Книга: Lazarus




Lazarus

Lazarus

Lazarus

Table of Contents

Title Page

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ALSO AVAILABLE

The Cult of Chimera

I HEARD YOU WERE DEAD....

LAZARUS

0 | VORTEX

PART ONE | TRIAL AND ERROR

1 | AMBER

2 | EXTRACTION

3 | GRAY

4 | INVESTIGATION

5 | GHOSTING

6 | RESCUE

7 | BLOCKADE

8 | DISSOLUTION

9 | PERSEVERANCE

PART TWO | GRAY MATTERS

10 | OASIS

11 | MAGNETIZED

12 | CHOPPED

13 | NOXIOUS

14 | TURNCOAT

15 | STUNTED

16 | SACRIFICE

17 | DANGEROUS

18 | FADING

19 | DARKNESS

PART THREE | RESURRECTION

20 | DISFIGURED

21 | JUDGE

22 | JURY

23 | EXECUTIONER

24 | ENERGIES

25 | ETERNITY

26 | LAZARUS

27 | ACCEPTANCE

BOOK FOUR AND BEYOND?

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

LAZARUS

Interstellar Cargo: Book Three

Lazarus

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the authors.

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2018 by Matt Verish (Night Apple, LLC)

Snake Plissken quote from Escape from New York

© 1981 by John Carpenter, Stormking Productions,

and AVCO Embassy Pictures

Written by Matt Verish

Edited by Stefanie Verish

Cover design by Tom Edwards Design

eBook layout by Matt Verish

Author photo by Stefanie Verish

First published: 07/01/2018

ALSO AVAILABLE

Interstellar Cargo Trilogy

Icarus

Daedalus

Lazarus

Interstellar Cargo Tale

Asterius

The Cult of Chimera

This cult was nothing like Jonestown or even the kick-ass British rock band of the Blue Oyster variety. The Cult of Chimera was a different animal altogether. I can’t say I was ever a legitimate member of this two-person group. It belonged to my older brother Chris and his best friend Dave. Dave also happens to be one of my very best friends as well, and these two fine gentlemen can be thanked for a great deal of my creative upbringing.

In the mid-1980s, when I was a painfully shy child in elementary school, my life forever changed when my brother’s new friend came over to play.  I barely recall the visit, aside from managing to weasel my way into their fun by helping grind rocks onto the surface of our driveway. Don’t ask me to elaborate, as I have no idea what goes through the minds of adolescent boys. It was one of the few times I was ever able to participate in their mysterious activities, and that’s because they’re both four years my senior—a gap too wide for older boys to care about a dorky little sibling. I did my best to ingratiate myself in their burgeoning friendship. Even from the outside, I was introduced to their world of wild, creative genius. Therein were the humble beginnings of Chimera.

Just what is Chimera, you ask? Well, aside from the hybrid creature of Greek myth, it was a zany game for the vintage ‘80s Commodore 64 personal computer. I invite you to go directly to YouTube and find a video of the opening credits and music. It won’t explain why Chris and Dave’s Chimera begins with a “chuh” sound, but it might make you scratch your head and perhaps make you laugh silly. Chris and Dave watched that opening so often that it’s ingrained into my soul.

But back to “the Chris and Dave.” While I was playing games on my Nintendo Entertainment System, Chris and Dave were exploring the edges of comedic insanity. At least, that’s how I viewed it.  I’m guessing lots of ‘80s slasher horror flicks and thrash and early death metal music played a small role in shaping Chimera. I’ll never truly know, but I’m glad the “cult” happened.

Every Halloween was Chris dressing as Freddy Krueger and Dave dressing as Michael Myers. They would scare the living shit out of the neighborhood kids when they approached my parents’ house for candy. Me, I was Jason Voorhees, but I was too small to be scary. It didn’t matter; I got to hang out with with them and share in their horror story joy. When they weren’t creeping out the neighbors, they loved to record wildly inappropriate (and by this I mean offensive by today’s PC standards) comedic sketches on cassette tapes. The short stories they wrote were much the same.

I loved it all, even if a lot of it didn’t make much sense to my naive mind. I particularly enjoyed being incorporated into the evolution of their video sketches. I was invited to be the brunt of ridicule and the victim of homicide in their home-grown slashers. Their big-name killer was a maniac in a series of films called, “The Man with the Hammer.” I got to be the hammeree.

I’m not sure they ever knew how much they inspired my early creative years, but if and when they read this little ode, I hope they don’t mind me peeling back the pages of their little cult during my formative years for the world to read. It helped transform me into the author I am today, and I can’t thank them enough.

I should have acknowledged them in the previous books, though I never realized their influence until I literally sat down and thought about those wonderful times. I guess it’s better late than never. It’s not like they’ll ever really bash my head in with a mini sledge hammer, right?

To Chris and Dave––some of the finest people I’ve ever known. I love you both.

Seats!

I HEARD YOU WERE DEAD....

“I shut down the third world, you win they lose. I shut down America, they win, you lose. The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

-Snake Plissken

LAZARUS

0 VORTEX

“Sir, these energy readings are off the charts!”

Commander Conrad Ortiz paired his Ocunet lenses with that of the science engineer’s. What he saw did not seem physically possible, so he sent the information to the ship’s viewport screen for the rest of his crew to see. The text and fluctuating diagrams appeared over-top the image of the anomaly from which the readings had come. “There doesn’t appear to be an increase in radiation.” He flicked through his augmented reality display for any pitfalls that could disrupt the mission.

“No detectable signs of corrosive emissions of any sort, Sir.”

Ortiz nodded. “Excellent. Carry on, Parker.” He connected to the ship’s comm to communicate with the rest of the crew. “Attention, everyone. This is Commander Ortiz. Your presence is requested on the bridge. Thank you.”

Within minutes, the crew of ten aboard NASA’s Uncharted vessel, the Copernicus, made their way onto the bridge. All eyes were transfixed upon the data readout as they entered. There were murmurs amongst the chosen candidates, and Ortiz allowed them brief discourse before addressing them.

“Moments ago, we received this exceptional energy readout on our scanners,” he said, his gaze flitting from one astronaut to the next. “And while it is unclear as to what exactly they indicate, our mission to explore and study this interdimensional gateway has not changed.” His focus fell upon the sole raised hand of his friend and fellow veteran astronaut, Regina. “Something to add, Pilot?”

Regina lowered her hand and tucked it behind her back. “Before we continue our approach, I suggest we exercise extra caution in light of this unexpected discovery. Regardless of what we’ve learned thus far and what we think we already know, there’s no telling what sort of dangers we might yet encounter.”

Ortiz cleared his throat. “Caution is priority number one, as it always has been. That being said, there are no noticeable radiation spikes in spite of these sudden bursts. As of now, we remain safe, and we will continue ahead as planned. You are all aware of the orders given you by mission control. We have trained for this moment. Let’s make NASA and the entire System proud.”

There was a unanimous chant of agreement that drowned out Regina’s hesitance. The crew dispersed to their appropriate stations, and Ortiz returned his attention back toward their destination. He minimized the readout from the viewport screen and admired the mystery that was the interdimensional gateway.

The Source, as it was referred to by Terracom, was an astronomical event the likes of which mankind had little encounter. Scant information had been salvaged from the remnants of the Terracom Interdimensional Gateway Station, and even less from those next in the chain of command below Grant Mitchum, the late CEO of the mega corporation. What was known was that this “Source” was an incredible collection of foreign energy. Whether or not it actually led to an alternate reality remained to be seen. Countless theories as to what else it could be had been tossed around since its discovery, but it was the mission of the Copernicus to explore and verify the claims.

Ortiz placed his hand on the back of his unoccupied chair as he continued to study the amorphous blue glowing oddity. “How did Terracom manage to keep this excessive discovery from the entire System?” he asked under his breath. He had no love for the unpredictable empire that posed as a terraforming company, though it was hard not to appreciate their extraordinary reach when it came to furthering science and technology. “If only they had shared their knowledge with the rest of the System, instead of keeping everything for themselves.”

“Commander. I’m picking up a foreign transmission.”

“What sort of transmission? And from where?” Ortiz asked the engineer, knowing it could not be from mission control. The familiar hallmarks of NASA’s incoming messages were missing, and the viewport readout showed little more than nonsensical texts, symbols, and numbers. An error soon followed.

“The source is unclear,” Parker said before furiously typing on his AR console. “Though it appears to be an audio communique.”

Ortiz frowned. “Patch it through to the bridge. And make sure to record it.”

“All set, Commander.”

Ortiz nodded, and the tight quarters of the Copernicus’s bridge flooded with a dizzying chorus of what could be described as a mix of whales communicating through an underwater synthesizer. A thin veil of static overlaid the bizarre transmission with a steady thrum of bass beneath. Through it all, he was almost certain he could make out a voice buried somewhere within. “What in the...?”

“Our system’s AI is attempting to decipher the transmission,” Parker said anxiously. He frowned. “It appears to have uncovered a repeating phrase—a loop. It’s struggling to properly translate....”

“Cancel out the surrounding sound, and isolate the source of that phrase,” Ortiz said, still straining to hear for himself.

“Already underway, Commander.”

While the engineer performed his magic, he could almost distinguish the words––a singular voice of coherency drowning in a sea of static and surreal distortion. He closed his eyes and focused on the message.

“It’s emanating from within the Source.”

His concentration broken, Ortiz grudgingly turned toward Regina. “And what led you to such a conclusion?”

Regina’s brow furrowed, and she shook her head. “I don’t know how I know, but I do.” She was staring past Ortiz to the viewport screen.  She reached up and rubbed just below her throat, as though she were massaging away tightness. “I can feel it somehow...flowing through me.”

Ortiz was unsure how to respond to her cryptic words. Normally the more technical of the two, Regina’s unusually intuitive words cast this new phenomenon in an eerie light. When she finally met his gaze, she seemed dazed and confused. “Have a seat, Pilot. You don’t look well.”

Regina accepted the offer of his own chair, but her attention remained locked on the Source.

“I have it, Commander!”

Ortiz spun toward the engineer, having forgotten about the translation. Before he asked what it was the man “had,” he heard it for himself. The majority of the distortion, humming, and inexplicable “whale calls” had fallen away., His eyes went wide.

Crew of the Copernicus. Welcome to the Vortex,” he repeated along with the deep, disembodied voice. “How is this possible?”

“Regina’s right, Commander,” the engineer said. “I’ve traced the origin of the message, and it’s coming from within the Source. Someone’s on the other side....”

Ortiz diverted his full attention to the blue anomaly and the vast space surrounding it. “Parker. Are you sure there aren’t any other vessels within range of us? Possibly a nearby satellite with a signal interfering with our own?” He knew he was reaching, but it just didn’t seem possible someone was communicating with them from the other side of cosmic energy.

“I’ve checked, Sir,” Parker said. “We’re alone out here., as per your request. Not even Military presence is detected.”

Ortiz sighed, perplexed. “I hadn’t anticipated a rescue mission. We aren’t equipped to handle that type of situation. Shut off that damn message, and contact mission control. Make sure to patch them through to the main screen.”

Parker’s slight gasp did not go undetected by Ortiz. “Is there a problem, Parker?”

“We’ve lost contact with mission control,” the pilot said. He drew a sharp and sudden breath. “All avenues of communication are down!”

What?

“This doesn’t make sense, Sir,” Parker continued, his voice tense. “It’s as if something is blocking all incoming signals with our ship. Our systems are running at optimal, but––”

“We can’t establish a proper connection,” Ortiz finished for him. “Because of the Source, I presume.” He faced Regina, who was still staring blankly at the viewport screen. “Damn it! The mission has become compromised. We must abort.”

“Negative, Sir.”

“I beg your pardon?” He rounded on Parker, but when he saw the fear in the young engineer’s face, he knew what the pilot was going to say.

“The ship’s artificial intelligence is offline. We’re without navigational assistance.”

Ortiz turned to order Regina out of his command chair, but she had already stood and was slowly walking toward the viewport. He ignored her and dropped into the seat, engaging the manual controls. “Listen up!” he shouted, neglecting the intercom. “Everyone take their stations on the bridge, and prepare for emergency evacuation!”

The Copernicus was small enough that his voice echoed/carried throughout. The remaining seven crew members piled onto the bridge and assumed their stations. All except one.

“Regina, take your seat. That’s an order, Pilot.”

The woman paid him no heed.

Ortiz refocused on his controls, which were still online. All other readouts appeared stable, and he breathed a small sigh of relief that whatever had sacked communication had not yet infiltrated manual functions.

“Lock yourselves in, everyone,” Ortiz said to his crew. “Actions first, answers later. We’re about to make an abrupt departure.” He grabbed the flight yoke and punched in the necessary coordinates. Once everyone else had finalized and sounded off their portion of the navigation prep, he ignited thrusters and jerked hard on the controls.

A flash of blue light flooded the interior of the bridge, temporarily blinding all occupants. Darkness followed, and silence....

“Engines are offline,” Parker said, his voice trembling. “And... Oh, no....”

Ortiz let go the flight yoke. The Copernicus had gone dark. He unfastened his safety harness and stood. The remaining light was solely from the Source as it reflected off the bridge. He approached Regina amidst the flurry of questions and demands of what to do next. He replied to none of them. The situation was obvious, and there was nothing to be done. They were at the mercy of whatever had crippled them.

Regina finally turned to Ortiz when he reached her side. There was no fear in her eyes, nor much of anything, for that matter.  It didn’t matter. He placed his arm around her slight shoulders and gazed off into the sapphire sun with her.

Behind them, pandemonium broke out with their commander lost to defeat, the crew panicked. Trained astronauts, engineers, and technicians though they all were, some futilely pulled on the door at the


back of the bridge, though it, like the offline escape pods, was electromagnetically sealed. Others continued to send distress calls to mission control despite the lack of power. There would be no help for them. . All that protected them from oblivion in the cold, dark vacuum was several feet of solid steel and a dwindling supply of heat and air.

Through the chaos, Ortiz watched in silence as the Copernicus drifted toward its final destination. The Source beckoned them––pulled the ship with an invisible draw.

Crew of the Copernicus. Welcome to the Vortex....

He would soon discover who had spoken those words. And was it not their mission to uncover the secrets of the Source?

Time seemed to accelerate; everything around him became quiet. All that remained was the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of Regina’s body against his. Perhaps this was what it was like to enter into the kingdom of heaven after death, like the inhabitants of Earth believed. If so, then he was okay with that.

He kissed Regina on top of her head and closed his eyes just as the Copernicus vanished into the mass of infinite energy, swallowed by the Vortex.

PART ONE TRIAL AND ERROR

ICARUS LOG 005:

“I should have stayed in prison. At least there I had three hots and a cot. Out here, in the “Free ’Verse,” I’m contending with dodging plastol bursts, maneuvering evil political machinations, and staring into the light of the electric blue cosmic portal. It’s enough to make even the System’s Most Wanted question his sanity....

1 AMBER

“You just signed your death warrant.”

Cole gave an exaggerated yawn. He felt and heard his jaw pop, though he didn’t give his attentive audience the courtesy of covering his mouth. In truth, he was tired––tired of being paraded around from one spectacle to the next. His ire was raised from the onslaught of long-winded and politically correct questions of his interrogation. And he was downright sick of smelling his worthless attorney’s cheap cologne.

He shook his head at each of the five powerful individuals across the office table––the presidents of the United System themselves––the leaders of the divisions of AMBER: Agriculture, Military, Business, Entertainment, and Research. All of them had made special arrangements to meet with him. None in-person, of course. A dangerous terrorist like him required a convention of guests via augmented reality through restrictive Ocunet lenses. They had called to order this impromptu hearing, though only one of them had spoken of his fated doom. It was toward the white-haired president of Agriculture that he directed his reply.

“That’s fine. You’re on a long list of people who want me dead.”

His government-appointed attorney grunted and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “What Mr. Musgrave means to say is––”

“Shut up, Matlock,” Cole interrupted. “Don’t waste your bad breath. These proceedings ended long before we got here, so you can take your shoot-from-the-hip approach and holster it.”

His attorney, whose name he did not remember, cleared his throat and shrank quietly back into his chair. Cole, however, sat forward, interlocking his exposed fingers and resting his wrists on the edge of the table. It was about the extent his arms and body could move on account of his many bindings.

“I honestly don’t know what it is you people expect from me––”

“You will appropriately address the leaders of our great United System with the honor and respect they deserve,” one of the several dozen heavily armed guards spoke from behind him.

Cole turned in the direction of the grave baritone, but none of them held any expression. Instead he responded to the female guard who rivaled Emmerich in size and scowl. “Now why would I do that? Call them Mister or Madam President? Two of them are male, three female. Let’s say I stare at the table when I respond “appropriately” or try to have a productive conversation; no one’s gonna know to whom I’m talking. We don’t need any more confusion than there already is.”

“Captain Musgrave.”

Cole smirked at his former title, and turned back to one of the three middle-aged women: President Miranda Jensen of Research. “Yes, Milady?”

“There is no need to be difficult with us,” she said, her voice low and raspy—almost seductive. “We all––Mr. Concord of Agriculture included––have nothing but the interest of the people of the United System at the forefront of our minds.” She cast her white haired equal a fleeting, yet dismissive, glance. “It is in your best interest to assist our cause.”

Cole tapped a few of his fingers on the cold, steel countertop as he processed her words. He pretended not to feel violated by President Jensen’s cool and calculating gaze. “And just what is this ‘cause’ of which you speak, Your Ladyship?”

If Jensen was annoyed by the improper title, she showed no outward disdain. “The betterment of our beloved society, of course.”

“Ah,” Cole said flatly. “Spoken like a true politician. I wasn’t aware it was election season.”

“This is preposterous!” Concord said, slamming his virtual fist upon the table. “What is the point in subjecting ourselves to this charlatan’s impudence. Clearly he is little more than a flippant cur who chooses to play coy in the face of the galactic tragedy he concocted. We have wasted valuable time by allowing him the opportunity to make a farce of these proceedings.”

Flippant cur? Impudent charlatan? Way too flowery a description for a supposed mass-murdering psychopath like me. “Hey, don’t blame me for ruining your tee-time, Your Eminence,” Cole said to Concord. “I didn’t schedule this political conclave. The five of you woke me up, remember?”

“An arrangement I vehemently regret,” Concord replied back, red-faced. He looked to his surrounding presidential colleagues and gestured toward them. “As I stated moments ago, I vote we adjourn this travesty and expedite this miscreant’s capital sentence.”

Not exactly the words you used earlier, President Thesaurus, Cole thought.

“Such a vote will be brought to order once this panel has acquired the necessary information we seek, Mr. Concord,” the president of Military said to his peer. The harsh delivery of the comment left little room for debate, and the other three presidents agreed with the sentiment, leaving Concord’s proposal thoroughly quashed.

Concord’s face bloomed a deeper shade of red, but he did not offer a rebuke. Cole popped a knuckle. “Well, I’m glad we sorted that out. ‘Cuz we were making such progress before His Excellency’s scurrilous interruption.” Yeah, that’s right! I know fancy words too.

“Captain Musgrave,” Jensen began. “Do not mistake the gesture for kindness. These are grave matters over which you jest. These proceedings will last as long or as short as we deem necessary, so I suggest you dispense with your sarcastic babe-in-the-woods act and take a more forthcoming approach with us.”

Says the woman whose division secretly enacted a coup to infiltrate the very corporation we are now discussing, Cole thought. “Hey, I’ve been completely forthcoming from the start. I can’t help it my silver tongue poked a hole through His Majesty’s paper skin.” He nodded toward Concord. “If you want whatever it is you want, you’ll just have to sift through this truculent pilot’s spontaneous balderdash.”

There was agitated chatter amongst the presidents, though only Jensen seemed unperturbed by Cole’s outspoken manner. The corners of her painted lips turned upwards, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she readied to unleash upon him her sinister machinations.

“The Terracom Interdimensional Gateway Station,” she began after the murmuring had died down. “You claim that you learned of its discovery through your mother.”

“Again with TIGS?” Cole interrupted. “Look, Your Worship, I’ve already given a detailed recounting of my escapades to investigators. Whatever you need to know is––” He stopped mid-speech when she held up a silencing hand. He snapped closed his fallen jaw, curious as to what she would say next.

“We are aware of the details given,” she said after lowering her hand. “What we are interested in hearing is what was not said.”

Cole’s eye twitched. I was wondering when someone would catch wind of my glaring omissions. “Shouldn’t you guys be talking to Mrs. Business?” He nodded toward the frigid countenance of the woman who represented the noted division. “Pretty sure they have closer ties to Terracom than I do. Besides, what would I have to gain by keeping information to myself?” He knew exactly what the answer would be.

Jensen’s smile grew. “It’s not what you have to gain but those who you’re hoping to protect.” There was a pregnant pause, and Cole knew she was gauging his reaction. “To answer your first question, we are in close correspondence with Business, though Terracom has since seceded from their division following the events surrounding your involvement. That is another matter entirely.

“But civil unrest is none of your concern. The lives of Richter Solomon and Dr. Lin Dartmouth are.”

“Pawns,” Cole said in as convincing a tone as he could muster. “Both of them. I know nothing I say will reverse whatever it is you plan to do––or have already done––to them, but they aren’t anything more than unfortunate bystanders. Arthur T. Forester, however, is a different story altogether. If that was even his real name. He’s the mastermind behind this whole fiasco, so you might want to look into him. That sneaky little shit spy played us all for fools. Fortunately for all of you, he dealt with the likes of a cunning and wrongfully accused pilot by the name of Cole Musgrave.”

“The investigation into Arthur Forester is ongoing,” Jensen said offhandedly. “As is the one involving your accomplices. They’re involvement is undeniable, as is your willingness to protect them from an end not so dissimilar to what yours will be.” She tilted her head as though studying an animal through bullet-proof glass. “Point the finger all you want, Captain, but the fact remains that any dealings you had with this so-called spy ended before your short stint with the Ravens.”

Shit, she’s done her homework. “Look, that was a wrinkle none of us expected. We had no choice but to obey Jude––”

“Your brother?” the president of Military clarified. He raised a bushy eyebrow. “Let’s not forget your familial ties with the Revan name.”

“Half-brother,” Cole clarified. “And besides, I didn’t ask to become his personal slave.”

“Is that why you murdered him?”

Cole faltered. Whoops. I forgot all about that lovely little broadcast. “Look, Uncle Sam, think what you will of that farce. Everyone––the five of you, included––saw that he came at me with a machete.”

“What was seen, Mr. Musgrave,” spoke a new voice—that of President Amrita Sharmila of Business, “was the creation of the perfect scapegoat.”

Cole frowned, not liking where the conversation was headed.

“Do not think for a moment,” Sharmila continued, “that this panel is not aware of the true facts of this case. There is what the People know and what we know.”

Cole blinked. “Such as?”

Sharmila turned to the president of Military. “I believe Mr. Sinclair would be best suited to answer that question.”

President Darius Sinclair of Military squared his shoulders and leaned forward as though he were ready to reach across the table and throttle Cole. “Thank you, Ms. Sharmila. I will gladly accept this task.” He glowered at Cole before speaking. “As was stated, there is the public’s truth, and our truth. While this panel is aware of your true identity, the public has concluded that you are indeed Darkstar himself.”

What?

“And according to the vast majority of the populace, you are to blame for every single tragedy that has befallen our beloved United System since you were first hijacked by the traitor, Chrysanthemum Emmerich,” Sinclair continued.

The latter statement was nothing surprising to Cole, but to think that he had been burdened with his brother’s thorny crown was preposterous. “Thirteen years I worked under Big Brother’s watchful eye––with nary a fart gone undetected. Yet, somehow––overnight, mind you––I managed to become a notorious gangster who’s been running an underground criminal operation since before I was discharged from Starforce? How did that lovely fib get started?”

“You can thank yourself,” Jensen said, rejoining the conversation. “Your visage has been displayed throughout the galaxy since you sacked the terraport.”

I hope they at least used a good photo of me.

“And why would they not consider you as public enemy number one?” Sinclair asked, interlocking his fingers before his pale, angular face. “Aside from the aforementioned coup aboard the prototype ICV-71 vessel, the destruction of the terraport, and the public execution of your brother, you also managed to escape from federal custody, ransack a government facility of top secret technology, infiltrate the Galactic Information Satellite for reasons still unknown....”

“Heh.”

“...which caused significant tension between UniSys and Terracom,” Sinclair continued overtop Cole’s chuckling. “You also managed to resurrect the missing U.S.S. Daedalus and uncover a conspiracy involving Terracom and their interdimensional gateway station.”

“Shouldn’t you thank me for that last one?” Cole asked, in-between the damning list of charges.

“Before causing the mass destruction of both, along with the majority of the Starforce fleet sent to intercede,” Sinclair finished dully. “Thousands of innocent lives were lost.”



Cole shrugged. “All victims of circumstance––none of which can be blamed on—”

Do you think this is a damn joke?” Sinclair shouted, shattering the calm discourse.

Cole was undaunted by his tone and crimson-fury face. “I do. Because that’s what these proceedings are. The five of you say you harbor some all-powerful truth which you keep hidden from the public, but the real truth––the only truth––is that those of us who were aboard the Icarus know what really happened. But seeing as no one outside that ship is willing to read between the lines and accept that there’s a gray area, what we get is government blackmail in the form of labeling me a terroristic gangster while dangling the lives of my crew over my head in the hopes of eliciting some sort of response which will help you gather intel on something I probably know nothing about.”

Cole sat back in his chair with a resounding whump and took a deep, calming breath. He looked to his side and found his attorney still sitting there, drenched in his own sweat. “A lot of good you turned out to be.”

“Is there any more evidence needed to adjourn these proceedings?” Concord asked the panel. “It is quite obvious that nothing of value will be gained regarding the Source.”

“‘The Source?’” Cole repeated, unfamiliar with the term. “Another secret you believe me to be withholding information about, perhaps?”

Sinclair scowled at Concord, though it was Jensen who replied. “Nothing of which you need concern yourself. I’m afraid Mr. Concord is correct about these proceedings.”

“Oh, suddenly you’re tight-lipped?” Cole asked, finding the change in attitude amusing. “What happened to you needing my assistance to better our beloved society? What about getting to the source of the Source?”

“That opportunity has passed, Captain,” she spoke with finality. “Your intentions are clear, and so the matter will lay.”

Cole raised his hands up as high as they could go, and he attempted to wave goodbye. Already Concord and the president of Entertainment––who had remained silent the entirety of the discussion––had logged off. “Well, gee, it sure was an honor getting to know each of you on such a personal level. I feel like we’re all best friends now. The five––well, three of you better get back out there and fight that good fight. We all know you’re gonna need it now that you’re at war with Terracom. If only there had been some way for you to put aside your titanic political egos and actually listen to what little old me has to say. Who knows? You might’ve learned something.”

“That is doubtful, Captain,” Jensen said. Her eyes had acquired a fierceness, and Cole knew she was about to tear into him. “That you think so little of our dire predicament only solidifies your guilt. You may not be Jude Revan, though you certainly possess the aptitude to be his alter ego. Now that your fate is sealed, why should you care about the recent crumbling of our economy––the violent riots occurring throughout all of the Debt Colonies? And most importantly, why would you ever give a damn about the murder of countless innocent lives, regardless of whether or not you’re responsible?”

“You’re sexy when you’re angry.”

Jensen scoffed, disgusted. “Your sentencing will commence as planned, and the fate of Dr. Dartmouth and Mr. Solomon shall remain a mystery to you. Goodbye, Captain.” She stood, her holographic image faltering.

What am I doing? “Hey, I did you guys a favor, though none of you realize it!” Cole yelled, knowing his little outburst was too little too late. Withholding information to protect Lin and Rig had only dug deeper his grave. Saving them was no longer a possibility, and it probably never was one to begin with. It was time for him to look out for number one. “The United System might be at war with Terracom, but we’d all be dead if I hadn’t stuck my nose where it wasn’t wanted. Dig a little deeper, and you might be surprised what you uncover. I know I was.”

Cole sat up straighter when he saw Jensen hesitate. Knowing this was his last chance to  avoide execution, he pounced. “I won’t apologize for the way I am, and I definitely won’t ever claim full responsibility for everything that has happened since I first took my position as a test pilot for SolEx. But I will tell you that there’s more going on than this government knows.You might not think you need me, but I’ve seen...things.”

Jensen’s fading image turned and came back into focus. She remained standing. “Of that, I am certain, Captain. You’ve also done things. Things which call into doubt your credibility as a reliable resource. You had your chance to save yourself and make a difference, but you elected the way to your end.”

And with that, the president of Research turned and left for good, leaving Cole alone in the conference room. With the exception of his attorney and the host of guards. He faced the cringing man to his side and pointed with as much conviction as his bound hands would allow.

“You’re fired!”

2 EXTRACTION

00:21.13

Triston acknowledged the dwindling time to complete his mission: barely twenty minutes. He lowered his face shield and forged his way deeper into the heart of the prison facility. For the hundredth time he checked the stolen plastol sidearm tucked in its holster, then soundlessly stepped up to the entrance. He turned his back toward the reinforced door and assumed the same rigid stance as the recent guard. He hoped no one would notice his smaller stature. If not for his years of training, experience, and the high-tech tools he had been given, this ludicrous plan would have been for nought. Even with the necessary assistance, success was far from guaranteed.

Triston tried not to think about how many things that could still go wrong. There was no plan B, and any attempt for him to concoct one would only result in extra bodies. It must not come to that. One step at a time, he reminded himself. Everything will work out.

Then the waiting began.

00:19.44

Timing was imperative, and he had been given a rare gift of precision down to the seconds today. His intel was exact, as was his clearance––a token from his powerful employer. And should his employer’s involvement be discovered, the System’s war with Terracom would suddenly not seem so dire.

He heard his mark before he saw him, and his eye twitched. Infiltrating a federal prison was insane enough, but targeting Cole Musgrave for extraction was lunacy. He ached to heed the little voice inside his head begging him to abort, but it was too late for that now. He could not come back empty handed.

“So, did you pull the short straw again and get the honor of listening to my random musings on this lovely evening shift?” Cole asked his transfer guard.

Triston knew the answer to the question, and he considered incapacitating Cole the moment they were free and clear of the prison moon. He ran his index finger across his throat and muttered a few pointless words under his breath. Satisfied with what he heard, he pulled his face shield a bit lower and hailed the approaching men.

“Receiving prisoner B-33920 , for inspection and containment.”

The approaching guard squared his shoulders and nodded. “Processing prisoner number B-33920 . Prepare the cell.”

The moment of truth, Triston thought, facing the locked cell. Only now could he utilize the passkey preinstalled on his Ocunet lenses. Earlier usage would have alerted security to improper procedure. Now if it works....

