Icarus (Interstellar Cargo Book 1)

by Matt Verish

  The ambassador shook his head, disappointed. “No. They will accrue further debt. We aren’t butchers like most of the System believes.”

  “You’re right; you’re all saints.” Cole grinned but felt nothing but contempt. “But you’re a traitor.”

  The ambassador raised his chin at the blunt designation but kept quiet. He headed toward the door at the other side of the room and stopped just short of reaching it. “Regardless of what you think about me, I am at peace with my decision.” The door slid open. “And I fully support the Singularity’s cause.”

  “So why not just let him out yourself?” Cole asked, honestly curious. “The Terraport is out of commission, and you have complete authority to do as you wish. What’s holding you back?”

  The ambassador looked at Lin, then back at Cole. “I believe Dr. Dartmouth already explained the reason to you.” He stepped over the threshold.

  “You did?” Cole asked Lin.

  “Retinal Branding.” The engineer pointed to her eyes as she continued into the next room.

  Suddenly the small vial and the glass prison comment made sense. Cole couldn’t stop the chill from tracing its icy finger up his spine. He had heard tales of such barbaric practices taking place, but he assumed them to be rumors and nothing more. He had a very strong urge to remove his Ocunet lenses right then and there, but his hosts were waiting for him. He blinked once, then twice before entering the belly of the terrabeast.

  8

  SINGULARITY

  The Ocunet was the single most important invention of the first half of the twenty second century. And while close to one hundred years had passed since its inception—along with countless minor refinements and updates—the simple-yet-complex computer lens had largely remained unchanged. Paired with the ingenious Neurological Fidelity, or NuFi for short, the Ocunet could transmit information across the vast reaches of space through a set of strategically placed moon-sized satellites. With a flick of haptic gloves and/or even a thought, information could be accessed throughout the Milky Way.

  Nearly every living being wore the Ocunet lenses, sharing in the endless digital wealth. All manner of entertainment, business, and education was conducted through the eyes, eradicating most physical hardware and software for good. Such ease of information access was pivotal in the space age of exploration.

  But as the light of the technical marvel shown bright, its resulting brilliance cast the inevitable dark shadow. The coveted Ocunet was a gateway for the obsessed and the criminally motivated. As such, there were instances of permanent lens development to overcome the monotony of everyday lens application. Those who ventured down this dangerous path risked blindness and permanent brain damage. And then there were the stories of Retinal Branding, a highly controversial technique employed to fuse the technology directly upon the eye and tap the nerves which directly sent information to the brain. This method had always been rumored to be practiced by Terracom as a means of controlling and monitoring debtors, though no factual evidence of its usage was known to exist. Those few who actually paid off their debt refused to discuss their time under Terracom for fear of a remotely activated death. The widely derided procedure was simply labeled the “glass prison.”

  And it was the glass prison in which Professor Kingston Dartmouth found himself. Cole and Lin met the septuagenarian outside the entrance to the terraformer itself, and he seemed in good spirits despite his hopeless predicament. He embraced Lin, a genuine smile on his lean face. Long silver locks hung loose behind his ears, reaching the tops of his shoulders. His salt and pepper beard was close-cropped and surprisingly well groomed. For a man supposedly spending the remainder of his retirement years working himself to death, he seemed in excellent health.

  It’s almost like he’s been spared the brunt of the back-breaking work, Cole thought as he watched Lin cling to her father. Just who was the Singularity, and how did he receive such an enigmatic title?

  “I had begun to worry,” Kingston said to Lin in a clear, rich voice. He pulled away from her and looked down at her with eyes of the same green. “The uprising began far sooner than anticipated. Tension is high within the dormitories beneath the pillar.”

  Lin wiped her eyes dry and produced the vial she had shown Cole earlier. “We won’t have to contend with any of the violence.” She passed the bottle to Kingston.

