water. The objects did not shatter or ricochet off the way one would expect if the surface were rigid.”

  “Suppose we fashion a pointed hook and attach it under the front of the scout?” Sid asked. “As we approach the Kardish, the pointed end pierces and snags their vessel’s surface material and holds us in place.”

  “The idea is plausible, but the scout would flip over if the hook were mounted to the front. A variation of that idea is to put two hooks on the scout’s rear skids.”

  “Okay, let’s put that on the list and keep brainstorming.”

  Sid pushed down off the scout and grabbed onto a strut on the bottom of the Lucky Lady. He started a survey of the racer to see what they might scavenge. As he pulled himself along, he pictured what sort of hook he might fashion from the different pieces he saw. Nearing the rear of the Lady, his attention was captured by the grapple unit Kyle had attached to the racer just the day before.

  “Bingo.”

  * * *

  Criss could not reconcile the discovery of the grapple with his knowledge record. He spent a few moments seeking details of its capability and specifications, tracing its origin, and examining how he had failed to know of its existence. His best guess—and it was just that—was that the source of the grapple was Kyle’s friend, a Fleet maintenance tech, who had visited Earth while on leave.

  Circumstantial evidence indicated the friend had bartered for the device so there would be no evidence of a transaction. Criss reviewed the record of this friend’s travels and found images of him as he carried his personal gear back to the moon. The difference in size and shape of his pack on his return trip lent credibility to his supposition.

  His search also revealed that Kyle, paranoid that his competition was spying, had installed the device in a fashion that was hidden from all monitoring, believing such extreme behavior was necessary to maintain a competitive edge against his shady competitors. As an interesting side note, Criss learned that Kyle had been right to be cautious. Two of his four challengers indeed had him under surveillance. It did not appear that either had knowledge of the device.

  Accepting their serendipitous good fortune, Criss guided Sid as he disconnected the grapple from the racer and mounted it between the rear skids of the scout. During the procedure, Criss acknowledged to himself that because of Sid’s instincts and perseverance, a critical challenge was resolved.

  * * *

  Sid, safely back inside the scout, made his way to the tech shop to see how he could help. He found Juice flat on her back in the adjacent operations compartment. She had a wall plate off, her head was stuck inside the partition, and she was fashioning a connector to the ship’s central system so she could install the new units. Sid wandered over to her, sat down, leaned against the wall, and started thinking about what lay ahead.

  “Can you hand me the multi?” he heard Juice say.

  He leaned forward, picked out the instrument from the array of tools she had spread out around her, and like a nurse working with a surgeon, placed it firmly into her outstretched hand. Interested in a diversion, he toggled his dot to watch her work.

  As he sat, he thought about the enigma who was Juice. She had a quirky and likable sense of humor. She would often interject seemingly random thoughts into a conversation, and he couldn’t always tell when she was being serious and when she was making a joke. And she sometimes responded to the unfamiliar in a manner that projected a lack of confidence.

  Yet when presented with a technical challenge, this same person became a brilliant technologist who tackled the most complex tasks with calm assurance. Sid reminded himself that she directed the program that created Criss. Even though, unbeknownst to her, she was receiving help from the Kardish, this was a singularly remarkable achievement.

  Growing bored while watching her work, he toggled to normal vision. He leaned back and brainstormed ways they might gain entry into the Kardish vessel. As he sat and contemplated, his eyes drifted to Juice’s body. Deep in thought, he considered her runner’s build, not aware that she was calling for another tool.

  Juice giggled and he watched her move her arms straight out over her body. “Is this really all you have to do?” she asked.

  Sid, unaware what had prompted her actions and statement, toggled his dot to see what she was doing. He saw her seeing him studying her. The back and forth of images between the dots looped on and on, much like when two mirrors are facing each other and a reflection tunnel trails out forever. In this case, Juice’s headless body was in the center of the tunnel. He quickly averted his gaze, toggled his dot back to normal view, and mumbled an apology as he stood up to leave.

  “Wait,” she said. “I could use your help for another ten minutes.”

  Still embarrassed, he sat back down and mumbled some more.

  “Hey, Sid,” she said. “Let’s rescue our friends.”

  Like a cold shower, this simple statement brought his attention back to the task at hand. Together they finished the installation and buttoned up the wall plate.

  The scout now had a Criss-approved cloak, stealth communications, and a grapple unit integrated into the ship. In spite of Criss’s confidence, Sid had learned long ago that he could improve his chances of survival during dangerous operations by treating such untested capabilities with great skepticism. This was especially true for a mission of this sort, where failure meant capture and death at the hands of aliens.

