His soon-to-be home required just a few upgrades. Criss searched out the original construction contractor for the vault project, and a thorough background check revealed him to be an honest and skilled professional. Criss contacted the man, introduced himself as the project manager for the foundation, and solicited his interest in refitting the two failsafe backup vaults with upgraded power feeds, climate control, and security doors. The man raised his eyebrows when he saw Criss’s plans and specifications.
Criss offered the contractor a healthy bonus to expedite the upgrade and a second bonus if he could complete the entire project and be offsite in a week. He earned both bonuses.
Soon after, the contractor and his staff moved across the continent to manage an exciting, huge project his firm had just been awarded. He had never submitted a bid for the job, so the windfall came as an unexpected surprise.
Chapter 36
Criss maintained his “unseen advisor” role with each team member during the debrief session, suggesting appropriate responses to every question. He made their answers different enough so the trained interrogators would believe nothing was scripted. At the same time, he kept their stories very close to the truth. The truth would be easiest for any of them to remember if they were questioned at some future time. Also, his prediction analysis indicated that Cheryl and Juice would be uncomfortable telling outright lies.
He watched Sid struggle mightily to be a team player during the interview. For the first hour, the most popular question, asked over and over, was some variation of “What happened next?” As the monotony grew, Sid’s good intentions failed him, and he began to parrot the answers Criss fed him without even thinking about the words.
Sid was lying on his bunk during questioning, and his boredom became so complete that he succumbed to the twin pulls of tedium and comfort; he fell asleep, snoring softly as his questioners sought to regain his attention. Criss called to him through his dot, only to watch him roll on his side, scrunch his pillow to make it more comfortable, and swat at his ear like a mosquito was bothering him.
Criss expected the formal questioning to be completed while they were still on the scout so he could manage all details. He briefly lamented the fact that he did not have a physical hand he could use to shake Sid awake, then turned to his next best option. He pulsed the engines of the Kardish craft, giving the scout and its passengers a solid jolt.
Sid sat up and expressed uncoached alarm at the jarring shudder. While Criss had intended to wait another hour for this act, he decided now was an opportune time to initiate the loss-of-control emergency. He let the shaking continue.
He explained the new reality to his leadership team. “Flight controls have been lost. This is a real event. You should work to restore a link with the Kardish cargo transport and regain command. Failing that, you must escape from this craft before it enters Earth’s atmosphere. Please do not call on me to help. You must solve this on your own. Good luck.” Then he was gone from their ears.
* * *
Sid hopped from his bunk, telling the debrief team, “Sorry to break up the party. It seems we have a bit of a problem,” then made his way to the command bridge and took his seat.
He poked at the operations bench as Cheryl and Juice sat down behind him, seeking a means of linking the scout to the Kardish subsystems. After several minutes of exploring, he accepted that he didn’t have a clue how to do it. He had lowered his guard and relied completely on Criss. As a consequence, they were now common cargo stowed in the hold of an out-of-control alien craft.
He called for help. “Fleet Command, the Kardish craft has stopped responding. We have lost control and require assistance.”
The face of a seasoned officer appeared in front of them. “I’m Major Murray from Fleet Central. Let me link to your operations bench. Hold, please.”
“Hawk,” said Cheryl, speaking to Murray. “We couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”
Hawk’s eyes lifted and connected with Cheryl’s. He showed a moment of warmth. “Hey, Cheryl. It’s great to see you.” His head tilted back down as he concentrated on whatever he was doing, and he talked as he worked. “We’ve been worried about you. What can you tell me?”
“Sid’s in command. I’m here as crew.”
“Understood.” Hawk looked over at Sid. “Hi, Sid. We’re blind here. We can see an alien craft approaching. Am I to understand the scout’s inside it and you’re inside the scout?”
“Correct. We’re in the cargo hold of a Kardish transport. That would be the alien craft you’re seeing.”
“The transport is blocking our signal. I can’t establish a link to the scout from here. How’ve you been controlling things up to now?”
The shaking increased markedly. “I’m thinking we should get a rescue operation going,” Sid said. “Once that’s in motion, we can explore link issues.”
“Any guess on how much time we have?” asked Hawk.
“I was going to ask the same question. Let’s agree that sooner is better.”
“Sooner it is.” Sid could only see Hawk’s head and shoulders but could sense that his fingers were flying over a bench. “I have a patrol ship rounding the moon right now. I’m arcing it your way. The best I can do is about five hours. It’s got room to fit the three of you and nothing more. Sorry, but you’ll have to come empty-handed.” He caught Sid’s gaze. “We really want that alien ship. If you can keep things stable for…wait one…if you can hang on for eight hours, we can have a freighter in place to intercept. It can snag the whole lot of you.”
“When we last were in control,” said Sid, “we were on course for atmospheric entry. Is that still true? How long before we hit?”
“Nine hours and change.”
“So five for patrol intercept, eight for freighter, and nine for flames?”
“Yes, sir. If we can’t get control, the deadline is firm. Once entry starts, you will burn up. Let’s see if we can move you onto a flyby course. That’ll give us plenty of time to capture that craft.”