  The professor admired the vial, relief softening the lines of his face. He smiled before removing the stopper and exposing the hidden dropper within. Tipping back his head, he positioned the bottle and pressed several drops into each eye, quickly blinking back the clear fluid from running down his cheeks. He stared off at nothing for a short time, his brow tight with concentration. Then he faced his daughter, his eyes alight. “You’re a remarkable woman, Lin.”

  Cole stepped forward, done with floundering in the dark. “Sorry to interrupt your touching reunion, Doc, but what just happened?”

  Kingston studied Cole. “My daughter has freed me.”

  Cole frowned. “That vial reversed the retinal branding?” It was more of a statement than question. “How is that possible? I was under the impression this particular organic coding was permanently etched into the whole of the eye itself. It’s not like you can just wash it out with some tepid water.”

  Father and daughter shared an amused look. Kingston held out his hand as though presenting his daughter to Cole. “I defer to you, Lin.”

  Lin blinked. “During my research in cryorganics and nanobiotechnology, I developed an artificially intelligent nanotech solution which scours away any offending organic circuitry and leaves behind a reparative saline compound which settles into the etched surface of the lens, subsequently repairing the eye. The tears ducts aid in flushing out the waste.”

  Even as Cole was assimilating the given explanation, Kingston was dabbing a handkerchief at his eyes. “How do you know it worked?”

  “Because, Captain,” the ambassador said from behind, “I can no longer detect him in our database.” He moved forward and extended his hand, shaking Kingston’s in a congratulatory manner. “You’re free, Professor.”

  She’s a damn genius! “Trust me when I say this is very impressive,” Cole said, staring out the door from which they came, “but we need to leave before the Terraport goes back online and notices their main source of labor is in full riot mode.”

  Lin nodded. “Father, the ICV-71 is operational and ready to take us away.” She collected his hand in hers. “It’s time for you to finish what you started.”

  Kingston gazed down at her delicate fingers and gently pulled away. “There is one last item to which I must attend.”

  Uh oh.

  A shadow of confusion passed over Lin’s face. “You...you aren’t prepared to leave?”

  Kingston turned his back on his daughter and headed for the stairs leading up toward the heart of the terraformer. “The task is paramount in igniting this planet’s revolution. It could only be performed upon your arrival.” The door slid open and he walked inside.

  Lin glanced nervously between Cole and the ambassador. “Revolution?” she asked aloud. She hurried after Kingston. “I insist we leave.”

  Cole watched father and daughter enter the room and felt a knot form in his stomach. Another unexpected variable. “Were you aware of this ‘task’?” he asked the ambassador.

  “Of course.”

  “And?” Cole demanded. “You were so talkative a few minutes ago. Now’s not the best time to withhold confidential information which might impact the outcome of this mission.”

  Silence was all Cole received, and he faced the doorway through which Lin had vanished with Kingston. Seconds turned into minutes as he waited for them to return. The silence was excruciating. He purposely creaked his gloves just to hear a sound other than the dull, muted hum of the terraformer whirring deep inside the massive steel column.

  The lights dimmed in the room, and the ambassador looked around as though expecting the occurrence. Cole ignored him
and bolted up the steps. He nearly collided with Lin upon entering the room. Her face was gray.

  “What happened?” Cole asked her, gripping her shoulders. “What did he do?”

  “I’ve severed all power to the main reactor,” Kingston answered for her. He stepped around his listless daughter and past Cole. “We have thirty minutes to reach orbit before the terraformer slows to a halt and reaches critical mass.”

  Oh, shit! Cole thought back to the ultimatum Emmerich had given him before she passed out from her injuries. Her concerns may have been warranted after all.

  “Critical mass,” Cole repeated. “As in meltdown. As in boom?” For emphasis, he used his hands to indicate an explosion.

  Kingston gazed at Cole as though he were daft. “Crude, though accurate.”

  Cole followed him down the steps. “Um, would you care to explain why?”

  “Perhaps you would care to explain your involvement in these matters?” Kingston countered as he continued toward the exit.

