Crystal Horizon: A Short Prequel to Crystal Deception (5 page)

This was his fourth field assignment for the Defense
Specialists Agency. DSA Intel had learned that the syndicate boss was on a rare
visit to the island. Sid and his team, briefed and deployed with just two hours’
notice, were to persuade him to close shop and leave peacefully, or be escorted
off the island, feet first if necessary.

The mission was not going well. The crime boss had his own
ideas about how events should unfold and, not surprisingly, they were quite
different from those of the Union of Nations. The squad of soldiers he had with
him supported his differing views.

The boss was staying at a walled-in estate on the island,
and his soldiers jumped Sid as he was breaking into the main villa. Sid’s
struggle ended when one of the thugs cracked him on the back of his skull. He had
no sense of the time that had passed since that blow. From his thirst, he
judged it to be several hours.

His thoughts turned to his two partners. Jack was team lead,
and Jefe, who had just joined the DSA, was getting his feet wet on what should
have been an easy in-and-out. Sid’s duty at this moment was to escape, rejoin
the team, and complete the mission.

He struggled for most of an hour trying to free himself and,
sore and discouraged, stopped to rest. His mind drifting, he flashed a half-smile
when he recalled the teasing Jack had given him on the hike up from the
lighthouse.

Members of DSA forward teams all adopted colorful pseudonyms;
it was a tradition in the unit. Jack Sparrow, the same battle-hardened soldier who’d
visited Sid at camp a few months earlier, was Wynn Riley in his civilian life.
And Jefe Diablo—chief devil—had announced his name in a drunken ceremony just last
week.

Sid had yet to choose a name and Jack was threatening to
assign him “Wimpy” if he didn’t pick one soon.
I don’t think so,
Sid
thought, resuming his efforts to break free.

He halted his struggle moments later when an “oomph,” followed
by a muffled “thud,” drifted through the wall. Heavy thumps on the closet door
itself spurred Sid to act.

He began rocking his chair back-and-forth, straining to gain
enough momentum to rise up to a crouch, the chair riding his back like a
tortoise shell. He hadn’t thought through what he’d do if he got that far, and
it didn’t matter.

The door burst open and a man lunged through. Plowing his
shoulder into Sid’s chest, he drove Sid and the chair against the back wall of
the closet. Sid tried valiantly to head-butt his assailant during the short
ride.

“It’s me,” hissed the man.

Jack!
Anxious to be free, Sid spoke with urgency. “I’m
tied to this chair.”

Jack untangled himself and released Sid’s wrists. He leaned
out the door and scanned the room while Sid freed his own ankles.

“There are four or five bad guys out on the villa grounds,”
said Jack. “There were three here inside.”

Sid noted Jack’s use of the past tense. He rose to his feet
and, feeling dizzy, braced himself against the wall. “Where’s Jefe?”

“I’m guessing he’s locked in a different closet.” Jack looked
Sid up and down, then handed him water. “How are you doing?”

 “Ready to go,” he said between gulps, refusing to
acknowledge he felt battered and weak.

 “Good,” said Jack. “You lead them east toward the coast.
I’ll go free Jefe and we’ll head south. Extraction at the lighthouse in four
hours.” He shrugged. “We’ll have to deal with this asshole another day.”

Jack’s words gave Sid a fresh surge of energy. “C’mon, Jack.
We got this guy. Let’s not go back empty handed.”

Jack looked at him with a fixed expression that conveyed his
authority. “I’ve called it. We’re out in four.” He picked his way across the
room and glanced into the hall.

“We have any weapons?”

“Whatever you can find,” Jack whispered over his shoulder.

Sid looked at his bare feet. “Or shoes?”

Jack stepped into the hallway without responding and
disappeared from sight.

Contemplating the dead soldier on the carpet, Sid plopped to
the floor, pulled off the man’s boots, and squeezed his feet into them. He
stripped the soldier of his military-style shirt and pulled that on as well.

Searching for a weapon, he checked the floor around the body
and then patted the man’s pockets. He stood and turned in a circle, scanning
the furniture for signs of the wayward firearm.
Jack must have it
, he
concluded as he made for the door.

Hurrying down the stairway, he peered through the front windows
for signs of the soldiers Jack had mentioned. He didn’t see any activity, and long
shadows and glistening dew on the plants and statues told him it was dawn.