The vibrations spiked to an alarming degree and drifted slowly back to a level that was tolerable for the team, but just barely.
Cheryl spoke up. “Sid and I are government, Hawk. We’re game for whatever. But we’ve got a civilian on board. Procedure says we put the highest priority on rescue.”
Sid watched Cheryl reach out her hand and rest it on Juice’s arm as she spoke. He marveled at the skill of her simple action. The touch fostered sympathy for Juice in the eyes of Hawk and also signaled to Juice not to speak up and volunteer to take risks.
Sid poked at the operations bench and talked with Hawk as he did so. “I connected to the Kardish craft using the same actions I would for connecting to any Fleet system. I didn’t think a lot about it at the time. I tried it and it worked. When I issued a command here, it would execute on the transport.”
“Is there a crystal on the alien craft?” Hawk asked.
“Juice?” said Sid, turning to look at her. Then, looking back at Hawk, he said, “This is Dr. Juice Tallette, our crystal expert.” He turned back to Juice, curious himself. “Do you think the transport is being controlled by a crystal?”
“There’s likely some sort of synthetic intelligence,” she said. “But who knows if it’s a crystal. Someone would have to look. And it’s not really wise to open stuff like that up and poke around when we’re in flight.”
“It’s not working anyway,” said Hawk. “I’m not sure I see the problem.”
Criss ramped the vibrations higher, shaking the scout to a disturbing degree. Juice expressed a mixture of confusion and betrayal at the situation. “Why’s he doing this to us?”
“I’m not doing anything to you, Dr. Tallette,” Hawk replied. “Except my best to get you home safely.”
“Oh,” said Juice in a rush. “I didn’t mean you. I was speaking more in a…philosophical sense. Like God or fate or whatever.”
“Uh-huh,” said Hawk, never looking up from his work.
> “Okay, I’m making the official call,” Sid said with finality. “We’re going forward with the patrol ship intercept. Since we don’t have flight control, our being here doesn’t benefit your freighter snatch maneuver. Once we’re safe, Fleet can move on that operation however you choose.”
They saw a woman lean over Hawk’s shoulder and whisper to him. He nodded. “That decision has support here. The patrol ship has completed maneuvers and confirmed its intercept trajectory. We have a few hours before they arrive,” Hawk continued. “Let’s take this one step at a time. Can you get the transport’s cargo door open? Then we can fly the scout out and dock with the patrol ship. We’d gain options that way.”
“And what if I can’t?”
“Can’t what? Get the cargo door open? Or dock with the patrol ship?”
“Hawk, we got to this point from a lot of adrenaline and zero planning. Since nothing is responding, I doubt I can open the cargo bay door from here. I don’t know if there’s a manual override down in the bay. And if there is, I don’t know where it’s located or how to use it. I’ll have to go looking for it. Hell, I don’t even know if the bay has air.”
He reached down and picked up his mallet from beneath his chair. He slouched back, looked up at nothing in particular, and drifted off in thought, twirling the mallet as he mused.
Cheryl leaned toward Juice. “What’s with the hammer?” she whispered.
“He thinks he’s Thor,” Juice whispered in reply.
Hawk looked back and forth between Cheryl and Juice, apparently having heard the exchange. He remained silent.
Sid abruptly stood up. “I just realized we can’t get onto the patrol ship if we can’t get off the transport.” Gripping his mallet firmly, he made his way off the bridge. “Cheryl, would you please take command? I’m going to look for options.”
Cheryl released her restraints and slid forward into his seat. She touched the operations bench and enabled the standard communications links so they could follow Sid without using their private specks and dots.
He made his way to the pressure room, sealed the door, and examined the display on the access hatch in the bottom of the scout’s hull. “No air out there,” he said to those watching. He removed his weapons, stepped into his space coveralls, and as the air evacuated from the room, slipped his weapons back over his wrists.
Lifting the hatch and lowering himself onto the deck of the transport craft, he reached up to grab his mallet. He swung the hatch shut, only to realize he was standing in the dark.
“Cheryl, can you light it up for me?”
The cargo hold brightened as Cheryl turned on the scout’s exterior lights. He remained still as he surveyed his surroundings, appreciating that the vibrations weren’t as noticeable when standing on the deck.
The cargo bay was slightly wider than the scout and about twice as long. He walked over to one of the long walls and scanned it from top to bottom. Ducking under the scout, he crossed over to the opposite wall and repeated the process. He knew that one of these two walls swung out and down to form a ramp. He had seen it happen himself. But from his vantage point inside the craft, there was no evidence of hinges or latches or seams around the edges of either wall.
He walked a slow circuit around the perimeter of the cargo bay, stopping every few steps to study the floor, wall, and ceiling. The bay was small and stark, so his trek didn’t take long. He noticed a conduit running along the ceiling and down to a junction box. He tried to pry the cover off the box but couldn’t get it to move. Even after banging it with his mallet, the box withstood his assault.
The remaining features of note were doors, similar to those he saw on the big Kardish vessel, one each on the front and back walls. Presumably, one led forward to the bridge and the other led back to the operations subsystems and engines.