  Cole slammed his hand on the hollow metal rail. “I’m your damn meal ticket, pal!” Everyone turned to face him, shocked at his outburst. “And if you want to get off this rock in any other state than powder, you best start explaining yourself.”

  Kingston glowered at Lin. “Is this what I must contend with when we are so close to accomplishing our goal?”

  “Our goal?” Cole said, furious.

  “He intends to level hundreds of square miles of newly terraformed land atop the dormitories.” The response came from Lin’s Rook. There was no inflection in her synthetic voice, no emotion. “The same dormitory to which all the debtors have been evacuated.”

  “A heavily reinforced bunker designed to withstand such a catastrophe,” Kingston said in defense. “Must we have this discussion as time evades us?”

  Oh, now he’s in a hurry. “You can tell us all about your plans for System dominance on the ship after you restore power back to the terraformer,” Cole said, insistent.

  His expression was grim. “I’m afraid that is an impossibility.”

  Lin nodded, though her expression was anything but pleased. “The power grid has sustained irreparable damage.” She looked at her father, disbelief and hurt apparent in her eyes. “There’s not enough time to troubleshoot a proper solution.”

  Cole was at a loss for words. I just stopped one nutcase from attempting the same thing up on the Terraport. Looks like Kingston double-crossed the double-crosser. “Even if these so-called dormitories somehow protect the inhabitants—which I doubt they will—what’s the point in putting so many lives at risk in the first place?”

  “To send a crippling message to Terracom.”

  He threw up his arms, frustrated. “The Terraport is dark and struggling to regain control. And you said it yourself that the uprising has already begun. Why not let the debtors wage their revolution.” Then a realization hit him as he reached the bottom of the steps. Kingston’s raised eyebrow only confirmed his worst fears. “You never told them of the danger....”

  “Certainly not!” Some of the professor’s long hair escaped from behind his ears and fell across his reddening face. “It was difficult enough to convince them to take shelter down below while I attempted to counteract the recall rooms and stabilize the terraformer reactor.”

  Cole was at a loss for words.

  “Their revolution can commence once the threat of contamination passes,” Kingston said, hooking his hair back over his ears.

  “But their possibility of survival is poor,” Lin said, ice in her voice. “The dormitories were never designed to withstand a full meltdown. And no one knows how long the contamination will last. They might starve...or suffocate.”

  “You fail to see the full scope of my vision.” Kingston sighed. “You disappoint me, Lin. A few thousand hopeless criminals sacrificing themselves for the greater good—”

  “Don’t lecture me on the greater good, father!” Lin was livid, her rook glowing red. “I came to save you! Not slaughter slaves.”

  A blaring siren interrupted their discussion, followed by the intense voice of a woman issuing a warning for the immediate evacuation of the DC-Alpha-6 terraformer. She announced a thirty minute countdown shortly thereafter.

  Kingston’s eyes opened wide. “I personally deactivated the alert system,” he said, stunned.

  “Professor,” the ambassador said, his tone urgent, “we must get you to safety aboard the ship. The revolution is certain to begin.”

  “They will have no chance above ground!” Lin shouted at her father. “You must do something.” She gently grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. “This isn’t you. The man I knew would do everything in his power to help those in need.”

  Kingston yanked his arm away. “The process is irreversible. Nothing can be done now.”

  Lin was hysterical. “Father....”

  “The father you knew never existed, Lin.” His stare forced her back several steps. “You were just too ignorant and enveloped in your studies to see the obvious signs. Your mother saw them. She’s the sole reason I spent seven years wasting away in this pit.” He straightened his jacket and turned to leave with the ambassador.

  “But what of your Cosmic Particle project?” Her voice was a whisper, barely loud enough to register above the siren. Regardless, Kingston had heard her.

  He stopped, his shoulders slumping. “A myth, Lin. All of it.” He met her gaze briefly. “It was a front for my involvement with—”

  He never finished the sentence for a loud crash had interrupted him. It had come from further within the terraformer. Everyone in the room went quiet, sharing the same terrified expression. The growing buzz of confused and angry voices could be heard.