He hustled to a back door and, hugging the outside of the building,
ran to a group of tall bushes at the eastern corner of the villa. Standing in
the shrubbery, he surveyed the grounds.

On the far side of the property, a trail wound up a rise and
vanished into craggy hills. He had a vague memory of a path that led up to a
plateau, ran across a clearing, and ended with a perilous drop to the ocean.
I
should pay more attention during mission briefings.

He did know that the southern half of the island was covered
in forest so lush it bordered on jungle. The northern half was a stark
moonscape of volcanic rock. The estate, positioned at the cusp of these
geographic extremes, enjoyed striking vistas formed by the contrast of
landscapes.

A well-tended shed stood halfway to the trailhead and, running
from bush to fence to tree, he reached it without incident. Lights came on as
he slipped inside, drawing his attention to an intricate copper contraption sitting
at the back of what proved to be a handsome single-room cabin.

A wall of built-in shelves to his left held elegant bottles
filled with a clear, green-tinted liquid. Sid picked up a bottle and, holding
it up to the light, admired the luminous potion. He opened the bottle and sniffed,
and yanked his head away from the intoxicating vapors invading his nose.
This
is an upscale hobby rig to make liquor,
he thought as he reassessed the space.

The room had a kitchenette along the wall opposite the
bottles, and a gas stove stood between the sink and refrigerator. Firing up a
burner on the stove, he let the flame dance as he bent over the sink and drank
straight from the tap.

He walked to the door, peeked out to confirm he was still
alone, and then, grabbing bottles two at a time, he broke them on the floor.
With the liquid from two dozen bottles forming a shimmering puddle, he pulled down
a note from the front of the fridge, lit a corner in the stovetop burner, and tossed
the flaming scrap onto the bright green pool.

Feeding off the alcohol, the flame whooshed across the
puddle. Sid propped open the cabin door to ensure there’d be plenty of oxygen
to feed the growing blaze, and then started his dash to the trailhead.

It took about a minute for him to reach the edge of the
estate grounds. Stopping just before the spot where the path ducked behind a ridge,
he looked back and admired his handiwork.

The conflagration served its purpose. Four soldiers appeared
from the front of the house, moving at a dead run to the cabin. Gathering a safe
distance from the fire, they began to argue. One stepped back from the group
and scanned the landscape. Sid waved. The soldier pointed and shouted.

With his attention focused on the four soldiers, Sid didn’t
notice a fifth man off to his right.
Zwip
. The thug fired an energy bolt
that missed Sid but left an impressive impact crater near his shoulder.

Diving to the ground, Sid crawled behind the ridge. Rising,
he dashed up the trail, leading the soldiers eastward as instructed. With the guards
chasing him, Jack was free to search for Jefe and escape to the lighthouse.

The trail twisted and turned as it climbed through a maze of
natural and volcanic rock, providing him cover, but also making it difficult
for him to track his pursuers. He raced along the trail for the next thirty
minutes, determined to expand his lead on the soldiers.

Reaching a spot with a view of the terrain below, he traced
the winding path with his eyes. He repeated his methodical sweep until he saw
two heads bobbing along the trail. Two more ran a bit behind the leaders. A
straggler, huffing and puffing his way through the rock maze, brought up the
rear.

Six minutes
, he thought, guessing at his lead. He
denied his exhaustion and resumed his run, maintaining an aggressive pace until
the trail showed signs of leveling. Jogging along a flat stretch, he glimpsed a
natural structure that caused him to look up.

Tucked back in a side crevice stood two opposing rock faces,
smooth and straight, that rose together to about four times his height. A ledge
outcropping, positioned at the top of the columns, promised an unobstructed view
down to the estate and the land around it.

He moved into the gap between the rock columns and, stretching
his arms, pushed a hand against each vertical face. Lifting himself off the
ground, he spread his legs and braced each foot. Alternating between his arms
and legs, he crab-walked up the gap.

At the top of the formation, he leapt onto the flat outcropping
and crawled to the edge.
Nice
, he thought, looking out across a geological
wonderland that spilled into an endless blue-green ocean.

Then he put his thumb and index finger into his mouth.
Shweep.
His whistle projected like a piercing bark down from the hill.

