What if last night was just sex for Kina? What if it was just her way to let off the tensions of a week of extremely stressful situations? Had Sara read too much into it? How would she even bring it up? She didn’t want to come across like some pathetic, naïve girl.
Placing her head back on the pillow and staring into the dark of the ceiling, she tried to slow her heart rate and control her breathing. Kina’s breath tickled her skin. Soon, they were in-sync, both inhaling and exhaling at the same rate, their bodies rising and falling together like they were made to fit together like a puzzle, Kina’s legs entwined with Sara’s, their arms around each other… if it was just a fling, Sara wasn’t sure how she would cope.
The grief of losing all those on the Venture still lurked deep within, and she needed someone, Kina, to help her see that she had a future, that she could still make a difference.
Sara closed her eyes and tried to focus on the moment.
Nothing could be done for those poor souls anymore.
And like Dylan and Tai said last night, what else could she have done? Why did the weight of their deaths have to be all on her shoulders? DeLaney was the captain of the ship in Telo’s absence. Margo and Murlowe were also members of the crew. It wasn’t just done to Sara, even if circumstances beyond her control made her the leader of the group.
Their deaths were a tragedy, a result of the Hollow Space effect.
No one knew that would happen. Even Tai and the others didn’t foresee it, and they had lived here, like Kina, all their lives. Of course, rationalizing it didn’t make the pain of the loss go away—nothing would do that completely. But at least it helped her put things into perspective.
Perhaps it was because of the time she had spent in Haven and the extraordinary events that had proceeded their arrival, she did indeed see things differently now. She remembered back to Haggard’s first words he had for them when they first arrived. He warned them they needed to adapt. Life on Haven wasn’t a picnic.
Going against her natural empathy, Haven bred within her a survival attitude.
She hadn’t given up hope of someday leaving, but for now, this was just fine.
“Hey,” Kina said, looking up at Sara, her head on Sara’s shoulder. “I can hear your thoughts rumbling through my bones. What’s up?”
This was just one thing she liked about Kina. No messing about: just get to the point. The words initially froze on her lips, but eventually she decided it was now or never. “Last night was… amazing…”
“But?”
“But nothing,” Sara said, concerned Kina would misunderstand her hesitance. “I mean, I just…” She took a breath and got a grip on herself. “I don’t want this to end. Whatever this is, I want to be with you. For the first time in years, you’ve made me feel like I’ve got a home.”
Kina lifted herself up onto her elbows and disentangled her legs. She threw herself on top of Sara, straddling her waist and pinning her to the bed. With a mischievous smile, Kina kissed Sara fully and passionately before breaking away and staring intently into her eyes.
“You’re going nowhere, girl,” Kina said. “You and me? We’re solid. This bed will always be yours, and I want you to consider this your home. You make me feel…” She broke away, becoming serious.
Sara reached up her hand and stroked her neck. “What is it? How do I make you feel?”
“Like an actual person,” Kina said. “You don’t just see me as a weapon or a tool to fix a problem. As much as I love Tai like a brother, with you, it’s different, you know? You see me for me—truly.”
Unsure of how to accept such an honor and not wanting to say anything stupid to diminish the moment, Sara just pulled Kina down into a tight hug when an urgent knock on the door pulled them from their passion. A voice called through to them from outside.
“Come on, girls, rise and shine. I’ve brought breakfast. Open up, I’m sure you’ve worked up a fierce appetite.”
Both Sara and Kina smiled as they said, “Tai!”
***
Sara downed another cup of hot coffee, enjoying the bitterness from Haven farm-produced bean. It certainly helped clear the fuzziness in her brain.
Kina, Tai, Dylan and even Tooize were sitting around the large round table in Kina’s kitchen diner. She had to give Kina her dues; though she was an efficient killer and battle leader, she still managed to design the interior of her apartment to a high standard.