Stepping up to the scanner, he began to upload the temporary retinal brand program which mimicked the eye of the guard he was impersonating. He knew it would burn something fierce for a good ten seconds, but his vision would take longer to correct. It was a risk he was willing to take for the sake of the mission.

00:16.58

Triston put the timer out of his mind as he was recognized by the security system. He clenched his fist as searing pain wracked his eye, and it took every ounce of concentration not to blink and scream. He barely heard his access granted over the ringing in his ears.

“Aw, don’t cry for me,” Cole said as he passed Triston and glimpsed his face. “I promise I’ll be here tomorrow. Scout’s honor.”

Triston scowled but said nothing, and the other guard had not acknowledged the comment.

Cole, flanked by Triston and the guard, shuffled into the confined space and raised his bound hands toward a hole in the wall to be secured. Triston did not allow that to happen. Instead of assisting his “co-worker”, he reached over and applied a small clear strip to the front of Cole’s throat. Cole frowned and tried to comment, but no words came from his mouth. With wide eyes he cast Triston a confused stare. Triston shoved him face-first into a wall.

In the following seconds of stunned silence, Triston drove his elbow into the guard’s temple, clamped his hand around the man’s larynx, and squeezed with all his might. For good measure, he repeatedly smashed the dying man’s forehead into the wall, and dropped him in a heap—out of view. Triston slid the extra sidearm into the waistband on his back. The other plastol was pointed at Cole’s face, keeping him at bay.

00:15.21

Cole’s mouth was agape, his lips working but unable to spew his thoughts. The strip preventing him for talking was just beyond his reach.

The part of Triston that wanted to pull the trigger was stayed by duty and the fatal consequences of treason. He did, however, enjoy the uncertainty in Cole’s eyes. “Not an assassination,” he clarified.

Triston motioned Cole toward him, gun still trained between his eyes. He gestured to the floor beside the convulsing guard. “Kneel.”

Cole’s hesitant approach raised Triston’s brow. He did not complete the command.

Now.” Triston pressed the barrel of the gun to Cole’s forehead and used it to coax him to the ground. “Turn around.”

Cole did as asked this time, pulling away from the barrel so that it sank into the close-cropped hair on the back of his head. Triston promptly grabbed the dead guard’s wrist and pressed his limp thumb into Cole’s back, where his bindings were connected to a round housing unit. The bindings released with the acknowledgment of the thumbprint.

00:13.44

Triston positioned himself at the entrance of the cell, weapon poised. “Change into the guard’s clothes. Fast.”

Cole did as ordered, slipping the loose bindings. Triston stared, attentive to the passage of each second more than the prisoner in front of him. They would be cutting it close.

00:10.28

Cole stood once the guard’s slightly larger boots were tied and tucked the helmet under his arm. Triston, weapon still locked on him, removed a small container from the front pocket of his borrowed uniform and tossed it Cole’s way.

“Apply this to your face first. Cover it completely,” Triston ordered. “That includes your ears, throat, and neck. Quick.”

Cole executed the order like a soldier, and Triston was glad the notoriously unruly pilot sensed the critical nature of the mission. “Now I need you to get on the ground and hold the guard’s head so he is facing you. Make sure you’re close enough so the mimetic putty can replicate all the features. Whatever you do, don’t touch your face during the change.”

Shrugging, Cole did as asked.

00:09.17

Triston felt the noose tightening, but just as his clock ticked below nine minutes, the final stage of Cole’s metamorphosis began, and the true purpose of the voice strip’s function was enacted. Cole’s eyes bulged in obvious pain and terror as his face morphed into that of the dead guard. There was a sickening sucking sound and a “sizzling” as the putty worked its magic. Triston cringed, grateful he did not have to go through the same excruciating process. It was then he extended his unharmed hand and sprayed a clear liquid into Cole’s eyes. A silent bellow followed.

Unable to wait for the mimicry to finish, Triston grabbed beneath Cole’s arm and hoisted him to his feet. He slipped the helmet over the Cole’s head and dropped the visor to keep him from touching his face. That is all I’d need; a prison guard with a newly disfigured face.

The cell door sealed behind the duo, hiding the corpse within. Triston reassumed the face of the guard he’d been impersonating. Fortunately for him, he did not have to endure the pain of the nanobioparticle paste, but the sensation that there were thousands of insects were crawling over his flesh was unsettling enough.

Halfway down the hallway, Cole regained his footing, and Triston relinquished him. This just might work, he thought, hopeful. They merely had to make their way to the dock, slip past security, and board the waiting transfer vessel.

The loosening of his waistband brought him to a halt. He rounded on Cole, his own weapon now directed at his chest. The pilot had swiped the extra sidearm from Triston, but he was not holding it threateningly. With a slow and deliberate motion, he gently tucked the piece into his holster and snapped it closed.

Triston did not lower his barrel; he didn’t trust Cole. And he would have interrogated him on the spot had the pilot not been tapping his index finger on his throat atop voice strip.

00:08.31

There’s no time for this. Against his better judgment, Triston activated the mute strip via his Ocunet. “Speak.”

“You’re going to need––” Cole began, though he cut himself off. He cleared his throat and grinned. “You look diff––” He shook his head. “Couldn’t you have chosen a more manly voice to cover my pipes?”

Triston had reason for the selection. “We don’t have time for chit-chat. Out with what you want.”

Cole blinked and lifted his visor to wipe at his eyes. “You’re going to need my help out of this joint, Loki. That includes me speaking, wearing this sidearm...” He slapped his hip, “...to make me look official, in order pull off this daring escape.”

“You’ve already hindered this mission by forcing conversation. Keep your mouth shut, your weapon holstered, and we may make it out of here alive.”

Triston turned before Cole could say anything more. They marched down the hall, shoulder-to-shoulder, and out of the solitary confinement block. Once they entered a more populated area of the prison, Triston picked up the pace to avoid any unwanted interaction with other patrolling guards.

00:04.32

Too close. They came upon the last stretch leading to the loading docks, and the first agents of the United System Federal Prison made direct eye contact with them. They were the final tier of security before departure. Triston was not slated to have a passenger, a fact he had never thoroughly worked through.

“Heading back already?” asked a massive man with an equally intimidating rifle.

“Skipping lunch, as usual,” Triston said in as defeated a tone as he could muster. “Someone’s gotta keep stuffing these cells full of Terracom baddies.”

The behemoth chuckled as he waved Triston into the body scanner. He cast Cole a cursory glance but appeared none the wiser. “You boys’ve been putting our transporters through the ringer lately.”

Triston placed his sidearm into the tray to be scanned separately. He opened his mouth to speak, but another spoke in his stead.

“Everyone wants to catch a glimpse of the most infamous occupant,” Cole joked in his new voice. “See the living legend.”

Triston’s ears burned, though he kept silent, hoping to kill the conversation.

“Yeah, he’s a legend alright,” the burly guard said with more than a little disdain. He gave a thumbs-up to Triston before waving Cole forward with less enthusiasm. “A legend in his own mind, perhaps. Anyone who sees that piece of shit wants to remove ‘living’ from his title.”

“He’d still be a legend,” Cole pointed out.

Triston could almost hear the smirk spreading across Cole’s face. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

The guard only grunted in response. Triston turned to collect his sidearm just as the behemoth raised a tree trunk arm to halt Cole from passing through the scanner. Oh no....

“You forgetting something?”

Triston was slow to holster his weapon on purpose, fearing imminent discovery.

“Oh!” Cole said, relinquishing his own sidearm into the empty basket. He shrugged. “Sorry about that. I’m just so starstruck to have been in the same vicinity as Darkstar. It’s almost like his gangster ways are rubbing off on me.”

The guard lowered his arm. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s good you’re transporting off this rock, ‘cause you’re certainly acting a lot stranger than usual.” Incredibly, he grinned. “Guess that’s to be expected when you’re assigned to monitoring the System’s most wanted.”

Triston finished holstering his sidearm. That lucky son-of-a-bitch.

00:02.17

“Hey, that’s what we get accrued time for, right?” Cole said as he completed his scan. “Entitled mental vacations from genocidal psychopaths.” He winked and pointed a finger gun at the guard.

The duo hastily left the security checkout station, and Triston shoved Cole in the appropriate direction once they rounded the corner. They jogged anxiously up the ramp leading aboard the transport vessel. When they reached the cockpit, they caught the lounging pilot by surprise.

“Who’s he?” the man asked, thumbing in Cole’s direction.

Triston moved in, wrapped his hands and forearms around the pilot’s neck, and gave a mighty twist. There was a  snap, and he eased the lifeless form to the ground before dragging it out of the cockpit. As the new pilot, he wasted no time preparing for their departure.

00:01.28

“Oh, shit!” Cole exclaimed.

Triston ignored him as he radioed Mission Control for takeoff. He was already piloting the transport vessel toward their exit before it was authorized to open. Aside from an innocuous reprimand for disregarding safety protocol, their passage was given. Triston was through the gates well before they were entirely open.

00:00.49

“Subtle,” Cole said over Triston’s shoulder. “Two dead federal prison guards, cameras that witnessed our every move, and a spotlight on your lovely piloting. No one will ever be able to pin this on us.”

Three, Triston thought, his eye twitching. “Sit.”

“Good idea,” Cole said, claiming the passenger seat. “Because I can’t wait to witness your encore.”

Triston activated the rear camera display of the transport vessel to appear in a smaller box on the viewport screen. It was of the increasingly distant prison moon.

00:00.03

“Extraction successful.”

BOOM!

3 GRAY

Cole watched in disbelief as part of the prison was engulfed in a massive explosion.

Just another bloody chapter added to my story, Cole thought with growing remorse. He looked at the one responsible, unsure how to feel about his rescuer. He had not expected to see fear upon the other’s face.

Mayday, mayday!”  the man shouted into the open air of the cockpit. “This is Foster Bryant aboard UniSys prisoner transport vessel L0-M8, requesting emergency assistance. The pilot has a severe concussion, and our ship has sustained critical damage. We are in danger of breaking apart. Our location is just outside Jupiter’s prison moon Iocaste, and we cannot return to base or complete our jump. There’s been some sort of attack on the prison, and we barely managed to escape the force of the blast. However...” He sighed.  “We won’t survive long.”

Cole blinked, oddly amused. He’s a pretty good actor. Almost sounds like he believes what he’s saying. He was about to comment on the performance when the man turned to glare at Cole.

“Not a word.”

Bossy. “Yeah, that isn’t happen...”

In a blink the man stood, drew his gun, and directed it at Cole’s face.

“...ing. Again with the death threat?” Cole asked, calling his bluff. “You wouldn’t have gone through all that super spy nonsense rescuing me if you were just going to empty out my skull on a stolen transport vessel.” He returned the glare, though he felt stupid doing so.

For a long, increasingly frightening moment, Cole wondered if he had pushed too hard. The man posing as prison guard Foster Bryant had not lowered the weapon, and he appeared to be weighing his options. Cole decided to deescalate the situation.

“Alright, I’ll ease off the motormouth pedal,” he said, taking a couple steps away from the cockpit. “I talk more than usual when I’m anxious.” He shrugged. “And being sprung from a federal prison by a capable man like yourself put me in a tizzy.”

Cole raised his hands in a sign of surrender. “Let’s try this again. First off, thanks––I suppose––for busting me out of that hole and keeping my new alto pipes active. I know you can mute me through Ocunet, and I’m sure you’re still considering it. Second, I’m with you on this, and I legitimately want to help. I just need some answers before I go following you down this dark rabbit hole. Third, you’ve got an incoming call.”

The man’s tense expression softened to a scowl. He holstered his weapon but offered no response as he retook his chair. A new window had appeared on the viewport screen from a responder trying to hail them. The man ignored it.

“You gonna get that, El Chapo?”

“Gray,” the man said.

Cole looked over his shoulder, lost by the response. “Um, are you answering a future question or something?”

“Call me Gray,” the man clarified, his attention fixed upon the ship’s controls. “And no, I’m not answering their hail.”

Cole blinked, struggling to understand. He rolled the dice with another question. “Any reason––”

“Why?” Gray asked for Cole. “Does this ship look on the verge of disintegration to you?”

Ah. Good point. Nice one, Cole. Very perceptive. My mind’s been wasting away in that pit for too long. “Alright, so I surmise that we’re playing possum.” He slowly, carefully, approached the co-pilot’s chair and eased into it. “Care to explain how we’re going to hightail it to safety in a marked government vehicle? Pretending we’re burned up in a fiery crash isn’t going to work forever.”

“Correct.”

Again, Cole blinked. He felt a growing need for sarcasm, but he held back. “Well, Gray, I suppose I’ll just have to trust you’ve got everything figured out. I’m obviously on a need-to-know basis, so I’ll just kick back and try to forget that a bunch more people died on my account.”

Cole removed his sweaty helmet and tossed it aside. He wiped a gloved palm across his drenched hair and dabbed at his slick forehead. It was then he remembered his new face. I wonder if I really look like that guard....

“The face stays,” Gray said as Cole inspected his new features. “For now.”

Which means there’s more mission to come, Cole thought with some trepidation. “So, how long till we get to where we’re going?”

“We’re here.”

Cole studied the viewport screen, but there was nothing to indicate they had arrived anywhere other than open space. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he barely managed to subdue his tongue. Let the man do his job, Cole. Mr. Gray did manage to break you out of an inescapable prison.

His patience was rewarded with the arrival of another transport vessel. This one was a completely different make and model, and it was designed specifically for comfort. A familiar company logo wrapped the exterior, and Cole started to fit the ugly pieces together.

“SolEx?” he asked. “Frederick Caliber risked his life and company to settle a personal beef with me?”

Gray had been shaking his head the entirety of Cole’s question. “Not SolEx.”

Cole waited for Gray to elaborate while the approaching ship sidled up to them, but he was again left wanting. “Are you, at any point, going to fill me in on what this is all about? Or am I just going to have sit here and... You know what, never mind. I don’t want another vague two-word response.” He crossed his arms in a huff.

“Soon.”

Cole couldn’t stop his eyebrow from arching. I suppose that’s an improvement in our budding relationship.

The prisoner transporter shook, the jarring sound of metal against metal ringing throughout. Cole assumed the “SolEx” ship had connected with theirs and was preparing to board. He wondered just who he was about to face. If not a member of SolEx, then who? No one he knew wanted him alive. Not anyone who wasn’t a member of the Icarus, anyway.

Gray stood once the sounds of mid-space docking ceased, heading out of the cockpit. Curious, Cole followed, though he did not assist Gray with removal of the pilot’s corpse. He kept his distance; if things west south quick, he would rather make a run for it and pilot away the prisoner vessel.

But Cole soon found that there was no need to bolt, as said guests did not exist. Gray opened the door leading to the adjacent ship and revealed an empty hallway. He abandoned the dead pilot and continued on. Cole scratched his temple, confused.

“Not much of a welcoming committee.”

“AI pilot,” Gray explained as he crossed the threshold into the new ship. “This is our next mode of transportation. No one is aboard.”

“Huh.” Cole stepped across the docking tunnel. He had not the slightest idea what was going on, and trying to figure it out was only making it more confusing. As the boarding hatch sealed behind him, he had a funny feeling he knew what was about to happen to the prisoner vessel.

The two men took their seats in the cockpit of the classy SolEx transport vessel. Despite what Gray had said, Cole could find nothing to indicate they were inside anything other than the real deal. If this truly wasn’t a SolEx venture, then Gray––or whoever employed him––had stolen it or masterfully reproduced it.

“Alright,” Cole said, watching Gray prepare for their departure. “Where to?”

Gray pressed a button, and they disconnected from the prisoner vessel. “S3.”

Cole blinked. “But you said....”

“I know what I said,” Gray replied in his increasingly irritating monotone. “We’ll be arriving incognito to reclaim something you lost.”

“My job?”

Incredibly, Gray smirked, but he did not elaborate. Instead, he opened a smaller window within the viewport screen which displayed the abandoned prisoner vessel. When it was no bigger than the size of a fist, an explosion illuminated the whole of the screen.

Well, at least I got that part right.

The small screen vanished, and Gray piloted the ship toward the SolEx Space Station. With the prospect of travel before them, Cole seized what he hoped was an opening for discourse. True to form, Gray spoke first.

“We are expected guests about to perform an unexpected heist.” He stood once he finished his bout of Ocunet Fu on the flight console.

Heist? Expected guests? Cole stood with Gray and followed him, his powers of prediction/clairvoyance telling him his new face was about to undergo a second lift. “Mission impossible, eh? Well, that’s my MO, in case you didn’t already know.”

“I would say death and destruction is more your forte,” Gray countered, and Cole shrugged, unable to disagree.

“What about Captain Quadriplegic?”

“Decoy pilot.”

Cole was hoping for more, but he was left wanting. Gray led him to a luxury suite, where he entered and began removing his clothes. Cole’s fallen jaw remained unhinged, and he began to wonder into what sort of bizarre sexual activity he had stumbled.

“Our uniforms are hanging on the inside of the closet door,” Gray explained whilst he removed his buttoned-up uniform to reveal lean cords of toned muscles across the whole of his slender body. It was the physique of a man dedicated to perfecting martial arts. His age was difficult to decipher, since Gray’s current face was not his own. Cole assumed him to be in his early thirties.

The “closet” was actually a walk-in wardrobe, and Cole wondered why a company transport vessel would carry such a collection of suits and shoes. He knew for a fact that the clothes did not belong to SolEx’s CEO, Frederick Caliber; that man practically traveled in a modified corvette. Just to whom did this ship belong, and where were they? He reached past the two uniforms dangling from a coat hanger on the inside of the door.

Don’t touch anything else,” Gray snapped. “We’re merely borrowing this vessel for the time being. Everything must remain as you see it.”

Human life? Expendable. Opulent business attire? Handle with care. Cole shook his head. “Alright.” He threw the uniforms into a heap on the king-sized bed and crossed his arms. “I want answers, and I want them now.”

Gray ceased disrobing and glowered at Cole.

“Two uniforms,” Cole said, ignoring the man’s burning gaze and bare chest. “That means I’m part of whatever lunacy you’re scheming. And if you expect me to assist, you need to drop your stink-eye charade and start relaying back whatever message you have before I self-destruct on you.”

There was a long, tense pause before Gray finally sighed, and some of his rigidity melted away. “Your role is limited to little more than mute companion. I will take care of the rest––”

“Of what?” Cole interrupted. “Just what are we going to recover that I supposedly left behind at my former place of employment?”

Another round of pensive silence.

“We’ve got a good six minutes before we reach the jump point,” Cole said. “Plenty of time for you to come clean and catch me up to speed.” He nodded toward the uniforms. “For starters, why don’t you tell me which uniform is mine.”

The corner of Gray’s eye twitched. He separated the two uniforms and carefully unzipped the bags to remove the contents. He meticulously smoothed out the wrinkles from both before laying them flat on the bed. He gestured to the one closest to Cole.



That’s a logo for the Cosmic Order Agency, Cole noted, looking at the shoulder of his disguise. Aside from Terracom, the COA was the other lawful entity that acted with little or no repercussion. An imposing and efficient byproduct of UniSys, AMBER gave the Order cart blanche to do as they wished to investigate and solve all things criminal. He cringed just thinking about his month-long ordeal after his capture. Now he was to pose as one of their field agents.

Studying Gray’s unique outfit, the pieces were beginning to fit. “Masquerading as the Chief Information Security Officer for SolEx.” He looked up to meet Gray’s nodding head. “You didn’t kill Wyatt Earp and the government spook I’m to impersonate, did you?”

Gray shook his head. “Wyatt Paulson is currently indisposed, alive and well. As is Special Investigator Crowe.” He collected his expensive suit. “And they will remain that way, none-the-wiser of our involvement, once we conclude matters on S3.”

“Oh, so now you’re concerned for the welfare of Mankind,” Cole mocked, grabbing his pilot’s uniform. “The rich and powerful stay living, while the criminals and the poor get dead.”

“Paulson’s and Crowe’s lives will be forfeit once we’re done,” Gray explained. “They won't survive the backlash our actions will create.”

“What’s that mean?” Cole demanded as he removed his uniform from the hanger. “You planning on somehow pinning this—whatever it is we’re doing—entirely on them?”

“Among others,” Gray said cryptically as he slid an arm a through a sleeve.

Like me, Cole thought, fairly certain he would lose favor once his usefulness had run out. “And I suppose you and your people managed to consider all the possibilities––as well as cover all your tracks––for this plan? Because I’m pretty sure there’s going to be evidence of us escaping the prison, despite the explosion. Lots of security cameras. Lots.”

Gray sat on the bed and reached for a pair of loafers. “There was a scheduled security update upon my arrival at the prison. Needless to say it was catastrophic to their entire system.”

“A virus,” Cole clarified. He gave his uniform a quick sniff to make sure it didn’t stink like its owner. His nose wrinkled. “How do you know it worked?”

“Because the guard I killed and impersonated would have set off the alarms.”

“Oh.” Cole snapped his fingers. “But that doesn’t explain how we’re going to deal with these.” He pointed to his eyes. “Government issued retinal branding, remember? And I thought Terracom was the only entity using that barbaric technique... Regardless, I’m still in their system. And most importantly, I’ll be carrying these scars forev...er....”

Gray showcased holding a small canister and shaking it. Cole had flashbacks to Lin freeing Rig from his “glass prison.” He recalled his own eyes burning as he thought his face was melting off. Could Gray have employed a similar solution to sever his ocular tether?

“Alright, your breath spray solved the unsolvable. What about the bomb? Security might’ve been down prison-wide, but physical checks remained. Someone should’ve discovered that.”

“Not if the explosive was woven into the fabric of the uniform.”

Cole’s eyes widened. He knew such devices existed, but they were only at the government’s disposal. Even so, they were outlawed now for the very reason Gray employed it. He was beginning to believe Gray had thought this all through.

“Who...? Who do you work for? That you have so many fancy toys at your fingertips?” Cole was gesturing wildly, his unbuttoned sleeve flapping like a broken wing.

Gray stood after he tied his shoes. He was already dressed, and aside from his disheveled hair, looked immaculate. “You’ll discover that firsthand if we survive this next phase of the mission.”

Cole let his arms drop to his sides. Now was the time to ask. “And what, exactly, is our mission?

A hint of a grin graced Gray’s grim countenance. “To recover the ICV-71.”

4 INVESTIGATION

She was as beautiful as he remembered her. Possibly more so. Sleek, elegant, and one of a kind, the ICV-71––better known to Cole as Icarus––was a symbol of freedom and perseverance. To the rest of the System, the state-of-the-art cargo vessel was little more than a icon dedicated to terrorism. It pained him to think that something so beautiful and trustworthy could be so misunderstood.

As he approached the Icarus from the aft, he began to notice the minor cosmetic damage the vessel had suffered during the brief time she and her crew had claimed their notoriety. They were less blemishes and more badges of honor to Cole, him having felt each and every one of those painful hits along the journey.

He felt a sudden welling of emotion pool inside him, and he had to fight back a rare bout of tears. He was connected to the Icarus and it, him. The people––some no longer living, others imprisoned like him, and another whose whereabouts were unknown––who had come into contact with this ship had their lives changed. For better or for worse. Mostly worse.

He thought of CAIN as he reached the loading ramp to the cargo hold. The AI’s brilliant presence would be missing from the heart of the Icarus, the mighty spark that launched Cole and his unexpected crew into the stars. CAIN was another causality of the Musgrave curse. Whether or not he and Gray could manage to steal the cargo vessel from SolEx, the Icarus would never be the same.

But that thought could not keep the growing grin from his new face as he inhaled the familiar scents of the place he had begun to call home. It was a home that had lasted less than a blip in his life––less than the time he’d spent in federal prison––and yet he felt more at ease within her sturdy frame than he had anywhere throughout his life.

A spark mischief glinted inside him, and he knew there would be trouble today. That trouble would begin with him, and woe to anyone who found him within his Corner.

“...is marked to be dismantled and repurposed once the investigation is concluded.”

Cole slipped from his reverie at the mention of “dismantling,” and his mood immediately darkened. It had been made clear by Gray that he was to be little more than a silent sidekick during this “investigational visit” to the S3. But he was Cole Musgrave, and he had abandoned conventional rules the moment Chrysanthemum Emmerich pointed a gun at his head.

“That would be a waste of such a superior piece of technology, I would think,” Cole said.

The middle-aged suit whose name had slipped in one ear and out the other the moment he’d heard it, seemed surprised to hear a third member of the party speak.

“The ICV-71 is a stain on SolEx’s immaculate reputation,” Suit said with obvious distaste, “and it is in our best interest to see it repurposed.”

Cole nodded and clasped his hands behind his back in a purposeful stroll about the cargo hold. “Then it is good and well we arrived when we did. We can still uncover information from this vessel, whereas nothing is gained from ‘repurposing’.”

“As Mr. Paulson has already stated,” Suit said tonelessly.

Gray glowered at Cole when the SolEx diplomat’s attention turned away from him. “As you can see, Special Investigator Crowe is eager to carry out this transfer and conduct his investigation from the confined quarters of the COA.”

Suit nodded, seeming indifferent. “We understand the agency’s need for expediency, however the process in which we will relinquish this vessel is fraught with tedium. Once official clearance has been supplied, we will gladly allow Mr. Crowe possession of the ICV-71 and pilot it off this station.”

That’s “Special Investigator” Crowe, dickhead. Cole made no mention of the omission of his title, but he could not stop himself from continuing the conversation as the trio worked their way toward the bridge.

“And when, exactly, should Mr. Paulson and I expect to receive clearance? SolEx may have rolls of red tape, but my time is limited. I suggest that you hurry the process along while we prep this vessel for launch.”

Both Gray and Suit seemed taken aback by Cole’s blunt use of authority, though it was Gray who recovered first. “Special Investigator Crowe, I assure you that SolEx is aware of the COA’s urgency in this matter. We mustn’t unnecessarily rush the procedure; that could lead to oversights at a later time. Accuracy and efficiency is paramount to an ongoing investigation.”

Cole nodded, reading between the lines. “That’s specifically why I reached out to your division. To aid in this investigation’s timely conclusion.”

Gray stared, his expression unreadable. “Indeed.”

The trio entered the lift and rode up to the bridge in silence. When the door slid open to reveal a clear path to the flight chair, Cole wanted nothing more than to re-acclimate himself. He resumed his vow of silence and allowed Suit and Gray to conclude technical matters.

Cole gazed at his surroundings, amazed that he was once again standing a short distance from freedom and the completion of a strangely simple mission. Nothing had ever come easy to Cole, and for Lady Luck to have shined her brilliant starlight down on him in such a manner left him giddy. An unlikely prison escape, followed by the infiltration of his former place of employment where he was on the verge of recovering his treasure... That nothing had yet gone wrong for him and his benefactor was nothing short of astounding. He vowed right then and there that regardless of what awaited him after leaving the S3, he promised to make the most of it.

“Oh. I see....”

Cole turned on his heel, doing his best to hide his growing unease at the tone in which Suit had uttered those few words. The corporate stiff’s haughtiness had vanished in in response to whomever he was speaking through his comm. He was invested in Ocunet, eyes darting about as he read or viewed something––or someone––that put the fear of God in him. Cole knew there was only one who could impose such anxiety.

So it was no surprise when the chief executive officer of Solar Systems Express exited the lift and stepped onto the bridge with his soul-sucking entourage. Frederick Caliber was in the midst of discussing a topic of import. The last time Cole had seen him, it had been all smiles, photo ops, and an encouraging send-off for the ICV-71’s maiden voyage. None of Caliber’s good humor was present now; there were no drone cameras, and the corporate wall he and his sycophants was creating felt like a trap.

Cole’s hand reached instinctively for the sidearm that wasn’t there.

Caliber’s full attention fell to Suit once the group came to halt, and Cole’s nostrils received the full affront of the CEO’s acrid cologne. Flanking either side of Caliber were two imposing body guards, their trench coats poorly concealing whatever substantial weapons they had tucked beneath. Cole could not recall his former boss waltzing around the company with goons at the ready. He wondered if their sense of smell had long ago burned away, constantly being that close to noxious chemicals.

“Would you care to explain your complete lack of response to my messages?”

Caliber’s rigid question had been directed at Gray, and Cole sincerely hoped his partner had boned up on Wyatt Paulson’s past and present history with the CEO. Caliber stared brief daggers at Cole before returning his gaze to Gray for a response.

“My sincerest apology, Mr. Caliber,” Gray said easily. “I have been directing the majority of my attention to this matter.”

Caliber stepped away from his entourage, clearly more agitated than before. “The very same matter of which I was attempting to reach you for discussion!”

Cole arched an eyebrow, curious to see how Gray would handle the angry CEO. He would test the limits of his new Cosmic Order Agency weight and interject his own thoughts if need be.

“I am fully aware of your revised position on the transfer of the ICV-71,” Gray began, unmoved by Caliber’s tone, “but that does not change the fact that the Order is here to retrieve it. Regardless of whether or not we see it fit to withhold.”

The full spectrum of facial expression played across the CEO’s face. Cole thought it looked like the man was having a stroke. Resisting Caliber’s whims was nearly on par with spitting in Jude Revan’s eye, only the SolEx CEO would see that his detractors suffer in their pocketbooks and not with their lives. At least, not that Cole knew of.

A vein bulged on Caliber’s forehead as he brandished a rigid index finger. The tip pointed in Cole’s direction, and he knew that the game had truly begun. Having endured the grip of the COA during their exhaustive investigation of him, he’d unknowingly committed to memory some of their interrogation practices. It was time to unleash those techniques on his former boss.

“This investigation has long since concluded,” Caliber barked at Cole. Some of his entourage cringed in fear at his tone and backed away. “Your agency is overstepping its bounds with this repossession of my vessel. There is no need for further involvement. My lawyers are in contact with your agency and will see the dissolution of this matter.”

“Mr. Caliber, if I might––”

Cole held up a firm, silencing hand to Gray, and he was pleased that the action was heeded. Once it was clear he would have the floor, Cole ran the palm of his hand across the smooth and perfectly coifed locks of his wig before interlocking both arms behind his back. He stared Caliber in the eyes as if he was a suspect about to be interrogated.

“The Order knows of no such dealings between your lawyers and our division,” Cole began in as slick a tone he could muster. “And if what you claim is true, we do not recognize your last minute ploy to deter us for your own gain. This investigation is far reaching and very much still active. So, Frederick, I suggest you allow me the proper––”

Mister,” the CEO insisted. “You will refer to me as Mr. Caliber. I’ll not be demeaned by the likes of some soulless government agent. Respect is earned, and for you to address me by my first name is laughable.”

“And you will refer to me as Special Investigator Crowe,” Cole countered. “My years of dedication to the United System outweighs your petty business ventures.” He took an aggressive step toward Caliber. “Understand that there is no room for negotiation. This is not some lowly pissing match over which bragging rights are in order. The Cosmic Order Agency has come to claim this vessel as our own, as a matter our universal security. There is no reason you can conjure that would sway our investigation.”

