Icarus (Interstellar Cargo Book 1) (12 page)

The emphasis on the last word was all that was needed to sway them. Three of the debtors rushed to meet Kingston, and Cole knew he would have to build the story to keep any suspicion off of him. Luckily he was a good bullshitter.

“What happened?” asked short, gruff man with a skunk streak of white on the right side of his head. His attention on the grievous wound.

“The infirmary,” Cole demanded, gesturing to one of the larger debtors in the group. “We have to rush him there immediately. I’ll explain on the way.” He instructed the man to take Lin’s place. Another person volunteered, lifting the professor’s legs. Cole held his role and allowed the group to lead them to the desired destination.

The ten minute warning klaxon wailed as they stepped foot in the infirmary. By then, Cole had introduced Lin as Kingston’s daughter, blamed just about every possible wrongdoing upon the ambassador—whose name he never discovered—and had whipped the debtors into quite the fury. They knew exactly of whom he spoke. Cole wondered what they would do if they learned the truth of the matter.

Kingston was laid upon the gurney, and it seemed as if the man’s fate might finally be at hand. He was gray, his eyes shut in obvious agony. Cole had to work fast in order to—

The gurney came to life, the room’s occupants stepping away in surprise as the automated bed performed a full-body scan. A hologram projected overtop of Kingston, presenting a perfectly accurate internal diagnostic of his body. Even as the entry wound was indicated in red on 3D diagram, several tendril-like appendages erupted from the bedside like a nightmare. The tips of the appendages snipped away cloth, cleaned the cauterized wound, and slipped inside to investigate the extent of the damage. Kingston acknowledged the invasion with little more than a weak moan.

Cole leaned in close to Kingston, almost grazing the man’s lips. He made eye contact with a tense Lin, and passed along the mental message:
Trust me
. She gave the smallest of nods, and he straightened.

“The Singularity has spoken,” he announced, making sure everyone was listening. Cole ignored the tinny mechanical sounds of the gurney as it performed its wonders on the dying man. “There is one chance.” He held up his index finger and displayed it to everyone. “If this terraformer is to be stabilized, he must be brought to the central maintenance lift in order to perform a desperate maneuver.”

Now to seal or break the deal.
Cole looked down and met Kingston’s bleary gaze, hoping against all hope the man was coherent enough and cognizant of the lie to play along. The gurney’s automated efforts must have been quick to help, because a hint of light seeped back into his eyes, and he met Cole’s pleading gaze. Whether or not he knew the entirety of the situation was unclear, but he offered a definitive nod.

I’m saving the wrong guy,
Cole thought to himself, hoping CAIN was not passing along everything he considered. He did, however, expect the AI to respond to his next thought.
We’re ready, Cain.

We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.
Cole stepped onto the narrow platform and grabbed the railing for support. Lin followed suit on the opposite side.

And so did the stocky debtor assisting them.

Cole said nothing of the unexpected passenger, though he did have a use for him, even if it was ultimately unnecessary. “Can you direct the gurney toward the central maintenance lift?” he asked him, realizing he would need someone to cover for CAIN’s unexplainable remote access.

The man nodded, and pointed to a particular place inside the hologram. The gurney rose from the floor and drifted out of the infirmary. Everyone held on tight as the medical hovercraft raced toward its destination.

Scores of debtors stood aside as they moved closer to the center of the terraformer. Their faces were tense and wrought with confusion. Cole could not look any of them in the eye for fear he would see only ghosts.

The five minute warning sounded just short of them arriving at the vacant lift deep within the terraformer. The lift was a platform in the shape of the cylindrical pillar itself, large enough to withhold several pieces of heavy machinery. There were no walls, allowing access to panels and corridors in nearly every direction. Cole looked up and could not see the top to where they needed to escape.

I hope you modified this lift as well, Cain.

That’s not reassuring at all.

The gurney drifted toward the center of the lift, dwarfed by its size. The platform began to rise—much slower than Cole would have hoped. They had less than five minutes to board the ship and be beyond range of the explosion. It didn’t seem possible.