The blue-glass dividing walls reminded her of the hotel rooms back on her last mining colony job. Of course, those hotel rooms were only for foreign business dignitaries come to analyze the mining quotas. People like Sara only ever stayed in there if they were being transferred to another location and were waiting on a shuttle.
Kina’s place featured clean lines and surfaces, plush fabrics on the drapes and a luxurious carpet in the living room, where large, comfortable couches promised both a great place to rest and play.
With everyone full of steak and eggs, a natural lull developed in the conversation. Dylan had been a little quiet throughout, and Tooize naturally remained respectful as he continued to observe Lofreal’s honor period.
“So,” Tai said—it had to be him; he couldn’t just be quiet and still for one moment, “what’s next? I mean, I’m free of my mother, Dylan here is free of the Drifts, you two are free of loneliness”—he gave them an unsubtle wink—“and Tooize here will no doubt want to get back to work soon as part of his honor period.”
“It’s been just three cycles,” Kina said. She was sitting close to Sara, their legs touching. “I don’t know about the rest of you lot, but after everything we’ve been through, I kinda like the idea of chilling for a bit.”
“Chilling don’t pay the bills, Ki, and come on, that sounds really boring—even if you do have a spanky new playmate to enjoy yourself with.”
Even though he clearly meant it as a lighthearted joke, Sara couldn’t but help think there was a touch of jealousy or sadness behind the quip. Tai hadn’t talked about a special someone in all the time they’d been here. She wondered if deep down he wasn’t lonely to some degree.
“What bills?” Kina asked. “The Drifts paid you a record sum for the last job.”
“Well, it was a record job, Ki—we’re freakin’ legends now, the only ones to ever go to the Old Station and come back alive. I think we earned it, especially given the sacrifices.” Tai patted Tooize on his feathery shoulder. The kronac whistled softly back to Tai, giving thanks for his appreciation. “But the Mary-May still needs a bit of work, and besides, we need to get the Damnfine fixed up and equipped, and then there’s wages for an expanded squad.”
“Wait, what? An expanded squad? Just what are you talking about, Tai?” Kina asked.
Sara reached down to her small pack and lifted the Orb of Knowledge given to her by Old-Leaf. She placed it in the middle of the table, silencing everyone.
“What’s that?” Dylan asked.
“An Orb of Knowledge,” Tai said, his attention now fully on it like a hawk appraising its prey. “Where did you get this from?”
“The Drifts,” Sara said. “Now, with regards to that expanded squad, we’ll need to factor in a full away mission. Now that we know more about the dead planet, and we have both this orb and Telo, I suggest we head for the surface as soon as we’re able.”
Tai grinned and pointed to Sara. “See, Ki, that’s what I was talking about. Your girl is switched on and with it.”
“Aye, she certainly is,” Kina agreed.
“So, we good to go? I can get the squad together within say, a long cycle? That’s forty-eight cycles,” he explained to Sara and Dylan. “That’d give you two lovebirds a bit of time together, and give me and Dylan here enough time to get the rest of the credits together to buy the appropriate gear and find that extended squad. Are you in, big fella?” Tai said to Tooize.
“Count me in,” he replied.
“And me,” Dylan said, still having that faraway look about him. Sara would have to
speak with him alone, find out what was bugging him, but at least he looked better today, and with his books safely stored with the Drifts, that should bring him a degree of comfort.
“So, ladies and gents, looks like we’ve got a vacation to a dead and super-dangerous planet coming up. Get packing, kiddos, and remember to pack your sunscreen. It’s going to be epic.”
Thank you for reading Hollow Space: Venture
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Www.colinfbarnes.com
Icarus
Interstellar Cargo Book 1
By
Matt Verish
Copyright © 2016 Matt Verish (Night Apple, LLC)
All Rights Reserved
PART ONE
TEST FLIGHT
ICARUS LOG 001:
“So, we’re on a collision course with the sun. I never thought I’d say that out loud... Our ship has mysteriously lost all power, and it’s only a matter of time before we use up all of our oxygen. I’d like to say we’re all hoping to be rescued, but the truth is, those actually looking for us want us dead. It’s a hell of a situation.”
