Crystal Horizon: A Short Prequel to Crystal Deception (3 page)

Boom.
She’d pulled back and taken cover, but the noise
and bright flash still caused her to blink. Peering around the edge of the ops
bench, she squinted through the growing haze. The crystal had updated the projected
image of the ship. A large, jagged hole was visible in the right wall.

She rose, crouched at the edge of the bench, and readied for
a dash. The acrid smell of smoke gave a surreal quality to the drama.

“Good luck,” she heard as she pushed off and sprinted for
the opening.

Zwip. Zwip.
Energy bolts landed all around her. Determined
to get through the hole as fast as possible, she returned fire during her dash
but didn’t take time to aim. The thickening smoke and Sid’s cover fire bought
her the precious seconds she needed.

 When she was two body lengths from the right wall, she lifted
her arms and dove head-first through the opening. Tucking a shoulder, she rolled
once and let her momentum bring her to her feet. She understood from the narrow
walls that she was in a side passageway.
Engine room is down and aft.
Dashing
away from the bridge, she searched for a route to her goal.

She approached a turn in the passageway and slowed. Sidling
up to the corner, she bobbed her head forward and snapped back, then processed
the memory of her glimpse.
Empty
. She looked back the way she’d come and
saw no signs of pursuit.
Nice work, Sid.

Turning the corner, she stepped into an alcove that held a
ladder leading down through a hole in the floor. She grasped the vertical rails
with her hands, took a short hop, and pinched the outside of the rails with her
feet, squeezing to control the speed of her fall.

Craning her neck for signs of danger, she hit the lower deck
with a solid thump and resumed her sprint aft.
There are two people between
here and the engine room
. She knew that was a bold assumption and she
should prepare for other scenarios, but with time growing short, restraint wasn’t
a winning strategy.

And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she wanted to live up
to Sid’s confidence in her.
Focus
, she thought, scolding herself for
letting her attention drift.

Looking ahead, she saw the hallway had two branches exiting
off to the right before dead-ending at a wall. She stopped at the corner of the
first branch and snuck a peek.
Clear
. Peering down the side branch as
she raced past, she perceived it to be a short connector that linked to a broad,
brightly lit corridor.

The second branch loomed and she edged up to the corner and stole
a glimpse. It, too, was empty, and like the other it connected to the same lighted
corridor. Moving into that second branch, she crept to the end and used her com
to survey the scene.

Looking right, she detected the arched opening for the first
branch she’d passed. Her heart rate spiked when, to her left, she saw the
distinctive shape of a muscular blast door.
The engine room!

Studying the layout in that direction, she identified a
half-dozen cubbies and corners along its length.
They’re waiting for me
somewhere in those hidey-holes.

 With limited options, she scurried back to the first branch—the
one farthest from the engine room—and moved to the end near the brightly lit corridor.
Dropping to one knee, she retrieved her last demolition disk and smoke disk, set
them on the deck, armed them, and retreated for cover.

Time slowed as she waited for the detonation.
Boom.
Moving
into the blast zone, she surveyed the damage through the thickening haze. The
smoke disk, now resting in the middle of the broad corridor, hissed like an
angry snake as it spewed dense fumes into the confined space.

This either works or it doesn’t.
With the opaque
cloud as her protection, she stepped into the corridor, pressed her back
against the wall, and waited.

The thick smoke tested her. Tears streamed down her face and
she blinked repeatedly in a vain attempt to soothe her stinging eyes. Her
throat and lungs burned from the harsh vapors. Lifting the front of her shirt
over her nose and mouth, she fought the urge to cough.

Resolute in this course of action, she counted seconds as
she battled impatience, doubt, and pain.
Voices!
Drifting toward her
from the direction of the engine room, she strained to hear the words.

“Do you think they blew themselves up?” asked one. It
sounded like Seth. They’d been partners in a challenge earlier in the week and she’d
enjoyed the experience.

“You go straight,” said the other. “I’ll swing across and
come around from the back.”

Cheryl smiled.
Yes.