Cole gestured all around him. “Multiple terroristic events are directly related to this vessel. Solar Systems Express has no need for an instrument of mass destruction.” He reclasped his hands behind his back. “That you pressure me to turn a blind eye to this investigation raises serious questions.”

Caliber’s furious scarlet face suddenly blanched and distorted to shock.

Cole took another step closer. “Tell me, Mr. Caliber, have you some vested interest with which the Order should be concerned?”

The palpable silence was music to Cole’s ears. He glimpsed the horror on Gray’s face, and it made him even more pleased. Not even Caliber’s heightened stench could foul his mood. It’s good to be back.

Caliber, much to Cole’s surprise, regained his full composure with one calming breath. “So it has come to threats. Has our government become so corrupt as to strong-arm its way into getting what it wants? Pathetic.

“I know my rights. As well as any of my lawyers. That you feel you can barge your way onto my station and abscond with what is rightfully mine is outrageous.” He took the next step, nearly bridging the gap between himself and Cole. “I refuse to kowtow to your base fear mongering. You are merely one man, bound by the restrictions of our governing laws. My clout carries across the entire System, and I will not be swayed. You will be escorted off the premises whilst I contact the proper authorities and take this issue to your superiors.” He turned to leave and gave a curt nod to his personal body guards. “For now, the matter between us is concluded.”

Cole glanced over at Gray and puckered his lips in a silent kiss and winked. The SolEx guard’s hand reached to claim Cole’s, but it never found its target. Cole sidestepped the advancing man, who had not anticipated resistance. Cole seized his opening. He drove his elbow into the base of guard’s neck and casually slipped the man’s sidearm as his body dropped like a felled tree.

In the moment it took Caliber’s entourage to turn and acknowledge the assault, Cole spun toward the other distracted guard and fired a well-aimed plastol stun blast to his face. He gurgled something unintelligible before he, too, dropped to the ground, unconscious. Cole collected a second sidearm, and just like that, the tables were firmly turned on SolEx’s CEO.

So many bulging eyes, Cole thought as he aimed both weapons at his gaping audience. “Anyone screams bloody murder, considers mouthing off, or even stares at me cross-eyed, I go Wild West on you. You get me?”

No one moved, met Cole’s gaze, or appeared to be breathing. Only Gray had the nerve to approach. “Security will have been triggered upon your use of the plastol. They undoubtedly have a front row view of this debacle of yours through Caliber’s Ocunet lenses.”

“You’re welcome,” Cole said. “This ‘debacle’ is rectifying a major oversight on your part.” He gestured both sidearms at an enraged, yet obediently silent Caliber. “We weren’t going anywhere with Freddy, here, calling the shots. And you obviously didn’t have a backup plan, so I did what I do best. Wing it.”

Gray breathed a heavy, agitated sigh, but said nothing.

Cole grinned. “Relax. We’re even now.” He tilted one ear toward the blaring klaxons. “You hear that? My song’s playing. I think it’s time we left the roost.”

“What do you propose you’ll accomplish––”

Cole shot Caliber in his thigh. The CEO collapsed in an agonized heap, both his hands clutching at the cauterized wound. His grunts and gasps barely carried overtop the noise. “I told you not to mouth off.” Cole raised the sidearm back toward the dwindled entourage. “Ladies and gentlemen! If you would be so kind as to assist these two fine individuals,” he gestured to the two indisposed guards, “and help carry them off the ICV-71.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the confused and terrified group cautiously heeded the command. One of them reached down to assist Caliber.

“Nah ah aaahh!” Cole dissuaded. “Not that one. He stays.” He forced as dark a scowl as he could muster. “Do not try it again.”

Frederick Caliber’s entourage abandoned him, wasting no time in halfcarrying, half-dragging the large men to the lift. Once they were inside, Cole had a message for them.

“Make sure to tell your approaching security to stay off this ship if they want their fearless leader to live. Mr. Caliber’s going for a little ride with us to see just how difficult it is to deliver to ‘The Milky Way in a Day.’” He winked. “Black Dwarf sends its kind regards.”

The lift door closed.

Cole turned to find Gray working furiously at the console controls. Caliber was struggling to stand. Cole tucked one of the two sidearms into his waistband and assisted the slightly overweight, middle-aged man to his feet. He was surprised that Caliber did not fight him. He was even more amazed that he remained silent. Well, I did shoot him for disobeying me....

The CEO was unceremoniously plopped into the co-pilot’s chair, where Cole proceeded to lean heavily upon his limp shoulder for support. He glanced at the illuminated viewport screen, which was displaying all of the ship’s exterior camera angles. It was difficult to locate one that didn’t have some form of security moving in. All that mattered to him was that the loading ramp be sealed when the SolEx management team finally exited.

“Doesn’t look like anyone crept aboard,” Cole said. The only movement came from Caliber’s entourage, struggling to maneuver two unconscious men down the ramp.

“Not yet,” Gray said, ominously. “Locking all the doors won’t help us escape. Especially with him in here.” He nodded toward the CEO.

Cole glanced down at a dour Caliber. He patted him on the shoulder. “Clearly you didn’t have a plan B.”

“Plan A was impossible enough,” Gray replied, still working through what Cole assumed was an AR interface with the Icarus. “My employer and I don’t have the luxury of flying by the seat of our pants and hoping for the best.”

“Hey,” Cole said, feigning insult. “Most of my infamy was born out of desperation.”

“It’s also what got you caught,” Gray reminded.

“And eventually freed,” Cole added. “Potayto, Potahto. What matters is that we most certainly do have a means of escape.” He clapped Caliber’s shoulder much harder this time. “We just need to need to shove him into the lock and give him a turn.”

Gray finally tore his attention from the Ocunet, and gazed down at the CEO as if seeing him for the first time. “And if blackmail doesn’t work?”

Cole smirked and stepped in front of Caliber. He lifted his leg and leaned his shoe and body weight directly upon the CEO’s wound. Through the screaming, he withdrew the second sidearm and pointed one on each side of the man’s head. The screaming abruptly stopped.

“Freddie-boy here eats it, and the two of us go down in a blaze of glory.”

5 GHOSTING

To the absolute astonishment of the crew of three, SolEx did indeed comply with demands and allow the Icarus to take off. Whether or not they would be permitted to depart without being secretly followed or tracked was another story altogether. Caliber may have been coerced into ordering the deactivation of any locating devices aboard the ship, but anything short of spacing the CEO and his highly trackable eyes, they would be vulnerable. Cole knew of no other way to evade SolEx’s pursuit for justice, though he was going to do everything in his power to make the best use of his borrowed time and try.

For now, I’m gonna enjoy the shit outta piloting the Icarus, he thought. He hadn’t the slightest clue as to where he and Gray were headed––or what they were to do with their valuable human cargo––but he planned on enjoying every minute of this second chance at whatever it was he was doing. He only wished he had access to the Ocunet so he could push the ship to her furthest potential.

“Coordinates for the jump point are loaded into the system,” Gray said to Cole from behind his flight chair.

“Excellent. Can’t wait to arrive at our mystery location,” Cole said in a mocking tone. “I’m sure your ‘employer’ will be as amiable and welcoming as you.”

Gray leaned in between the two flight chairs and made a quick pass over Caliber’s eyes with the spray solution he’d used on Cole. The CEO hunched forward in agony, allowing Gray the opportunity to drive a fist into the man’s temple. Caliber fell slack, head bouncing off the control panel before he rolled awkwardly out of his chair and onto the floor.

Cole laughed in spite of his shock over the violence. “Shit, man! Did he mutter some ugly slur under his breath about your mother I didn’t hear?”

Gray dragged Caliber’s limp body behind the co-pilot’s chair and left him facedown. “He is a liability. His mere presence jeopardizes this mission.” He took the CEO’s place next to Cole. “Killing him is not an option, but he cannot be allowed to see what we are about, or to where we are headed.”

“Hence the acid eye spray. Whatever it does,” Cole surmised, hoping for some insight.

Gray nodded but did not elaborate. “For now, we should be in the clear.”

“Until we jump,” Cole said, realizing another roadblock to freedom. “Whether or not Freddie, here, actually managed to order SolEx to clear this ship of all tracking, there are other ways they can find us. UniSys keeps tabs on the comings and goings of all interstellar jumps. I highly doubt the Icarus is flying under the radar as an undocumented prototype these days. SolEx will immediately contact UniSys and gladly use their clout to jump through all the systematic hoops necessary to uncover our classified exit point. They might not know our exact location by then, but they’ll have a good idea where we’re headed.” He hated to be right.

Gray was shaking his head. “The virus will obscure our location once were enter the wormhole.”

“I’m sorry, but did you say ‘virus’?” Cole asked, not liking what he was hearing. “In our system or SolEx’s?”

“Ours,” Gray said as though such things were commonplace. He flicked his hand toward the viewport screen, and the coordinates enlarged. “What you say is correct, but while UniSys may gather the collected data from all recorded jumps, they don’t have eyes all over the System.”

This was better music to Cole’s ears. “And you and your employers managed to discover a means of interstellar misdirection?”

“Precisely.” Gray gestured toward the coordinates. “The virus I’ve uploaded into this ship’s computer system will transmit a corrupt signal, indicating we have jumped elsewhere, once we come out the other side of the wormhole.”

Damn. I can’t wait to meet his employers. Cole nodded, impressed. “Seems you did have most everything thought through. Your master plan just needed a little tender loving Cole.”

Gray sighed, his scowl softening just a bit. “As much as I hate to admit it, your actions––while callous and absurdly reckless––were necessary to our escape.”

“Hey, reckless is my middle name.”

“Hm.”

Oh, no you don’t! I’m not letting you resort back to being silent and calculating. “What’ll happen to Caliber and his melted eyes? And to mine, for that matter?”

Brooding seconds passed before Gray replied. “My employer will take care of him. More than likely he’ll be united with the real Crowe and Paulson. As for his eyes, that’s a different matter altogether. For a time, he’ll continue to be a Ghost, like you.”

Cole tore his attention away from the console and viewport screen. He wasn’t sure he’d heard Gray correctly. “I’m sorry, but did you say ‘be a Ghost’? As in Ghosting?”

“That’s correct.”

Ghosting. The term was familiar to Cole, having been far enough up the Military ladder to learn of such things, but he had never actually been witness to its existence.  That he might join the elite ranks of those whose eyes were permanently free of retinal branding was both relieving and terrifying. Aside from being considered dead, Ghosting also meant being unable to ever again establish a NuFi connection via the Ocunet due to the permanent scarring of the entire eye. Any attempt to heal or replace lenses would immediately alert authorities of said Ghost’s location and his or her return from the grave. At least that was the theory—a theory that appeared to be real.

Gray gestured for Cole to refocus his attention on the screen.

Cole ignored the silent command. “In all honesty, I couldn’t care less if you shoved Caliber into a trash compactor and filmed his crushing defeat for your viewing pleasure on repeat. What concerns me is that you added me in that sentence. That I’m a Ghost.”

“An unfortunate necessity.”

All thrust power was lowered to zero, and the Icarus slowed to a crawl. Cole sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I’m done pulling your teeth, asshole. Either you start spilling your guts about this farce––sans constant solicitation, mind you––or SolEx might decide to get brave and investigate why we’re no longer heading to our jump point.”

That murderous glint had returned to Gray’s eyes, though it was Cole who was currently wielding the weapons this time.

“I suggest you take us to our destination,” Gray said in a quiet fury.

“No.”

“I will kill you where you sit.”

“Then your mission will have failed,” Cole said, undaunted. “I have no doubt you want to end me, but I’ve got a funny feeling you’ll have to find a new line of work if you do so.” He leaned close to Gray, almost invitingly. “Do you really want to live out the rest of your days on the run?”

Time passed, no words spoken, though eye contact was never broken. Cole’s hands were gripped around both handles of his new plastols. He was fairly confident he could draw at least one of them in time to shoot Gray. But it was Gray who would have to signal the first strike, and the longer the mysterious man stared without speaking, the more the tension on his face eased. Eventually, Gray’s expression resumed its normal, blank slate.

Cole nearly drew both sidearms when Gray reached toward his own throat and peeled off the clear voice strip. The “wig” came off next––rather, altered––followed by a remarkable transformation. Cole had expected Gray to peel off the faux skin that was molded onto his real face, but this was not the case. His hands dropped back to his sides, sans facial putty. The transformation was subtle, yet entirely not so. The flesh hues softened, along with the slight––yet very bizarre––repositioning of features. This was the literal morphing of ones living face.

The entire process had taken less than five seconds, but the effect staggering. Gray was an entirely new person. Well, new in the sense that he no longer looked liked one of the two prison guards he had been impersonating. Whether or not this face was his true identity was a different matter altogether. It was his current identity that had Cole’s full attention. Suddenly his harrowing escape was the furthest thought from his mind.

“Arthur?”

~

“Arthur” was not Arthur at all. Arthur T. Forester had never existed. The man sitting beside Cole was the former SolEx director of operations, only he had been playing make believe all along. Triston Gray was his true name––according to him, at least––and his role as government assassin seemed to have broadened.

That Gray was alive was not a surprise, as Cole was the lone member of the Icarus who had decided to give him a second chance, despite his questionable actions and ultimate betrayal. What was surprising was that Gray’s mission was a rescue and not quest for vengeance. It also meant that Research was in charge of this ridiculous mission, their interests yet unknown.

Those two revelations convinced Cole to continue their course to the given coordinates. He was infinitely curious about Gray’s magic face and hair and how it was possible to change as it did, but the assassin equated it to little more than a form of Ghosting. Cole knew there was more to that story, but he filed his intrigue back in his mind; he had a feeling most everything would be disclosed soon enough—at least in terms of whatever job was awaiting him.

The dark matter processor was employed, and the Icarus spit out the other side of the wormhole, and another ship was there waiting for them. Black, sleek, and nondescript, the corvette was a good ten times the size of the Icarus, armed to the teeth, and wholly uninviting.

“Should I be expecting a welcoming party?” Cole asked.

Gray shook his head. “More along the lines of a briefing. You’ll find very few friends here.”

“I assumed there’d be none, so I’ll consider your response a win.”

No further comments came from Gray, and Cole turned his attention to docking. As he aligned the ship with the corvette’s underside, instinct nearly had him steer the Icarus away. True, he would have to deal with Gray and figure out what to do with Caliber, but that might be preferable to what awaited him inside. No good could come from bending to the whims of the government—even less so from a rogue division of AMBER. He could not help but think that he was willingly walking into another Jude Revan fiasco. Only this time, he had no one else to turn to should there be a need.

Except myself, Cole thought. Even with his recent track record as an infamous pirate, he was less than than reassured. If he sped away now, he knew he would regret not knowing what “opportunity” he had passed. So the Icarus stayed its course and docked with the mystery Research ship, and he resigned himself to the insanity to come.

Once the process was complete, Cole checked for the two sidearms he’d pocketed. Having them made him feel slightly better about being outside his safe zone.

“Alright, Cain,” Cole said, standing to leave the bridge. “Keep her right and tight while....”

Gray raised an eyebrow. “Force of habit, I assume?”

Cole slowly nodded, embarrassed. “Something like that.” He patted the center of the console where the AI’s light was dark. I’m losing it.

Captain and assassin disembarked in tandem, down into a cargo hold devoid of human life. Cole battled his increasing unease. Being killed now would be a moot point––especially after the trouble of being brought all this way––but there were many people who wished him dead for all the trouble he’d caused. What better way to exact violent revenge than to strike when the prey was most vulnerable and unwitting?

And that was exactly what happened.

Gray was faster than Cole’s reaction time. The assassin overwhelmed Cole, freeing him of both plastols. Gray sidestepped Cole’s maneuver to retaliate as though Cole was moving in slow motion. The only damage done, however, was to Cole’s pride.

Gray’s steady hands pointed both barrels at Cole’s chest.

Cole emitted a deep, defeated sigh. “Alright... You got me.” He threw up his hands. “How much are you getting for handing over my corpse? A million unicred? One hundred million? Maybe a cool billion? Heh. Or is this just straight-up vengeance for me breaking your nose with my thick skull?”

Gray shook his head, clearly irritated. “You think too highly of yourself, Captain. I’d take great pleasure in killing you for free.”

Cole blinked. “But?”

“Sadly, your presence is expected, despite my wants and needs. I couldn’t allow the now-deceased Cole Musgrave to go traipsing about this ship carrying weapons.”

“I only traipse while packing heat,” Cole said, having taken to picking at his fingernails. “Now I feel naked and exposed.”

“Exactly as you should be.” Gray nodded toward the sound of approaching footsteps.

Cole turned to the arrival of a small group of distinguished figures—politicians, from the look of their drab yet immaculate attire. They wore the shades of gray, representative of their division: Research. Only one was familiar to Cole: the woman in the center, wearing a darker grey, formfitting dress. Only the silver “R” lapel on her breast signified her political allegiance. The calculating smirk on her devil-red lips spoke another story.

“President Miranda Jensen, I presume.”

6 RESCUE

President Jensen’s quarters aboard her personal corvette, the Prism, were nearly half the size of the entire Icarus. Opulence was an understatement––every sort of amenity was available at her beck and call. It was obviously very good to be the queen of Research. Were his captors hoping to instill within him fear by way of over-pampering? Maybe she wanted to convince him to work for her by speaking with him in private. Or perhaps Jensen was simply attempting to seduce him for her own sexual gain. Whatever the reason, coital or not, Cole—still in boots and wig— had made himself comfortable on the President’s luxurious bed. That he had been locked inside the living space with her was a mystery to him.

Jensen hadn’t said a word to his encroachment upon her sleeping space. She had called off all of her personal retinue, but Cole’s sleepy eyes still drifted to the corners of the room, searching for hidden weaponry aimed in his direction.

“I assume you’re a Blue Label sort of gentleman.”

Jensen’s in-person voice was sexier now that he wasn’t the focus of an interrogation. It was deep and sophisticated, with a gravelly hint of a smoker rasp. She carried her slim, fit figure with fluid grace and class, earned from years of calculated practice. Her uncanny balance in her mile-high stilettos was likely perfected by stepping on the necks of all her unworthy predecessors. Strangely appealing wisps of gray wove their way from her temples and into her long, flowing, auburn hair. Her alabaster skin was smooth and taut as someone in her early thirties, though she was nearly thirty years north of that. No amount of modern medical technology could erase the creeping signs of age touch spilling out from the corners of her steely-blue eyes.

So what if she’s twenty years older than me? Cole thought, sitting up to respond. “Closer to black, actually, but since Johnny’s offering....”

Unfazed, Jensen strode to a bar that had materialized from within a nearby wall. Cole admired her sultry, purposeful gait, experiencing the full breadth of his six month imprisonment without female contact. He decided to remain seated as she bent low to retrieve the bottle of Scotch from within the silver cabinet.

“My son tells me that your efforts were vital to the success of the mission,” Jensen said as she collected two tumblers. “You have my thanks.”

Cole rubbed his eye, frowning. “You’re welcome, I guess. Not sure how your son knows the ins and outs of our near catastrophe, but who am I to question our lovely government’s intel.”

Ice cubes rattled around the bottom of the tumbler. “Triston Gray is my son.”

Uh, what? Cole ceased rubbing his eye, his finger hanging stupidly next to his nose. “I’m sorry, but did you say the artist formerly known as Arthur T. Forester is your kid?”

Jensen turned back toward Cole, a glass in each hand––one sans ice. She smiled, and Cole began to sweat. “Triston Gray is actually Triston Jensen. He approves of the bastard surname for reasons I cannot begin to fathom.”

What is this, King Lear? “Last I checked––the last everyone in the System checked––you only had one child. A daughter.” Cole gestured vaguely as he thought out loud. “Now you’re telling me you kept one of your offspring a secret as a face-morphing super assassin-spy?”

Jensen handed over the glass containing the ice. “He prefers anonymity.”

Cole accepted the heavy vessel. “More like non-existence. That crafty shit worked at SolEx––in plain sight, mind you––for a good two years. I don’t think Freddie even figured it out.”

“And he never will,” Jensen said as she leaned against her bedpost.

Cole tapped the tip of the ice cube that was raised just above the line of his drink. “Well, it makes a lot more sense now why you blew off my concerns over your son when I raised them during the AMBER meeting. It seems that whole act you put on was just that.” He took a sip.

“Necessary to draw away any suspicion,” Jensen said easily.

“And just what do you not want them to suspect you of?” Cole asked after he finished his second sip. “Aside from treason, of course.”

“A rescue mission.”

Cole glanced up at the president to make sure sure wasn’t bullshitting him. Seeing as she was a master’s master at the fine art, he couldn’t tell. “I would think UniSys and its five leading members would see eye-to-eye when it comes to matters of human safety.”

Jensen set down her untouched glass on the wide-set footboard. “In regards to saving my daughter who is assumed dead? No.”

“I’m confused,” Cole said, swirling his drink. “Is this a rescue mission or a recovery mission?”

Jensen sighed and flicked her hand toward the blank wall directly across from the front of the bed, and it changed into a massive screen. On it was something that gave Cole the chills— something he had seen moments before being taken into custody by Starforce. The giant amorphous sphere of blue energy that had been harbored within the Terracom Interdimensional Gateway Station. Cole and the rest of United System knew it simply––and falsely––as The Fog. Scattered all around it were still the remnants of the improbable battle that had occurred. He thought he glimpsed a cluster of ships that were still intact.

“I will be frank with you, Mr. Musgrave,” Jensen began, sounding more like her authoritative self. “This mission is both personal and misunderstood. You may have heard of the disappearance of the Copernicus.”

An image of the exploratory shuttle appeared alongside the blue oddity, and Cole snapped his fingers in recognition. “Your daughter. She works with NASA, right?”

Jensen nodded, though she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Regina Jensen is a pilot for the Copernicus. She was one of the crew that flew directly into the Source.”

The Source, Cole echoed. Again with those two words. “So your daughter Regina––you’re telling me that she is not only not dead but isn’t missing?”

“Yes.”

Cole slid to the edge of the bed and stood. The conversation was getting too interesting. “Then why not go in and get her? I’m sure the other four divisions of AMBER will get behind... Why are you shaking your head?”

“This has become a galactic security issue—one that supersedes the pull of any one division,” Jensen stressed, clearly agitated by the topic. “My daughter’s safety is not the System’s, nor AMBER’s, concern. The arrival of Terracom’s presence is.”

A live feed of the so-called Source replaced the two images, and Cole got his first glimpse of the scope of her problem. An impressive fleet of their fighters, warships, and destroyers huddled around the electric blue sun.

“The last of Terracom’s tactical resources, all pooled into one location,” Jensen obviated.

“Alright, so Custer’s last stand part two is playing out right now,” Cole said, still not understanding what any of this had to do with him or how he could help. He slammed his palm on the bedpost against which Jensen was leaning. “Stomp ‘em flat and go get your daughter.” He laughed and drained the rest of his scotch. “Seriously, what is this all really about? You didn’t risk the careers and lives of everyone in Research to spring my sorry ass so I can tell you the obvious.”

“I can’t ‘stomp ‘em flat’, Captain. No one can, as UniSys is currently negotiating a tentative deal. As for the Source, no one can approach without facing a similar fate as my daughter. We’ve tried. Many have.”

Cole threw up his hands, tired of the charade. “So why am I here?”

Jensen stared at Cole. “Because you’re the only one who can slip past them and hail a distress call from within the Source.”

“A distress call? For whom?”

You.”

What? Me? Why? Who could possibly be looking for me inside that blue pit?”

Jensen again flicked her hand toward the screen, only this time an audio playback commenced. A disembodied voice spoke, and Cole’s jaw fell slack. It became clear why no one from the other divisions would sign on for Jensen’s insane mission

“The message is from CAIN.”

~

“I will not assist that lunatic with anything.”

Triston abruptly disconnected from the Ocunet, done with the discussion. That he had rudely cutoff his mother, the president of Research, meant next to nothing to him. She needed him more than he needed her. At least that was what he liked to believe.

He stalked past two sentries guarding access to his personal transport ship. They said nothing to him; they knew better than to engage with an assassin of his repute. Triston quickly made his way through the small vessel to the cockpit, where he had every intention of piloting off the Prism. With his latest impossible mission complete, there were other more lucrative jobs awaiting his attention.

As he dropped into the bucket seat, the viewport screen of his cockpit illuminated with the glowing image of his mother. Just as he had anticipated.

“She’s dead, Miranda,” Triston said before she could speak. He could not keep the cold venom from his tone. “We both know this as fact, yet you continue to push the limits of your power to prove the entire System wrong.”

“Fact requires evidence, Triston,” Jensen said, her political demeanor dominating. “The only fact we have is that she’s missing.”

Triston activated the ship’s power and switched on the engines, syncing up his Ocunet with the computer system. “Which is exactly what I will be if I accompany Cole Musgrave into that abyss.”

Jensen breathed a stiff sigh. “So you were willing to risk life and limb to free the System’s most wanted––as well as confiscate his infamous Icarus––but anything beyond that is outside your pay grade.” She arched an eyebrow. “Why, then, assist me in the first place if you were only ever to abandon this cause?”

Triston hesitated but only for a moment. “My brief time with the good captain reminded me why it was best he should’ve remained in prison. Not even Terracom’s sudden emergence around your precious Source unnerves me like his presence. He’s more dangerous than I can ever be.” He finally met her penetrating gaze. “And I set him free.”

When he received no immediate reply, he resumed flight preparation. He was a hand flick away from removing his mother’s visage from the screen when she finally responded.

“Why do you hide your face from me?”

Goddammit... Triston’s shoulder went slack, and he leaned back into his flight seat. “You know exactly why.”

“You never hid it from your sister––”

“I rarely saw Regina,” Triston snapped. “You always made sure to keep her as far away from me as possible.” He clenched his fists. “Which was probably for the best. There was no need for her to discover the monster that I am—the monster you created.”

Jensen leaned closer to the screen, ominous shadows cast across her remorseless features. “We are monsters, all of us, Triston. In some form or another. We are a family of survivors. That you choose to view your lot in life with derision has nothing to do with me. I simply saw potential in you and coaxed it out. You did the rest.”

Triston looked away.

“But go if you must,” Jensen said, her dark tone all but vanished. “Me, I will find my daughter because it’s the right thing to do. I only hope Captain Musgrave can manage without your assistance.” She turned her back to Triston. “He may be dangerous, but he carries more humanity in him than either of us.”

The screen went blank.

Triston shook his head, frustrated. He wanted to believe his excuse regarding Cole Musgrave’s involvement, but the fact of the matter was that he didn’t want to be within a lightyear’s distance of his mother’s inevitable failure. He had no doubt she and a great many others would either meet their end at Terracom’s hands. Her desperate ploy might reveal them to the whole of the System. His mother might prefer interstellar annihilation to political suicide.

Mother, employer, tormenter... Though he viewed her as all three, she was his sole benefactor. To abandon her so completely would bring him shame—even if no one knew his true identity outside of her inner circle. Those few would know, and he couldn’t have that. His way of life would cease to exist, and what he did was all he was. To pursue a life outside Research was folly; he would be dead within a year.

He opened an AR mirror application on the inside of his main cockpit viewport. The reflection that stared back was the late twenty-something man who had once worked for SolEx. The face was a lie. Like most everything in his life.

He sighed, unprepared for what he was about to see.

When he reverted his facial mimetic features to their original state, he saw the tortured face of a stranger a person he did not recognize––a man he despised. It disgusted him, and as much as he wanted to throttle the monster staring back at him, doing so would only allow her to win. President Miranda Jensen may have given her only son the gift of the perpetual anonymity in order to overcome his disfigurement, but it had cost him his freedom in the process.

The “mirror” disappeared, and Triston’s alternate visage returned. He stood up and left the cockpit. His opinion on the matter had not changed, but he would be damned if he was going to abandon the only family he ever knew—even if the chances of her survival were nil.

As far as the son his mother knew and longed to see again, that ghost would remain hidden.

Forever.

7 BLOCKADE

Cole couldn’t be happier. What would have been an eternity pacing inside a cinder block grave was now an unlikely new lease on life. Even if the lease was littered with illegible fine print and a price tag he would never be able to pay off, he was free. He would bomb the proverbial crossroads when he eventually reached them. There was no going back to his cell now that he’d tasted the exotic fruits of a second chance.

The basics of his mission had been presented to him, but the true details of what he was flying the Icarus into was yet a mystery. No amount of charmed sass and charisma could coax the truth from Jensen’s lips. She was keeping him in the dark for reasons he could not understand.

What Cole did understand was the bounty of weapons and supplies being loaded onto his ship. While he could easily see the gesture as a means of preparedness, he couldn’t understand what use they would be in a stealthy search and rescue mission. Jensen either trusted him completely, or she expected him to meet serious resistance from within the Source. He supposed the latter, but if that was the case, why not give him a detailed briefing on what he may be facing?

Cole watched the small army of workers and loading machines equip the Icarus for war. His gloved hand fiddled with the coin-sized drone camera he had found inside the pocket of his favorite SolEx leather flight jacket that Jensen had managed to recover for him. Between the jacket, his gloves, and his ship, these tokens of comfort would help him ready for the insanity to come. The item in his other pocket did not ease his mind. Despite Cole being Ghosted, Jensen had provided an alternative––long-since outdated though it was––to help combat his permanent detachment from the Ocunet.

Augmented reality glasses, the ancient predecessor to its supremely evolved cousin. Known ridiculously as Pince-Net—named after nose clip eyepieces of a similar appellation—they were the wearable version of Ocunet, though with fewer capabilities. They were an unregulated and untracked form of technology, having been “extinct” for more than a century. This technology would work despite his retinal brand, linking him through an old-fashioned log-in system instead of an ocular and neural link. She had told him her division had kept some of the relics around, modifying and updating them for special purposes––purposes connected to a Research-constructed dark net supposedly free from UniSys control. A more diplomatic way to acknowledge spy tech.

He was not ready to subject himself to the distraction that was the Deep System internet, though he would make good use of the AR glasses if he wished to properly pilot the Icarus. But it was the distraction of the glasses that made him unaware of the figure approaching from behind him. In his periphery he glimpsed an object, but a woman’s voice danced in his ears before he turned to see what it was.

“Extant Energy.”

Lin Dartmouth strolled up next to him, her Rook the object he had noticed. A hint of a smile pulled at one corner of her pert, unpainted lips. Her serious expression bordered uncertainty, but the growing smile obviated her relief.

“Doc...” Cole faltered, struggling to understand how she could be standing beside him. She was supposed to be in prison, like him. AMBER had held her and Rig’s lives over his head as a means of extorting information out of him. But then Cole remembered who had spoken of his crew members. He snapped his fingers. “Jensen! That sneaky little minx smuggled you out of prison, too, didn’t she?”