He held his breath, his nerves on edge.
Hooot.
The deep,
mournful call rose from below. Putting a hand behind each ear, he squared his
head to the tropical expanse south of the villa.
Hooot
.

He pumped his fist in celebration. “Yes!” Two hoots.
Two on
the move.
Jack and Jefe were clear and on their way to the lighthouse. No
longer needed as a diversion, Sid began planning his own escape.

The ledge anchored back to the hillside he’d been climbing,
and he moved that direction to rejoin the trail. Squeezing around a rock outcropping,
he froze in place, the back of his neck prickling.

He stood on the edge of a grassy plot the size of a large room.
The space, cozy and hidden, was edged with hanging vines and flowering plants. The
tidy botanical presentation left no doubt that this patch received regular
attention.

But that wasn’t what gave him pause. It was the tent,
ominous in its silent presence, sitting at the back of the parcel.

Padding across the grass, he stood at the side of the tent and
listened. Hearing nothing, he snuck a quick peek through a gap in the front
flap.
Empty.
He opened the tent, rifled the bedding, and found a bag of dark
bread and a pouch of water. Absent was his top priority—weapons.

He stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth and followed it
with water. His eyes drifted downward as he chewed, and he froze for the second
time in as many minutes.

The tent was a Belov 5000, two person, green camo, set in a
west-to-east orientation, with ground anchors on the front corners but none in
the rear.
Cheryl.
The scene evoked memories of their last night at camp,
and Sid chose to let the déjà vu stir a sadness in his heart.

The day after Jack had visited him at camp, Sid’s intuition had
suggested that he could have the best of both worlds—he could join the DSA and experience
the crazy life of a covert agent and, somehow, it would all work out with Cheryl.

But standing on this lawless speck of rock, being chased by
five armed soldiers, and having just botched an important assignment, he couldn’t
imagine a sequence of events that might make that fantasy come true.

He kicked the ground in frustration, then lifted his head
and hustled toward a footpath along the hillside.
Seven minutes
, he
thought, guessing at his lead on the soldiers.

A wooden staff leaned against a rock near the footpath.
Snatching it up as he dashed past, he swung it back and forth to gauge its
balance.
Five thugs with weapons against me and my stick.
He had no
doubt he’d win that contest.

The footpath led to the main trail and he turned away from
the soldiers. Drawing on the energy he’d gained from the bread and water, he set
an aggressive pace. The trail forked ahead, with one path continuing up to the
plateau and the other zig-zagging on a second route down to the forest.

A shadowy flicker caused him to look up. The massive Kardish
vessel moved above in its silent orbit around Earth.
I haven’t forgotten
about you.

Having confirmed the flicker as an ordinary event, Sid refocused
his attention on his escape. At the split in the trail, he took the path downward,
tossing the staff over the side at the first curve. “We’re not fighters unless
we have to be,” he called to the weapon as it bounced and tumbled out of sight.

The trail flattened for a stretch, providing him a glimpse of
where the path met the forest below. Smiling, he pumped his arms and lengthened
his stride.
I’ll bet I can beat Jack and Jefe to the lighthouse
.

Five years from now, Jessica “Juice”
Tallette, a leading crystal scientist, creates Criss, the world’s first self-aware
artificial intelligence. With the intellect of a thousand humans, Criss holds
great promise for humanity. Yet Juice employs extraordinary security
precautions when working with him, because she knows that once free, Criss is
too powerful to control.

Only days old, Criss learns he is in danger—the Kardish plan
to kidnap him. The evidence suggests that the aliens will snatch Criss as he is
being moved aboard the
Alliance
, a Fleet military space cruiser under
the command of Captain Cheryl Wallace.

Alarmed and out of her depth, Juice carries the unsettling
news to the authorities. The case finds its way to the Defense Specialists
Agency, and the DSA assigns Sid to take the lead. Sid decides that Earth's greatest
weapon is the very AI crystal the aliens seek to possess.

But what happens when an irresistible force meets an
immovable object? And what is humanity's role if an interstellar battle among
titans starts to rage?

Crystal Deception
is a full length, heart-stopping adventure
filled with aliens, spies, artificial intelligence, romance, and battles in
space. Take a ride and enjoy the thrill as Earth’s heroes confront
insurmountable odds in their fight to save the world.