by Matt Verish
Regardless of our relationship, sound advice is sound advice.
“I know, and you’re right,” Cole said, blushing. “But I’m captain of the Icarus, and I have a reputation of ignoring sound advice.”
It’s all right. I recognize your true intentions, and I understand your desire to seek closure.
“But?”
Lin shook her head. I don’t anticipate I’ll be able to access the mainframe and uncover this ship’s history, let alone locate a viable power source.
To satisfy your own desires as well, Cole thought. He couldn’t blame her for keeping the details surrounding this little side venture to herself, but he always thought the key to a good relationship was open communication. He considered all of his own dark secrets yet to be revealed and decided to overlook her secretiveness. Besides, he liked a woman with a little mystery. He only hoped that it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.
“It’s times like these we could really use Cain,” Cole said. “What’s his status?”
Unstable.
Cole waited for a more detailed analysis from Lin, but he never got one. One word? That’s it? I can’t let this slide. “That bad, eh?”
There was a long pause. I honestly don’t know. I’m unable to perform a proper diagnosis while the Sentinel is still imbedded in CAIN’s system. The digital consciousness transfer occurred successfully, though the virus was enacted in the process. As far as sustained damage, that’s impossible to say. I had expected to discover CAIN’s memory banks wiped clean and the virus gone, but that has not happened.
Cole was hopeful. “So, you’re saying he’s got a chance?”
Lin shook her head. An attempt to ward off the attack will be waged, but it’s only a matter of time before the inevitable occurs.
Cole’s face twisted in disappointment. “Well, we can’t worry about that right now. We just have to hope he’ll surprise us one more time.”
As the pair wove their way deeper into the ship, they were acutely aware of the lack of corpses. The Daedalus was enormous, with plenty of hiding places, but that they had not yet discovered any evidence was disconcerting.
They ascended another empty flight of stairs, this one leading toward the bridge where they planned to establish a proper connection with the mainframe. Cole wiped a thick-gloved hand on the railing, coming away with a powdery, dark residue.
“Looks like this ship’s been abandoned for awhile,” he said, showing her the tips of his fingers. “I’m no dust expert, but finding this much on an active stairwell, this far inside, can only mean I’m right.”
Lin nodded. The subzero temperature is constant as well. Nothing living could survive in here for long—even with supplies and a spacesuit.
Cole shined his helmet lantern toward the ajar door at the top of the steps. “Speaking of nothing living, where the hell is everyone? And even more important, what happened here?”
He didn’t expect a response, nor did her receive one. The more he considered the mounting evidence, the less he understood. Taking a silent cue from Lin, he accompanied her up the remaining steps and hoped to find the answers he was seeking on the bridge.
The longer they navigated the Daedalus’s interior, the more Cole began to relive his brief time aboard. And then there was the crime he’d committed...rather, thought he’d committed. The ship’s layout, size excluded, was not dissimilar to that of the Asterius. The Daedalus was the largest and most expensive ship in Military’s fleet, as he recalled being told at least a dozen times during his court martial interrogation. He smirked in spite of the shame and regret he still carried upon his shoulders.
“We’re here,” Cole said, breaking the long, uncomfortable silence.
They stepped into the heart and soul of the Daedalus, only to find that it was as empty as the rest of the ship. The same layer of dust that lined the stairwell covered everything in here as well. Fortunately, the consoles and all the equipment appeared to be intact. Whether or not it worked was another story.
Lin made straight for the nearest server. Her Rook glowed as it hovered over top the console. Its gyroscopic rotation told Cole she was attempting a wireless connection. All he could do was stand by, watch, and hope.
It was in the midst of his anticipation that Emmerich decided to make contact.
“This place is vacant.”
“Yeah, we haven’t seen any bodies either.”
“No, you don’t understand. It’s more than a lack of people; there aren’t any supplies—like it was raided.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“What’s more,” she continued, “every ship in the hangar is missing.”
“I like that even less.”
“Musgrave. What happened here?”
Cole suddenly felt uneasy and vulnerable. “That’s what we’re attempting to find out right now. Just keep searching, but stay alert. This might take a little bit.”
I’m in.
“Or not,” Cole said to Emmerich. “Hold tight. I’ll keep you updated.”
Lin stepped back and raised both her arms, her hands expertly pushing, swiping, and tapping an AR computer only she could see. She tossed empty air his way, and he entered his Ocunet to join the digital investigation.
“Whoa...” Countless windows with endless lists and files were opening and closing. A wide array of images, ranging from detailed schematics to family photos, joined the sensory onslaught, and he wondered if it was possible for her to absorb so much information in so short a time. Before he could ask her that very question, a nondescript list froze on the screen. He recognized it as the Daedalus’s directory.
This doesn’t make sense, Lin wrote. How can that be possible?
“ ‘Deceased’?” Cole read aloud, the word emblazoned in red on every single line. His eyes flew across the massive list of names, some of which he recognized. “How many people are on there?”
Lin gave a quick shake of her head and scrolled down the list in search of a single green active status. When she hit the bottom, she turned to Cole, her eyes wide.