She lifted her weapons and, taking deliberate strides down
the hall, moved toward her opponents. Materializing from the cloud, she
imagined herself as the mythical phoenix rising from the ashes.

 
Zwip.
She nodded at Seth as she hurried past him,
his glowing suit signaling his death. Reaching the mouth of the second branch,
she shot Seth’s partner before he even knew of a threat.

Then her reflexes kicked in. Taking steps that lengthened with
each pump of her arms, she sprinted down the hall. She didn’t know if more
danger lurked ahead, but at this point it didn’t matter. This was her
make-or-break play for the win.

Reaching the blast door, she coded it open and stepped
across the threshold. A display inside showed the elapsed time. Five minutes and
eighteen seconds.

She hadn’t just beaten the other team, she’d
crushed
them. Lifting her arms over her head, she shuffled her feet and swiveled her hips
in an impromptu happy dance.

Exhilarated, she wanted to share her joy. Exiting the engine
room, she started a slow jog through the theater and back to the command
bridge. Seth gave her a good-natured smile and they slapped hands as she passed.

Reaching the bridge, she flashed a broad grin at Sid and
performed an abbreviated happy dance. She sensed a somber mood lurking beneath
his smile and stopped celebrating, letting her arms drop to her sides.

He stepped to her, studied her face as he moved a wayward strand
of hair off her forehead, then enveloped her in his arms. She stiffened as her rational
thoughts battled her emotional desires.
Don’t be stupid.

Ignoring her well-honed defensive mechanism, she hugged him
back.

“We did it,” she said.

“
You
did it,” Sid whispered in her ear.

They sat on a corner of the ops bench and she recounted the
details of her winning run, enjoying his undivided attention from start to
finish.

“What motivated you to throw this on my shoulders?” she
asked as they walked out of the theater together.

“My intuition. I’ve been trusting my gut instincts more and
more.” He put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “I’m on an amazing
lucky streak, so far anyway.”

She looked up at him. “What does your gut say about our time
here at camp?”

Before he could answer, Captain Dooley came around the
corner, eyeing them as he approached.

* * *

Over the next weeks, Sid found himself
paired with Cheryl on a regular basis. Sometimes it was just the two of them, and
other times they were part of a larger team.

In a relentless progression of missions, they were
challenged with hypothetical situations that tested their leadership, team
building, and strategic skills. They also confronted heart-stopping physical obstacles,
like scaling the face of a cliff on a rainy day, and traversing a dense forest on
a moonless night.

They proved to be a great team, and they or their group
usually prevailed in those scenarios structured to have winners and losers.
Observers saw Sid as a fierce competitor who carried the day, but in his head,
he attributed a significant portion of their success to Cheryl.

As they grew closer, she revealed an irreverent streak that
he thoroughly enjoyed. His first exposure was when she mocked a way-too-serious
instructor behind his back. They laughed out loud in the middle of what was
supposed to be an important exercise. The instructor rewarded their antic with
a scathing glare, and this served to deepen their bond and feed their shared
delight.

At week six, she suggested they sneak down to the lake after
lights-out to stargaze. Lying side-by-side on the dock, they hung their feet
into the water, took turns making up silly names for constellations, and talked
about everything and nothing.

She pointed up at something he couldn’t see. “Before camp, I
was first lieutenant on the Fleet ship
Prospect
. We spent three months shadowing
the Kardish in orbit.
Prospect
is now being provisioned for a trip to
Mars Colony.”

“Do you wish you were with them?”

“Definitely,” she responded without hesitation, then her
face creased with an impish grin. “But on the up side, I got to meet a guy
whose gut tells the future.”

They made love that night. Sid immersed himself in the
thrill and pleasure of being with her. He didn’t understand why she’d responded
to his advances. He didn’t care. He was happy.

* * *

It was the last week of camp, and Sid,
alone in the cabin, sat on his bunk. He heard a single knock on the door and
before he could respond, a tall, solid-framed man entered. From his rugged
appearance, Sid judged him to be a battle-hardened soldier in his mid-thirties.

