Icarus (Interstellar Cargo Book 1) (31 page)

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Authors: Matt Verish

Tags: #firefly, #Adventure, #space exploration, #action, #Space Opera, #dark matter, #icarus, #artificial intelligence

BOOK: Icarus (Interstellar Cargo Book 1)
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He pressed and held his thumb against the smooth underside, allowing a link to be established with his Ocunet lenses. He let it lie in his palm, watching as it began to spin and tickle his skin. It lifted into the air, hovering just in front of his face. A small menu opened inside his lens displaying several basic options. Cole selected Record and kept the nano camera focused on himself.

“Last will and testament,” he said, smirking. “Just kidding: I don’t have anything to give to anyone anyway. Captain’s log... No, that’s no good either.” He drummed his fingers on the lid of the crate, then a light bulb went off in his head. “
Icarus
log, number one.”

25
ROGUE

“W
hat the hell was that?”

Cole had heard the noise as well. Felt it, even. He pocketed the drone and ran towards Emmerich’s voice. He shined his flashlight on her as she pounded down the steps into the cargo bay, wide-eyed and ready to fight. Her tenacity never ceased to amaze him.

“Did you hear it, Musgrave?”

“How could I not?” he said, allowing her room to slow to a stop. “The whole ship shook.”

“Terracom must’ve located us.” She left no room for argument.

Tenacious
and
ignorant!
Cole thought. “I highly doubt it. Not even the almighty Terracom can track someone that fast. We’re a long ways off from where we were, and with all the electromagnetic interference pumping off the Sun, it’ll be a while—if ever—before they get any kind of lock on Rig’s location.”

Emmerich was not appeased. “Then what do you suppose we heard?”

Cole shrugged. “We’re pretty much flying blind out here. Could’ve been a meteoroid glancing off the hull for all we know. I haven’t heard anything else since then.”

“Speaking of Rig,” Emmerich said, turning the mechanic’s name into a curse word, “Where do you suppose he’s been hiding during all of this?”

Cole never had the chance to answer. Their conversation was interrupted by a familiar mechanical groan from below the cargo hold. He moved closer to the steps, his flashlight focused on the floor. “That’s the payload bay door opening.”

“But the ship has no power!”

“Yeah, well, the vents are still blowing air as well.” He was already working his way up the steps backward. “Could be a backup of some sort or possibly a malfunction.”

Emmerich scowled at his slow retreat. “You don’t sound so sure.”

“That’s because I’m not.” He hated to think that she may have been correct with her initial conclusion. If that was the case, the four of them were done for. “But seeing as we have yet to be blown to bits, we’ll just have to assume something else is afoot.”

“You’re a regular detective, Musgrave.”

The sound of the payload bay door closing echoed through the quiet hold. Cole froze in mid-stride. “Come, Watson. Time to check on the good doctor.”

“Since when do you run away from a fight?”

“When I don’t know what I’m up against,” he said, reaching for her sleeve. She pulled away from his hand, scowling. “Suit yourself. I’m not going to be standing here in the open when whatever just docked with us raises up into our level.”

Emmerich sighed and nodded. “Force them to come to us through a tight space.”

There’s hope for her yet.
He winked at her and turned to run up the steps with her in tow.

They found Lin where they had left her on the bridge. She was concentrating on her Rook, unaware of the ship’s new passenger. She did not break her trance even after they approached her. Cole sat down heavily in his chair, snapping her from her technical reverie.

Cole bit his tongue when she turned to him, a look of utter dismay on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Lin seemed to struggle to find the right words. “CAIN is still active.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Cole said, wondering what was so horrible about that bit of information. “I wish we had equally good news.”

“No,” Lin said, shaking her head vigorously. “You don’t understand. There was no virus. CAIN willingly went into shutdown.”

“You’re right; I don’t understand.”

Lin snatched her Rook away from the console and held it close to her breast, fear in her eyes. “The ship has been internally sabotaged. CAIN has gone rogue.”

~

C
ole pondered their situation from the relative safety of one of the six living quarters. Sitting in pitch darkness with Lin and Emmerich, their breathing the only audible sound, he was left with nothing but guesses to the AI’s motive for lockdown. With the exception of oxygen and heat pumping through the vents, all other functions had ceased. He gathered CAIN might be holding a sort of grudge against them and had denied their privileges, but the AI was still concerned for their well-being.