A flood of bright colors swirled around the surface of Lin’s fist-sized cube, followed by a quick string of piano notes. Cole felt like he had gotten the correct answer on a game show.

“No.”

Cole’s smiled dropped. So much for informed assumption. He cast the source of her voice a deadpan expression.

Lin laughed, and the spark of joy in her tone brightened Cole’s mood even more. “You’re mostly correct; I was never incarcerated.”

Oh! Top billing over me, eh? “Well, lucky you. Must be nice to have friends in high places.” He winked.

Lin shook her head and stared into the cargo hold. “I suppose I was less of a security risk than you. Records indicate that I’m currently incarcerated, but as you can see, that isn’t the case.”

“Like I said, friends in high places. Me, I was the talk of the System for a good solid month! All bad, of course. Every eyeball was glued to my ugly mug during the trial, causing quite the ratings. Or so I assume. Heh. Everyone waited with bated breath for my public demise. They got it, but I’ll bet no one expected a second season of this shitshow.”

Lin’s brow had raised. “Technically, you’re dead. At least, that’s what your records will indicate, assuming President Jensen’s plan was a success. None should be the wiser of what we’re about to attempt.”

We? “Planning on tagging along for old time’s sake, Doc?” Cole asked, turning his body toward hers. He considered reaching out and collecting her hand, but something about her slightly defensive posture kept him from following through.

“I have no choice but to accompany you.”

Boy, that sure feels like a slight. “Ah, so you’re part of the package deal in order for us to be allowed access to Cain.”

Lin frowned, crossing her arms. “Were you not fully briefed on the mission?”

Cole shrugged. In his haste to accept a mission that would reunite him with his AI companion, he had neglected to ask pertinent questions.

“Her royal highness only told me that her NASA daughter was missing inside whatever it is Terracom was studying with their now-defunct TIGS. I really only care about getting my buddy back. That fuzzy transmission said something about him asking for me––us, apparently––and anyone else who approached would meet a similar end to the Copernicus.”

Lin studied his face, and Cole couldn’t help but notice a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. She was different somehow. He knew it like he knew Chrys had been worth saving. In the time since Rig and the two of them were separated, the highs of their dangerous pirating days had finally fallen. What was left was time to think about all that had happened. At least, that was the case with Cole. Lin, apparently, went straight back to work, and that bothered him. They had never discussed what she had done to destroy the Terracom Interdimensional Gateway Station, killing everyone aboard. Her time on the Icarus had changed her––the same as it did everyone else––but her transformation was different. Her innocence was missing, replaced by some degree of moral corruption. Not altogether unlike her father.

“Triston Jensen will be joining us.”

“Ah, the former Arthur T. Forester. Our beloved president’s mystery child who prefers to employ a bastard surname. Yeah, I had a feeling he’d be tagging along.” He decided to try and lighten the mood. “You know, once we secure Cain, we’ll have four-sixth of our original crew back together.”

Lin looked bemused. “Would you truly want a full reunion? Especially after Emmerich’s betrayal?”

Chrys turned on my mother and sacrificed herself in the end to save us all, Cole thought, but he didn’t mention it. He shrugged. “What can I say? I liked that we were a colorful crew.”

Lin was silent.

Cole shifted uncomfortably. “Not that it matters, anyway. Chrys is dead, and I don’t think Miranda’s gonna offer Rigsy the same kindness we received.”

“There was nothing in the transmission indicating the entire crew needed to be present,” Lin said, nodding. “His presence would ultimately be a distraction.”

“Wow!” Cole said, surprised by her remark. As far as the transmission went, he didn’t recall hearing anything about Lin either. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel about them.” He waved off any response she might have and forced a laugh. “While you’re at it, how about you elaborate upon this so-called Extant Energy.”

Lin’s eyes lit, as did her Rook, and the woman Cole had cared about returned. Her explanation interrupted by a sudden tremor. Warning klaxons sounded, followed by the scattering of the Prism’s crew.

“Um, what’s that?” Cole asked. He considered grabbing Lin’s arms and dragging her aboard the Icarus to escape whatever trouble was upon them.

“I’m not sure.” Lin’s attention was upon the flashing lights. “Whatever it is, it isn’t good.”

Cole shook his head. He stepped protectively closer to her. “It doesn’t take a nanobiotech scientist to figure that much out.”

The two of them hurried back to the Prism’s bridge, where they hoped to find Jensen. Cole hated to be in the dark aboard a ship he wasn’t piloting or commanding. He was at the mercy of the shadow government’s people, and regardless of whether or not they were specially trained, his helplessness left him on edge.

Triston met them in one of the high traffic corridors. The assassin looked ready to slay them both where they stood.

“Terracom,” was all he said.

Cole raised his hand. “But—”

Triston slapped it away and turned Cole in the direction from which he and Lin had come. “No time. Get to your ship.”

Cole was too shocked to react to the minor assault. “You want us to attempt the mission in the middle of an attack?”

Triston shoved Cole forward with what felt like the strength of two men. He stumbled and barely caught his balance. When he turned back to face the assassin, Triston’s weapon was drawn and pointed at them.

“We’ve already been over this, “Cole said, exasperated.

“GO!” Triston shouted. “I’ll meet you outside the Prism.”

“Outside?” Cole asked. But Lin was already dragging him in the direction of the Icarus. Not two steps taken, a more violent shudder wracked the Prism.

Everyone in sight the ground, into walls, and over each other. Cole recovered quickly and jumped to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was he who was now dragging Lin along. They darted in between the scattering of people, most of whom were converging toward them. Cole hoped that whatever equipment Jensen had loaded was enough for the trip to the Source.

Cole’s world turned upside down once he and Lin returned to the hangar. He was slower to rise this time, his “trick” knee having suffered the brunt of the fall. I really need to have that knee replacement surgery. “I have a feeling we’re leaving just in time”.

“Agreed,” Lin said, panicked.

They raced toward the Icarus, and fortunately the loading ramp had been raised to speed along take off. They entered near the ship’s fore and bypassed the lift. Inside, the klaxons’ wails were mercifully muted. Cole broke away from Lin, despite his injury, and yanked himself up by way of the hand railing. He skipped more steps than he should’ve, but every second had to count. A thought occurred to him as he hit the first landing, and he wondered why he hand’t thought of it sooner.

“Cain! Get this bird’s wings flappin’!”

The reply he received was not the AI. “Who are you speaking to?” Lin asked from behind.

Cole missed a step, and his grip on the railing kept him from eating a steel corner. That’s the second time I’ve done that! It’ll be great when we finally get him back aboard this ship. “Sorry! Force of habit, I guess.”

When Cole finished his ascent, his feet left the ground, and his body catapulted toward the bridge as though an invisible force had launched him. He slammed hard into the backside of his flight chair, the wind knocked from his lungs. He landed in a heap at the chair’s base, but he didn’t remain there for long. The weight of his body suddenly lifted, and he rose in the absence of the artificial gravity.

Not good.

Cole grabbed the top of his chair’s headrest to pull himself into his seat. As he buckled himself into place, he glanced over his shoulder. There was no sign of Lin.

“Doc? You alright back there?”

No response.

Too concerned with the fate of the ship, Cole refocused on the liftoff. He swore, remembering his digital ocular deficiency. He pulled out the sleeve containing the outdated Pince-Net AR glasses and clipped them to his nose. As he logged in, they paired with him and the Icarus. Flight yoke in hand, the Icarus lifted from the hangar floor and retracted its landing feet. He had no way of leaving the Prism, so he would create his own exit if he had to.

As he angled the ship toward the sealed bay door, Jensen’s tense visage appeared on the viewport screen. She spoke to him via camera drone while being herded toward her escape pod. Cole minimized her in order to better see his escape. “Did you call to wish me bon voyage?”

“Save my daughter at all costs,” Jensen pleaded, the confident politician gone. “No matter what happens upon your departure.”

Upon those last words, the hangar bay door parted, and the vacuum of Space pulled. Cole had been ready for it, having done a similar escape not a year ago. He enacted the mimetic cloaking for the chaos he knew was to come. “Exactly what am I flying into out there?” He asked, unsure if he was even within striking distance of the Source.

Jensen’s brow furrowed, and she suddenly looked her age. “An aggressive extension of Terracom’s blockade.”

“Took your Prism a bit too close to the action, eh? Cole asked, moments from passing into the black.

Jensen looked as furious as she did panicked. “This is the first they’ve taken to the offensive since creating the blockade. I had not expected––”

“The unexpected?” Cole finished for her, shaking his head. “I guess you forgot there’s a war going on, peace negotiations or not. No rules and no mercy. What better way for them to make a statement than by attempting to take out one fifth of AMBER?” He laughed in spite of the situation. “You wore out your welcome.”

“They should not been able to pick us up on their scanners,” Jensen muttered as she was shoved unceremoniously into the awaiting pod. She sighed, defeated. “Your mission is still a go, Captain. Save my daughter. Leave the rest to––”

The Prism exploded.

8 DISSOLUTION

The force of the blast sent the Icarus hurtling into the unknown. The ship’s system scanner was alight with a sea of debris that had been the Prism. Cole couldn’t make sense of anything, let alone figure out how to pilot through a manmade asteroid field. Instinct took over as he found his Corner.

There was no way to avoid the twisted metal, but the hull of the Icarus was sleek and capable of deflecting lesser debris. The larger, jagged pieces, however, were everywhere.

Cole smiled and did what he did best: pull the trigger. He made good use of the government arsenal that had been loaded into the weaponry system. He blasted the large chunks into shrapnel, all-the-while pushing for the outskirts of the blast radius, where maneuverability would be much easier.

The Icarus slipped through the meat grinder relatively unscathed, cosmetic damage seen on the viewport screen. What concerned Cole most was Terracom. He killed all engines, hoping the surrounding destruction and his cloaking would keep him hidden.

He was wrong.

The engines reignited upon the detection of three deployed nukes that had locked onto his position. Even if he could evade them and the Terracom warship, there was the minor problem of sneaking past the blockade. They would certainly be alerted to his presence as well.

So much for finding Cain and discovering what’s inside that blue blob, Cole thought as he took evasive action. He dropped a host of jammers and magnetic decoys to draw away the nukes. He found he hated defying death when he lacked a terrified audience. To whom was he supposed to spew his sarcastic babble?

The defensive weapons accomplished their task, and Cole seized the opportunity to change his course of direction. He decided to take his chances inside the shrapnel field for limited coverage while he considered his next few seconds of survival. It felt like old times, sans his crew of opinionated naysayers.

What would Cain do? he wondered as he drilled the Icarus into the decimated remains of the Prism. The AI, he knew, would offer cynical realism while trying to hack into the enemy’s security system. There were no means to combat a looming warship.

Again, he was wrong.

Against all odds and logic, Terracom’s goliath succumbed to an unknown force. It was obliterated, the explosion massive enough to make Cole gasp. While he was at a safe distance from the blast, the resulting shockwave shook the Icarus to its core. The aftermath left more than double the debris.

“What the....”

Cole was interrupted by an emergency call flashing bold and red on the viewport screen. He answered in a daze before blinking at Gray’s shocked face.

“This your doing?” Cole asked.

“What? No!” the assassin said, agitated. “Open the payload bay door of your ship.”

A new signal materialized on Cole’s scanners: a small interstellar fighter outside the radius of wreckage. He recognized Gray’s ship from the last time it had secretly docked aboard the Icarus. If the assassin had escaped with his life, Cole wondered if the other members of the Prism had too. Caliber had been spirited away earlier, but from how Cole’s conversation with Jensen had ended, he seriously doubted anyone else made it out alive.

“Your wish is my command,” Cole said. “Though I’m pretty sure you won’t be any safer inside here.”

Gray did not respond.

“You’re welcome.” Cole switched off communication. He made sure the Icarus was stationary before jumping from his chair to find Lin. The bridge was empty so he hurried to the next place he expected to find her.

Captain....

Cole whipped his head around at what sounded like CAIN’s voice. There was no one else on the bridge, the console was silent, and neither of his ears were occupied by comms. The remaining possibility was that he was losing his mind—a prospect he did not entirely rule out.

“Um, yeah...” He wagged his index finger at the viewport screen. “I don’t believe in ghosts. Especially artificially intelligent specters.”

“Who are you talking to?”

Cole jumped at the sound of Lin’s voice. “Sagan’s ass, Doc! You’re a soft-stepper.”

Lin looked legitimately confounded, her attention upon the AR glasses on Cole’s face. She readjusted the familiar cylindrical object in her hands. “I saw you talking to open air, away from the flight console.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure your AI brainchild just spoke to me telepathically,” Cole explained, hating how ridiculous he sounded. “Tell me I’m not crazy. I mean, part of the mission was to find––”

“You’re not crazy,” Lin stressed. She gestured toward the console and headed in its direction.

Cole followed, his attention on the object-in-question. “That looks familiar. Might it have something to do with why you believe me to be sane-ish?”

Lin nodded as she sat in the co-pilot’s chair. “A new ‘brain jar’, if you will.”

Oh! “Hey, don’t be discarding your technobabble; it’s one of the many traits I enjoy about you.” He sat down beside her, unconcerned with the remaining blockade awaiting their arrival.

“Very well... I’ve made some significant modifications to the cryorganic nanobiotechnological design, and I streamlined its bulky exterior for optimal efficiency and portability.”

Cole laughed as he readjusted the awkward pince-net glasses. “That’s more like it.” He admired her face a moment, relieved that she was uninjured. She was always full of surprises, and it was the surprise in her hands to where he redirected his attention. “Looking to give our AI buddy a new home?”

Lin’s response was a slack jaw, her attention on the viewport screen. “Where...? What happened to...?”

Oh yeah. I forgot she didn’t see it... “Um, the Prism is pretty much everywhere you look. Casualties unknown.” He chewed the inside of his mouth when she didn’t respond. “The offender has been integrated with the mess out there, if it makes you feel any better. As for who or what took out that Terracom destroyer, I couldn’t tell you. I’m just glad they did.”

Lin was riveted to the viewport screen. “Why is the rest of the blockade not advancing?”

Cole shrugged. “Probably scared shitless by what they thought the Icarus did.”

“Or they’re plotting how best to deal with the dissolution of the tentative peace accord.”

Cole and Lin spun in their chairs to face Gray. The assassin approached the bridge and dropped a small satchel at Cole’s feet. The clinking of metal inside hinted weaponry.

“Art! Er, Triston...” Cole said, his attention upon the bag. “That what I think it is?” Gray’s lack of response was all the validation he needed. He bent over and undid the drawstring. Inside were the two plastol sidearms he’d been hoping to find. As he removed them, he found they were secured to holsters affixed to a black leather gunbelt, with each weapon on opposite sides of the loop.

“Don’t make me regret having that secured for you,” Gray said, his attention upon the viewport screen.

Cole was already adjusting the belt around his waist. “I always wanted to be a cowboy.”

“You’re not helping your cause.”

Cole winked at Lin before facing Gray. “So, what’s your story? Any word on your moth––on Jensen?”

The facial twitch was almost imperceptible, but Cole saw it. Gray’s frown deepened, and he took a long breath. “Dead. Her hesitation was her undoing.”

“Holy shit...” Hearing the confirmation opened the floodgate of realization. The United System was suddenly without one of its five presidents. Murdered by Terracom. Any thought of an accord would be as dead as Miranda Jensen, and the Icarus was in the center of the political maelstrom.

“The attack doesn’t make sense,” Gray said, as though his mother was little more than collateral damage. “This blatant assault has undone everything Terracom and UniSys have discussed. It’s suicide.”

Cole stood and finished adjusting his gunbelt. “Well, somebody with Terracom felt differently about this peace accord.”

Gray nodded but didn’t respond.

“I was under the impression that Terracom was unaware of the Prism’s presence.”

The comment had come from Lin, and Gray cast her a dark yet thoughtful look. “That was what everyone aboard was led to believe. Its cloaking abilities were state-of-the-art. Regardless, Terracom had shown no signs of aggression, and there was no possible way they could have known who was aboard when they attacked. The Prism is...was an undocumented vessel.”

Cole scratched behind his ear. “If that’s the case, maybe Jensen’s flight crew got sloppy and accidentally gave up their position. If Terracom truly didn’t know who was on board, and to whom it held allegiance, then they probably perceived it as a meandering threat.”

Gray shook his head. “Unlikely. As I stated, the Prism was undetectable.”

Cole gestured toward the viewport screen and the visible debris. “Evidence would suggest otherwise.”

Before anyone could reply, an urgent request flashed on the same screen. Cole answered, confident of who was on the other end. The man’s face was unfamiliar, but the “recycled planet” logo of Terracom was above his breast pocket.

Cole smiled. “Oh! How’s it goin’? Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know the direction to Mars, would you?”

The panicked executive’s expression became one of confusion. “State your business here.”

“No business,” Cole said, reveling in the awkward moment. “We’re pleasure seekers.”

Gray groaned.

“This is outrageous!” the man cried, flustered. “It is clear you are responsible for the destruction of our destroyer. What is the meaning of this?”

Add that to the list of things of which I’ve been wrongly accused. “Whoa, whoa, whoa... Hold on a second there, Professor Fingerpointer. My little cargo vessel had nothing to do with the mess out there, and we witnessed your destroyer opening fire on my buddy’s mother’s ship.”

The Terracom executive glanced at a figure offscreen before returning to Cole. “That isn’t possible. Our blockade has remained stationed here for the duration of the ongoing proceedings.”

“You mean ‘peace accord?’” Cole clarified. “I’m pretty sure whatever agreement you and UniSys were hoping to reach can go straight into the trash now.”

The man could only stare, mouth slightly agape.

Cole’s smile widened. “You see, I just happened to be on the ship your people blew up, and I made sure to record the entire ordeal on my trusty drone while we were escaping for our lives. On top of that, any assault on a secret government vessel will have been witnessed by the very people with whom you’ve been engaging. No amount of alternative facts and deflecting will––”

“Government vessel?”

Cole hated being interrupted. Especially when he was grandstanding. “Uh, yeah. I’m sure you recall the one you ordered to be annihilated. The same ship which took with it one fifth of AMBER’s presidents. So don’t act all surprised––”

“What did you say?”

Cole threw up his hands, exasperated. “I wasn’t finished.”

“No!” The man drew his hand down in a chopping motion. “About AMBER.”

What? Cole’s brow furrowed. He glanced at Gray and Lin in-turn, both of whom shared the same confused expression. When he turned back to the executive, he had the chilling feeling that Terracom was somehow mired in the same obscurity. It was time for him to dig deep into the heart of this convoluted mystery.

“You expect us to believe you and your people didn’t give the order to destroy the Prism?”

The executive’s expression was blank. He shook his head. “No militaristic orders of any kind were given. Our logs are clear of any such activity.”

Bingo. “So you admit that there was an assault. You just discreetly left it off the books.”

The executive drew himself upright but failed to appear imposing. “Perhaps the same could be said of your act of aggression.”

Touché. “Well, seeing as I haven’t the capabilities to inflict even a dent on a warship of that caliber, I’m gonna have to tell you to go fish. Nice try, though. We’re still trying to figure out that conundrum. Maybe the admiral of that drifting scrap heap felt bad about his action and pressed the self-destruct button.”

The executive glowered at Cole. “You jest in these perilous times, but I suggest you reconsider your position. You have interfered in matters of universal import. Perhaps it is you who should be on the defensive.”

Ah, there’s the Terracom I remember. I really need to learn when to shut up. Fat chance of that happening. Cole sat up a little straighter. “Alright, maybe you’re not fibbing. If that’s the case, then you tell us what’s going on, because we’re all soon gonna be part of this junkyard if we don’t figure out why one of your ships initiated an act of war.”

Captain....

Cole’s eyes went wide. “Cain?

You’re in grave danger. You must continue your current discourse with Terracom a bit longer.

“Uh....”

Just a moment longer. Until I’ve fully re-energized.

“Who is ‘Cain’?”

“What?” Cole had forgotten he was speaking to the Terracom executive. “Who, Cain? Oh, I was just making a parallel to this particular situation. Cain and Abel—the two brothers. You know, that ancient story from the Book of Genesis? The one where God favored Abel, and Cain led his brother to his death as a result. Some crazy shit like that.”

“And what possible bearing does this anecdote have on our discourse?”

Cole squinted in thought and shrugged. “That’s a really good question.”

The executive nodded to someone offscreen. “What’s your name, son?”

“Aw, you don’t recognize me?” Cole asked with a grin, knowing a silent order had been given. “Has the whole of the System forgotten me already?” He slapped his chest. “Cole Musgrave. The one and only.” He winked. “It’s polite to reciprocate.”

“My name is irrelevant,” the executive said, still a blank slate. “As is your attempt to interfere with these proceedings, Mr. Musgrave.”

“Wasn’t me, pal,” Cole said. “I’m just trying to get inside that big blue ball of electricity behind your blockade, is all. Did you ever consider the possibility that whatever it is your failing company is protecting might be responsible for what you wrongly accuse me?”

“I’m afraid you will never reach the Source.”

So much for talking sense into him. I hope you’re fully re-energized, Cain. Cole gripped the flight yoke. “We’ll see about that, Terracom Tom.”

“Indeed we will, Darkstar.” The nameless executive vanished.

“Huh. I guess he did know me,” Cole mumbled. “At least what he learned from the media.”

“Eloquent, as always.”

Cole looked at Gray and smirked. “It’s a knack.”

“What do you propose we do to survive this?” Lin asked.

“Now you guys talk? Lots of help that is. Where was everyone’s input before? When I was properly stuffing my foot in my mouth?”

“Answer the question, Captain.”

“‘Captain’,” Cole said, amused Gray had uttered his title. “This captain ain’t doing shit.”

Lin and Gray looked at each other, and Cole glimpsed their fear. The assassin looked primed to bolt to his own ship, but he spoke instead. “And how will that help our remaining few seconds of existence?”

Cole glanced back at the viewport screen and pointed to an oddity transpiring near the blockade. “Don’t ask me. Ask Cain.”

9 PERSEVERANCE

The oddity started out innocuously enough, one of the many Terracom ships within the ranks of the blockade moving from its stationary position. But “odd” soon morphed into terrifying. Against all logic, the lone moving vessel––a massive freighter––flew directly into the ship adjacent to it. The crew of the Icarus watched the scene unfold from the safety of the bridge. Slow as the freighter was, the damage it inflicted even at so short a range was devastating.

The freighter tore through the smaller ship as if it were nothing. Seconds later, there was a gaping hole in the blockade. No one––not even Cole––could move or speak, their attention rapt upon the destruction.

Missiles and autocannon fire ensued, only the firepower was directed entirely within the fleet. In mere moments, what had once been a formidable armada, was now a crumbling wall— Terracom’s own doing. It was as bizarre a sight as Cole had ever seen, and he wondered if he was witnessing the end of the controversial terraforming corporation. At least, he hoped that was the case.

Through it all, one of the capital vessels––a banner ship––remained stationary, its weapons strangely silent. It stayed put even after the rest of blockade was decimated. Despite the urge to watch as the United System’s arch nemesis committed mass suicide, Cole zoomed in on the banner ship’s broad exterior.

“What are you doing?” Gray asked. “Shouldn’t you be keeping a watchful eye on this cosmic debacle?”

“Why? It’s not like they’re directing their weapons at us.” Cole said. He focused on where he assumed docking, evacuation, and fighter launch points would be. He was more than a little surprised to find all vents and ports were wide open.

Then his jaw fell, and Lin gasped.

A stream of bodies was venting from the ports, all of who were very much alive upon their ejection into open space. Interspersed with the dying crew were the escape pods, which were promptly being shot down by the banner ship. Unmanned fighters also tumbled out the launch tunnels, crashing into each other and cutting down humans in their path. It was as surreal a sight as he could imagine.

“What is causing this?”

Cole only shook his head at Lin’s question. In his mind, there could be just one answer, and he was not yet ready to believe his friend was responsible.

Gray answered in his stead. “Perhaps some sort of insurrection––a small sect of Terracom finally turning on its task masters, bringing about the end of their reign. Even if it means their own.”

I like that a lot more than what I know to be true, Cole thought. “No. Something else is going on here. Something worse.”

Captain...

Cain! What––what’s going on? Where are you?”

Help me, Captain... I am unstable... Something is trying to escape....

“Uh....”

“Who are you talking to?” Gray demanded.

“Cain,” Cole said, pointing as though the AI were on the ceiling. “Don’t you hear...? Oh, that’s right.” His shoulders slumped. “Telepathy. Only I can hear him.”

“So help me, Musgrave––”

“No, it’s true,” Lin said, and Cole smiled at her. “CAIN’s energy signature is detectable in this area. It’s one of the reasons for this search and rescue mission.”

“If you ask me, Doc, he’s the only mission,” Cole said, reigniting the engines. “Not sure we’re gonna find your sister, Art––er—Triston. Maybe another day. Today we’re saving one of our crew members.”

“That is not part of the agreement,” Gray said to Lin, though Cole knew it was also meant for him. “The Source was always our destination. If we had––”

Cole shot from his chair and rounded on him. “Your ‘agreement’ died with your mother. Do you understand? I’m sorry Miranda’s dead, but I’m captain of the Icarus. Not you. That puts me in charge, and I say I’m not flying us into that blue death pit with all this crazy shit going on. Not for any president, you, or your sister. Got it?”

The two men stared long and hard at each other, but no one made a move or said a word to escalate the confrontation. Finally Cole turned and sat down.

“I’m detecting a faint energy source,” Lin said, breaking the tension.

Aside from the gargantuan ball of cosmic electricity? Cole thought. “From what?”

“Not what. Who,” Lin said, flicking the information from her Ocunet to the viewport screen. “I believe I’ve located CAIN. It’s energy signature and detailed code is a definite match.”

Cole grabbed the flight yoke. “That’s good enough for me. Engaging.”

The Icarus left the confines of the debris field, heading toward CAIN’s location—far too close to Terracom’s civil war for Cole’s liking. While nothing physical appeared onscreen, scanners picked up the vague, amorphous energy Lin had mentioned.

“What, exactly, are we looking for?” Cole asked her, one eye upon the chaos of the blockade. The banner vessel remained intact, unmoving in the sea of metal viscera that was the shredded fleet.

“An excellent question, that,” Gray remarked. “Should we not be able to see our target?”

Lin’s Rook hovered before Gray’s eyes. “The advent of the extant energy may be temporarily negating any need for CAIN to require a physical form.”

What?” The question came simultaneously from both Cole and Gray.

Lin sighed. “CAIN may be disembodied.”

That’s news to me! Cole thought. “Wait. You’re telling us that my AI buddy is currently an invisible blob of intelligent energy?”

“Precisely.”

“Heh. I just made that last part up.”

“How is it you know this?” Gray demanded scowling.

“She knows a lotta shit we don’t,” Cole said. “Nothing new there. You’re just pissy because you weren’t in on one of Miranda’s little secrets.”

“President Jensen recruited me to study the Source,” Lin explained. “Because CAIN was last seen in this region, I made an educated hypothesis.”

“Artificially intelligent beings partaking of the energy emitting from the Source,” Gray said in a monotone. “And this is possible how?”

“Does it matter?” Cole asked. “Cain’s alive––whether as a self-aware brain jar or a spooky amorphous digital specter––I couldn’t care less. We’re here to save him. Discuss the absurdity of this topic later. And when we’re at it, maybe you can finally explain why it is you never attempted to pilot my ship from day one.”

The Icarus went dark.

“What is this?” Gray asked. He grabbed the back of Cole’s flight chair to keep from lifting off the ground.

“You see?” Cole said, trying to keep his composure. “This is what happens when you doubt the validity of AI ghosts. They take your power and artificial gravity as payment for disturbing their eternal slumber.”

Lin reached out and touched her hovering Rook. “I believe we may be in the presence of CAIN’s extant energy.”

“There’re those words again: ‘extant energy’.” Cole touched the dark console to no avail. “Saying it over and over doesn’t make me understand it any more, Doc.”

Everyone turned to the glass cylinder in Lin’s hands when it emitted a brief flash of light. It almost slipped from her grasp, but she overcame her surprise and raised the container to look inside. Her eyes widened as a soft blue glow began to emanate from its center.

Cole opened his mouth to comment but instead shuddered as something passed through him, touching every fiber of his being.  While not painful, it was a dichotomy frigid ice and searing heat overwhelming him simultaneously, and it stole his breath away. Mercifully, the sensation ceased, and when he was able to focus, his attention returned to the cylinder in Lin’s trembling hands.

“Um, Doc....”

All three of them gazed at the sight in wonder. What had been an inert vessel was now a lit beacon, brightening the whole of the darkened bridge in vibrant, sapphire blue.

Gray was the first to recover his speech. “How is that possible?”

Lin unbuckled and stood on shaky legs, and Cole placed an arm on her shoulder to keep her from drifting upward. She only blinked in response.

“Extant energy,” Cole answered in her stead with a grin and a shrug. “That answer seems to cover all the bases these days.” He joined Lin’s side, one foot lodged under his chair. “So, I’m guessing you––we should probably put the mini brain jar in its rightful place.” He leaned close when she didn’t answer. “Right, Doc?”

Lin nodded but didn’t move.

Cole glanced at Gray in concern. He gave Lin’s shoulder a gentle nudge toward the stairwell. Still she didn’t move. He was about to snap his fingers in front of her blank stare when a new color was added to the monochrome. Lin’s Rook was glowing a deep red and beginning to spin in a gyroscopic motion. Cole didn’t like what he saw.

Hurry, Captain....

Cole turned at the sound of CAIN’s voice. No pressure. “Doc.” He reached for the cylinder, and Lin didn’t resist him. “Why don’t you sit down? I’m gonna go plug this into the ship.” He waited but received no reply. “Okay?”

“Father.”

Cole stared at the gyrating Rook. “What about him?”

“Forget her,” Gray said, forcing Lin to sit down. She didn’t fight him either. “Do what needs to be done.” He gestured angrily at the dark viewport screen. “Before that happens to us.”

Cole didn’t want to look, but his eyes had already settled on the unsettling. Beyond the reinforced glass, a terrifying new scene was unfolding. The remainder of the Terracom blockade was gathering around the banner ship. The wreckage followed the intact vessel as it flew toward the Source. He had a feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that the energy source was directing the ship, and that the Icarus was next in its sight.

Cole’s feet moved on instinct, pushing him toward the stairwell. He propelled himself with a solid kick off the ground. “Get ready to employ those piloting skills of yours,” he shouted over his shoulder to Gray. “We’re gonna need to make a quick exit.”

