Icarus (Interstellar Cargo Book 1) (3 page)

The slightest twinge of a smirk flirted with the corner of Forester’s mouth. “Hm.”

Cole mock saluted his superior then turned to Lin. “You packing light too, Doc?”

The dark-haired engineer seemed caught off-guard by the question, and she immediately slipped into the Ocunet and tapped a few keys of her imaginary keyboard. A smooth melodic hum of piano notes sounded from behind her, and a small nondescript cube—which must have been hovering close behind her—gently drifted to her front and softly landed in the palm of her hand. She tucked away the mysterious object and silently stalked past a bemused Cole who said nothing.

When they were aboard and out of sight, Cole let out a tense sigh, his eyes tightly shut. He slammed a gloved fist into his palm and took a deep breath before jogging up the ramp toward his destiny.

N
othing beat the smell of a new cargo vessel. Cole had been fortunate enough to pilot a couple over his tenure, but none as exceptional as the ICV-71. He relished the scent of faux leather, a hint of lubricant oil, an indeterminate breeze of ozone, and...
Is that wood?
He slowly worked his way through his ship’s bow, just in front of the of the cargo hold, dragging his gloved fingertip across the smooth, aluminum walls. The hallway terminated at a recessed lift. It was open, inviting.

Guess they’re already waiting for me on the bridge,
Cole thought with slight irritation. Were they so easily jaded by master craftsmanship? He stepped inside, and a woman’s soothing voice recited his options of “Cargo Hold” and “Bridge”.

“The Bar,” Cole said with a stupid grin. Nothing happened, as was expected. “You must be related to Forester,” he said, shaking his head. He further considered the two choices and muttered, “Bridge?”

The door slid closed and Cole’s knees nearly buckled as the lift rocketed up toward its destination. Instinct forced him to grab the railing for support, though the stop was smoother than he anticipated.

“Bridge,” she replied in her sing-song voice.

“Damn, woman!” Cole shouted. “I was kidding about you being related....”

“It seems to be something at which you excel,” Forester said, finishing the hanging comment. He leaned stiffly against the doorway and crossed his arms at the sight of Cole gripping the railing and rubbing his head. “Are you certain you’re capable handling this launch?”

Cole lightly banged the meat of his fist on the lift wall. “If seventy-one is anything like this lift, we might just shoot straight into the next universe.” He laughed and gave Forester a friendly swat on his perfectly pressed jacket sleeve as he headed off the lift. Out of the corner of his eye, amber light caught his attention. He altered his course from the bridge to the source of the illumination.

Oh, yes.

Behind the lift was a spacious setting fit for an admiral and his elite. The room consisted of two posh areas. Part mess hall, part lounge, the well-lit area brought a genuine smile to Cole’s face. He wagged his finger knowingly at the inviting enclosure. “I’ll be back to investigate you later,” he promised.

“A wise decision,” Forester said, indicating the cockpit with a tilt of his head.

Cole snapped his fingers and pointed at him. He said nothing and walked past his youthful superior, making a B-line for the bridge. As Cole slowed to acknowledge the elephant in the room, he clapped his hands loudly, startling a deeply focused Lin.

“It’s
not
a bridge,” he announced as though a complex mystery had suddenly been solved. He admired the two comfy flight chairs positioned in front of the control panel, ignoring a pair of smoldering eyes. “
This
is a cockpit,” he explained, squeezing the plush leather.
Armrests!
“SolEx sure loves to flaunt their infinite funds.”

Lin exhaled and turned back to her work at the console. Cole continued his assessment, gliding his fingers across the manual navigational controls. He located the source of the wood scent; parts of the console were inlaid with a rich, dark grain. “A true bridge would be closer to the top of a much larger vessel—let’s say a Corvette—and helmed by a crew of ten or more.” He slowly eased his backside into his throne.

“Careful not to bruise your tailbone, Musgrave,” Forester said.

Cole leaned back, and sighed, content. “You need to try this, Art.”