1 - ICV-71
Thirteen years of kissing corporate ass, and it’s finally paying off.
Cole Musgrave stepped onto the lift and ascended toward the ICV platform. Today would be one for the history books. At least in the eyes of the company men and women for whom Cole worked, it was an historic event. SolEx had chosen him over everyone else to lead their experimental Interstellar Cargo Vessel on its maiden voyage into the stars. Thirteen back-breaking years as a driven, overworked company boot-licker might have permanently stained his nose an unflattering brown, but his “dedication” had also paved the way to his coveted position as a test pilot. It was the closest to interstellar travel he would ever get. Even if it meant doing it on a delivery schedule.
The soft hum of the lift did little to calm Cole’s nerves, and he could feel his palms sweating inside his pristine faux leather gloves. The familiar block lettering of his company, SolEx, on the backs of his gloves stared up at him, and he clenched his fists, creasing the unblemished exterior. He knew all too well he would be tossing these in the trash before the week’s end.
He glanced over at the suit standing next to him—his big-wig traveling compatriot for the journey. The perfectly pressed slacks, jacket and tie—complete with the company colors and logo—made Cole grin.
Arthur T. Forester, he mused, recalling an image he had once seen online. That’s not a company approved uniform, Art. Guess you won’t be helping me heft any 200 pound crates today. Not with those pencil-pusher muscles. With a thought, an entire biography appeared before his eyes and Cole scanned the data—dictated by the company, of course—on his high-profile companion. Damn, he’s way younger than me! he thought as he glossed over the man’s—the kid’s—impressive education. Barely out of college and he’s climbing the corporate ladder quicker than a politician. He must have some massive college debt to pay off.
“I’d very much appreciate it if you would stop that incessant creaking.”
The profile dropped from Cole’s vision, and he forced his hands to stop clenching. He blinked and smiled politely at his superior. “Sorry. Old habit. Just anxious to get underway.”
Forester gave no reply. It was obvious to Cole that he, too, was enjoying the spoils of NuFi and its endless wonders and pitfalls. He’s probably conspiring onto whose head he needs to step in order to reach his next lofty position. Cole purposely popped a single knuckle and pretended not to notice Forester’s glare. Oh, this launch is going to be great.
The lift mercifully reached its destination and glided to a halt before a massive bay door. It was immaculate white and sterile, as was most everything inside the S3. Hospitals could only dream of being so clean.
A quick hiss of unseen hydraulics, and the bay doors parted to reveal a long tunnel to Hangar Zero. Forester slid through the opening and was across the threshold before the doors were completely separated. Cole lazily followed suit, releasing pressure in several more joints at a safe distance. This was new territory for him, and the absence of thrumming accelerator cores and clamoring of infinite packages loading were absent here. It was strangely quiet and altogether unnerving for a place where ships were born.
Cole’s first footsteps across the polished floor clicked as though he were wearing tap shoes. He could only imagine how much money was wasted on buffing them into mirrors in a room dedicated to experimental spacecraft. Explosions, charring, and chemical leakage were common here. He shook his head and caught up to his zealous “co-pilot” at the end of the tunnel and expected to see the afterlife. Instead he was greeted with a much more impressive site. The tunnel opened out into a domed research facility large enough to easily contain an entire Dreadnought class warship. He supposed it would have to, though the S3’s sheer size never ceased to amaze him.
Cole kept his head on a swivel as he admired this top secret location. People in company lab coats and jumpsuits milled about on multiple levels, gesticulating like stilted mimes as they undoubtedly discussed schematics through shared NuFi. It was difficult to say if anyone was actually doing anything, or just putting on a show to impress their equally distracted superiors. No one paid him any heed as he continued his stroll toward the prototype ICV. He would’ve snapped a photo of the area to show his buddies down on the lower hangars, but his Ocunet and NuFi access were denied. He had not seen any notification of such a privacy invasion. Getting crafty, SolEx. Next you’ll be capable of digital inception. That was a terrifying thought.