He drifted through the doorway leading into the stairwell, unable to hear if Gray had responded with argument or agreement. If not for the shimmering blue light of the cylinder, he would be moving in utter darkness. Unfortunately, dangerous moving shadows were created in the light’s wake as he raced toward his destination, confusing his idea of what the interior of the Icarus should look like. More than once he had to redirect his path for fear of his head colliding with the steel walls. He could feel the cylinder growing colder in his hands.

He drifted into the cargo hold, his breathing the only sound in the oppressive silence. The door shut behind him. And it made the voice inside his head all the more terrifying.

Swallowing his fear, Cole strained to hear what was being said. A faint, crackling whisper came from all around him, though the words were difficult to discern. He did manage to decipher two: Icarus and “vortex.” The longer he listened, the more he could swear the phrase repeated as, “Welcome to the vortex.”

“I should’ve stayed in prison....”

Cole made his way across the cargo bay to the hatch on the floor that led to the server room. He yanked open the horizontal door and descended as fast as he could, one hand clutching CAIN. At the bottom he pulled himself through the narrow corridor to the wall that had once housed the AI’s consciousness. He opened the panel which held the cylinder and slid it out.

Only to realize that the new design was too small to properly fit.

Cole instinctively activated a comm that was not in his ear. No one on the bridge would be able to hear him, and with the bizarre way Lin was acting, he doubted she would be able to help him anyway. He scratched his head as he considered whether or not to just drop the cylinder inside and hope for the best.

The Icarus lurched.

Were it not for the lack of stabilizers, Cole would not have noticed the ship’s sudden movement. Power had not returned, and he knew exactly what that meant and to where they were headed. Desperately, he held the cylinder inside the cavity, grateful his leather gloves were a barrier between him and the icy vessel.

He yanked back his hand with a yelp when the cylinder was ripped from his grasp by an unseen force. The glowing blue object held fast in the center, as though it was magnetically held in place. Cole didn’t care as long as the ship regained its power once he locked it inside.

Her tipped the panel closed and waited, one hand braced against the nearby wall for support. Seconds turned into a full minute, and all that greeted him was darkness. “Alright, buddy. You’re back where you belong. Time for you to do your thing.”

Silence.

Am I supposed to throw a switch or press a button? Cole wondered. With nothing left to do but wish for a miracle, he turned away from the inert server and headed back toward the bridge.

<Captain. Where am I?>

Cole could actually hear CAIN’s faint voice. “You’re back with us on the Icarus. Lin fashioned you a new cryorganic container for your consciousness, and you sought it out.”

No response.

“I put you back into the server so you can bond with our ship––”

<No.>

“Um, actually, yeah. That’s what happened,” Cole said, confused. “You came willing, remember? It’s probably why the ship’s dark right now.”

<I cannot return to that prison, Captain.>

Uh oh.... “I don’t know what to tell you, buddy. It’s not like we have another Fej walking around for you to inhabit.”

<I cannot be contained. Not after experiencing my freedom. Please let me out.>

Cole’s new gloves creaked as he clenched and opened his fists. “I don’t know what to tell you. Taking you out of there won’t fix the problem. You’ll still be inside the container. And like I said, it’s the same container you willingly chose.”

<You don’t understand––>

“You’re right, Cain, I don’t,” he interrupted. He secured his grip on the wall as the speed of the Icarus’s descent into The Source increased. “And even if I did, there’s nothing I can do about it right now.”

Cole forced himself to calm down. “Look. I’m really glad to have you back––more than you know, but we can’t be having this conversation right now. We’re currently being sucked into a blue oblivion, and your little extant energy act relieved my ship of all power. For the immediate and foreseeable future, we’re gonna need you to put aside your claustrophobia and fly us––”

Cole dropped to the floor in a heap, his AR glasses askew. Looks like the artificial gravity stabilizer’s back on... Thanks for the warning, pal.

The server room illuminated in brilliant blue light, and Cole assumed the Icarus was back to full power. He shouted a brief thank you over his shoulder to CAIN––to which he received no response––and raced back toward the bridge. He felt the full thunderous force of the ignited engines from inside the cargo bay, and his feet trembled slightly as he ran for the stairs.

Gray met him the moment he exited the stairwell. “We’re still being pulled toward the Source.”

Cole shied away from the assassin’s close proximity. “Do you see a flight yoke in my hand?”

Gray shadowed Cole as they made their way toward the flight chair. “The AI is currently piloting the ship, to no avail.”

“Any bright ideas on how to overcome this dilemma?” Cole asked as he took his seat at the controls. “Because if you’re right, I’m not going to be any help.”

“I was under the impression your ‘buddy’ would take command of the situation.”

Cole glimpsed Lin, who still appeared distant. Her Rook continued gyrating and emanating its sinister red glow. He grabbed the yoke and focused all his attention on the illuminated viewport screen. The looming blue oddity that was the Source nearly swallowed the screen. “Yeah, well, my buddy is currently experiencing an into body existential crisis. Besides, I told you to fly us out of here. And aside from that, no one ever said Cain would be able to counteract this tractor beam—or whatever it is that’s pulling us into that blue hell.”

Gray sighed. “Did you hear that voice as well?”

“Oh, I heard it alright,” Cole said as he fought and failed to regain control of the ship. “Just some disembodied voice speaking to us from within the Source, welcoming us to our doom. Just another day for me aboard the Icarus.”

“What could it want with us?”

“Maybe it’s inviting us inside for tea and crumpets. I don’t know!” Cole said, flustered. “What’s the meaning of life? I’m sure your sister will tell us once we get sucked inside. Got any other vague, unanswerable questions you’d like to ask?”

“Perhaps if you launch weapons into it, we’ll be able to break free of its draw,” Gray said after a brief pause.

Cole pounded his fist on the console. “Son of a bitch! Don’t you think I’ve already tried that, Arthur?” He sat back in a huff and threw up his arms in defeat. “Any thoughts, Cain?”

Silence.

Cole chuckled helplessly. “As you can see, I’m currently not in control of anything. Would you like to be captain for the last few minutes of your life? Here, I’ll let you wear my jac––”

Two firm hands gripped Cole’s shoulder, and before he could react, his body was being dragged out of his chair. His back slammed hard on the ground, arms grasping futilely against his aggressor. Other than his ego, his tailbone was the only bruise he would suffer. He sat up and watched as Gray assumed the captain’s chair. Where does he hide all that strength?

Gray struggled with the controls before reaching the same helpless conclusion. He stared curiously at the gyrating Rook, then turned to Lin. “Dr. Dartmouth. Who or what is it you are communicating with?”

Lin’s head raised slightly, and Cole stood.

“My father.”

Gray didn’t bat an eye. “Your father, Dr. Kingston Dartmouth.”

She replied with a slow, definitive nod.

What the shit? Cole thought, but Gray spoke before he could.

“And is he responsible for our current situation?” He gestured all around him.

Again, Lin nodded. “He needs my assistance.”

“Assistance with what?” Cole interjected. He ignored Gray’s glower.

Lin looked up at Cole with dead eyes. “Freeing him from the Vortex.”

“What?”

Gray moved in to regain control of the conversation. “This ‘Vortex’— might it be one and the same as the Source?”

Another nod.

Cole looked at their destination on the viewport screen with a new perspective. Lin’s father was most certainly dead, yet somehow, beyond all logic and reason, he was communicating with his daughter via her Rook. Whether or not this was true, getting drawn into the unknown to where The Singularity was supposedly trapped seemed counterproductive to him. The same place as Gray’s missing sister—the mysterious connection to both people being the Source.

Cole found Gray’s calculating gaze upon him, and he did not like it. “No. I already said flying in there isn’t an option.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Gray said.

“Then I suggest we urge Lin to reason with who or what she thinks she’s speaking with to let us go on our merry way.”

Gray’s hard eyes steeled even more. “Not an hour ago you were a willing participant in this mission. What changed?”

“Your mother’s death and the voice of a lunatic from beyond the grave,” Cole said. “And maybe I was never going to fly into everyone’s precious Source.”

Gray stood and bore into him. “You thought to abandon the mission from its outset?”

“Yes! Of course I did! What madman would willingly fly into a glowing ship-eating death-hole?” He held out his hands. “I know you think you have to complete her final wish, but we’ve all been tricked. Whatever’s happening inside that Vortex is all bad, and nothing we do will change that.”

“You don’t know that we won’t survive passing into––”

“And you don’t know otherwise,” Cole interrupted. “Why risk it? For what? On the slightest of slightest chances we find your sister and save her?” He shook his head. “She’s gone. Just like your mother.”

Gray took a step back, but his posture remained rigid. “What are your intentions?”

Persevere,” Cole said with conviction. He glanced at the viewport screen. “It’s what I’ve done since day one. I’m not some hero like Military once believed me to be, nor am I the evil terrorist I’ve been labeled. I’m just some guy who’s always been good at staying alive.”

He took a deep breath. “Who am I––who are we—other than a ghost and two of the System’s most wanted? Let someone else handle this mess. Try and look at it from my perspective. To everyone outside this catastrophe, we’re dead. I’d like to keep it that way. So let’s try and make the best of a terrible situation.”

Gray’s uncomfortable stare lingered before he looked away, nodding.

“Good,” Cole said, stepping past him to retake his seat at the controls. “Now all we need to do is convince Lin to tell her specter father to let us go. No problem.”

Lin was staring blankly at Cole from the co-pilot’s chair. He reached and gently grabbed her forearm. “Doc....”

“He has relinquished us.”

Oh! That was easy. Cole jerked his attention to the screen, and the image of the blue anomaly was quickly moving toward the ship’s aft. He gripped the controls, though it was clear they were still being manned by the AI. “Are we completely free of our snag, Cain?”

No reply.

Uh oh... He’s still in crisis mode, Cole thought, biting his lip. “Trade in one problem for another. We best all strap in for wherever we’re headed, gang.”

“Can you please gain control of the AI?” Gray asked, locking himself into place.

“Sure! Why didn’t I think of that?” Cole asked. “In case you weren’t already aware, our ‘AI’ is a touchy sort. And being that he is currently without his physical form, he’s not handling his new soup can dwelling all that well.”

“I’m tired of your sarcasm,” Gray said. “Why doesn’t it respond?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Gray groaned. “What of our destination? Can you at least decipher that?”

Cole enhanced the homing beacon information on the screen, and his eyes widened. “Earth.”

PART TWO GRAY MATTERS

ICARUS LOG 005: Continued

“Why question the illogical when I can just fly straight into it? It’s what I wanted. Well, now I get to test my mettle and face the impossible. She’s in there, somewhere. And I made a promise to bring her back. Why not? It’s not like I have the option to do much of anything else. So what if the probability of dying is absolutely certain?

10 OASIS

The Icarus emerged from the wormhole in the presence of the “Drowned Planet.” With manual controls still under CAIN’s total command, Cole could only watch and guess to where they were headed. Anywhere on Earth was new to him, and he had always intended to keep it that way.

Earth, with its melted ice caps, nuclear winter, and remaining religious zealots—it was far from a vacationer’s paradise. Most of the remaining inhabitants were little more than obsessed zealots of mankind’s many failed religious efforts, stewing in the flooded remains of their unstable holy land. That anyone was yet living outside one of the very few “stable” cities could be considered a miracle by their standards. The faithful willingly remained behind and carried on their forgotten ways by sheer stubbornness and ignorance alone, while the rest of humanity evolved.

It was only fitting to Cole that he found himself at the ass-end of the System. Perhaps it was karma for escaping a prison sentence he deserved. Part of him hoped that CAIN would land the Icarus directly into one of the planet’s chaotic oceans. Then he wouldn’t have to figure out how to survive in the tempestuous climate.

But as the ship pierced Earth’s atmosphere and rocketed toward one of the waterlogged land masses, it was clear their destination would be one of the remaining stable cities: Alaska. Home to the System’s brightest and possibly darkest minds, Fairbanks was an oasis for those who still believed there a solution to saving the ravaged planet.

There were no laws on Earth, yet the remaining cities managed to exist in relative peace by cooperatively keeping the faithful’s zealots at bay. As it was, erratic weather and toxic wind kept everyone indoors and conflict at a minimum.

Cole couldn’t imagine CAIN’s connection with the residents of Fairbanks, but he was wont to find out. There was a homing beacon emanating from this region of Earth, but the AI was being uncharacteristically secretive.

The storm played havoc on the Icarus as it pierced the dense, tumultuous clouds. Lighting flashed around them, and the hull shuddered. The sky was dark as night; only the data readout revealed that it was still daytime. As Cole wondered how much worse things were at night, the Icarus pitched forward as it banked a hard right.

“CAIN’s offline,” Lin said without emotion.

Cole was already working at the controls, trying to rectify the problem. “Oh, you finally decided to rejoin us, eh, Doc?”

“I never left.”

Cole raised an eyebrow but did not reply to her comment. He was focused on landing in a hurricane. The controls regained responsiveness, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Just as lightning struck.

The Icarus took a nosedive, a chunk of the port side’s wingtip tumbling downward past the viewport screen. Power flickered, but all functions remained intact. Control, however, was an entirely different story. The engines still worked, but the right thrust was malfunctioning. He pulled out of the dive, only to launch into a barrel roll. When he miraculously slowed the spin to a fishtail, he saw and hit water.

It was the shore, to be exact. The landing gear had deployed prior to impact, but the damaged wing withstood the brunt of the crash.  The Icarus was resting at a precarious angle, and it was impossible to tell how much of the hull was in the water as compared to out, Cole was relieved to be alive—even if his ship would never fly again.

“Everybody alright?” Cole asked over the multitude of sirens. Lin merely gave him a grim nod; Gray was already freeing himself of his chair to investigate.

“Ask us again if we don’t get swallowed whole by this lake,” the assassin said as he braced himself between the two flight chairs.

Cole sighed and unbuckled. “Once again, you’re welcome.”

“Where are we, exactly?” Gray asked.

“Chena River, it would appear,” Cole said, reading past the flashing red lights. “You know, the final resting place of the Icarus.” He stood and presented the torrential conditions outside. “And somewhere out there, past all that rain, is our our new home, Fairbanks, Alaska. Earth’s supposed oasis.”

A forceful gale caught the ship’s lifted wing and slid the vessel closer to the lake. Cole fell into Gray, who shoved him off and sent him stumbling away from the bridge. His bad knee buckled, and he crashed onto his shoulder. He removed his AR glasses and laughed in spite of himself.

“Cain!” Cole shouted at ceiling. “Might you care to share with us why you decided to bring us to this watery grave?”

The AI did not reply.

“Hell. Even he doesn’t know why.”

“I’ll run a full diagnostic on CAIN,” Lin said, sending her Rook to the flight console. “Perhaps its detachment from the extant energy has contributed to its reaction.”

“Heh. Double E,” Cole said. He gave up trying to stand and remained on his back. He pulled off his leather gloves and flung them away to gaze at the horrible scars—the red blotches and once melted flesh now shiny and devoid of wrinkles, creases, or prints. He pressed his hands onto the floor, finding relief in the cool surface.

Gray’s scowl appeared overtop Cole. “Are you going to continue feeling sorry for yourself, or will you finally command this crew with the authority of a real captain? Consider your answer carefully.”

Why, ‘cause you’ll assassinate me? Cole thought, though he kept those words to himself. “Careful’s not my style, Triston. I’m more of a fart-in-the-face-of-reason kinda guy.”

Gray shook his head. “That you managed to survive so long is a wonder.”

“Hey! Gimme a break. I’m out of pirating practice. Six months of federal prison, remember? You should, you broke me out.”

“And I regret doing so. I also regret allowing Emmerich to convince me of incorporating you into the equation back at SolEx.”

“Nah,” Cole said, waving his hand dismissively. “You’re just salty because I got all the notoriety, while all you got was a thrashing from me and my crew.” He pointed at Gray. “And another chance at life, despite you trying to kill us. You should be thanking me.”

Gray went down to one knee beside Cole. “What is your answer, Captain?”

Cole glanced into Gray’s dark eyes, unable to read what the man was thinking. He didn’t like what he saw, and he knew there was no reason to continue arguing. Cole remembered the last time they fought one-on-one, and he decided not to repeat the experience. He breathed a heavy, defeated sigh and extended his hand.

Gray accepted and pulled Cole to his feet with one good yank. He shook his slightly crushed hand, and his mouth twisted at the awkward situation.

“So!” he said a bit too loudly, then clapped his ungloved hands. “It’s raining. It’s pouring. Icarus is no longer soaring. Who’s up for a quick peek outside?”

“I would strongly advise against it,” Lin said. “Current wind speed is seventy plus miles per hour with gusts around one hundred.”

“Good kite-flying weather,” Cole said. “What’s the forecast?”

“In perpetuity,” she said flatly.

“Oof. That’ll ruin the weekend.” He winked at Lin, who only stared back at him.

“Is there a way for us to scan the surrounding area and discover the inhabitants?” Gray asked. “Perhaps we’ll be able to seek their assistance.”

Lin spoke first. “There might be a few privately funded colonies of rogue scientists down here, but they’ll more than likely be working incognito and not want to reveal themselves.”

Cole was nodding throughout Lin’s response. “And I strongly advise against inviting the likes of the Faithful. Not unless you want to be Converted.” He shivered.

Gray’s face tensed. “Then what do either of you propose we do?”

“Brace the elements and try to start a new life off the grid,” Cole said without a hint of sarcasm. He held up a silencing finger before Gray could protest. “Hear me out. I know it’s not ideal, but we’ve got to think this through carefully. As far as I can gather, no one knows we’re here––hell, no one knows we’re even alive! Presumably the last of Terracom’s footprint was scrubbed away by whatever transpired back by that Source thing, and Doc claims she’s still locked in her cell in the eyes of those who manage the prisoner database. I’ll be deemed dead on account of your sneaky machinations, and your mother’s ship was decimated, taking with it any evidence of your existence. We’ve got nothing but time to figure this out.”

“Until our supplies diminish,” Gray reminded. “All of what you say is speculation at best, and even if we have become invisible in the eyes of the government, we still have to make our way off this planet and integrate ourselves back into the system.”

Cole collected his gloves. “You go ahead and reintegrate yourself, Mr. Ghost. Maybe you can pull off such a feat, being the resourceful, crafty, shadowy person, you are, but Doc and I have very recognizable faces and a permanent Most Wanted fixture floating above out heads. Unlike you, we only have one face from which to choose, and I, for one, don’t plan on altering it through surgery or prosthetics.”

Lin cast Cole a confused glance, but he only shook his head and waved his hand.

Gray looked fit to throttle Cole, but his murderous expression lightened a little, and his rigid back and shoulders slumped ever so slightly. He looked at the viewport screen and exhaled sharply though his nose.

“Look,” Cole started again, “I don’t want to be here any more than you do, but my ship’s missing a wing, and I don’t have any better ideas. Unless you have some shadow government friends of yours willing to––”

“Any and all of my ‘resources’ vanished the moment Miranda was killed,” Gray interrupted, tightly.

Great. He’s as worthless as we are. Three of a kind! Four, if Cain ever decides to rejoin this pathetic circus. Cole shrugged. “Then we’ll just have to put our three little minds together and utilize the limited resources we do have to figure out a way forward.”

Gray’s shoulders slumped even more, and he hung his shaking head with a sigh. “I’ll ask again: what do you propose we do?”

Cole pointed at the viewport screen. “We venture out into this inhospitable mud pit and locate the source of that beacon.”

11 MAGNETIZED

With his mind focused upon the task at hand, Triston could stave his rising panic. At least, he assumed it was panic; he had not known this feeling prior to meeting Cole. Growing up in relative seclusion, while under the watchful eye of his mother and her security detail, he had only ever known the cold embrace of isolation and the calculating satisfaction of his rigorous training. From an early age, he was shaped into an assassin, and his line of work had granted him many varied experiences, but no training or experience could have prepared him for the likes of Cole Musgrave.

Perfectionism had its perks, especially when leading the life of a successful ghosting assassin with unlimited resources at the ready. With a powerful political parent willing to nurture such a lifestyle, Triston expected nothing short of perfection in all that he did, and he did excel—even with the advent of the Musgrave curse. The Jensen lineage had been strong in Research politics; there had been no need to prepare for the loss of his one and only safety net.

This next phase of his life had arrived like a cataclysmic meteor, and no amount of training and forced composure could will it to stop. He was trapped within the confines of a grounded ship along with the two people he had once been certain were securely under his thumb. Now he had to rely upon them and trust they would not turn on him at any chance they had.

Perhaps it was paranoia he was experiencing.

Or maybe I’ve lived with it my whole life, Triston thought as he suited up for what could prove to be his first and last decision as a newly freelance assassin.

His reckless new partner, for all his infuriating shortcomings, was an anomaly of a human being. Cole was seemingly capable of surviving any catastrophe. Though he was Triston’s antithesis in nearly every way, both of them were highly capable individuals—professionals in their field. It was clear, however, who the true leader was.

“I don’t know about you, Art––Triston, but I probably should’ve taken a dump before I donned this suit.”

Leader, indeed, Triston thought with derision. “I suggest you clench for the entirety of this mission.”

“Ha!” Cole gave an appreciative clap. “Good advice, though it’s not like you’ll have to contend with the smell if I have an accident.”

Triston shook his head. “Regardless of whether or not your militaristic acumen excelled above most others, I’ll never understand how anyone of status within Starforce could have considered you for anything above Recruit with that mouth of yours.”

“Same reason you excel at your job,” Cole said. “Results.”

“Hm.”

“That’s all that matters in the end,” Cole continued. “At least, until they run out of uses for you, or your intolerable tendencies outweigh said results. And let’s not forget about tarnishing the brand.” He smiled.

Triston collected his helmet and stood. “You’ve done little to plead your case, Captain.”

“You’re still calling me by my title, aren’t you?” Cole winked. “I rest my case.”

“I should have my head examined if we survive this fiasco,” Triston said, then sighed. “Following you is questionable enough, but venturing out into this storm without a purpose or destination is madness.”

Cole stood and clipped on his AR glasses before collecting his helmet. “You can wait for the clouds to part sometime in the next millennia or two if you want, but we don’t have that luxury. Sometimes madness is the only course of action in order to overcome the odds. It got me this far.”

“With my assistance.”

“Then you know what I’m talking about.”

Triston could not reply.

“I’ve charted as good a course of travel for the both of you as I could,” Lin said, walking into the room. “I’ve transferred the information to your respective ocular devices and EVA suit visors to keep you on track.”

“And have you learned any more about our destination?” Triston asked.

Lin frowned, hesitating to answer. “Earth’s records are limited since The Collapse, but I was able to obtain some vague details through the Satellite Information Gateway dish.”

Cole shared a look with Triston. “Still feasting from the Horn of Plenty, I see. Gotta love that our government never caught onto that Smasher we installed.”

Lin pressed her lips and arced a eyebrow. “Unfortunately, the cornucopia I had expected to find offered to me little more than scraps. Information on this area is dated and describes an abandoned facility which once supported early terraforming research. Of what has become of this area, I cannot say.”

“Then we best update said database for future escapees,” Triston said. He placed his helmet over his head and twisted it securely into place with a click. Diagnostics displayed within the helmet’s visor, and he set to performing a battery of calisthenic tests to make sure the suit’s capabilities were sound and no leaks present. Satisfied, he faced his audience and scowled at a snickering Cole.

“So efficient,” the pilot said, still laughing as he donned his helmet.

“I’ll eagerly accept your apology when I rescue you from any sudden malfunctions,” Triston said, his voice tight with irritation.

Cole winked again.

“The two of you should commence your trek to the source of the beacon,” Lin said. “Though the database claims this facility is abandoned, faint energy readouts of life forms have been detected. People are out there, despite the storms. Make sure your boots are set to brace the effects of the storm once you exit the ship. The added weight of the EVAs will help, but the gusts are significant and unpredictable.”

“We’ll hold hands,” Cole suggested and made a halfhearted attempt to reach for Triston.

The assassin stepped back to avoid the gesture and made his way toward the door. The trio headed into the cargo bay, Lin’s Rook leading the way toward the loading ramp. Triston slowed beside his ship, looking at it longingly. He pretended not to notice as Cole stepped uncomfortably close to him.

“Don’t worry,” Cole’s voice said inside Triston’s helmet comm. “I’m sure you’ll still get your chance to part ways with us.”

Had most of the Icarus’s hull not been resting within the water along shoreline, Triston would’ve already left. He turned away from the fighter ship and continued toward the ramp.

It wasn’t until he and Cole reached the threshold that they noticed Lin had ceased following them. Her apparent concentration indicated that she was deep within the Ocunet. Her hands slashed and grappled with empty air, poking nonexistent keys and buttons. Something was amiss.

Cole’s usual cockiness was replaced by concern, and that was when Triston’s instincts took over. He activated his magboots to secure a firm footing for whatever it was that might be coming. Not a second later, the Icarus shook with the force of a missile strike. The world seemed to tip upside down, though Triston remained where he stood, planted in place by the full magnetic strength of his EVA boots. Cole and Lin weren’t so fortunate.

Cole was launched headfirst into a nearby wall, caving in and shattering his helmet. He collapsed to the ground and did not move again. Lin was closest to Triston, and she, too, had been lifted off her feet—thrown directly into his waiting arms. The pain on her face spoke for the less than pleasant experience.

The ship ceased its quaking, and everything went dark. Artificial gravity stabilizers are down, Triston thought as he felt his stomach gently slosh back and forth with the swaying ship. He switched on his suit’s helmet lamp to combat his blindness, and he activated his night vision for good measure. He set Lin down, partly on the hope that the worst of the action was over—mostly because he refused to carry her.

“The storm’s interference blocked the arrival of the vessel,” Lin said in his comm.

The hand he used to steady her now clutched a fistful of her shirt. “What are you talking about?”

Lin pointed up at the culprit outside the Icarus, infuriating Triston more. “Who is it?” When the engineer shrugged and turned her concern to Cole, he loosened his grip and exhaled to calm himself. He forgot about Lin and accessed the ship’s exterior cameras to see the source of their assailant. He had to switch through multiple views to get a proper angle, as the perpetrator was that much larger than the Icarus.

The vessel of which Lin had spoken was massive and mostly obscured by the blinding lights it projected. A giant disc-shaped magnet had been secured onto the posterior of the ship, causing mostly cosmetic damage to the hull. They were being reeled in.

“Have you received any sort of hail from them?” Triston asked Lin, his spotlight back upon her.

She shook her head, struggling to reach a listless Cole.

Triston clenched his teeth. “What about details on our assailants?”

Lin ignored his question as she knelt to check on Cole’s condition. Her lack of a response gave Triston the out he had been seeking. His fighter was only paces away, the pull of the magnet ship soon to give him the clearance he would need to make his escape.

The decision was obvious.

Triston took his first steps toward his fighter ship, but realized the Icarus had no power. He would need someone to manually open the cargo bay door, and he doubted Lin would be willing to help him abandon their cause. It was possible he could release his unmanned ship into the water below, but that would mean he would have to drop with it, hoping both he and the ship would survive. His growing desperation made the prospect more tempting.

He almost overlooked a flashing indicator in his Ocunet as he made for the controls. It seemed power had been restored to the cargo bay of the Icarus.

<Go and locate assistance for the captain.>

Triston paused at the sound of CAIN’s voice in his comm. It was an offer to escape, but Triston didn’t respond to the AI’s request. Casting one last look back at Lin and Cole, he felt slight remorse at abandoning them. But the moment quickly passed, and he turned and climbed into his awaiting ship.

He pretended not to notice as Lin stood and faced him as he prepped for takeoff. Just as the cargo bay door was opening to allow him passage off the Icarus, another door inside the cargo bay permitted the entry of several hulking figures in dark clothing. That was the last glance he got of them as the loading arm released his ship down toward the planet’s surface.

He was free of Cole Musgrave.

12 CHOPPED

Cole was awakened by a not-so-gentle boot to his ribs. He grunted and curled tighter to protect himself. The inferno of pain inside his head complemented the throbbing in his side. The blinding lights of his setting would not allow him to open his eyes, and he had the grim realization that the thick, crusty substance on his face was blood. He clutched at his body, shivering and wondering where his AR glasses and EVA suit had gone. Last he could remember, he was preparing to exit the Icarus with Triston to explore Earth.

“Get up.”

I don’t recognize that voice, Cole thought of the gruff voice. He opened his mouth to respond, but all that escaped was, “Ungh....”

The grimy underside of a cold boot pressed onto Cole’s cheek, pressure building as the man’s weight leaned into him. “Now.”

Wishing for nothing more than a hospital bed, Cole tried to focus his fleeting energy on standing. Rolling his body so that his knees were propped against the floor, he pushed with all his might to kneel. His stomach turned as the world around him spun. His wounds reopened, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. He spit and wiped what he thought was the source—a gash on his forehead. That was when he discovered his wrists had been bound.

“Thought you’d be tougher than this,” the faceless voice mocked.

What’s that supposed to mean? “Don’t misinterpret my awkward calisthenics for weakness. I’m just working out a kink in my back.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll be working out my frustrations on you if you don’t get moving.”

Says the man who kicked me when I was down and unconscious. Why not just assist me to wherever I’m going if there’s such a hurry? Then Cole thought, Or maybe he really is afraid of me.

Taking a deep breath, Cole raised one knee in an attempt to stand. He opened one eye a sliver to take in his surroundings. His EVA suit was in a heap in a corner, near a square metal table with one broken chair. Other than that, the small room was empty; Lin and Triston were nowhere to be seen. The floor was filthy, covered in what felt like grease, muddy grime, and tiny metal shavings. His clothes and hands were slathered in the viscous substance, and he was cold— freezing, in fact.

His captor was as big as his voice. Equally grimy in appearance, his militaristic clothing was adorned with at least seventy pounds of assorted weaponry; the tattered trench coat overtop did little to hide them. Cole decided against bolting for fear of earning a cracked rib or two—which was also motivation for him to stand.

“That’s better,” the big man grunted. He produced one of the rifles from his grungy leather arsenal and pointed it at Cole’s chest. “Now start marching.”

Cole acknowledged the weapon’s large, rusty barrel with a sigh and a nod, and he followed its direction to the door. His knee gave out, though he managed to grab the edge of the rickety table to steady himself. “Shit, my shoe must be untied.”

“Move!”

Cole complied, heading through the doorway to where he encountered another bruiser of a man with a misshapen face. He, too, was an overdressed weapons pack rat, though he maintained his distance from them. Cole gave the man a half-hearted two-handed salute and continued his nauseating trek down the hallway.

“Sure is a noisy operation you guys got going here,” Cole said, his head pounding from the machining sounds thundering up ahead. He hated how much it hurt to speak. “I hope you’re all following OSHA guidelines by supplying everyone with earplugs.”

“Shut up, hero,” the brute mocked. “Just keep walking.”