“
Arthur
,” Forester stressed. “Please refer to me by my full name if you must address me.” The director’s dress shoes clinked on the metal floor as he approached. “And this is an inappropriate time to recline—”

“Too late.”

Forester paused. “You know what I mean, Captain.”

“Cole sat forward, and glanced up at the suit.
Kid talks like a seventy year-old college professor.
“ ‘Captain,’ ” he said, trying it out for the first time. It tasted good in his mouth. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Forester ignored the comment and turned to Lin. Cole could’ve sworn he’d seen the director’s eye twitch. He followed the suit’s gaze toward the engaged engineer. She had, at some point, moved into the co-pilot’s seat to continue whatever it was she was doing to the console interface.

“Sorry,” Cole said, thumbing in her direction. “Ladies first. Guess you’ll have to experience the comfy chair on the trip back.”

“Dr. Dartmouth,” Forester addressed her. “Is everything to your satisfaction with the software?”

Lin turned partway in his direction and gave a subtle nod.

Cole’s brow furrowed at the awkward exchange. “Not the talkative type, I see,” he said to Lin, hoping to disconnect the engineer from her virtual tether.

“She’s mute,” Forester stated, as though it were obvious.

“Is that how company executives refer to shy engineers?” Cole asked. “You’re making my point for me from earlier, Art...thur.”

“It’s a fact,” Forester said, exasperated. “And I insist that we get this operation underway.”

Cole raised his hands in mock submission. He looked at an uncomfortable Lin. “Alright, but I clearly heard you speak outside the ship.”

“I spoke through this,” said the familiar dulcet tones Cole had heard outside the ship. The fist-sized cube he had seen in her hand rose from the console and hovered next to her head. The same piano notes emitted from the object, and swirls of reds, purples, and blues traced along its dull surface. “My Rook.”

A genuine smile crept onto Cole’s face as he admired the device. The words had come from the cube, her “Rook”, but they sounded so human that he could easily think she had uttered them. “Wow...”

Lin had already returned to her virtual macramé by the time Cole thought to say anything else. There was a story behind that silent face, and he vowed to uncover it on the journey to Terracom 3.

“Now that we are all properly acquainted,” Forester said, “Shall we commence with the launch?”

Brought back from his reverie, Cole’s eyes lit, and he leaned toward the controls, but held his hands just shy of touching them. “Sorry,” he apologized to no one in particular. “Almost forgot that I’m only here as an experienced back-up pilot to my,” he cast Forester a fleeting glance, “replacement.”

Forester sighed, and faced Lin. “Dr. Dartmouth, please initiate CAIN.”

Lin nodded and accessed the Ocunet. She hesitated and breathed a tense sigh before pressing an invisible button. Her Rook drifted over top of the console and paused above a small circular screen no bigger than itself and began to gyrate. It picked up speed, and a soft white light began to glow in intensity where none had been before. As the cube spun faster, Cole could feel a small breeze coming from it. The revolutions were so quick, it seemed to become spherical.

Then there was sudden darkness, followed by a deep bass thump which shook the entirety of the ship. Her Rook dropped like a stone atop the console and fell to the floor. Nobody spoke; nobody breathed. Cole blinked, uncertain what to think. Was this part of the sequence, or had the software malfunctioned during the initiation process? As a few excruciating seconds passed with sustained silence and a complete lack of power, his hands began to fidget. Creak, creak, creak... He immediately ceased his nervous antic and looked out the front viewport and witnessed something unexpected.

A power outage?
he thought, confounded. With the exception of the backup generators keeping exits and a few terminals lit, S3 had gone black.

“Are you two seeing this—?”

Forester shushed him, and Cole grudgingly obliged, though he was not certain why. Only a few seconds ago everyone had been talking. Was their collective silence going to somehow elicit a reboot? Then he saw it....

A soft green light, no larger than an illuminated diode, had lit inside the circle. The point sat unmoving, almost as though it was waiting.
Or staring
, Cole thought, though he had no reason to think such a thing.