“I’m coming with you,” the stocky man said.

Cole blinked, his palms sweating on the gurney rail. “Come again?”

“You heard me,
flightboy
. I ain’t stupid. I know what’s going on, and I want in.”

Out, you mean.
“Enlighten me, then,” Cole said, hoping to buy time as he decided how to approach this newest obstacle.

The man chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t think that story you crapped out fooled everyone, do you?” he asked, scratching behind his ear. “Racing to this lift to repair an issue in another section of the plant? Hah! I’ve been slaving away in this godforsaken monstrosity for six years, makin’ all sorts of repairs. I know how these things work—seen what makes ‘em tick, and she’s a tickin’ time bomb ‘bout to blow.” He pointed a meaty finger up. “There’s an escape ship waiting near the exhaust vent, ain’t there?”

No point in carrying on with this lie.
“Alright, you caught us red-handed. Why should we let you come with us...
if
we make it out alive?”

“Was a tactical spacecraft mechanic for Starforce during the Carbon Wars. Never was good at flyin’ the space junkers, but I seen and fixed all sorts of shit.” He cracked his neck and knuckles. “‘Sides, I’m coming whether you like it or not.”

Cole was slightly taller but was not nearly as stocky. He was probably ten years the mechanic’s junior with the same military training. It would be an ugly fight. Or... “Excellent.” He saluted the mechanic. “Glad to know another Zoomie—or Rotorhead—in your case.” He extended his hand to shake. “Me, I was a Senior Spaceman, 47
^th
Division under Admiral Arturo Preston.” It was mostly true, but there was no way to prove just how far up the ladder he had climbed.
No need to gloat.

The man scratched his beard, his dark eyes settling upon Lin a little too long. He grinned. “Richter Solomon.” He accepted Cole’s outstretched hand, squeezing with all his might. “Call me Rig. Add G E R after it, and I’ll knock your teeth in, Nugget.”

Nugget
. Cole remembered the slang fondly. “Says the man who openly admitted to never being any good at flying.”

Rig laughed, squeezing Cole’s hand even harder in the process. “I’m amazed you learned to fly anything coming in after the war.”

Cole wondered if he would be able to fly anything ever again if Rig did not let go. It took all he had to keep his expression calm. Thankfully, the mechanic did let go, and Cole hid his trembling appendage behind his back. “Yeah, well I’ll be even more amazed if you can figure out how to maintain my ship once we’re aboard.”

“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen,” Rig said, looking Kingston over.

Cole smiled. “Speaking of seeing, you might be able to escape from Terracom 3, but they’ll track you down once the Terraport is operational. I can’t have that sort trouble.”

Rig pointed at Kingston. “What about the cult of personality, here? He’s got the same shit in his eyes as I do.”

Cole wiped his brow and looked at Lin. She shook her head. “He’s a special case who won the retinal branding removal lottery.”

Rig seemed unconvinced but did not pursue the topic further. The three minute warning erupted louder than all the previous alerts, and everyone looked up, wondering just how close they were to reaching their escape. A ceiling was visible but still too far away for any comfort.

We’re coming, Cain. I hope you’re ready.

The two minute warning to critical mass came and went, and the top of the pillar never seemed so far away. All chatter turned to neck craning and second-counting. One minute sounded, though the roar of the slowing exhaust vents nearly muted their death clock. The platform reached the highest level with roughly fifty seconds to spare, and the group was off the lift before it completely halted.

Rig seemed to know the way up and out, so Cole and Lin deferred to him. The pillar shook, and metal groaned as though they were in the midst of a minor quake. The temperature at the top was stifling, the air thin. Cole could not tell whether the hazardous conditions had killed Kingston. In thirty seconds, he would most certainly be dead along with everyone else.

Cole and Rig yanked the Singularity unceremoniously from his life support gurney and rushed him up a zigzagging staircase toward a lone door. Lin ran ahead to check the exit, and mercifully, it opened.

Blazing light poured into the terraformer, while an incredible vacuum threatened to suck them off their feet. Even running at one percent, the cyclonic draw of semi-poisonous atmosphere created a dangerous vortex at the top of the intake vents. The roar of the seizing generators canceled all sound, and they ran toward what they hoped was their salvation.