At the center of the confusion was a solitary object, gleaming beneath the onslaught of lights which showcased it for all involved with the project. This particular “object” was none other than the ICV-71, the sole reason for his promotion. Sleek and equally polished as the floors upon which she rested, the ICV-71 was an impressive work of art and technology. Though the ship was dwarfed by the sheer enormity of the hangar, there was no denying his new craft’s scale. The vessel was a vast improvement over SolEx’s other bulky transports; she was streamlined in all the right places, and inconspicuous because of the dual engines placement to hide the massive cargo hold. It was no mistake that this ship was built to look more like a fighter than a freighter. Interstellar delivery was a dangerous career.
Send out the former Military guy with a penchant for recklessness, Cole thought as he closed in on his prize. Not that it matters, he considered, recalling from his research that he would essentially be a glorified backup pilot as this new model ICV was purportedly almost completely automated. We’ll see about that, he thought, fully aware that he was about to board a prototype which was most certainly plagued with glitches. There was a reason they sought out a veteran Starforce pilot to oversee the ship safely on its initial journey.
His brow furrowed as he came within fifty yards of the vessel. Blank canvas! Sure enough, there was a distinct lack of corporate decals applied to her hull, and Cole was instantly suspicious. What sort of test flight was this where company property was without its illustrious logo?
“Impressive, isn’t it? Forester asked, his gaze upon the ship.
Cole nodded as he stepped up beside the suit. “Yep. Never thought I’d see anything without the company brand obviously displayed and larger than life.” He smirked. “Maybe it’s on the chassis...” He feigned bending down to glimpse beneath before glancing up to regard Forester’s raised eyebrow.
“Not an accident.”
Cole stood up straight, intrigued by Forester’s comment. “Purposely left off?”
“Purposely hidden,” came the cryptic response. Forester turned away before Cole could press him for any more information.
“The ICV-71!” came the booming voice of a man from behind. Cole spun to take in the view of a group of suits and lab coats marching their way toward him and Forester. He caught a glimpse of a cute engineer near the front of the pack. “Our newest F-Class cargo vessel!”
“Is that...?”
“Our Chief Executive Officer?” Forester finished as though one of the most revered company owners in all the System was not heading in their direction.
“The Frederich Caliber,” Cole said, and realized that quite possibly the entire C-Suite and several prospective clients were in-tow behind the surprisingly short, balding man. “Fifteen trillion net worth.”
Forester chuckled exactly how Cole expected a corporate stiff would chuckle. “According to last year’s fiscal numbers.”
“Sorry I didn’t make it my business to discover the exact depth of one man’s black hole-sized pockets.” Cole rolled his eyes and considered just what he would do if good old Fred accidentally deposited a mere one billion dollars into his savings account. He wondered if NASA would reconsider him for Uncharted.
Then the company black tie affair was upon him, and Cole’s anxiety returned. He unconsciously began creaking his gloves, and Forester promptly cast him the stink-eye. Cole ignored him and wondered into what he had gotten himself. Am I chartering a first-class soiree to the dark side of the Moon? He truly hoped so.
“...with a state-of-the-art Dark Matter Processor, and fusion reactor engines concealing the cargo hold...” Caliber continued with his deconstruction of the ICV-71 specs to his entourage. Cole paid him little heed. He had already boned up on the ship’s impressive capabilities. What drew his full attention was the young engineer, her attention solely on, well, nothing.
She’s surfing the digital star ocean! Cole realized with surprise. He was dying to know what she was researching in the midst of such an important occasion. One of her jet black locks came loose from where her hair was tied haphazardly into a bun. She fussed with the renegade strands before discovering him gawking. Her deep green eyes narrowed before she returned to her NuFi vacation.
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