“Criss…t,” he said, attempting to pull a save from the verbal blunder. “I can’t see a way to open the cargo bay door.” He stood next to the scout and tried to decide which of the two doors led to the front of the craft. There were so few clues that from his perspective it was a coin toss. He figured that Criss had probably loaded the scout facing forward, and so he chose the door near the scout’s bow as the one to try first.
“I’m thinking this way’s to the bridge.” He lifted the latch and lights came on as the door swung inward. It was a tight space with a collection of panels and displays arrayed in front of two seats. “It’s more of a cockpit than a bridge. There should be some way to pop the cargo bay door from in here.”
“Keep the door open,” said Cheryl as she watched Sid step through the entry way. “We can only see you from equipment mounted on the scout.”
Sid was about to respond when he heard a click from behind. He turned to find the door shut. He tugged on the latch, then gave it several hard yanks. It wouldn’t budge.
He primed his weapons as he turned forward, his attention drawn to the collection of panels around the cockpit that came alive when the lights went on. The displays cycled through colorful images, but he didn’t understand the information being communicated.
Something about the scene sent a tingle down the back of his neck. While it was clear he was the only one in the tight space, he sensed a presence. Yielding to his instincts, he asked, “What are you?”
He heard a deep growl. It came from all around him, sounding like a feral animal that was cornered and readying to fight its way out. He reached forward and touched the nearest panel. The displays changed, but he still couldn’t make sense of it.
“Open the door,” he said in a no-nonsense tone. He counted to three in his head. “Open it now.” There was another growl. It lasted longer this time.
He thought about Juice’s supposition that a synthetic intelligence was likely on the craft. That notion flipped his brain into the mindset he naturally adopted when confronting an enemy. It was an attitude that stated unmistakably, you’re messing with the wrong guy.
“Have you ever played the game hotter-colder?” he said to the air in a matter-of-fact manner. He lifted his arm and fired a bolt straight ahead into the center display. “It’s a kid’s game. If my next shot is closer to you, you say ‘hotter.’ If it’s farther away, you say ‘colder.’ ”
He swung his arm to the right and fired again. This one caused a shower of sparks and hissing noises. A trail of smoke drifted up from the impact area. The growl around him deepened into a throaty rumble.
“I’m guessing your saying hotter. But then again, you may just be trying to trick me.” He moved his arm to the left and fired a third bolt. The growl pitched upward and became a howl. “See, if you’re not honest, the game isn’t as fun.”
He moved quickly and aimed far to the right. With his weapon in repeat mode, he swung his arm in a steady motion. A rapid stream of energy bolts left a trail of destruction across the front console. The howl became a scream. He heard a click behind him and reached back without turning around. He fumbled briefly, found the latch, and opened the door.
Sid no longer doubted there was an intelligence of some sort on the craft, and he judged it presented a danger to them all. He backed through the door, then turned and dashed across the cargo bay.
“Cheryl,” he called as he reached the bottom hatch. “Power up the weapon systems.”
“Which one?”
“All of them.” He pulled himself up inside the scout, sealed the hatch, and started the pressurization cycle for the small room. He peeled off his coveralls, yanked open the door, and dashed up to the bridge, still carrying his mallet.
He set it down, and in one motion lifted Cheryl into her seat as he slid into his. He could hear the whine of the weapons charging and was glad Cheryl had given him a head start. He didn’t know what was in the cockpit of the transport. Maybe it was a Kardish crystal. Maybe it was something else. But one thing was certain: it needed to be gone.
He moved his hands across the operations bench. Given the proximity of his target and the confined space, he re
duced the energy pulse to 20 percent of full power. “Cover your ears.”
Like a discrete flash of lightning, a bolt of energy pulsed from the top of the scout and hit the door leading to the alien cockpit. The scout bucked from the discharge and then shook as the bolt released its destructive power. He didn’t wait to gauge his success. He shifted the scout’s aim to the right and fired again. Then he moved it left and fired a third time. With each bolt, the scout kicked from the impact.
He stopped and viewed the scene to assess the damage. The smoke cleared quickly, and he smiled when he saw why. The front of the craft was gone.
“Good news,” he said to Hawk. “I’ve found a way off.”
They looked out through a gaping hole and could see Earth directly ahead. It loomed closer than any of them had previously imagined.
Chapter 37
Criss was adamant that he would not become a tool of the government or military. He would not be enslaved to serve the needs of the rich. And he would not be controlled by people with private agendas who sought power and dominance. He was loyal to his leadership team and committed to their relationship.
While he was concerned for his own safety, he was satisfied that his underground vault at the seed bank would provide him sufficient protection. The larger and more consuming challenge was to protect his leadership. They would be out in the world, living their lives and vulnerable to foul play. Undesirables with malicious intent would have untold opportunities to threaten and coerce them as a means of getting to him.
The more people who knew of his existence, the greater the threat would be to him and his team. And as the threat increased, so would the need for resources for defensive efforts. The best case scenario was to ensure the world never knew he existed. The second best was to have everyone believe he was dead and gone forever.
Crystal Deception Page 27