The pillar shifted beneath their feet, sending the group tumbling to the ground. An enormous explosion sounded from deep inside complex, and Cole wondered if maybe they were too late. As eyes adjusted, only three of the four escapees were present. Both he and Lin were standing, but Rig was still on the ground, desperately clutching onto a ledge leading into the intake vent. His other hand was out of view, and Cole knew Kingston was attached.

The ICV-71 was waiting yards away in the other direction, the cargo ramp lowered and inviting. There was a desire to grab Lin and ditch the others. Cole spit in fate’s eye and ran for the two men in peril, hoping the meltdown would have a delay before total implosion.

He dove onto his stomach, sliding within inches of being drawn into the titan meat-grinder. Kingston hung limp in Rig’s straining hand. The rotor was nearly stopped, the screeching of metal against metal an endless explosion in his ears. Rig’s dumbfounded expression would have made Cole laugh had he not been staring into the eyes of the Grim Reaper. Unable to reach Kingston’s other hand, he reached over and grabbed the mechanic’s wrist and pulled with all his might. The dead weight that was the Singularity rose out of the blender and was tossed to safety like a sack of grain.

Unable to gather their breath, Cole and Rig struggled to their feet and collected Kingston. The harrowing rescue had tapped a well of adrenaline in Cole, and he slung Lin’s father over his shoulder as though he were a child. That same stupid look on Rig’s face returned as they sprinted for the ship. Their world shook violently once more, and the horizon appeared to be slightly askew.

Terror seized Cole’s heart.
The pillar’s tipping over....

Critical mass was at hand, the facility crumbling in the face of the inevitable explosion. Cole and Rig dashed up the ramp, and Kingston was passed off to Lin. She tumbled to the floor under her father’s weight, but Cole barely noticed in his mad rush toward the bridge.

“Get us out of here, Cain!” Cole shouted, racing past the lift to take the stairs.

“Dammit, Cain!” Cole lost his balance as the ship began to tilt along with the tipping tower. “I don’t have time for your games! You flew this tin can up here! You can do it again!”

“We’re all going to die, Cain!” Cole screamed, his patience gone. He tripped on a step and crashed into a wall. He pushed away and punched it. “If you don’t help us, you’ll never get the chance to evolve past a goddamn circuit board!”

“What are you...” Then everything was crystal clear. How had he missed so obvious a detail? He knew exactly what to do.

Cole stopped running. “Cain, I consider you my
friend
. And as your
friend
, I’m asking you to take command of this mission so we can continue together,” he clenched his fists, “as equals.”

The pending silence from the AI was the darkest moment of Cole’s life. He leaned against the wall, struggling to stay upright. He would not be able to reach the next level to access the bridge.

CAIN said, gentleness to his tone.

The ICV-71’s engines erupted to life, and the ship lurched forward, sending Cole tumbling back down the steps he had just ascended. He sat and braced himself against the closest wall with a grimace.
What the hell was I supposed to hold onto?
He tapped into the Ocunet and uploaded the remote viewport to see what Cain was doing. He wished he had not.

The ship seemed in free-fall as it sped away from the descending pillar. The ground came at them entirely too fast, and Cole wondered if he had opened Pandora’s Box just to reach in and watch the lid close on his fingers.

But this was the ICV-71, an F-class cargo vessel with state-of-the-art precision handling. It was designed as a fighter ship with a streamlined freighter hull. She pulled up with ease, dancing through the fog of debris and rising inferno. CAIN threaded the eye of a needle with ease, effortlessly dodged raindrops in a deluge. It was beautiful to behold.

Cole switched to rear view in time to witness the absolute destruction of DC-Alpha-6. The pillar slammed against the planet’s surface, igniting the cataclysmic explosion. He felt the shockwave a fraction of a second before he heard what sounded like mountains colliding just outside the ship. The ICV-71 seemed to be doing cartwheels, so badly was he jostled. But CAIN’s focus remained true.