  “So what’s the plan?” Sid asked.

  “We separate from the racer and
power up the cloak so we can make our final approach in secrecy.”

  “Seriously?” said Sid. “That’s it? Don’t you think they’ll be able to figure out where we are by plotting our current path? And if we change course, won’t they see our thrust and track us that way?”

  “Yes, but I believe I can create complex thrust patterns that will reduce their ability to pinpoint our location. They will be uncertain of our position in minutes and will have lost us completely within an hour. If we wait several days before we make our final approach, we will regain the element of surprise.”

  Jumping to Criss’s defense, Juice said, “Given what we’re up against, I think that sounds pretty solid.”

  Disappointed by the lack of creativity in the plan, Sid said, “I think it’s time to take you both to school.” He turned and walked back to the tech shop. “Juice, I’d appreciate an extra pair of hands. And Criss, I’ve got a design challenge for you to work on.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Juice asked, following him.

  Sid answered without turning around. “We’re going to blow ourselves up.”

  Chapter 24

  Cheryl controlled her breathing as she eyed the Kardish guard. Crouched in a passageway of the Alliance with a carryall of food, water, and weapons over her shoulder, she held up the sheet of cloaking material as her only cover. He stood at the far end of the passageway, weapon at the ready, looking in her direction.

  Her weapon hand was free. In a slow, steady motion, she lifted it behind the sheet. Aiming with one eye and a pinhole, she targeted the guard while remaining motionless, hoping he would move on. But when the blond alien tilted his head, Cheryl knew she had seconds to act. The guard cupped his free hand behind his ear. She held her breath.

  The Kardish chose to trust his instincts. Bizt. A luminous bolt of radiant energy flew above Cheryl and hit the wall down the corridor. The alien peered over his weapon to evaluate his success, and Cheryl used that moment to return fire. Zwip. The white bolt from her weapon caught the alien square in the face, kicking his head back.

  Before the Kardish guard hit the floor, Cheryl stood up. The cloak sheet fell away as she rose. She fired again, this time hitting him in the chest. She shrugged the food and water off her shoulder and, taking long strides toward the downed guard, fired a third time, her anger overriding her training. She stood over the body and fired a fourth time, relieving a portion of her pent-up fury over the capture of her vessel, the slaughter of her crew, and the desperate situation of her surviving team.

  She stood there for several seconds and then cursed. The smell of charred flesh was overwhelming, and his fall had created a considerable thud. Her instincts were screaming that it would not be long before the other guard became involved.

  She chose to be proactive. She retrieved the carryall and placed it at a corner so she could grab it during a hasty escape, then picked up the cloak sheet and refashioned her draped shawl. As she adjusted it, she hoped that the burn hole from her weapon was not too visible.

  Working her way to the main hatch of the Alliance, her approach took her to the corner where she had hidden when the aliens had first entered her ship. Stopping in the same spot where she had nearly been shot, she studied the hatch. It was partially open. She leaned out, turned her head back and forth rapidly as she looked up and down the passageway, and pulled back. She didn’t see the other guard.

  She edged over to the hatch, peering through the gap to see what she could of the Kardish vessel. The second guard was nowhere in sight. Her anxiety crested—she did not want to be caught by surprise a second time.

  Edging the hatch open with her toe and keeping her weapon at the ready, she scanned back and forth as her field of view widened. She exhaled in relief when she finally caught a glimpse of the second guard, still sitting at the bottom of the structure, still half asleep.

  Cheryl pulled the hatch open and called out to the guard, speaking a mumble of nonsense syllables in a deep voice, loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough that the guard wouldn’t be able to hear her clearly. The guard turned his head and said something. She called out again, mumbling more nonsense sounds. This time the guard stood up and called back. Cheryl remained silent, hidden by the cloak, and waited.

  The guard paced several times as if trying to think of a reason to sit back down. He shook his head and let out a visible huff of annoyance. He began an ambling climb up the structure toward the Alliance hatch.

  Halfway up his climb, he must have sensed that something was amiss. He stopped and began speaking to someone.

  She heard Jack through her speck. “You okay? I’m hearing all sorts of chatter from a speck I’d put on the commander of the guard. He says he’s coming to investigate and wants the guards out front at attention.”

  She turned away from the hatch and whispered, “Hold.”