The voice—neither male nor female—had come from every direction. The light trembled ever so slightly on the console, though the question still hung, unanswered. Cole spun back toward a lime-lit Forester. The young director’s face was blank, his lips slightly parted. He turned toward Lin, though without her Rook, she truly was mute. Her crestfallen expression confirmed his thoughts.

The monotone voice sounded as though it was inside his head. Maybe it was. He shrugged and plunged head-first into the unknown. “The ICV-71,” he answered, surprised by his timidity. “Interstellar Cargo Vessel seventy-one.”

The panel flashed before resuming its familiar point state. Lin bent down to retrieve her Rook and stared hopelessly at the device. Cole frowned, sympathetic.

“Uh...” Cole said, uncertain how to respond to the age-old philosophical question. He assumed a company computer program would expect a simple response, something Fredrick Caliber would say. “To...” Another thought occurred to him when Lin gazed at him with desperate eyes. “To learn.”

Forester stirred, and Cole could feel the suit’s vacant eyes boring into the back of his skull. Another flash preceded the director’s potential reprimand.

“Dr. Lin Dartmouth,” Cole answered.
I love trivia!

“Well, no.”

The flashes were getting brighter, and Cole’s hands were sweating harder. “Not exactly.”

< ‘Not exactly.’ >
No flash.

Your captain,
Cole thought, but answered with, “Your friend.”

The point of light quivered.

“Sure,” Cole said, confident. He winked at a jealous Lin and ignored Forester’s firm hand on his shoulder. “I’m Cole Musgrave, your friend and captain.”

A brilliant flash of emerald pulsated throughout the cabin. When everyone’s momentary blindness faded, the ship’s power was fully restored. The green point at the center of the console had grown to fully encompass the circular screen. Now it was a brilliant neon green with hundreds of tiny silvery flecks floating aimlessly within.

Cole blinked, momentarily stunned. “Nice to meet you, Cain.”

Lin’s Rook was alive once more, and the cube floated above her hand. Cole was nearly swept away by her wave of relief. Her free hand quickly tapped numerous areas on each of the eight sides until the familiar piano notes and color swirls encircled it once more. She seemed satisfied, though her relief vanished as she began furiously waving, swiping, typing and flicking her haptic gloved hands. She—rather, her Rook—sighed when she finished her myriad of gestures.

<
Protocol update
,> CAIN said.

“You didn’t implement the necessary procedures before initiation?” Forester demanded of Lin as though he had not been silent the entirety of the blackout.

“The A.I. construct is unable to accept any company directives until nascent conception,” she muttered, still engrossed with the Ocunet.

“Nasal inception,” Cole said, rotating his chair toward Forester. “There you have it.”

“Is CAIN online?” Forester asked, ignoring Cole.

CAIN answered.

Forester nodded stiffly. “Good. Ready the launch sequence, Dr. Dartmouth.”

Lin nodded, swiping open air.

CAIN repeated.

Cole’s brow raised, and he tried but failed to hide his smirk. He spun his chair back around, about to speak. He reconsidered and reclined in his leather throne, deciding to see how this little power struggle would ensue.

Lin glanced over at Cole and narrowed her eyes. She knew what he was thinking, and so she straightened and threw a new sequence of wrist flicks and finger taps to open space. She gave a satisfied humph and sat back.

the AI said.

Lin blinked. Cole leaned forward to assist, but she blocked him with a flat palm in front of his face. She took a breath and raised her delicate chin. “CAIN, I am your maker. My name is Dr. Lin Dartmouth.”

Lin seemed somewhat relieved. “As your maker, I ask that you allow me the authority to access your internal CPU.”

CAIN said
.

“This is ridiculous!” Forested said, aggravated. “Why will the program not allow you access?”

Lin could only shrug.

the AI explained.

Did that big green dot just correct Forester?
Cole wondered.
Artificial Intelligence, indeed.
He looked at Lin, who gestured both hands toward him, signifying defeat.
That’s right,
I’m
the captain.

“Seems Cain, here, only trusts his good friend Captain Cole Musgrave,” Cole said with a healthy amount of snark. “You can trust your maker.” He thumbed back at Forester. “But
this
guy is trouble.”