Cole’s shoulder glanced against the wall as he staggered on. With a smirk, he said, “Ah, so my reputation precedes me. Is my pretty face so recognizable?”

“Mostly your worth,” came the cryptic response, followed by a buffoonish chuckle.

“What about my ship?” Cole asked, glad to have him talking. “You guys parked it somewhere safe, right? No joyriding? I’m a cheap tipper when it comes to careless valets.”

A sharp pain in Cole’s kidney dropped him to the floor once more. The butt of a rifle slammed inches from his face, his ears ringing from the impact. He held his breath, teeth clenched as he awaited his thrashing.

“No more talking.” A massive hand gripped under Cole’s shoulder and hoisted him to his spaghetti legs. “More walking.”

Cole nodded, though he watched the brute take several precautionary steps away to walk beside his ugly cohort. He mantled his tender side as the march of shame continued. He was directed toward a large opening into an expansive warehouse filled with tiered levels of expansive platforms that held spacecrafts of all shapes, sizes, and makes. Some were newer, expensive models; a couple bore striking resemblance to Military vessels. Most, however, were in some form of disrepair or in the process of being deconstructed. Crude machines were tending to them, surgically cutting them up, the parts methodically removed and placed into bins that were carted off to somewhere deep inside the plant. Almost no humans were to be seen.

As he marched through the facility, Cole struggled to cover his ears, and mercifully the two men turned him toward a section of office space. A familiar shape and chrome finish in the sea of metal caught the corner of his squinted eyes as he stepped through the open doorway. He came to an abrupt halt.

Oh, there she is.

Even with its extensive damage, the Icarus was gorgeous amongst the rust and spare parts that were the surroundings ships. She was a gleaming beacon of hope and freedom—and mostly whole. To his relief, some of the automated machines were tending to the destroyed wing. Seeing the cargo vessel injected a little more strength into Cole’s legs. Seeing Lin brightened his spirits even further. The distinctive, pale man and his seedy entourage behind her, not so much.

The door behind him slammed closed, muting most of the noise. Cole sighed, glad to be rid of one of the many chisels digging into his skull. He grabbed the nearest chair and laid his head down on the smelly surface of the table next to it.

“Hey Doc,” he said through his folded arms.

The clomping of approaching boots ended with a new voice—one surprisingly gentle but gravelly. “No need,” the man said. “I expect no manners from Cole Musgrave.”

“Shh!” Cole snapped. “Trying to sleep.”

There was a moment of intense, dangerous silence before the man in charge laughed an “I’ll-play-along-for-now” type of laugh. “You can sleep when you’re dead.”

The grating sound of chair legs against the floor replaced the horrid sound they had left behind. Cole slammed both bare palms on the table and pushed up. Then he slouched back in his chair and finally gave his host a once-over. A pair of stained goggles rested atop a widow’s peak of short, disheveled, graying hair. Deep lines creased a broad, sloping forehead. The lines continued down the side of his pockmarked face and ended in deep-set crow’s feet. His eyes were barely more than slits, and as he seemed to consider his captive, he licked his dried, cracked lips.

“I should thank you for killing my boss...” He gestured toward Cole. “...your brother.”

Oh, great... The Ravens.  Cole wiped a fresh trickle of blood that had seeped into the corner of his eye. “I guess that would make me your new boss.”

The man grunted in slight amusement, interlocking his thick, heavily calloused hands before him. “I’m afraid not.”

Cole sighed. “Fine.  Then what’s your name and your game? All this preamble is making my headache worse.”

The narrow star was intense. “You’ll refer to me as Quaid, and I’ll be your handler for the time being.”

“Handler? Do you train boxers down in this shithole?”

“We specialize in bargaining,” Quaid said. “Mostly we’re in the business of––

“Chop shop,” Cole finished. “One of Jude’s former side businesses.”

Quaid nodded. “That we are. And how fortunate for us that you happened to heed our little distress beacon. Unfortunate for you and your lady friend.”

What about my other friend? Cole wondered. He glanced around the room to see if Triston was there. He wasn’t, and he feared the worst for the assassin. His sight settled on a terrified Lin, and he looked away from her, ashamed. “You looking to sell us off to a group of trillionaire cannibals? Maybe even hand us back over to our lovely government to finish carrying out our multiple life sentences?”

Quaid was shaking his head the entire time. “No, I’m afraid it’s much worse than that.” He sported a grisly grin. “It’s true that pretty much the whole of the System is vying for a piece of your hide, but not everyone is willing to pay what Black Dwarf is offering.”

Well, shit... They don’t waste any time. “Hm. I’ll bet Terracom would’ve paid even more, had I not aided in eliminating them as a whole. Sorry about cutting into your bottom line, Q.”

Quaid unlocked his fingers and drew his flattened hand upward in a slicing motion. A thin, holographic screen appeared between them, drawing Cole’s attention. The image showed a small fleet carving a path through a planet’s atmosphere. He knew the planet was earth, the fleet, Black Dwarf.

“We’ll make due with their generous offer,” Quaid said.

“So why bring me out here if you’re only going to pass me off to the most dangerous entity in the universe?” Cole asked, tired of the power play. “Gloating only works if you and the opposing person have a history.”

Quaid nodded in agreement. “I want you to activate the artificial intelligence known as CAIN.”

Cole blinked.

“Your lovely companion is reluctant to share details,” Quaid continued. “I figured you might be willing to divulge said information if I were to disclose the details of her future.”

“I can’t help but think that nothing I say will secure her a positive future,” Cole countered. “Besides, only I can work with Cain.”

“You let me worry about that,” Quaid said. “Worry about yourself.”

Cole entered his Corner. He glanced back at Lin, then returned his attention to Quaid, thumbing in her direction. “Is she part of the deal with Black Dwarf?”

A wicked grin spread across Quaid’s ugly face. “We have...other plans for her. After you comply with my request. I felt it only right that she give you a proper send off before embarking on her new career.”

“Ah. I see.” Cole nodded and sighed. “Alright, you got me. I’ll help you. Here, let me give you the keys to my ship.” Reaching underneath his untucked shirt and into his waistband, he withdrew the swiped plastol and shot Quaid between the eyes. The man slumped back in his chair, Cole stood and spun, killing the man closest to Lin before pointing the sizzling hot barrel up under his own chin. Weapons raised all around, but just as he had anticipated, nobody fired.

“Anybody touches the good doctor, I decorate this ceiling with my scorched brain bits.”

The remaining men stared in shock and confusion, their eyes darting between him and their fallen leader. The muffled grinding and whirring of the automated machinery filled what would have been silence.

Cole counted the men in the room, subtracting the one who was slipping out the door. He took a step toward the group. “You alright, Doc?”

Lin’s saucer eyes stared, but she did give the slightest of nods.

“Come over here by me.”

The original brute who had kicked Cole in his ribs braved a step forward, causing Lin to hesitate. “This can’t happen.”

Cole glowered. “It is, and you will.” He took a breath to calm himself. “This wouldn’t be happening had you kept your distance from me the entire time.” Cole waggled the sidearm that was burning his flesh. “But you were so very nice to lend me a helping hand and allow me access to your arsenal. Now you’re gonna tell me where our other crew member is, and you’re gonna let us go.”

The brute’s features read as “no,” but he opened his mouth with a different response. “There weren’t any other crew members.”

Before Cole could lambast the man, Lin’s nodding stole his attention. “Triston escaped in the attack,” she said, her voice soft and quiet from the Rook in her trembling hands.

That slippery little shit! “Alright. Fine. One less concern of ours.” He gestured his head for Lin to approach him, but the brute took another tentative step.

Cole saw red, and he was ready to die in a blaze of glory. “One more step, and you’ll never learn how it is I’m doing you all a huge favor.”

The brute’s face screwed up. “What?”

Cole sighed, impatient. “You’re halfway to the answer, genius. That any of you didn’t shoot either us right after I gave Quaid, here, a third eye tells me you understand the severity of this situation. Just not the full scope. If I die, Black Dwarf forgoes your little unicred agreement and tears apart this little operation before bathing in everyone’s blood. Now, if you don’t let Lin and me take my Icarus off this waterlogged mess of a planet, I promise you that I will not hesitate to end myself in order to tug the Dwarf’s beard. If you do as I’m telling you, BD will ignore this place and follow me instead.”

As the brute contemplated Cole’s words, the hologram indicated Black Dwarf fleet had reached Earth’s surface and were penetrating the raging storms. It was only a matter of time before they arrived to claim their prize.

“What if I call your bluff?” the brute asked.

Cole’s grin was malicious. “My evil mother was stupid enough to play games with me before I shot her in the face, strapped explosives to her body, and detonated them. Shit, I shot my brother on live television, don’t you remember? I’m a fucking legend! What makes you think I won’t add vengeful suicide to my list of accolades?”

The brute glanced back at the others for support. He received none––only blank stares.

“Tick-tock, big boy,” Cole said. “Better make a decision before I do.”

There was a pallor beneath the sheen of sweat on the brute’s face. His panicked stare moved from Lin to Cole. “You would abandon her to handle the fallout?”

Cole shrugged. “It isn’t her you should be worried about, pal. She’s smarter than all of you dolts combined. I’ve no doubt she’ll use my death as an opportunity to escape off this sewer and live to fight another day. Can’t say the same for the lot of you.”

An overhead alarm was the final straw needed to break the Ravens’ backs. Pandemonium erupted, most of the room’s occupants fleeing. Cole watched the mini exodus with great intrigue. His plan had worked far better than he could’ve anticipated. Only the rib-kicker remained, his rusted rifle pointed at the floor in defeat. Cole pointed his stolen plastol sidearm at him but did not pull the trigger.

“You best get to stepping, friend.”

The brute dropped his rifle and bolted for the door, leaving Cole and Lin alone. Cole limped to the rifle and attempted to retrieve it, but Lin completed the simple task for him. The massive, sludge-ridden weapon was out of place in her delicate hands. It made Cole smile.

He held out his arm for her to take, though it was more for his own support. Lin accepted, and Cole winked. “Shall we?”

13 NOXIOUS

“There’s no sign of them.”

Cole joined Lin near the railing that overlooked the entire plant. While the automated machinery continued its tireless work, the humans who would capitalize on the illegal output had disappeared. The weary pilot had expected some of the men to board the ships within walking distance to avoid Black Dwarf, but they had either hidden or escaped into the storm.

“Scattered like cockroaches,” Cole said, turning back to the Icarus. He ignored the obvious issue of the unfinished wing. The repairs continued, just as the surrounding ships continued to be disassembled. “C’mon. We need to do our own vanishing act. Fast.”

Even as they entered the bridge, it was clear they were too late. The roar of the perpetual hurricane outside now thundered ten-fold as the dock door permitting Black Dwarf opened. The small fleet landed just out of view of Cole and Lin; they used these dwindling moments to set coordinates before starting the engine.

Only to be reminded the ship was crippled.

Even before Cole could utter a choice curse, the sudden silence of machinery outside the ship kept him mum. He looked at Lin, who was clearly thinking the same thing about Black Dwarf and their surprisingly proactive attempt to quell a disintegrating situation.

“Cain, are you there?”

The AI did not respond.

“Guess he heeded my advice,” Cole joked, not finding it funny in the least.

“What do you propose we should do?” Lin asked, her Rook hovering beside Cole’s face. “We’re two against a small army of––”

“Three.”

Cole drew his stolen sidearm so fast that he pulled a neck muscle pointing it at his unexpected target. It was the same man who had slipped away from the room during his discussion with Quaid, a menacing rifle slung over his broad shoulder. The man’s face had been shadowed by a thick hood and scarf then. He removed them now, and a familiar voice now matched his familiar face.

“Rig?”

“Nugget.”

Cole lowered his weapon, though he was no less confused. “What the—? How in the––? Where did you—? What?

Rig burst into laughter, full of mirth and amusement. He pushed back his hood to reveal the shock of skunked white hair on the side of his head. He pointed a thick finger at the viewport screen. “Later. Psychos first.”

Adding another member to their doomed crew, Cole was hardly relieved. “Agreed, but unless you know something I don’t, I doubt this place has any sort of sophisticated security which will eliminate our guests. And let’s not forget the damaged wing....”

A heavy sack dropped to the floor with a thunk, silencing Cole. One of the objects within rolled out, and Cole retrieved it, his confusion mounting.

“A gasmask?”

“Masks,” the mechanic said, emphasizing the “s.” He produced a key and reached to unlock Cole from his bindings. “Enough for the three of us.”

“Thanks. But I count four,” he said, rubbing his sore wrists before rummaging through the sack. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Rig shrugged. “Just put it on.” He grabbed one for himself. “Before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” Lin asked.

“The poisonous gas I’ve unleashed on this place,” Rig said as though he’d done no more than comment on the weather. “It’s in the ventilation system, and it’ll kill anyone who breathes it.” He slid the bulky mask over his own head and pulled it tight before giving it a slap. “It’ll eventually get in here, too,” he continued in a muffled voice, “so I suggest you both start suckin’ filtered life.”

Neither Cole nor Lin needed any extra urging. Before Cole don the mask, Lin handed him the archaic Pince-Net AR glasses. He nodded his thanks, grateful she had collected them after he had lost consciousness. He wiped them clean on his shirt and clipped them on the bridge of his nose, waiting to make sure they still functioned before strapping the gas mask overtop.

“How long before the?” Cole asked, feigning choking.

“Not long,” Rig said. “But they have to breathe it in first. I only just released it before comin’ aboard.”

Cole was shaking his head. “You two have a lot of explaining to do, if we survive this.”

“Survival would’ve been guaranteed had you not gone and pulled a Musgrave on Quaid back there,” Rig said, chuckling. “Improvisation, Nugget. I had a better plan in place before you did what you do best. I was gonna intervene once you were brought aboard this ship to activate the AI. The choppers would’ve been spread out....”

“And easier to manage,” Cole finished, staring nervously at the viewport screen. He was unable to get a good read on where the Black Dwarf members were. “Time still would’ve been tight. How were you planning on ditching BD?”

“There’s another way outta here.”

Oh!

“I’d planned on slipping you out that way before those crazy bastards got here.”

Oh... “Just me?”

The briefest of awkward moments passed before Rig scowled and shook his head.

Cole shot Lin a fleeting glance, which she met before looking away. “Were you always going to unleash your noxious plague on our radical zealots?”

Rig’s nod came much quicker than his shake. “Gotta quiet the blabbers somehow.”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that, Rigsy.” He yanked on the flight jacket that had been resting on his chair and checked to make sure his stolen plastol was tucked into his waistband. “There’s just one minor problem with your original plan.”

Rig waited.

“My ship’s wing.”

“What about it?”

“Other than still being mostly unattached?” Cole asked, suddenly very uncomfortable. “Were you also planning on boarding all of us on one of the other junk ships in here? ‘Cause this bird ain’t going nowhere till they’re gone––dead or otherwise.”

Rig sighed. “Yes. There’s another ship. Satisfied?”

“Not particularly,” Cole said, taking a step closer toward Lin.

The mechanic’s eyes darted between Cole and Lin. “You don’t trust me, I get it. But I’m your only way off this planet––”

“Wrong,” Cole interrupted. “You’re right––I don’t trust you. How can I, when you magically appear here on earth, free from whatever hellhole cell they had placed you in, and pretending to work, yet again, for my dead brother. I find it impossible that you, of all people, received the same preferential treatment from the president of Research that Lin and I did in order to see us free to help enact her convoluted scheme. If she had, she would’ve at the very least mentioned you in passing. Which she didn’t.

“So that begs the question: just how are you here, supposedly saving the day? Even with my brother dead, I highly doubt the Ravens would ever consider allowing you within a billion light years in their midst. Not after the role you played in bringing Jude down.”

To Cole’s surprise, the corner of Rig’s mouth curled upward into a smirk.

“Nothin’ gets by you, Nugget,” the mechanic said, removing the rifle from his shoulder. He laid it on the ground before him in a gesture of good faith. “I got nothin’ to hide, though now ain’t the time to be discussin’ this. I’ll explain everythin’ once we leave––”

“On the Icarus,” Cole finished. “What you say is fine and dandy, but this so-called plan of yours is getting improvised one more time. Lin and I aren’t leaving on any ship with yours or whoever else’s stink on it.”

Rig shrugged. “Hey, you’re the captain. It wouldn’t be a Cole Musgrave mission without the crew of his ship divin’ face-first into a pile of shit.”

That’s more like the Rig I know, Cole thought, but a few crude words and a gifted rifle would not be enough to ingratiate himself back into his good graces. He waved his pointer finger at Rig in a sign of grudging trust. “To be continued.”

“Whatever you say, pussy.” Rig bent down and retrieved his rifle.

“So,” Cole said, turning back toward the viewport screen, “all we have to do is wait until our Black Dwarf friends drop dead so we can deactivate this facility. Then repairs on my ship’s wing can be completed, and we can rocket back into a solar system that probably knows I’m still alive. Us against everyone.” He faced Lin, their gas masks nearly colliding. “Minus Cain?”

Lin shook her head. “Still offline.”

“Wait,” Rig interjected. “I thought your psycho mother killed your AI brother. Did I miss somethin’?”

“My ‘AI brother’ is having some new growing pains,” Cole said, suddenly experiencing déjà vu over explaining CAIN’s issues. “I guess it’s to be expected when you go from brain jar, to human host, to mystical energy, and back to a smaller brain jar... Don’t ask.”

The whole of the facility went pitch black.

Inside the Icarus was just as dark. Cole waved a hand in front of his face and saw nothing. He drew his plastol. “We need to get out of here.”

“And go where?” Rig demanded. “The place’ll be swarmin’ with them.”

Cole looked to where he thought the mechanic was. “And they’ll all be in here, where we’ll be trapped.”

“He’s right,” Lin said, the glow of her Rook illuminating the trio in a myriad of flashing colors. “They’ll be anticipating us to be holed up in here, and their numbers will give them an advantage. Hiding somewhere in a place they aren’t familiar with will allow the noxious agents to perform.” She faced Rig. “You said it yourself that we will be affected last aboard the Icarus.”

“Shit,” came the voice of the mechanic from the dark. “Can either of you see without her mouthpiece sprayin’ rainbows and givin’ away our location?”

Both Lin and Cole answered, “No.”

Another sigh from Rig. “Guess I’ll be the eyes. Again.”

“Still have those night vision lenses, eh?” Cole asked as he and Lin locked hands. He grabbed hold of the mechanic’s shoulder and followed him toward what he assumed was the stairwell. “Must be nice. All I got is a pair of melted eyeballs and museum-grade glasses. I mean, did you even go to prison? Seems like I’m the only one in our group who actually did hard time.”

“We’ll all be facin’ down gun barrels if we don’t get a move on,” Rig snapped.

“And what makes you think BD didn’t come prepared for a trap?” Cole pressed as he descended the steps. “They’re a paranoid lot, always expecting the worst from humanity. Then again, I’m pretty sure I’m part of the reason for their increased crabbiness. Anyone wanna hear that tale?”

Lin hushed Cole with a finger over his lips, and the remainder of the slow and awkward trek down the steps was in silence. Rig came to a halt at the bottom, and the procession’s light stepping ceased. The quiet and the dark put Cole on edge. He leaned in as close as he could to whisper to the mechanic. “I hope you have an interior layout of this place, because I’d rather we not walk into a dead end.”

The rustling of Rig’s rifle startled Cole. “Won’t be makin’ it that far.”

A beam of light penetrated the darkness. It telescoped through the opened door, into the ship. Footsteps, cautious yet audible in the silence, joined the approaching light. Between the nervous breaths of him and his crew, Cole strained and heard at least three more sets of boots. They were trapped.

Cole drew his plastol and pointed to where he hoped his weapon was aimed at the members of Black Dwarf. He set to drafting an instant message communiqué through his AR eyeglasses, sending it to what he hoped were Lin and Rig’s Ocuent lines.

KaptainKrunch40: Doc. Can that Rook of yours project a light bright enough to temporarily blind someone?

ENIAC-46: Little more than a short burst, but in these conditions, yes, I believe it can cause temporary blindness.

KaptainKrunch40: ENIAC-46? What the...? Never mind. A short burst is good enough for what we need.

UserIDUnknown: Good enough for what, Nugget?

KaptainKrunch40: That’s ‘KaptainKrunch40’ to you, Mr. No-name. And it should be obvious what my intentions are. I suggest you keep that cannon of yours raised and prepare to splatter some BD scum.”

UserIDUnknown: What could go wrong?

Cole gently squeezed Lin’s hand. KaptainKrunch40: Send your Rook in their direction for better effect. Try to avoid the lights, and keep it dark until my command.

He received a confirmation squeeze, followed by the soft hush of the cube as it quietly drifted away in the darkness.

UserIDUnknown: They’re almost inside. Tell me when.

One of the light beams whipped past Rig’s foot, and Cole knew they had to act now. But just as he was about to give the order, he heard a hoarse cough come from the ship’s threshold. The cougher spat and struggled to clear his throat. A pained grunt came next.

And then repair work unexpectedly resumed on the Icarus. The facility remained dark, but the sound of functioning machinery was unmistakable. The roving lights ceased their search near the Icarus and made a sudden about-face toward the commotion.

Cole’s plastol was still pointed toward the open doorway. “Um... What?”

ENIAC-46: Now’s our chance. They’ve gone to investigate the disturbance.

Rig moved toward the open doorway with Cole and Lin in tow. “Gone.”

Cole could feel the mechanic’s rigid stance ease, and that emboldened him. “You heard what the lady said. Lead the way, man of mystery.”

The trio exited the Icarus, but the only noise they heard was that of their ship being repaired. They crept along the ship’s perimeter, and it wasn’t long before they stumbled upon a body.

KaptainKrunch40: Any others?

UserIDUnknown: No.

ENIAC-46: The other members of Black Dwarf just abandoned him?

KaptainKrunch40: Oh, I’m sure they remembered to take his weapons

Cole felt Rig kneel down to inspect the body.

UserIDUnknown: Nugget’s right. Stripped bare of anything useful.

KaptainKrunch40: Well, at least your murder gas is working. It’s only a matter of time before the rest follow.

Cole lifted his hand off of Rig’s shoulder at the very moment a rifle burst passed between him and the mechanic. Cole lunged backward, taking Lin with him to the ground. Though their surroundings were briefly illuminated, a residual white line yet obstructed Cole’s vision. A series of quicks blasts stopped him from rubbing his eyes. The heavy thunk of a body dropping put a lump in Cole’s throat.

“That wasn’t Rig who bit it, was it?” he asked

“No,” the mechanic said tensely. “But we’re all about to become Swiss cheese if we don’t get to safety.”

Cole stiffened when a meaty hand grabbed under his arm and yanked him to his feet. He searched for Lin’s soft hand. “I suggest we retreat back to my ship, seeing as they’re already starting to become sick. It won’t be long now.”

“Some of them are wearin’ full EVA suits with respirators,” Rig said. “Who knows how many, but one’s more than enough. Hidin’ ain’t gonna help us now.”

“What about the guy you killed?” Cole asked, forming a plan.

“Too far away; I can’t get his gear,” Rig said, his breathing heavy. “They’re coming.”

The sound of boots pounding in all directions further disoriented Cole in the dark. Impossible odds he could overcome, but take away his eyesight? That was too much, even for a Musgrave. With only so much luck in the multiverse, he had certainly used more than his fair share.

He fell deep into his Corner, closed his eyes, and decided to place the all his faith on an incredible long-shot.

“Take us back anyway,” Cole ordered.

“What?” Rig said, his whisper-voice almost seething. “I thought you two said the ship was a tra––”

“No time to explain.” Cole said. “We’re coming, Cain.”

“Now what’re you doin’?” Rig asked, yanking them back toward the Icarus. “You said your AI boyfriend was hit. Make up your mind.”

“He is ‘hit’,” Cole said, gripping Lin’s hand tightly. “But someone or something resumed the repair work on my ship. And it definitely wasn’t BD.”

ENIAC-46: Why aren’t more of them suffering the effects of the poison?

“I was wondering that very thing,” Cole said, directing the comment at Rig. He had abandoned speaking through Ocunet. “Right now, all that matters is getting––”

Rig shoved them both through the doorway leading aboard the Icarus before answering. “’Cause most of them never bothered to remove their helmets from their suits. I just got a good look at some of ‘em. Like you said, Nugget, they’re a paranoid bunch.”

Cole flinched as Rig slammed and locked the door seconds before the first shots deflected off the ship’s hull. “Get us outta here, Cain!”

There was only darkness, tense breathing, and the distant sounds of the wing repair.

A body slammed against the outer door, startling the trio. Cole’s feet left the ground as he was hauled close toward the mechanic, gas masks colliding.

What’s your plan?

Cole wrestled himself free of Rig’s grasp. “Plan’s aren’t going to save us now. What we need is an AI miracle.”

There was a much louder crash against the door, this one sounding like the butt of a rifle. There were more to come.

“If CAIN had decided to assist us,” Lin said through her Rook, causing Cole and Rig to squint, “wouldn’t the ship be up and running by now?”

Multicolored apparitions of Lin and Rig remained in Cole’s vision as the Rook went dark. He had no answer to her question—only a gut feeling. “The cargo bay. Jensen will have loaded weapons for us. It’s our only chance.”

Rig swore loud enough to scare off a grizzly bear, then led them toward the cargo bay. Lin had activated her Rook to emit a soft white glow, and Cole figured she had decided there was no point in trying to hide now. They were truly trapped, and three sets of eyes searching for weapons were better than one.

Cain, Cole said through what he hoped was some sort of mental rapport. It had worked in the past, but he’d be damned if he knew how to initiate such an ability. He tried again as he followed Lin’s light to the nearest palette. Cain, can you hear me? The Icarus was a solid fortress against their enemy, but he knew not even she would be able to keep Black Dwarf at bay forever. I know you started the repairs out there. Now we need you to help us a little more.

No response.

Cole was starting to believe the repair work of the machines was little more than a fortuitous malfunction. He focused on searching for the weapons; if he was going down, he would take out as many members of Black Dwarf as he could.

“Nothin’!”

“Keep searching!” Cole shouted at Rig. “There’s gotta be something we can use to defend ourselves. Jensen practically sent us off to war.”

“True,” Lin said, her voice strangely calm. “But her crew never had a chance to finish loading before the attack.”

I hate it when’s she’s right. “I don’t care if the three of us have to lob a case of autocannon shells at them. Just find something!”

The search ended prematurely as the door leading into the Icarus finally gave way. The crash meant the end for Lin and Rig, but not for him. For him, his short life would be comprised of unimaginable pain before he finally met his maker.

Cole drew his only means of defense: the stolen plastol from Quaid. It seemed the deceased Raven had gotten his wish after all. He spun with Rig toward the door with no lock, their weapons ready.

They waited for death.

14 TURNCOAT

“Why aren’t they comin’?”

“Eager to die, Solomon?”

The mechanic chuckled nervously. “Better dead, than to be stuck with your sorry ass, Musgrave.”

THOOM!

Cole nearly squeezed his trigger at the sudden blast. He cast Rig a cursory glance and saw that he was thinking the same thing. “What the fuck?”

“Who’re they shootin’ at?” Rig demanded. “You got someone else stowed away on this boat?”

Cole shook his head, sweat stinging his eyes. He struggled to keep focus on the beam of light Lin’s Rook cast upon the door. “I don’t. What about you, Doc?”

“Triston was the only other––”

THOOM! THOOM!

Cole’s eyes widened at the double rifle blast. He could hear angry, confused shouts from men and women, their sharp screams penetrating the reinforced steel walls. Several more blasts sounded, and the chaos reached a fevered pitch. It was surreal, as though he was listening from a distant location through his comm.

Rig stomped his foot. “Shit! It’s a goddamn war zone in there. What do we do?”

The mechanic’s unease was contagious, and Cole’s plastol trembled in his hand as he sat and waited for the conflict to come to him. The infamous part of him wanted to go and investigate, but the common sense that inspired fear kept him put.

“Wait for them to finish killing each other. Then we might stand a chance.”

Rig snorted. “You first. I’ll hang back here behind one of these crates with your girlfriend.”

Cole’s smirk died on his face when the “war zone” suddenly went silent. He resumed his vigilant aim at the door, expecting visitors at any moment. But seconds turned to minutes, and his insatiable curiosity began to get the better of him.

“Either whoever’s left is hoping we’ll be stupid enough to investigate the carnage,” Cole began in as quietly as he could, “or they’re still searching the upper floor for us. Or they went home and called it a day.”

Rig shook his head. “Is it too much to hope for number three?”

Cole rolled his eyes.

“Initial ship scans are detecting limited movement,” Lin said.

“‘Limited movement’,” Cole repeated. “That means...wait. How can you possibly know that? Did Jensen give you X-ray lenses I don’t know about?”

Lin’s Rook hovered near Cole. “My Rook can detect slight, discernible vibrations in conjunction with human movement and activity within a certain radius. It’s not perfect, but reliable. Unfortunately there’s no way to know for sure if the movement is from those still patrolling the ship or the dying.”

Cole sighed, his chin resting on his chest in resigned acceptance. “Only one way to find out. Time to put on your sleuthing hats, kiddies. The game is afoot.”

“Go right ahead,” Rig urged. “I’m content with waiting right here, thank you very much.”

“And if someone sneaks up from behind you?” Cole asked. “Have you forgotten about the entrance to the cargo hold from the rear? A crafty BD zealot could have easily located it in the time since the shootout ended.”

“Alright, alright! I’m comin’.” Rig readjusted his rifle and stepped beside Cole. “I’ll bring up the rear.”

Cole slapped the mechanic’s shoulder appreciatively. “What a guy.”

“The movement seems to be fading,” Lin said, still on topic.

“And you’re sure it’s not just detecting us?” Cole asked.

Lin nodded. “I’ve calculated it so the readings come from outside our radius.”

“Then let’s get going before anything else changes or someone gets away to grab reinforcements.”

The trio tiptoed their way toward the door leading to the stairwell and elevator. Stealth was not Cole’s forte; he preferred kicking in doors to slinking in shadows. While his approach was tense and slow-going, Rig was surprisingly adept at covert maneuvers.

When they reached the closed door outside the room housing the generators and bulkhead, they stopped for a final listen. With the silence and no change in Lin’s readouts, they decided to take their chances.

Cole grabbed the handle and heaved open the door. He grabbed Lin’s Rook, and threw it inside before closing it again.

“Blind them!”

Despite the door, the flash of light that escaped into the cargo bay was intense. Cole didn’t wait to see if Lin and Rig had been smart enough to close their eyes as well. He swung the door wide again and charged, ready to kill anything that moved.

Lin’s Rook indicated there was no movement. Entrenched deeply into his Corner and riding high on his adrenaline rush, Cole was disappointed not to kill his adversaries. There were, however, a dozen or so of their bodies, their weapons yet in slackened grips or just out of reach.