  She looked back and saw the second guard had a newfound hustle in his step as he hastened his climb. He called out to his partner, the tone in his voice showing increased annoyance with each repetition. When he was most of the way to the top, Cheryl stepped into the middle of the hatch, let the cloak fall open, took aim, and shot him in the chest.

  As the guard fell backward, his foot slid forward and hooked under a cross joint of two beams. It remained tightly ensnared as he continued his fall, and his body swung back into open space between the beams. Held by his foot, he dangled upside down, either dead or dying. His arms hung loosely over his head and his free leg splayed out to the side.

  Cheryl stepped out of the hatch and onto the structure. Gripping the frame to steady herself, she leaned out to get a good angle and fired again. The energy bolt hit true.

  Pulling herself back into the ship, she moved to retrieve the carryall. As she ran through the ship’s passageways, she called Jack. “I have food and water and am on my way to Cait. We’ll need to be ready to run when I get there. I just killed the two guards.”

  She didn’t concern herself with stealth as she hustled to the alley hideout. When she turned the corner, she found Jack on his knees, the gadgets and gizmos of his toy-master packs spread on the ground. He and Cait were sifting through the items, organizing things into piles.

  “Cait,” she said. She ran up, knelt down on one knee, and put an arm on the officer’s shoulder. “How are you, Ensign?”

  “I’m really tired, Captain. But I can move. I’ll carry my load.”

  Cait was pale and her eyes were glassy. But they had no choice; they had to move.

  She opened her carryall and let the contents spill onto the ground and picked out an extra weapon for herself. After snapping it on her free wrist, she handed one to Cait. “Armor up. Here are extra charge packs.”

  Jack moved one of his now-empty toy-master packs next to Cheryl’s pile and went to work. “Let’s fill this one-third with food and two-thirds with water.”

  “Eat and drink from the stuff we can’t take,” Cheryl said. “We should at least start full.” She ate an energy bar as she paused to think through their next steps.

  Jack reached into a crevice and pulled out his ghost pack. He viewed his toy-master inventory piled on the deck. Cheryl could see that the ghost pack would hold maybe a quarter of his gear at best. He picked through the pile and filled the ghost pack with a selection.

  “I’m guessing communication and demolition will be our priority.” He said.

  Cheryl helped Cait finish loading the food and water. Dig deep, Cait, she willed her. We need you.

  * * *

  Jack recognized the purring of a Kardish cart in the distance. The direction and movement of the sound told him it was headed for the Alliance.

  “So you shot the two guards?”

  “Yeah. They were my first ever. It’s really different from shooting a projection sim.”

  “The smell is different, if nothing else.” It was a random thing to say, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking of the casualty score. It was a soldier’s habit. Two for us and four for them. H
e was not the type to settle for even, envisioning horrific destruction before the score was even ballpark close.

  Over the sticky speck, Jack heard the guard’s superior shout, “I told you two to be out front and at attention.” When the admonishing tone changed to one of surprise, Jack guessed the superior had discovered the fate of his men.

  “Time to move,” he said, hefting the heavy food pack onto his back. He handed the ghost pack to Cheryl, who shouldered it without a word. He picked up the cloak sheet and shook it out. “My guess is that we’ll be most vulnerable to overhead imaging until they can get troops out. We’re going to hold the cloak sheet above us and move in a tight formation under it. That should give us reasonable cover for now. I’ve explored up ahead and have a rough idea of a destination. Any other ideas or concerns before we move out?”

  “Let’s go,” said Cheryl.

  “Each of you put a hand on my shoulder. That’ll keep us grouped under the sheet.”

  The two each placed a hand on one of his shoulders, and Jack swung the sheet around and above them. He spread his arms up and out to support it from the front, while the other two used their free hands to keep the sheet centered above them.

  “Here we go,” said Jack. He walked slowly until they got the hang of moving as a single unit. As they made progress in synchronizing their steps, he picked up the pace until they were moving at a steady shuffle.

  “What did you locate as a destination?” asked Cheryl.

  “In a minute you’ll see that this tub is broken into sections. I suggest moving toward the front section. The bow is where we put the good stuff on our own ships, and my guess is that their command bridge will be that way.”

  Jack led them out to a lane and along it to the broad, straight road. He let the sheet fall to his shoulders and looked in both directions, eyeing the enormous walls that divided the ship along its length. He knew that the bow of the ship was toward the nearer dividing wall, and he took a moment to confirm this by studying the taper in the hull overhead.