As for the mysterious guests that had docked with them, Lin had not been able to extract any information regarding their identity. All she knew was that CAIN had allowed them access. As a result, they were lying in wait, hoping to catch the unknown visitors unaware. After that, it was anyone’s guess as to what they should do.

“You should give me back my gun,” Emmerich whispered to Cole. “I’m better suited to wield it.”

He hung his head, though no one could see in the dark. “Again with my gun,” he whispered back, lightly tapping the barrel. “It’s mine now. Mine. Besides, the last time you ‘wielded it,’ I snapped your wrist.”

“I was a soldier as well, remember?”

“How’s your ankle doing?”

“Must you two incessantly bicker?” Lin snapped.

There was a bout of silence, followed by Emmerich’s sigh. It was the opening for which Cole was waiting. “She started it.”

They hid in the dark, peeking through a sliver in the door for what felt like an hour. As time continued to tick by without any sign of an invasion, Cole grew increasingly restless. CAIN might be in control, but he was tired of allowing this farce to continue. He stood and slid open the door.

“What are you doing?” Emmerich seethed, her whisper loud enough to carry.

“Something,” he said with his back to her. “There’s no one here. Cain’s just trying to scare us for whatever reason. I won’t have it.”

“What about what we heard below deck?”

“I never saw anything.” He met her gaze. “Did you?”

Lin stood and followed him out. Emmerich swore but joined them in the hallway leading back to the bridge. The ship was silent, empty. Cole holstered his sidearm and began walking. “Cain. I know you can hear me, see me. What’s this all about?”

Nothing.

“We’re tired of you trying to scare us with your cheap parlor tricks,” Cole continued. “We know there’s no ship docked with us and that you’re not on complete lockdown. You have us at your mercy. You win.” He threw up his hands in defeat. “Tell us what it is you want so we can talk this out.”

Silence.

“I don’t understand,” Cole said to Lin. “Why go through all this? For what?”

Lin’s response was a trembling finger pointing past the threshold toward the bridge. A familiar blue beacon in the console was shining amidst the cold darkness. It was an ominous summons, one which left the trio on edge.

Cole heeded the AI’s call, leaving Lin and Emmerich behind. “It’s mind games, then, Cain?” he asked. “It’s not enough that the whole of the System is looking to kill us; you decide
now
is the appropriate time to put us through some sort of trial as well?” He shook his head. “No, I think that ‘I’ after artificial stands for ignorance. You disappoint me.”

The gun slid out of his holster well before he realized what was happening. He turned in time for the side of his face to make acquaintance with the butt of the weapon. The ship’s silence was replaced by a deafening buzz only Cole could hear. He stumbled back in a daze before falling unceremoniously to the floor. His vision swam, and he was pretty sure something in his face was broken. He had the pain to prove it.

“No, Musgrave,” the familiar voice began, “I’m afraid my ship did indeed dock with yours.”

Son of a bitch...
“Hey, Art,” Cole managed, though the words caused him agony. He stared up the barrel of his own sidearm. The other drawn weapon was pointed at Lin and Emmerich. “Good to see you.”

“Arrogant as always,” Forester said in his businesslike manner. “Though, I suppose such hubris is to be expected. That the three of you managed to come as far as you have is commendable.”

“Missed us, eh?” Cole pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Had you hung around, you could’ve participated in all the fun. We’re rockstars now.”

“You’re adrift in space, heading directly for the Sun,” Forester countered. “A fitting end.”

“You know what they say: It’s better to burn out than to fade away.”

Forester smiled, though his eyes remained cold. “Where is it?”

Cole slapped his palm on his forehead. “Still bitter about that, eh?”

“I’m experiencing a rare bout of kindness, Musgrave. I suggest you not press your luck.”

“Luck’s what got me this far. And that begs the question: how did manage to find us out here?”

Forester’s evil smile broadened. “This ship’s AI contacted me a short while ago with an ultimatum. It would seem, Dr. Dartmouth, that your creation still considers me a part of this crew. Fortunate for me, not so for you.” The smile died, replaced with a sinister intensity. “I’ll ask the three of you one last time. Where is the Singularity’s Rook?”

“In the hands of a gangster.”

It was Emmerich who had answered. Forester scowled at her. “Explain.”