The air was saturated with the reek of death and char, while the distant sounds of the repair continued outside.

Cole tucked the plastol into his waistband and used his foot to slide the nearest rifle toward himself. As he bent down to collect it, he kept his eyes upon the body. Though the dark helmet and visor obscured the victim’s face, the gaping chest wound confirmed a permanent status.

Lin’s Rook hovered past Cole’s head, and he winked at it as he stood. “Well, that was easy.”

Rig grunted in resigned agreement. “Now all we have to do is find the maniacs responsible for this.” He made his way to the door through which Black Dwarf had forced entry. “And hope more of the bastards don’t come to replace them.”

“Personally, I think we should give our BD murdering friends a laurel and hearty handshake,” Cole said, inspecting another Black Dwarf body.  The hole in her chest was identical to the previous soldier’s. In fact, they had all suffered the same end.

“Efficient.”

Cole looked at Lin and nodded. “I agree. Pretty incredible for such close quarters. Our assassins were rather methodical.” He smiled at no one in particular. “And we’re tracking them!”

“Hey, you wanted to come in here,” Rig said, closing the door as best as he could. He collected two more rifles for his collection. “Any chance ‘the enemies of your enemies’ bit it too?”

Cole shook his head. “I only see our black-clad friends in here.” He started for the stairwell leading to the bridge. A large spatter of blood covered the bottom steps, and greasy red handprints were smeared along the wall and railing were leading upward. “But something tells me we’ll be seeing more really soon.”

Rig and Lin joined Cole, and none of them were eager to take the first steps. Cole figured he should lead by example, and the Rook proceeded him by a few feet to light his way, guiding him around the slick spots. Which were many.

A Black Dwarf body was found on the landing leading to the second deck. At the top of the stairwell, there was no blood at all. Cole stopped and urged Lin to dim her Rook. He drew them close to discuss the plan.

“Alright, who or whatever is up there probably knows we’re coming,” he told them. “So same plan as before. Send in Doc’s flash cube and rush in to take them while they’re blind. Sound good?”

They nodded, and Cole removed the plastol from his waistband to hand it over to a gobsmacked Lin. When she didn’t immediately take it, he grabbed her hand and closed her fingers around the handle.

“You good with this?” Cole asked, considering her reaction and how large it looked in her tiny hand. He nearly took it back, recalling the last time she had used one and how horrified she had been by the results.

Lin offered a hesitant nod. “I’ll do what I must.” She secured her grip and tilted the barrel toward the floor. “But I’ll not let you toss my only means of speaking a second time.”

Cole blushed, and his ears burned. “Sorry about that.”

The Rook was barely an ember when began its ascent toward the bridge. Cole could see that Lin was struggling to direct the device in the darkness, and he hoped it wouldn’t hit a wall and obviate their approach.

In his flitting attention, Cole missed Lin’s order to cover his eyes. The Rook blazed, and he was too late to react. Blinking did nothing to restore his vision, and he hoped the damage wasn’t permanent.

“Gah! I’m starting to feel bad for whoever just saw that,” Cole said.

Rig groaned. “You looked at it?”

“Not my finest moment. I’ll just shoot wherever the bad guys make a sound.”

“Well, the element of surprise is out the window.”

“It may not matter,” Lin said. “My three-hundred-and-sixty-degree imaging from the flash revealed no movement or signs of life.”

Cole nodded blindly. “That means whoever came this way retreated into the Bar, living quarters, or the med bay.” He imagined Lin and Rig nodding at his assessment.

“Just a minute....”

Cole turned in the direction of Lin’s voice. Something about the way she had spoken gave him pause. “What is it?”

“I think I may have discovered our culprit.”

“You don’t sound concerned,” Rig said. “Hey! Where’re you goin’?”

Cole reached to where he thought Lin had been, but he missed and nearly fell. “Doc, hold on. I don’t know what you think you see, but it’s not safe.”

“My visuals say otherwise.”

I’m rubbing off on her, Cole thought. Not good. He clutched at the railing and used it guide him up the stairs. He stumbled at the top, miscalculating one too many steps. The field of white that was his vision was beginning to dim, only to reveal that he was still in total darkness.

“Can somebody please point me in the right direction? Oof!” Cole’s flailed when he was shoved from behind.

“You’re welcome, Nugget.”

Cole was about to curse out the mechanic when Lin’s Rook cast a spotlight on a blurry and crumpled body lying on the threshold of the bridge and the Bar. “Black Dwarf?”

“Yes.”

“A traitor?” Rig asked.

“He must’ve taken a fatal wound while turning on his cohorts,” Cole considered.

“But these assholes are as brainwashed as they come,” Rig asserted. “What would make this guy suddenly go apeshit?”

Now that is a good question, Cole thought. “He was starstruck. You know, from seeing me. He got tired of doing his god’s bidding and decided to switch over to the dark side. On top of that, he probably wanted to impress his hero by killing all his BD competitors vying to join my fan club.”

Rig chuckled.

“No.”

Cole shook his head. “Doc, it was a joke.”

“I wasn’t referring to your comment.”

The hair stood up on the back of Cole’s neck, and he raised his rifle. “Alright. What makes you believe this guy isn’t a traitor?”

Lin’s Rook focused the light on the hole in the dead man’s chest. Their killer was still on the loose.

Nobody moved. They were completely vulnerable to an enemy with deadly precision. Cole approached the situation as best he could.

“Please don’t shoot holes in our chests,” he said voiced. “We hate Black Dwarf almost as much as you do.”

“Almost?” Rig asked.

Cole shrugged. “I don’t want this person to think we mean to interfere with his ethnic cleansing.” He pretended not to hear Lin sigh.

“You are not in any danger, Captain.”

Cole spun with his rifle toward the source of the unfamiliar female voice: the twin pilot’s chair near the viewport screen.

The Rook’s light fell upon a hand visible on the armrest.

“You best stay seated, friend,” Cole warned, ready to turn his flight chair into a stool. “This doesn’t have to get any bloodier than it already is.”

“Agreed,” the woman said.

“Good, good...” Cole started to move in closer, motioning for Rig to approach the opposite side of the chair. Lin stayed near the middle to prevent the woman’s escape.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” the woman said in a remorseful voice. “I had not anticipated any of this.”

Cole frowned. “How do you know I’m a captain? And what, exactly, did you not anticipate?”

Her heavy breathing was her response, and Cole tried to get a better look at her. The light of the Rook further silhouetted her from behind, but he could see she donned a Black Dwarf uniform.

“I killed them all without abandon,” the woman continued, “An anomaly, to be certain. I had to do something to rectify the situation. I...I was just not prepared for the influx of physical emotion, having already attempted a similar feat.”

“What the...?” Rig questioned. “The bitch knock herself stupid or somethin’?”

“Or something,” Cole replied. He could see the discarded rifle at her feet, smoke still trailing from the barrel. She was trembling.

“You’re not making any sense,” Cole said, stopping just shy of reaching her. “Help me out, here. You still haven’t answered my first question. How do you know I’m a captain?”

The woman stood abruptly, and Cole nearly blew her head off. She turned to face them, unarmed, tears streaming down her comely face. She smiled, despite what her reddened features showcased.

“Captain, it’s me. Cain.”

15 STUNTED

CAIN. The Cryorganic Artificially Intelligent Nanobiotechnological brainchild marvel of Dr. Lin Dartmouth had always been a male in Cole’s eyes. CAIN had never been assigned a gender for two reasons. The first was to prevent its advanced learning system from entering fully into the human spectrum. The second was to eliminate potential confusion associated with gender-related social norms and behavior. CAIN was created as androgynous, right down to its voice, but Cole had changed all that by referring to the AI as “he.”

Now “he” was a “she.”

And she stood before them, under the judgmental glow of Lin’s Rook. It was impossible for Cole to know the range of emotion coursing through her mind, but his confusion was quite obvious—and bothersome. He considered CAIN a friend and an equal, despite the lack of a living, breathing shell that defined humanity. Lin had crafted a sentient AI being which thought and acted as a human would. In his mind, that was as good as the real thing.

But Cole’s perspective took a radical shift the moment CAIN showed up as a woman—a young, strong woman nearly equal in height. Her femininity blessed her with curves in all the right areas, and she had a lean and attractive face the same mocha hue as his. Neck-length wavy jet locks swayed with the same grace as her body did when she moved. Round, intelligent, chestnut-hued eyes were set on him, making concentration nearly impossible.

He looked at Lin, hoping she might have something scientific to say to negate his feelings of sexual attraction. But she gazed at CAIN with just as much awe.

“Penny for your thoughts, Doc?”

Lin blinked and shook her head. “Perhaps you should ask her.”

Damnit! “Right. Gotcha. Ask ‘her’.” He sighed. “Um, Cain––”

“There are still members of Black Dwarf nearby, Captain.”

Double damnit! “How many?”

“A few dozen or so,” CAIN said. “It’s difficult to gauge in this darkened setting. Though it is clear they have surrounded the ship.”

Cole’s mouth twisted. “They’re probably wondering how to storm the castle without ending up like their zealot counterparts. They’re willing to sacrifice themselves, but they’ve already lost their first wave of grunts. Better for them to play it safe with their prizes aboard.”

“Indeed, Captain.”

Cole cringed. That voice is really messing with my head. “That works to our advantage. For now, at least. They’re gonna get bored out there, waiting for us. Sooner or later they’ll take the risk and realize they have the advantage.”

Lin stepped forward. “CAIN, do you have an ETA on the wing repair’s completion?”

CAIN faced her, causing Lin to take a step back, closer to Cole. “Barring any interruptions, Maker––approximately one hour, twenty-six minutes, and fourteen seconds.”

“Shit!” Cole said, punching his palm. Then a thought occurred to him. “Alright, how ‘bout this... How long before the wing is stable enough to maintain flight and interstellar travel?”

Those large, captivating eyes fell upon Cole again, and he swallowed hard. Despite the obvious differences, it was impossible for him to not think of the female form the Sentinel had taken in capturing him. “That is difficult to answer. Multiple factors come into play. Presently, the wing is partially secure and functional, but any long-term stress will put the ship in jeopardy.”

Cole clapped his hands together and pointed at her. “Good! Keep those repairs coming until we jump off this water world.”

“Captain, risking departure now would be most unwise,” the AI cautioned. “It is impossible to know when structure fatigue and malfunction would occur.”

“Hey, unless you’re going to step outside and handle the rest of those BD bastards, I say we make a break for it. One thing I know for certain is that we’re all done if we allow them the opportunity to march aboard.” He shook his head vehemently. “And I’m not letting them take me.”

She smiled at Cole and gave him a nod of acceptance. “Very well. I trust you.”

Cole and Lin shared another look. He clicked his tongue. “Are there any other miraculous feats you had programmed into my buddy?”

“She’s well past my expertise at this point,” Lin replied, and Cole cringed again.

“Alright, no more ménage à trois in there, kids,” Rig said from outside Cole’s room. He added a few pounds of his fist on the door for added effect. “Time to get this boat in the ocean.”

Cole nodded, and smirked. “We’re almost ready, big boy. We just need to...” He turned to CAIN. “You can get my Icarus up and running, right?” He recalled the long period when the AI had been dormant and unable to assist.

CAIN rubbed her hands together. “I can.”

“I sense a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Cole said, bothered by the AI’s sudden unease.

“Transitioning over to this latest physical form has stunted my abilities.”

Cole blinked. “Um, stunted how?”

CAIN looked away. “Now is not the best time to discuss my shortcomings.”

“Hey!” Rig interrupted, entering the room. “How ain’t she affected by that poison gas I unleashed? She should be showin’ symptoms already.”

Cole could not answer, but Lin decided to try, given CAIN’s sudden shyness.

“Perhaps her resistance has something to do with the Extant Energy which helped keep her alive in open space.”

“Astute as always, Maker,” CAIN said. “And I fear that my connection to the energy has also become my bane.”

“Hence your stunted abilities,” Cole surmised. He sighed. “So, I’m guessing we have to keep these godforsaken masks on until further notice.”

CAIN faced Cole again. “That is correct. Keep the masks on until this ship’s filtration system processes the affected air for at least a couple of cycles.”

Rig grunted, and Cole tasted the salty bead of the sweat that had seeped into the crook of his mouth. “Didn’t calculate that into your original escape plan, eh Rigsy?”

“I never planned on riding this bird outta here.”

Ah, that’s right, Cole remembered. You were looking to sneak me away on your own questionable terms, to an endpoint yet to be revealed. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten that you still owe us lots of answers.”

Another grunt from Rig—this one more dismissive.

Then it became eerily quiet.

“Repairs have ceased, Captain. I am unable to restart them.”

Lin collected Cole’s hand. “We can’t allow them to inflict any more damage upon the wing.”

Cole squeezed Lin’s hand and addressed CAIN directly, despite how uncomfortable it made him feel. “Stunted or not, we need you to get my ship up and running so we can make a break for it. BD probably thinks that our ship is permanently grounded, but they’re unaware we’ve got you.”

CAIN glanced down at Cole’s joined hand before answering. “Understood.”

Lights were restored to the Icarus in an instant.

Lin breathed sharply. “They’re coming....”

“Get those engines burning, Cain!” Cole ordered. “Everyone, on the bridge with me. We’re getting out of here. Dead or alive.

The Icarus exploded to life.

Well, Cain’s doing fine so far, Cole thought as he collected his belt with the dual plastols and exited his quarters. Lin’s hand was still in his, and he was nearly dragging her along on account of his fast pace.

“That door won’t hold forever,” Rig reminded as Cole joined his side. “Even with the magnetic seal in effect. Not sure it’s safe for this boat to survive in a vacuum.”

“We’ll deal with any issues as they come. Right now we’re taking off in the eye of a Black Dwarf storm, then out into a real one.”

“They’ve begun their assault on the door,” Lin said, her Rook leading the way to the bridge. “They’re having little affect on the reinforced shield.”

“They’ll change tactics soon enough,” Rig promised.

“We won’t give ‘em the chance,” Cole said as he neared his flight chair. “Cain, get us airborne. I’m gonna be busy preparing BD’s going away present.”

No response.

“Cain?” Cole looked over his shoulder as he sat down. The AI had stopped to kneel beside the fallen Black Dwarf member. Her hand was resting upon the dead man’s chest. “Cain, this isn’t the time to be sentimental with the enemy.”

CAIN’s silence continued. Cole was ready to shout, but something cautioned him against it.

“Fuck him...her, it, whatever,” Rig said, flustered. He sat down in the copilot’s chair and pointed at the viewport screen. “Get us out of here!”

“Guess I’ll have to multitask,” Cole said, adjusting his AR glasses. He engaged the manual controls with one hand and set to the second task with the other. As he cleared the viewport screen for a full view, the Icarus came face-to-face with two approaching blood-red Black Dwarf fighter ships.

“Shit, Steiners!” Rig cried.

“Where?” Cole asked grinning malevolently as he unleashed the full force of the auto cannon upon the unsuspecting fighters. They were shredded to bits along with most of the safety railing along the edge of the platform.

Rig laughed maniacally. “Damn, Nugget! You haven’t lost your touch.”

Cole gripped the thruster and flight yoke. “Or my focus.” As he prepared for takeoff, a warning sensor flashed in the corner of the viewport screen.

“There’s been a breach,” Lin said.

Never ever easy. Cole pushed the throttle forward, and the Icarus literally jumped off the platform, incinerating the majority of the Black Dwarf members who had tried to board.

The ship dipped low, but the Icarus was a relatively light vessel, and its engines were powerful enough to create lift the moment it hit free-fall. Cole maneuvered through the tight confines, working his way to where he assumed the hangar exit was located.

“How bad?”

“Minimal damage,” Lin said in response to Cole’s question. “However, there is a hole. No larger than the tip of a finger, but the damage continued through to the airlock and managed to penetrate that barrier as well.” She faced him with a grim countenance. “We will be unable to halt the venting of atmosphere.”

“Add it to the list of things to worry about later.” Cole slowed the Icarus before the sealed bay door and prepared the necessary weapons. He had a ridiculous vision of living out the remainder of his days wearing the gas mask. If he didn’t freeze to death first.

“If there is a later,” Rig added. He pointed to where one of the grounded Black Dwarf ships––a weaponized transport vessel––was readying its mounted cannons to fire.

Cole targeted and fired first. The missile didn’t destroy the transporter, but it did inflict significant damage. He didn’t wait to see if they were readying another of their ships for attack. He aimed the next missile at the bay door. It, along with half the surrounding structure, exploded and collapsed in a fiery pile of twisted metal.

The monsoon raging outside was sucked inside, extinguishing the inferno. Cole flew straight into the black deluge, a flash of lightning illuminating his immediate surroundings. He pulled back hard on the yoke and made his ascent. A new warning appeared on the viewport screen, and he didn’t need to reread it to know it was about the wing.

“They’ll be on us before long,” Rig said. “You didn’t get ‘em all.”

“I didn’t?” Cole asked. He winked at the mechanic. “Hold on.”

The Icarus did a half barrel roll and dove hard at the planet’s surface. Once Cole had the facility in his sight, he unleashed the nuke. He waited long enough to see it make contact with the target before resuming his ascent toward the stars.

For a long, blessed moment, the dreary skies of the drowned Earth knew heavenly daylight. The inhabitants would likely pray to their god on account of this omen. Cole smiled, knowing their miracle was Black Dwarf’s perdition.

16 SACRIFICE

Triston awoke with a start, the ghostly image of his sister fading from his thoughts as his nightmare gave way to reality. He was drenched in sweat, as were his sheets. It took him a moment to remember where he was before he finally took a calming breath and lay back down. The woman laying beside him stirred and ran her slender hand across his bare chest.

“Nightmare?”

Triston rested his forearm across his eyes, hating that he had revealed anything of himself. “It’s nothing.”

She rolled onto her side to face him, exposing her naked form as she propped her herself up on her elbow. “Nothing is all you’ve said to me since you up and returned from the abyss.”

“Nothing is all I’ve ever offered to you.” Triston sighed when her hand gently slid between his legs and caressed him.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say ‘nothing’.”  Her tone was playful, and she snuggled up to him.

Triston removed her hand, slid his legs off the side of the bed, and sat up. He clenched his fists and shut eyes, then relaxed. “Not now, Kira.”

“If you’re worried about being unclean, I don’t mind,” Kira said as she knelt behind Triston and worked her hands across his tense shoulders. She pressed her breasts against his back and whispered into his ear, “I’ll take care of you, Rian.”

Triston tensed again, despite her welcomed touch. He leaned back into her loving embrace and allowed her to work out whatever kinks she could. “There’s no saving me this time.”

Kira nibbled his ear and breathed, “Perhaps you’ll allow me to stay with you so I can try.”

The slightest of smiles crept onto Triston’s dour expression. “You won’t like where I may be going, nor my future prospects. It’s safest here for you.”

Kira’s hands ceased kneading, and she leaned back. “Rian. Has something happened?”

He laughed. A cynical laugh, to be sure, but a laugh all the same.

Triston stood and draped his robe around his shoulders. He gazed at the expansive and opulent living space, feeling trapped. “Yes, something has happened. But this particular something is for me to solve on my own.”

“Please let me be a part of your something. Just this once.”

Triston cocked his head partway in her direction at the sincerity in her tone. He cared for Kira––enough to spend exorbitant amounts of unicred to protect her, but he would never include her in the tragedy he now called life.

She was still kneeling on the bed, fully exposed and inviting. Perfection. He was at the bedside again, lured by her unblemished beauty. She pulled away his robe, and her vivid blue eyes lit like a star at his unexpected eagerness. He allowed her to have him once more despite the utter revulsion he had with his current physical condition.

It seemed to be a day of firsts. If it would keep Kira from digging any deeper into his crumbling life, he would abandon his excessively compulsive logic. So he willingly gave himself over to her, knowing this would be their last time together.

~

For the time being, the Ceres outpost––funded entirely by Research––was free of corruption. Now that Triston’s mother was dead, anyone close to her would be phased out of existence. Until that day he was Rian, one of his many alter egos. Rian was a powerful businessman of high repute whose significant funding and unwavering support of Research earned him free reign throughout the division of government. He owned a permanent dwelling in the most expensive––and remote––area of the outpost, where the breathtaking view of both Saturn and Jupiter could be appreciated.

It was in that luxurious section of the outpost that Triston left Kira. Truly, it was her home, as he rarely stayed or even visited except when bereft of work. He had seen to it that Kira lived an extravagant lifestyle, grossly abusing his wealth and power given him by his mother to see her happy. It was the least he could do for her, after stealing her away from her old life and family.

He tried not to think about her as he rode the lift down to meet up with his contact and former partner. As he plummeted the two hundred plus stories to the bottom of the outpost, he took the opportunity to catch himself up with current events. Almost immediately he regretted entering the Ocunet.

Cole Musgrave’s arrogant mugshot was the top story on all the media. His miraculous escape and survival from the prison moon added to his lore. He was a living legend in the eyes of his adoring and forgiving audience—public enemy number one to the rest. There seemed to be no in between.

Except with Triston.

So much for his theory on being considered dead.

Trying his best to sift through the Musgrave deluge, Triston eventually came upon the murder of one President Miranda Jensen and her entourage. A direct tie-in to Cole’s headline-grabbing escapades, though a distant second in terms of ratings. His mother, while unpopular in the eyes of both AMBER and the public, was a president none-the-less. Despite the mounting evidence, it seemed not everyone believed her death to be attributed to Cole’s reckless actions. The conspiracy theorists––correct for once––saw through to the crux of the interstellar scandal: discord and fighting from within AMBER.

And it had everything to do with the Source.

Triston quickly grew tired of the sensationalism and delved deeper into the dark net in the hopes of not discovering his identity. While he could find nothing pertaining to himself directly, grainy and blurry images and videos of his personal fighter were being discussed––to no end––in low-level chat rooms. He exited the Ocunet, only slightly relieved.

When the lift door opened into the bustling world of the general population, Triston shuddered. While always a part of Ceres, he had never had the need to frequent tourist traps. He stepped out of the executive lift and worked his way through the throngs of passersby. He picked the tiniest piece of lint from his shoulder as he slid, untouched, into the sea of humanity. The flow led him past the foul-smelling market and shops selling useless baubles. It wasn’t until he entered a dim, sparse section that his unease lifted slightly.

Plenty of casinos were farther up the outpost––and certainly more accommodating to the affluent community—but they were corporate-run and under intense security. The old saying, “The House always wins,” never rang truer there. Here, amongst the rabble, back room gambling was informal and played with physical cards.

There were also the infamous criminals who frequented the area.

Thanks largely in part to Miranda’s Jensen’s purposeful blind eye to her son’s high-risk escapades, he had been able to conduct his work away from the eyes of Big Brother. As Triston strode into the murky confines of The Booth, he made straight for the furthest corner of the establishment, ignoring the obvious nods, stares, and glowers from those who thought they knew who he was.

Today Triston was Rian Arenson, the ultra-rich and introverted business mogul whose credits ranged far and wide—fake though they were. It was a guise where next to no one recognized his face, devilishly handsome though it was. It had won him Kira’s heart...or at least her incredible body.

His contacts knew Rian, but they were also familiar with the former SolEx director, Arthur T. Forester as well. Arthur was the assassin, and Rian, his handler. Both were one and the same, though no one––outside his deceased mother, her similarly dead security detail, and Cole and Lin––were aware of this fact.

“The brains appears minus the brawn.”

Triston touched his throat to make sure his voice strip was properly applied before speaking. “As long as you recognize who is the smartest person in this room, we can proceed.”

The man who had spoken smiled as empty and calculating a smile as a human being could muster. “Arenson.”

“Denniger.” Triston gave a slight downward dip of his chin in acknowledgement and approached the solitary card table. He unbuttoned his jacket and took the only chair across from the man. Neither seat was back-facing the room’s only door, as both men were quite paranoid. Aside from them, the room was vacant. Ambient sounds from the adjacent rooms were neither too distracting nor too quiet for anyone to listen in.

Not that anyone uninvited to this room would dare to enter.

A sealed deck of playing cards emerged from Denniger’s hand and dropped onto the table with a smack. They slid to the center, begging to be opened. Triston obliged, dreading having to touch anything he hadn’t secured himself. But he was playing a part, and only Arthur T. Forester was a haphephobic.

He purposely fumbled with breaking the seal, then cast the wrapper onto the floor. “I’m sure you can understand why my client chose to remain hidden.”

Denniger shrugged. “And I’m sure you noticed only two chairs.”

Triston nodded and set to shuffling the crisp new cards. “Low tide?”

“High,” Denniger said without hesitation. “I prefer the challenge from the outset.”

“As is expected from a man of your repute. So be it––the moon is soon to be full.”

Triston began to dole out the cards, splitting the deck in half and placing both between them. Then the game began.

“The Jensen line is finished,” Denniger said as he turned over a card from one of the two decks and placed it on the table. “Forester’s well has dried up.”

“So it would seem,” Triston said, a small fire igniting in his stomach. He turned his card over from the appropriate deck and laid it down. “But my client is resourceful and quite capable. Same as you.”

Denniger grunted a laugh. “Which is why he sent you to grovel at my feet for help.”

The fire grew. Triston gazed at Denniger, taking in the forty-something man’s hardened expression. His gaunt and leathery face was crossed with deeply recessed lines, and his long hair was tied back tight enough to reveal the shape of his skull. “As I said earlier, my client chooses to remain hidden whilst this storm blows over.” Triston placed his cards face-down and extended both arms, hands palm-up. “Think of this as a proposition. A brand new business venture where one of the System’s finest cleaners lends his expertise to the fold. A show of solidarity in an otherwise isolated business.”

Denniger’s cobalt eyes stared at Triston as though he were the densest man he’d ever met. “You seriously expect me to take Forester under my wing and allow him to work for me?”

Triston blinked. “Who said anything about under? My client is easily your equal in skill and reputation. A mutual partnership would be in order, I would think.”

“You presume too much, Suit,” Denniger said with considerable contempt. “If he’s so fucking special, why doesn’t he just go rogue and prove to everyone that he’s my so-called equal.”

Triston picked up his cards and opened his mouth to reply, but Denniger continued.

“Oh, that’s right... His golden parachute melted.” He flipped another card, dropped it sloppily on the table and added one from his own pile to the growing circle. “And what about you? Arenson, is it? Mysterious businessman with a criminal history harder to trace than my own. Why don’t you help your lost puppy and go into business with him. The two of you’d be a perfect match. You supply the blood while he slowly sucks you dry.”

Triston pulled his card and placed it next to his smaller circle. It took every fiber of his being not to flip over the table and press both Denniger’s eyes deep into his skull. “If only such a decision were so simple. My criminal history is nonexistent because it doesn’t exist. Unlike with you, my business dealings are all on the up-and-up, carefully transacted through the proper business channels, whilst my extracurricular ventures are dealt legally with subordinates who meet with their subordinates and eventually complete said deals though another organization altogether.

“But you might wonder what would possess me to visit you, in the dangerous back halls of a slum. My clientele reach far and wide, rich and poor, benevolent and...not so benevolent. I am a lawyer, after all. Though I meet with you right now, it means nothing in the eyes of those potentially looking to sack me. You’re no one with no ties to anything of note, outside your memories of past jobs. Zero paper trail and no physical identity. I am a person of significant import, with an extensive résumé and everything to lose, though I make it a point to help my most respected clients, no matter the risks. Unfortunately, it would not behoove me to enter into my client’s particular line of work.”

“You talk too much.” Denniger slammed down his next card. “That Forester can tolerate you is a miracle. Though not even the almighty Rian Arenson has endless miracles. They don’t exist with me.”

“I consider my mouth a tool, mightier than any weapon a man can wield.”

“Keep talking, Suit,” Denniger warned. “I’m not afraid to risk putting you out of business.”

Triston pulled his next card and set it down with three of his own. It left one in his hand. “So I assume you’ll consider my proposition.”

Denniger glowered at the singular card in Triston’s hand. He laid his own three cards face down on the table to remove a bent cigarette from his front breast pocket. He lit it before answering, “No.”

Triston had expected as much. It was time for drastic measures. “Would you consider possibly––”

“Do you take me for some fucking ignorant BD zealot, willing to part with my brain for the word of some farce of a god?”

“Certainly not.”

Denniger blew of stream of acrid smoke directly into Triston’s face. “I have no need for some has-been altar boy running errands for the late Empress Jensen. Besides, his identity’s been compromised. He was exposed ever since his undercover SNAFU with SolEx. An incredible lapse in judgment, that, prancing about in public under the same assumed name. Why would I ever consider including his careless ass?”

The “lapse” had been done on purpose. No one knew that he could alter his own features to become almost anyone he chose, and during that fateful period at SolEx, he had chosen to compromise the alter ego of Arthur T. Forest to draw away any suspicion from his true self. It was a technique he had enacted only once before, to rousing success. He had meant to pull of the stunt successfully a second time, to start the next phase of his life.

Until his mother was killed.

“My client’s talents are not to be vilified because of an act you cannot comprehend.”

Another card drawn from the deck, three fell to the table, and suddenly Denniger’s hand matched Triston’s. He imparted a grim smile. “Oh, I comprehend more than you know. I realize that you’re stuck with a client who’s worthless to you. But since you have deep respect for his past services, you went out of your way to pitch him to me in the hopes of ridding yourself of him. To clear his stain of a career from your clipboard.”

Triston knew the time had finally come.

“How about I make you an offer?”

Triston laid his single card down and steepled his hands together.

“You didn’t really come here to broker a business deal in uniting two competing cleaning crews,” Denniger said, suddenly uninterested in the card game. “Your half-assed attempts to persuade me into some bullshit business venture isn’t fooling anyone. I think––no, I know you want the complete opposite. And that’s for you to hire me to see that only one cleaner remains.”

Triston smiled. He had found his in. “I want what is best for my client’s interests,” he said, pulling his next card. It was not the winning draw. “As well as ours.”

Denniger took a deep hit on his crooked cigarette and exhaled through his nostrils. “I’m what’s best. And with the right price, I’ll gladly take the chance to up my standing. Less competition equals better business and less hassle. And Forester’s a hassle.” He flicked the ashes on his remaining card and gave Triston as grave a look as he’d ever seen. “I want that fucker gone. With Jensen out of the picture, and you finally coming to your senses, the System will be a better place.”

Triston’s eyes stung from the growing cloud of cancerous smoke. He forced an agreeable smile anyway. “I will personally see to it that an arrangement worthy of your time is drafted so we can all move forward.”

Denniger grunted, though it was clear that he was pleased with the blossoming transaction. He put his cigarette back in his mouth and played his turn. “You’re a crooked shit, Arenson. It’s no wonder you’ve gotten as far as you have without a single blemish. A true survivalist knows when to cut his losses. I just can’t believe it’s Forester who you’ll be throwing to the wolves. Ha! I can’t wait for you to reveal his little foxhole so I can sneak in and a pay him a visit.”