“May I help you,” said Sid—a statement, not a question. He’d
never seen the man before and this was no social visit.

“I’m Captain Sparrow,” the man replied. “Call me Jack. May I
sit?”

Sid thought briefly about the protocol of standing and
saluting, but Jack was dressed in civvies, so he thrust his chin at the back of
an empty chair.

Turning the chair, Jack looked around the cabin as he lowered
himself into the seat. Shifting his gaze to Sid, he said, “I’m from a covert
unit of the DSA—the Defense Specialists Agency. I’d like to chat with you about
who we are and what we do.”

You have my attention
, Sid thought, though he remained
silent.

“The DSA supports the needs of the secretary of defense. Our
job is to be out in front for him, probing high-risk situations, gathering
information, and delivering outcomes on his behalf.

“We’re not fighters unless we have to be. In the perfect
mission, we infiltrate, do our job, and then we’re gone. If we do it right, no
one knows we were there. Hell, we don’t want anyone to even know we exist. But
sometimes we end up fighting. When we do, we fight hard and we fight to win.
Think super spy, Sid, only with broader skills, better toys, and fewer rules.”

He stopped talking and studied Sid, who maintained a poker
face and remained silent. A moment later, Jack continued.

“You’ve been through basic, officer’s school, and
special-ops training, and you’ve displayed characteristics at each stage that
we find appealing. You don’t know it, but you’re here at camp for a final
review. While a best outcome wouldn’t have included a dalliance with Cheryl
Wallace, your term here has been rated a success by those who matter.”

Sid felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle at the
mention of Cheryl and he worked to maintain a passive demeanor.

As if sensing Sid’s displeasure, Jack sat back in his chair,
creating more distance between them. “I know my comment about the lieutenant
touched a sensitive spot. Your calm response right now is a trait I value.”

“So you said that to test me?”

“No,” said Jack, shaking his head. “In this situation, she’s
relevant.”

Sid’s instincts told him where this was headed, but he needed
to hear it. “Help me understand.”

“If you accept our offer, you leave here tomorrow morning.
You can’t tell anyone where you’re going. You can’t even mention that you’re
leaving. Not to anyone, Sid. Ever. That’s why she’s relevant.”

Sid contemplated the word “offer” and all it implied. He
pretended to study a scar on his wrist as he let the silence grow. Then he
lifted his head and met Jack’s gaze. “What exactly is this offer? Spell it out
for me.”

“We want you to become a covert warrior for the DSA. Defense
specialists are the vanguard of clandestine intelligence and protection for the
Union. Join us and you’ll be involved in missions that can save millions of
lives. Literally. I can’t make you appreciate who we are and what we do using
words. You have to live it to understand. But let me paint some big pictures
for you.

“There are countries that have chosen not to join the Union.
A few have become aggressive and their actions create dangerous situations for
innocents. In the past year alone, my DSA team went into hostile territory
seven times to assess a situation and perform sensitive—I’ll call them ‘tasks’—that
changed the dynamic on the ground and saved lives.”

Jack’s com sent an alert and he checked it as he talked. “Right
now, a high priority is the alien spacecraft that’s orbiting Earth. The agency
is spending a lot of resources trying to get actionable intelligence on the
Kardish so the secretary has something to work with.”

He looked Sid in the eye. “The offer is to become a member
of my team. The offer is live, but I need an answer.”

Shaking his head, Sid said, “Let’s start by slowing down. I
don’t know you and I don’t know what to make of your pitch. What you describe sounds
interesting, but I’m not sure what parts are real. Maybe all of it. Maybe it’s
all bullshit. Your only credibility right now is that you’re here inside camp.
That’s a plus given the security this place has, but it’s not enough.”

This time it was Jack’s turn to remain silent. Sid mulled
the situation and made a decision. “Give me some names, people I know and
trust, who can back up your story.”

“You want references? Really?” Jack looked at him for a long
moment. “Okay, check your com. I’ve sent you three names.”