  “You must convince them to return to the dormitories,” Kingston said to the ambassador, desperate. “They are expecting you. They must be made to understand.”

  Hesitation clouded the ambassador’s cool exterior. He seemed more eager to head toward the ship. Who can blame him, Cole thought. He was probably hoping to tag along with us.

  “Why don’t you tell them yourself, Professor.” Cole stepped toward Kingston, ignoring the ambassador’s death stare. “You’re the ‘Singularity’.” He added air quotes for emphasis. “Tell them what fate awaits them. You made your bed; why don’t lay in it?”

  “Step aside, Captain,” Kingston said, his voice shaky. “Your role in this is clear. Do not think you aren’t expendable.”

  “Expendable like the rest of the debtors you’re abandoning to their deaths?” He turned and gestured behind him toward the sound of approaching voices. A hand fell upon his hip where he had affixed Emmerich’s sidearm and holster. The weapon was yanked out, and Cole kicked out to the side without looking. The ambassador stumbled back, barely managing to keep his footing. Cole reached out for the closest object in his vicinity. He pitched Lin’s unsuspecting Rook directly at the ambassador’s face just as he was pointing the weapon to shoot. The cube hit near his eye, and the Terracom defect cried out, his aim off as he pulled the trigger. The blast missed its target, but found another in its place.

  Lin shrieked. Kingston’s knees buckled as he clutched at the small hole in his side below his ribcage. The light in his eyes faded as his life slipped from him. He collapsed into Lin’s arms, the two of them slumping to the ground.

  Cole seized the moment to drive his elbow into the stunned ambassador’s temple, immediately dropping him. He collected the sidearm and slipped it back into his holster, snapping the strap over top it for protection. He did not check to see if the man was alive. The rabble will know what to do with him.

  “Time to go, Doc,” Cole said, unsympathetic to Lin’s pain. He reached down to grab under her arm, but she was already attempting to stand while trying—but failing—to lift her father. She looked at him, pleading, but no words came. Cole knew at once that her Rook had been damaged.

  Despite the communication barrier, Cole found all the answers he needed in her desperate eyes.
He was not sure how he knew, but they begged for his assistance to shoulder Kingston back to the ship. Seeing that her injured father was yet breathing—and in spite of all that had so recently transpired—he nodded his support.

  The subsequent warning for twenty-five minutes to critical mass blared over the loudspeaker. The urgency of their situation fueled adrenaline to their arms and legs. Captain and engineer supported either side of the Singularity and made their slow, awkward escape for the ICV-71.

  “We’re coming, Cain.” Cole said aloud, stopping to snatch the damaged Rook from the ground. He assumed the AI would hear him like before. “Ready the ship for departure.”

  No response came.

  Cole fought back his queasiness as the linked trio staggered through the doorway. The myriad of hallways and offices was overwhelming “We’re gonna need those directions back to the ship, Cain. Do you have a lock on our location?”

  Again, no response.

  Kingston raised an unsteady arm before Cole could verbalize his growing panic. The trembling finger pointed a particular direction, and Cole and Lin followed the cue. There was no telling how much longer he could help them.

  Unless he’s leading us into a trap, Cole thought, hoping he was wrong. Where are you, Cain? Now’s not the best time to ignore me.

  The walk back to the bay was excruciating, and more than a little nerve-wracking. More than once they had to duck into the abandoned offices for fear of discovery by wandering debtors. The prisoner had not only managed to override the recall rooms, but they also seemed to be ahead as well as behind Cole and company.

  By the time they reached the long tunnel leading back to the ship, they had lost ten more minutes. It was obvious even from a distance that all was not well. There was no sign of activity; all was quiet. Cole was certain he knew why, and he could see well enough through the glass structure to verify that his worst fear had come true.

  The ICV-71 was gone.