“I don’t understand,” Cole said, pounding his fists together. “That’s over five thousand people. How can the entire crew be dead but there be no bodies?” An image of his mother’s gray and frozen corpse flashed in his mind.
Whether or not they’re actually deceased, I should be able to locate them since they are physically connected to the system, Military branding.
“Track-Ink,” Cole muttered, recalling digital tattoo that had once been encoded onto the back of his left hand. He glanced down, recalling a time before they had scoured it from his skin and tossed him out of the service like garbage. To this day, he was amazed they had decided to snip their invisible tether and allow him to integrate into society.
The search is coming up empty, Lin wrote. If this is accurate, then no one is aboard.
Cole swallowed hard. “What about security footage or possibly locating a status log of when all the ships vacated the premises? There must be some sort of evidence to explain what happened here.”
Lin’s nod seemed hesitant. I’ll see what I can uncover, but without power, there’s no telling how long before I am unable to search the system hard drive.
Cole stepped back to allow her space to madly filter through the classified files. He used the time to update both Emmerich and Rig. “Alright guys, it appears this boat was not only hijacked of its valuables by an unknown entity, but all our Starforce brothers and sisters have vanished as well.”
“What the shit?”
“Can’t explain it, big guy,” Cole said to the unusually frazzled mechanic. “But it is what it is, so I suggest you and Chrys wrap up your search and make your way back to the Icarus. We’ll discuss it more there.”
Rig acknowledged the order with a grunt, but when Emmerich did not reply, Cole’s anxiety raised a little higher. “You get that, Chrys?”
“I got that, ,” she replied quietly, after a slight delay.
“Why are you speaking in hushed tones?”
Another, much longer pause filled the silence. “You need to get down here.”
“What? Get down where?” Cole asked, frantically zooming in on her position. She did not give any further details, though he would not have heard her anyway. He located her pinging dot just outside the engine room. Right where he had enacted his sabotage.
“Chrys?” He had taken to speaking softly as well. “What do you see?”
“I—I don’t know....”
“Give me access to your visuals.”
Cole.
He looked up at Lin, reaching a new level of fear.
There’s something down there with her.
12
GUARDIAN
“Something?”
This was the second time Cole had repeated the word. It had stood out in Lin’s statement, begging to be discussed. But it wasn’t until he grabbed her shoulder that she seemed to acknowledge he was even in the same room as her.
She blinked, her brow furrowing. I’m not entirely certain. It appears to be some sort of living energy source.
Cole was startled by the emergence of the visuals he had requested, but he saw nothing but darkness. For a harrowing moment, he thought that Emmerich was dead. That makes no sense, he thought, considering that she had just connected to him.
“Something’s wrong with your lenses, Chrys.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she replied in a forceful hiss. “My lantern is off, and I’m in a corner, staring at a wall.”
Cole shrugged. “Well, that kinda defeats the purpose of—”
“Get your ass down here, Musgrave!”
He was already running down the hall toward the steps, one eye focused on her visuals. “Stay and lock yourself on the bridge, or get back to the ship!” he shouted over his shoulder to Lin. “Don’t come after me!”
He rushed down the steps, skipping the majority of them. When he hit the landing, he ran and yanked his rifle off his shoulder, switching off the safety. He propped the stock in the crook of his firing arm and steadied the forestock with the other. He flicked on the scope light in addition to his helmet lantern. By the time he was sprinting down the adjoining hallway, he had transported himself back twenty years to when he was fresh out of boot camp.
He was also firmly entrenched in his Corner.
“You see my location, Rig?”
“You move any faster Nugget, you’re gonna run straight into a wall.”
“How close are you to Chrys’s location?”
“Not as close as you. Gonna be a few minutes.”
Cole kicked open a partially ajar door, blinking through the heavy dust. Another glimpse at Emmerich’s location gave him pause, and he slowed. She was peeking around a corner, and he squinted from the unexplained brightness. What he saw was a being unlike anything he’d ever seen before. She pulled back into the dark corner, and he could hear her heavy breathing.
“I’m almost there, Chrys. Make sure your rifle’s shocked and coded.”
“What?” was her nearly inaudible response.
“You know,” Cole said, hoping his blathering would keep her calm. “It’s like locked and loaded, only we can’t do that to a plasma rifle. So I figure shocked and coded would work for the more advanced weaponry.” He smirked.
He heard her take a deep breath. “You’re such an ass.”
“Yeah, and this ass is coming to employ some serious recklessness to save yours.”
Cole received no further reply, and he utilized the silence to further prepare himself for whatever was to come. His mind, however, ran wild with what he’d seen, and he wondered if he would need to employ his rifle. Regardless of whether or not this being was extraterrestrial, he would use deadly force if necessary. That would make for one hell of a first contact.
He rounded a corner too fast, and his shoulder slammed into the wall, killing his momentum. That was when an arm reached out and snatched his. He glimpsed the briefest flash of the violet light he’d seen earlier just as he was yanked into a dark corner alongside Emmerich. He was face-to-face with her, their helmets touching, bodies pressed tightly against one another.