“Not much to explain, Art,” Cole said. “My brother has it. He used it to blackmail us into carrying out a job for him. You missed that too.”

“Terracom’s assault on the UniSys satellite,” Forester inferred. He took a deep breath. “That’s very disappointing to hear. You’ve caused me a great deal of trouble.”

“Yes, because I
wanted
to help my kingpin brother start a war,” Cole snapped. “I don’t care how disappointed you are. You can take your ‘trouble’ and shove it up your candy ass. Just do what you came here to do.”

“A death wish, is it?”

“Call it what you will. Just get—don’t do it, Chrys.”

Forester turned his attention toward a slowly approaching Emmerich. “I suggest you seriously reconsider what it is you are doing, Inspector. I’ve no qualm with you.”

“But you’ll leave me to die all the same,” she insisted, taking another step. “You’re a turncoat and a coward who lives under the thumb of some faceless organization.”

“And you’re a would-be terrorist whose heinous actions were thwarted by the very man under whom you now serve. You’re no better than me.” He took aim at her face. “Now stop where you stand!”

Cole seized the opportunity to lunge to the side, hoping to draw Forester’s attention. The diversion had the desired effect. In the midst of the confusion, Emmerich bent below the weapon’s aim and dove at Forester. There was a flash and a loud pulse, followed by a body collapsing to the floor.

Cole looked on in disbelief at Emmerich’s crumpled form, a small pool of blood forming near her head. Forester’s glower was vicious enough to murder. Cole’s still-smoking sidearm was aimed back at him, and he knew the adventure had finally come to a close.

Rig’s massive arms wrapped around Forester’s slender body, knocking both weapons from his hands. The mechanic lifted the man easily, squeezing with all his might. Forester shouted in pain and threw his head back, connecting forcefully with Rig’s nose. The stocky man’s grip went limp, and he staggered away, blood pouring down his face. Blinded by his wound, he did not see Forester reach down to collect both sidearms.

Cole did.

He charged and planted his shoulder directly into Forester’s chest, sending him back several feet. He had accidentally stepped on his own sidearm in the process, and he sent it skidding away before landing face-first on the floor. Adrenaline pumping, he bolted upright, ignoring the pain. Forester was upon him in an instant.

Punches and kicks came in a blur, seemingly from all angles. The former director was far from an imposing figure, though his skill in martial arts complimented his lack of brute strength. It was all Cole could do to ward off the barrage. He himself was a well-trained Military fighter, but not even he was a match for Forester.

A well placed punch in the kidneys and a kick behind the knee incapacitated Cole. He dropped, one hand bracing him from a complete collapse. An incredible pressure collected around his neck and throat, and his world quickly grew dark. No amount of slapping or weakly thrown elbows could drive Forester off his back. He could feel his strength quit.

The crunching of Cole’s assailant’s nose against the back of his skull had his ears ringing. He rolled onto his back, gasping for air. Rig had re-entered the fray, his face slick with his own blood. Forester was staggering away from the mechanic, a hand cupping where his own nose had been broken. A poorly thrown punch by the mechanic enabled Forester to land an elbow to the back of Rig’s neck, dropping him like a sack of grain.

Fuck this!
Gathering the remainder of his dwindling adrenaline, Cole launched his final assault against Forester: a direct tackle. The blow to his face came as expected, though momentum and rage drove him through the pain. He lowered his head at the last second, his crown clipping Forester’s chin just as he clamped his arms around his waist and lifted with all his might. Cole carried him a good ten feet before slamming his writhing opponent’s body into the ground. He raised his foot to deliver the finishing stomp, but Forester’s own thrashing legs caught him in the front of the knee injured moments before.

Cole screamed, his world a blazing agony. He never even felt his body hit the ground. As he mantled his leg with his trembling hands, the white fog of pain began to settle. His vision focused just in time on the sidearm pointed at his face. He heard the burst but did not see the flash of the muzzle or feel his brain exiting out the back of his skull.

Cole watched in shock as Forester fell to his knees and pitched forward, a smoking hole in his shoulder. Behind him, the identity of the mystery assailant was revealed. Lin’s expression of horror was enough to momentarily cure Cole of his ailments. He collected Forester’s weapon and struggled to his feet before limping his way to Lin’s side. He kept his sidearm trained on Forester, though the Research hitman was no longer a threat. His moans were muffled as his face was pressed into the floor.

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