“Are you insane?” she hissed. “Running toward that thing like some frontline grunt?”
Cole blinked, wondering how it was he was already at the engine room. “Sorry. My instincts took over. I did promise you I’d do something reckless.”
Emmerich let go his arms and shoved him aside. “We don’t even know what we’re up against. Running in blind will get you killed.”
Cole turned toward the engine room entrance, noticing a faint blue glow spilling from within. “Has it showed any sign of aggression?”
“No. Though it might reconsider after seeing your idiotic act of heroism.”
“Does it know you’re here?”
“I think so. It hasn’t moved since I first came down here.”
He could see she was petrified, though she was doing her best to hide it with false bravado. “I’m gonna go have a quick chat with it.”
She grabbed the front of his suit and yanked him close once more, their helmets smacking this time. “Are you crazy?”
He made no effort to pry away from her vice grip. “No, but standing here in a dark corner, quaking in our boots, isn’t doing us any good. Either we make a run for it, or we see what we’re up against.”
“I say we run.”
“And risk having that thing misunderstand our intentions and chase us instead?” He was shocked by her turn-tail attitude. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe it’s afraid of us as well? Maybe even cautiously curious?”
“We’re not here to make friends. This is a....”
Cole pulled free of her grip and spun to find Rig strolling toward the engine room entrance. Oh, yeah. I forgot about him.
Both he and Emmerich lunged toward the surprised mechanic and dragged his stocky frame into the increasingly crowded corner. Now three helmets were butted together, weapons clattering, and personal space at a premium.
“Uh, what are we doing?” Rig asked, eyes darting between Cole and Emmerich.
“Group huddle,” Cole supplied, slapping the mechanic on his shoulder. “I was just about to have a chat with our glowing friend around the corner.”
“No, you weren’t,” Emmerich snapped. “We’re making a break for the ship.”
“We already went over this,” Cole said, his hand gesticulations causing his helmet to rattle against the others’. “It already knows we’re over here, and it hasn’t attacked us. It’s had plenty of time to melt us with its alien ray gun.”
“Knowin’ you, you’ll say somethin’ stupid and piss it off,” Rig said.
“If it even speaks our language, or at all,” Emmerich added. “Perhaps it’s content with staying in the engine room, which is fine with me. There’s no need to take an unnecessary risk.”
“Yes, there is!” Cole said much louder than he had intended. “What do you want us to do? Fly a damaged ship around an uncharted universe? How fast do you think we—Rig—will be able to fix the Icarus after we turn our backs on possibly the greatest discovery known to mankind? How well are you going to be able to work knowing it can come up at any time and visit us?”
Neither had an answer.
“The best thing we can do is attempt to establish contact and hope for a positive outcome,” Cole continued. “It’s not like we...have...to....”
A fourth being had partially stepped into view, the soft, chalky, violet glow illuminating the dark corner in which the trio was standing. It was humanoid in appearance though most of its form was still hidden from view. It did not fully present itself, remaining hidden, like a child thinking he was spying on his parents.
Cole’s eyes hurt from opening so wide, but he could not close them even if he wanted to—which he did not. “Hi!” he said, waving to the being. He tried to take a step toward it, but Emmerich’s frantic grip was threatening to sever his arm. A quick look and a ta
p on her hand was all he needed to regain feeling. When he turned back, the being was gone.
“Good one, Nugget,” Rig said. “You scared it away with pleasantries.”
“What was it I was saying about it maybe being afraid of us?” Cole asked. The question was rhetorical, though he had purposefully directed it toward Emmerich. She glared in response.
Rig pointed. “It’s coming back.”
A glowing, violet hand gripped the doorway, and Cole seized the opportunity. He took a slow, cautious step in its direction and thought of Lin. “I assume you’re watching this?” he asked barely above a whisper.
I am.
“Good, because you’re about to witness the least qualified person for this job.”
No one can prepare for a situation such as this.
Cole knew she meant the words as consolation, but they only added to his anxiety. He could feel Rig’s and Emmerich’s eyes boring four holes into the back of his skull, and he wondered if they had enough sense not to open fire with any sudden movements. He decided to lay his rifle down on the ground before he presented himself. He switched off Emmerich’s comm the moment she angrily acknowledged his gesture.
The violet hand became an arm as he neared the engine room entrance. The arm was attached to a body roughly the same size as his, though far more slender. And as soon as the being’s two milky white eyes met his, it shrunk away. Cole held up both his open, empty hands in what he hoped was a universal non-threatening sign. As he watched it retreat further into the room, the being glowed brighter as it moved toward a large rotating object that looked like a silver cylinder. The device was nearly silent, save a smooth, gentle whirring which vibrated through the floor. He stared it, vaguely recalling it from when he was last aboard the Daedalus, exacting his justice.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in as friendly a tone he could muster.
You’re in a vacuum, Cole, Lin explained. It can only see your lips moving.
Cole’s cheeks caught fire. I’m such an idiot. “Thanks, Doc. I’m glad one of us was paying attention to that blunder. Guess I’ll have to pantomime this first contact. Now if only I had the first clue how not to offend with a rude gesture....”