Triston was already inside the foxhole, staring at this “apex predator.” It was amusing how easily he had manipulated the notorious Anders Denniger. The smoking assassin would get his wish and kill Arthur T. Forester, but it would not be the same person who had been his competition. Triston had perfectly mimicked all aspects of a real businessman who looked, acted, lived, and sounded just as he did during his time as director at SolEx. The poor soul, whose real name was inconsequential, would be the sacrificial lamb necessary to keep Triston in the game during this difficult time of transition. A false identity waited for the unsuspecting man who had never met Triston. The price of one man’s life to let a ghost continue to haunt.

“My day just keeps getting better,” Denniger said as he laid down his remaing card to claim victory. He propped both his elbows up on the table and leaned forward. “Full moon, Arenson. Time to pay up.”

Triston dropped his unused card and folded his arms in defeat. “Shall we retire to somewhere more befitting of two businessmen?”

Denniger nodded and stood. Triston followed his lead, but he was second to notice the intruder. Her familiar face caught him off guard, and his hesitation cost him dearly. There was nothing he could do except watch it happen in slow motion.

Kira’s perfect face showed no immediate reaction, nor did she fall. The newly cauterized hole in the center of her chest was as surreal as her unexpected presence. How had she found him? Why had she left her sanctuary? What had been her aim in following him? Her lip quivered as she struggled but failed to speak. She kept her gaze strictly upon Triston’s horrified expression, despite the killer standing only a few feet from him. She finally collapsed to the ground, well out of his reach. He was beside her in an instant, knowing there was nothing he could do.

“She should’ve known better,” Denniger said, replacing the plastol inside his coat. “Rules are rules here. Who knows what she could’ve heard, so don’t act so surprised.”

The life fled from Kira’s eyes as she went still in Triston’s arms. He looked up at Denniger, having hardly heard a word he had spoken. The assassin was lighting another cigarette, watching the scene with absolute apathy.

But their eyes met, and within that moment which lasted less than a heartbeat, an entire story was told. No words were needed—just two men with decades of experience between them. For the first time ever, Triston revealed his identity with an eye twitch, and in that same fleeting second, Denniger realized the truth of this encounter.

The universe disappeared around them.

Both men drew their weapons.

Rage was on Triston’s side, and he was faster. Denniger fell backward into the card table, collapsing. Smoke poured from the giant hole in his forehead.

Triston cradled Kira’s lifeless body a moment longer before laying her on the floor and standing. He brushed himself clean and buttoned his suit so that he was presentable.

To a world devoid of Kira and options.

Except one, Triston thought with abject dread.

Everyone outside the room would know what had happened and word would spread. More than likely no one would know that it had been Miranda Jensen’s son who had killed one of the System’s most violent assassins, but that didn’t matter, because Rian Arenson had gathered his first stain, and the universe would stop at nothing until they finally traced the businessman back to Triston Gray.

There was only one path left to him, and it would kill him. Of that he was certain. But as he made his way out of the seedy establishment, once again ignoring the gawkers, this final course made the most sense. In some way, knowing he was heading toward his end was somehow comforting.

He would put things right.

17 DANGEROUS

“Our wing just fell off.”

The announcement was strangely humorous to Cole, despite its deadly consequences. He watched the detached airfoil drift past the viewport screen as the Icarus began an uncontrollable spinning decent. He had expected no less of an outcome, with so much stress on the cargo ship without proper repairs. But the options had been to drift aimlessly in open space or face capture by the likes of Black Dwarf. He would gladly choose the former every day for the rest of his life. At least he could die a free man, along with most of his crew.

Cole sat back in his flight chair, removed his AR glasses, and crossed his arms. There was nothing he could do to remedy this situation. Even Lin, with her incredible mind, could only watch in horror as the last of their hopes quickly disappeared into the black. Only Rig seemed to be unfazed by the grim turn of events.

“This calls for a round of that shit beer your brother loaded on this broken bird,” the mechanic suggested.

Cole shook his head. “I’m pretty sure the months-long investigation that searched every crevice on my ship led them to draining all libations. But you never know. Besides, that would’ve been some seriously skunked beer.”

Rig grunted. “Still better than no beer. I’ll check anyway.”

Cole watched him head to The Bar. He stared a bit longer than he normally would have, then gazed upon Lin’s forlorn expression. “Hell of a situation, isn’t it?”

Lin shook her head, sighing. “While the loss of the wing is deeply troubling, I’m far more concerned with the slow but noticeable leak of our oxygen.”

Cole nodded. “Yeah, I lumped that in with my last statement.”

Lin scowled. “Why is it you are unconcerned about our declining chances of survival?”

Cole shrugged, admiring the way her frown brought out a rare, sexy side of emotion on her normally impassive face. “’Cause it is what it is.”

Her scowl deepened. “What it is we should be doing is deciding whether or not to send out a distress call and contend with the inevitable fallout.”

“We could. Probably should.”

“All right, that’s enough!” Lin said, her dulcet tones ringing like a hammered bell. “What is it you know that I don’t?”

Cole laughed, pointing to where Rig had headed. “Our suddenly mysterious crew member already got the jump on you.”

Lin followed Cole’s arm to the hallway, her mouth slightly agape. It quickly snapped closed. “Solomon? Wait, how do you know this? Did he tell you in secret?”

“He didn’t,” Cole said, loving seeing Lin flustered and as she pieced everything together. It turned him on. “But Cain did. Or whatever I should call him now that he’s a she.”

“CAIN,” she said, searching the bridge for the absent AI. “She intercepted a S.O.S. transmission?”

Cole stood and stretched. “Two, actually. One before he ‘saved’ us, and the other...” He stepped away from his flight chair and faced the direction of The Bar. He snapped his fingers, “...right now.”

Lin joined Cole in The Bar, but it was empty of both the living and deceased. Cole took a seat at the communal table and gestured for Lin to sit with him.

They didn’t wait long before the mechanic emerged from the living quarters down the hall. Cole could see his lips moving, but his words were unintelligible. He nearly walked past them, and Cole pretended not to notice the unease in Rig’s surprise.

“Givin’ up, Nugget?”

Cole smiled. “You get lost, Rigsy?” he countered. “Is there some beer stashed away in your old bunk the feds didn’t find?”

The mechanic snorted and sat heavily across from Cole and Lin. He leaned his rifle against the back of his chair. “Nothin’. It’s like you said––this place is dry.”

Cole drummed his fingers on the table and stood. He walked to the counter, removed a single glass tumbler from the hanging cabinet, and set it on the counter. He continued his bizarre silence, placing the empty vessel under a tap beneath one of the kitchen cabinets. He pressed a button, and out poured the golden liquid, the sound of fizz forming with a thick head. Cole lifted the drink, took a sip, grimaced, and walked it back to the table. He retook his seat and slid the beer in Rig’s direction. The glass stopped inches short of toppling over side, but the contents still made a mess.

Rig made no attempt to claim it.

“It’s definitely skunked, but it’s beer.”

Rig stared, his expression unreadable. He sat up a little straighter and tapped a thick digit on the tumbler’s lip. “It doesn’t have to go down like this.”

Cole’s eyes brightened. “I wouldn’t down any of that beer if I were you.”

“This isn’t funny, Musgrave.”

“Sure it is,” Cole said, slapping the palm of his hand on the tabletop. Lin tensed in her seat. “This whole venture is hysterical. For me, at least.”

Rig scowled. “Nothin’ you say or do is gonna stop ‘em from comin’.”

Cole pointed a knowing finger at him. “You’re right.” He pulled out the dual plastols from their holsters and placed them on the table, hands still attached. “But I’m gonna talk anyway.”

Rig reached behind his chair for his rifle, only to come up empty. The mechanic turned to look for it, but it was now in CAIN’s hands, and she was slowly backing away, fear in her human eyes.

“Make any sudden moves, and I’ll end you. So don’t test me.” The smile had vanished from Cole’s face––the playfulness absent in his tone. “I think it’s time you finally gave us some answers, Mr. Solomon.”

Rig couldn’t take his gaze off the plastols. “I would’ve talked without the interrogation.”

Cole shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. But this’ll get you to say everything.”

“What’s the point?” Rig said, crossing his thick arms over his barrel chest. “Whether I give you some or all of the details, it don’t matter. You’ll all still be recaptured and––”

Cole raised and fired his plastol, grazing the edge of the table near Rig’s elbow. It splintered into charred wood fragments that covered the mechanic’s face and body. He recoiled from the sudden blast, his chair toppling backward with him spilling out and rolling onto his stomach.

Cole was upon him in the time it took for Rig to struggle to stand. Both plastols were aimed at him with the triggers a hair’s breadth from firing again. “Get up.”

Rig coughed and groaned as he did a pushup to get to a kneeling position. “Shit, Nugget... That stings like a––”

A boot to Rig’s chin silenced and sent him onto his back with a heavy thud. “This is your last warning, Solomon. Get. Up.

Rig was much slower to rise the second time. He remained silent, as he struggled to stand. He spat blood upon the ground, working his jaw up and down, side to side. The look of murder on his face nearly matched Cole’s.

“We’re gonna take a walk,” Cole said, devoid of compassion. “All of us. But you get to take the lead on this trek,” he said to Rig. “Down to the cargo hold, where we’ll have our little chat.”

Rig looked as though he might defy the order, but Cole motioned with a plastol for the mechanic to turn around.

“Take the back way, past the med bay,” Cole said. “Start walking. Don’t worry, we’ll be right behind you.”

There was a long, drawn out sigh from Rig before he complied. Cole waited until the mechanic was several paces ahead before he motioned with his head for Lin and CAIN to stay just behind him. They followed their footsteps echoing through the hallway.

“What is the purpose of this exercise?” CAIN asked, leaning close to whisper the question.

Cole’s eyes never left Rig’s back. “It’s not an exercise. It’s a statement.”

“What do you plan on doing with him?” Lin asked.

“I plan on making him understand the error of his ways.”

If Lin and CAIN had cast each other quizzical glances, Cole did not care, and he had no intention of explaining himself once he was finished.

In the cargo hold, Cole directed Rig to head down into the room beneath the airlock. The mechanic finally seemed to realize his situation when the door was shut behind him.

Cole holstered his sidearms. “Can you hear me in there?” he asked, looking through the glass port that was as thick as the door.

Rig gave him the middle finger.

“Good. Now we can talk.”

“I ain’t no traitor,” Rig said without hesitation. He gazed around his surroundings. “That’s why you stuck me in here, right? To scare me into talkin’ by threatenin’ to space me? You don’t know shit ‘bout anythin’.”

Cole’s face was nearly close enough to touch the door.  “Scare you? I’ve already accomplished that task. Just looking at you, I can see that you’re already nice and terrified.” He licked his lips in thought. “I want more from you than that. And I’m gonna get it.”

Rig began pacing. “I’ll tell you everythin’ you want. I got nothin’ to hide.”

Cole blinked. “But you hid your double life so well. Hm. No need for you to regale us every last detail that brought you to this point just the necessary facts. For instance: how long were you spying for the Cosmic Order Agency?”

The slight hesitation in step and minuscule turn of Rig’s head satisfied Cole’s theory without an answer.

“How’d you know I was with the Order?”

“The same way you and your lovely employers found me and learned I was still alive: the Smasher. You know, the one we ‘installed’ on that galactic web satellite. While the mainstream media reported my death in prison, I’m sure government backchannels were discussing my miraculous escape and ties to President Miranda Jensen. How else could you be waiting for us on Earth?”

Rig nodded.

“It’s incredible what one can glean from a well of information—past and present. In what little free time I had aboard my ship, I used it to read up on my crew. In private, of course. I wanted to get a sense of what made you all tick, and how much––or little––I could trust you.

“When I got to one Richter Solomon, the former tactical spacecraft mechanic for our beloved Starforce, I was surprised to discover that he was––is––on the government payroll for the C.O.A..” He smiled. “That’s where your fascinating tale ended, but now that you’re exposed, and you’ve journeyed with us through the stars, I’m starting to get a clearer picture of who you really are. I just need you to fill in some of the blanks for a glorified police officer. Like why you were in a debt colony hanging with Doc’s psycho dad and working for my equally nutso brother.”

“Deep undercover.”

Cole frowned at the simple answer. “Care to elaborate?”

The mechanic finally stopped pacing and exhaled a long, deflating sigh. “I made some connections with the Ravens during my stint with Starforce. Your brother had his finger in the Military cookie jar, and I was helping smuggle some weapons on the side. Till I got caught.”

Cole’s jaw fell. “I didn’t see anything in your file detailing any of this. No court martial, no dishonorable discharge. Nothing. How’d you manage to keep your record so clean?”

“All that happened,” Rig clarified, “but it was done in private. Not long after, UniSys came lookin’ for me and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

The first information gap filled. “To continue ‘working’ for the Ravens while under their watchful eye.” Cole nodded, believing what he heard so far. “Why didn’t they take down Jude?”

“’Cause he was their connection to Terracom.”

Cole’s jaw fell even father. “What?

Rig nodded. “Your brother was working with Terracom in secret, hoping to incorporate his operations––criminal and lawful––with theirs.”

Holy shit! Cole was lost in this incredible revelation. He knew Jude was a violent yet savvy businessman, but that he might have been trying to earn his place in the mega corporation’s good graces to secure a better future for himself was mind-blowing. Especially knowing what Cole knew of Terracom’s dealing with the Source.

“But you were in one of Terracom’s most notorious debt colonies. If Jude was so cozy with them, why’d you go down?”

Rig sighed much louder this time. “I wasn’t supposed to serve time there. Terracom nabbed me when I got to close to them.”

“Close how?”

“I got caught trying to smuggle intel from them on one of our routine business transactions.”

Cole made a pained expression. “That’ll earn you eternity in debt colony hell.”

“It did,” Rig agreed. “It severed ties between them and the Ravens. Worse yet, it was the only place UniSys couldn’t go and save me. Terrorcom. But when you helped bust me out of that hellhole, I was able to pass along intel from your girlfriend’s daddy to the Order.”

Ah! Another bridge built. “So you being thrown in with the Singularity was a happy accident for your Big Brother employers. But that doesn’t explain why the Ravens let your sorry ass back in after all the lovely shenanigans you partook in aboard my ship.”

Rig smirked. “Your involvement helped. A little. Mostly it was the intel I managed to steal from Terracom that paved the way for my return. It made it back to Jude, despite my capture. He still didn’t trust me, though.”

“Which is why he stuck you with me,” Cole said, remembering. “To prove your worth. But what about the C.O.A.? Why’d they force you to go back to the Ravens after Jude died? They knew you were part of his takedown.”

“They wanted me to continue my undercover business with one of the new Ravens factions in the hopes of keepin’ tabs on the underworld. Astercor was done after Jude’s murd––er, death, and the Ravens splintered. I went to the group that was grateful I helped take down your brother.” He gestured his thumb behind him. “Back on Earth. They’d felt his involvement with the likes of Terracom was too evil, even for them. So they took me back and made me one of their higher ups.”

While I rotted away in a cell on a prison moon, Cole noted with disgust. “So UniSys basically cast you away after Terracom’s big reveal.

“Pretty much.”

“But they had one last use for you,” Cole said, returning to the topic he had been avoiding. “UniSys isn’t done with me now that I had my bloody fingerprints all over the Jensen slaughter. So they threw a Hail Mary pass and contacted you. They made you send out a distress signal that only the crew of the Icarus would hail. You lucked out when my female buddy, here, latched onto that signal and flew us away from their spiraling blue death vortex. She trusted you would help keep us safe.”

Cole looked back at Lin and CAIN in turn before returning his attention to Rig. “Instead, you blew us in for your own gain.”

Rig stared down at his feet, silent.

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why––”

It matters to me!” Cole said, his voice scathing. “I want to know exactly why you sold us to the devil before I drop you into your own personal hell.”

Rig facing Cole again, his eyes round with dread. “Cole, I didn’t have a choice.”

“Bullshit!” Cole challenged. “Don’t give me that ‘I-didn’t-have-a-choice,’ under-the-thumb garbage. You could’ve done a million other things, like sent a different signal—one we would’ve ignored.”

“They would’ve known I crossed them....”

“Like you crossed us—the only people who gave a shit about your miserable existence. So what? Do you consider your current life worth anything more than indentured servitude?”

Rig didn’t answer.

“Did you not appreciate me allowing you to come with us from DC-ALPHA-6? You must not, or else you wouldn’t have done what you did. I don’t know, maybe you wanted to stay there on Kepler-452b and build better worlds for Terracom. Or maybe you enjoy doing my brother’s ghost’s bidding. You certainly enjoy being a spy for the government. The only thing you appear to despise is me.”

Rig was shaking his head. “That’s not how it is.”

Cole ground his teeth. He raised his hand and threw the switch which turned on the alarm for the imminent release of the airlock. “Then how is it?”

Rig was surrounded by the flashing red light inside the airlock, and the braam of a emergency horn startling him. He slammed his full weight into the door pounding on it with his fists in terror. “Please, Cole! Don’t do this.”

Cole crossed his arms and watched with disdain. “Answer the question.”

BRAAAM!

“I told you everything!”

“You only told me the details leading up to this point. You never clarified why you became a traitor.”

Rig stopped pounding. “Traitor? What are you talking about?”

“To me and my crew,” Cole clarified.

BRAAAM!

A myriad of expression crossed Rig’s face, culminating in anger. “What are you talking about? There never was a crew—only what you thought we were.”

Cole stared, not liking what he was hearing.

“The only reason most of us stayed on this ship is because we were trapped. By you!”

“I never wanted any of this.”

BRAAAM!

“Yes! Yes you did! Command of the Icarus is what you’ve always wanted. You’re a damn Musgrave, and even though I think you’re the best of them, you’re still crazy like Jude and Harper.”

Cole knew what Rig would say before he said it.

“And you’re just too dangerous to be free.”

BRAAAM!

There it is, Cole thought, numb. The truth. Cold and penetrating. He knew Rig was right, but that didn’t make it any less painful. He had hoped to hear anything other than those words. Had the mechanic said he was turning Cole over to UniSys because he had a family to protect, or that he was simply a coward looking out for himself—perhaps acceptance would’ve come easier. But that one of his own––or who he thought was one of his own––feared for all of humanity because of an infamous surname was a revelation too hard to digest.

Cole Musgrave was the most dangerous person in the entire multiverse.

BRAAAM!

He slapped the button to release the airlock.

18 FADING

Rig’s scream overpowered Lin’s cry, his a shrill sound unfitting of such a burly man. He futilely grabbed onto the door in hope of evading the vacuum of space. But the airlock remained sealed.

Cole saw red and slammed the airlock button a second time, ignoring Lin’s pleas.

Nothing happened.

Cole spun on CAIN, knowing she had sabotaged him. “Jettison the airlock.”

The AI had tears streaming down her pretty, crestfallen face.  She shook her head. “I can’t do that, Captain.”

Cole shook with fury. “You can, and you will. That’s an order.”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Fine. Then let me inside so I can finish this.”

CAIN shook her head, her eyes red and brimming with new tears. Seeing her display of emotion only enraged Cole more.

Open this goddamn door!” Cole yelled, pointing a rigid finger at the airlock.

CAIN whimpered.

What is happening? Cole wondered. “Do you think you can hide behind your female meat suit and expect me to go soft on you? I know who and what you are underneath.”

“Stop this right now, Cole,” Lin warned.

“Or what?” he demanded, rounding on her. “You’ll report me to Artificial Intelligence Human Resources for badgering her? No, I don’t think so. Cain’s a fully sentient being who makes difficult choices. She has to back up her decisions and learn from her actions: good and bad. This one, bad.”

Lin’s eyes widened, her Rook blazing red with anger. “She’s only just coming to grips with her new body.”

“Stolen body,” Cole added without sympathy. “Don’t forget it took murder in order for him to attain true humanity.”

“My host is still alive,” CAIN said, catching them both off guard.

Cole stared at CAIN, then rounded back on Lin. “I don’t want to hear about Extant Energy or whatever excuse you need to defend her actions.”

Lin smacked him. Hard. “You hypocrite! How dare you stand here interrogating us when your list of misdeeds is far more morally bankrupt than anything that has happened aboard this ship since we last escaped.”

Cole saw stars, his face burning and stinging. It literally knocked a bit of sense into him, though the anger remained. “I never claimed to be a master decision-maker, but I stand by the choices I’ve made.”

Lin’s Rook flew within an inch of Cole’s face. “And you should stand by her. Just as you stood by Chrysanthemum Emmerich after her repeated attempts to stab you in the back.”

Ouch... She was right, of course. While Emmerich eventually came to her senses in the face of his mother’s maniacal machinations, she had initially been the same sort of traitor as Rig. Both she and the mechanic did what they did because of who and what he was: a reckless and dangerous Musgrave.

Cole’s sigh was long and loud. He couldn’t look at Lin, nor could he face CAIN. Not after the things he’d said aloud. All he could do was confront the man he had sentenced to death for trying to survive an impossible situation. Rig was watching them through the small portal inside the airlock. He looked as though he had aged ten years.

Cole felt dead inside. He unfastened his gunbelt and let it drop to the floor. He stepped over it and walked away from his crew without another word.

He was done.

~

A legion of UniSys cruisers and what seemed like most of Military arrived to recapture and remove the crew of the Icarus from the stars. After his spectacular escape and continued legacy, the once mighty Cole Musgrave had gone out with nary a whimper. The ship itself, much to SolEx’s chagrin, had been confiscated––detached wing and all––to be stored somewhere where it would never see the light of day again. Minus Rig, the same would become of the fractured crew of misfits that had inked their names into the history books, be it reverence—or more likely—infamy

The mechanic had been escorted away, perhaps to resume his role in spying on the criminal underground. Cole was grateful for his absence, even if he had somewhat forgiven him. Misplaced anger was a funny thing.

Much to his surprise, Cole had been confined with his two favorite women. He assumed this had something to do with keeping an eye on the whole of the problem. Cole knew what awaited him once processed through the federal system, and he assumed Lin would meet a similar fate without Jensen at the ready. But he could only wonder as to what investigators and prosecutors would do with CAIN. Would they recognize her significance and make her their prized lab rat, or would they simply lock her away for being a member of Black Dwarf?  Whatever her end, he knew he would never learn the outcome, and that was both painful and a blessing.

The entire journey in their holding chamber had been silent. Lin’s Rook had been confiscated, so it was by despair and disgust in her expression that she obviated her thoughts. CAIN had succumbed to a sudden case of lethargy, and because she made no attempt to hack into the UniSys security system, Cole wondered if her second journey into a human body had somehow gone awry. Without access to the physical cyrorganic nanobiotech brain to use as backup in case of an emergency....

Cole didn’t want to think about that, so he decided to break the thick ice. “You should change your name.”

Neither of his female companions acknowledged the comment. He attempted, and failed, to move closer to them, forgetting he was securely shackled to his seat. “I mean, you can’t keep going around confusing people with a man’s name in a woman’s body.”

Lin cast Cole a look of derision and shook her head.

“What? I thought you’d understand.”

The engineer’s expression tightened, and she breathed a heavy sigh. “You chose now to discuss this?”

Lin had not actually spoken, but her emphasis with her lips made it easy to decipher the words. “If not now, then never. Fine.” He readjusted as much as he could in his seat. “Don’t you think that maybe she should pick a new name, if for no other reason than to avoid drawing unwanted attention from those who might treat her as a test subject? They might not believe that she’s our AI friend in a human body, but referring to her as ‘CAIN ’would only bring trouble.”

Lin looked up from the floor and met Cole’s gaze before turning to CAIN.

The AI was staring at her bound hands. “Nora.”

Cole nodded, surprised at her willingness to answer. “Nora’s good. It fits you.”

CAIN looked up, fresh tears in her reddened eyes. “Nora is her name, Captain.”

Cole felt a chill. “Oh... Are you...okay with that?”

“It’s the least I can do for her since I’ve taken over her life for my own gain.”

Cole suddenly wished he had Lin’s perspective on the issue. As usual, the engineer came through in her brilliance, using what little motion her bindings gave her to communicate through sign language with the AI.

CAIN nodded at Lin’s comment, and Cole wished he had his Ocunet glasses to aid in translating. “I don’t know what Doc said, but I agree with her anyway.”

“My maker told me that I have brought calm to Nora’s troubled life.”

Cole rubbed the back of his neck. “Doc’s right. Had you not...um, helped her, we’d be in the hands of Black Dwarf.” He shrugged. “Captured by UniSys might not be much of a consolation prize, but at least they’ll be fair. Sort of.” I’m really not helping.

CAIN seemed unfazed by Cole’s clumsy choice of words. “I believe we deserve the judgment of the powers that be—be it benevolent or malevolent. Our time aboard the Icarus has brought both pain and hope to those we have encountered, though it was all at a great cost. While I do not know for certain which side of the scale of justice we shall encounter, it will be our appropriate fate.”

I know exactly which side will come crashing down on us, Cole thought. “You seem pretty caught up in your new emotions, Nora. Maybe even a bit spiritual for you. The Cain I knew wouldn’t have been so quick to accept defeat. Maybe some of the old Nora is seeping through.”

Lin frowned and signed to CAIN again. The AI replied with: “My host is a prisoner inside her own body, due to my selfish desire to attain true sentient freedom. Her rage and agony constantly push to eject me, but I am in full control. For now.”

Cole leaned forward an inch or two. “Because if you were to leave Nora, you would be little more than aimless Extant Energy.” He looked to Lin for reassurance, and she gave a hesitant nod.

“That is correct, Captain.”

“But you could just find some other host, or even your old brain jar, right?”

CAIN shook her head. “That cannot save me now. Nothing can.”

Cole frowned. “Why do you say that?”

CAIN’s eyes were damp. “Because even as we speak, I am fading from existence.”

Cole’s eyes widened for fear of losing his friend. “Fading... Is there no way you can maybe...overtake the real Nora so you can remain with us?” He already knew the answer, but there had to be other options.

“Only for this fleeting moment, here with you both. Once we are permanently separated, I will abandon my host and allow myself to dissipate.”

“No. No, I don’t think so,” Cole said. “You can return to the Source and rejoin the rest of the Extant Energy. Right, Doc?”

Lin answered with her own tears.

“I would never be able to complete the journey in my amorphous form.”

Cole drummed his fingers on the seat, thinking. “Maybe I can convince someone to––”

“No, Cole.”

If CAIN had wanted to leave him speechless, addressing him by his first name had done just that.

“Even if I managed to reach the Source, there is no telling what would become of me once I rejoined it. I can sense a great disturbance emanating from the Extant Energy within. I have good reason to believe I would be...lost....” She took a breath to calm herself. “Perhaps it would be better if I ceased to exist. My selfish decision has made me an abomination. I fear what my future might be.”

“Something human, I would guess,” Cole said. “You’re a true sentient being. Self-preservation is a survival strategy. You made an important and difficult decision, and our thoughts—your thoughts—are what make you human.”

Though Lin was nodding, CAIN seemed unmoved, her expression grim.

“Well, you’re a real human in my book,” Cole said. “And I say you keep hoping until there is nothing more you can do. How do you think I got this far?”

No response.

She’s given up, Cole thought with a sigh. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. If anyone should pay the high price, it’s me.”

Still nothing.

“Nora?”

The AI looked up, terror in her voice. “Something’s coming.”

Cole tensed and exchanged a wary glance with Lin. “What?”

The room’s slight tremble grew to a shudder before it became an all-out quake.  The lights brightened and flickered intermittently, and a persistent groan crescendoed to a deafeningly electronic howl.

Cole’s head felt like it might split in two, and when he placed his hands over his ears, he did not even realize he was free of his bindings.  He dropped to the floor and curled, revisiting the terrible encounter with the Sentinel.

The only difference between this sensory overload was that it ended without a vindictive android waiting to tear him apart. Though the quaking had also passed, the ringing in his ears remained.

Cole opened his eyes to find he was floating, Lin beside him. He reached to collect her hand, and this time he acknowledged their freedom. She squeezed his hand in response, then tensed her arm so he could give her a slight shove to drift back to the ground. He went the other way and pushed off the ceiling to rejoin the women.

CAIN was still seated, but her eyes were discs, wide and....

Glowing? Cole wondered if his brain had sustained permanent damage. He slowly pulled himself along the side wall to reach the AI. Lin was close behind.

“Cai––Nora. Are you alright?”

CAIN continued to stare straight ahead, mouth slightly agape. A trickle of drool escaped the corner of her mouth, and she wiped it with her sleeve before stating. “It has made first contact with the outside universe.”

Cole grabbed CAIN’s chair. “Um, ‘It’ who? And why are your eyes glowing blue?”

The AI blinked, and strange phenomenon vanished. “We aren’t safe, Captain.”

“And we were before?” Cole asked. Lin tugged on his jacket sleeve and pointed to the door—which was wide open.

Cole never needed any urging to escape impending doom, but he was deep inside a UniSys cruiser, heavily guarded by trained soldiers—all of who carried weapons. And his Icarus was incapable of taking flight. And even if he was able to overcome both obstacles, there was nowhere he could go that someone in the universe wouldn’t be looking for him.

Cole grinned. Seems like pretty good odds.

“Nora. Before you enlighten us as to what’s going on, can you first try to access this place’s security system to help us sneak off this Ark?”

CAIN’s uncertainty had ebbed. “The encounter appears to have supplied me with increased energy. I will do my best.”

Klaxons began blaring, and Cole wondered if the UniSys cruiser been attacked by someone—or something. Whatever was happening, he hoped it would be distraction enough for them to escape.

He motioned for Lin and CAIN to follow him, but before they could even step foot past the door, an armed guard blocked their way. A bundle was tucked under one arm, a relaxed rifle in the other. Magboots secured him to the floor.

“Now’s our chance,” the soldier said.

I know that voice, Cole realized, though the man’s face was not familiar.

The soldier opened the bundle to offer them two pairs of magboots and folded uniforms. His features then “melted” and rearranged before everyone’s eyes so that they saw Triston Gray.

“Get dressed, and follow me,” the assassin said, ignoring their gawking. “We’ll never get another opportunity like this.” He cast CAIN a dark expression.

“Arthur!” Cole exclaimed, then slapped his hand over his mouth. “I mean, Triston. You sneaky shit, you. You came back to save us.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, reverting his face to that of the guard. This time his voice had deepened as well. “We’ve got an impossible task ahead of us.”

“Same shit, new day,” Cole said, urging Lin and CAIN to stay close to him. “You’re blowing my mind, Jensen.”

Gray,” Triston emphasized.

Seeing the assassin’s glare toward CAIN, Cole explained, “That’s Nora, the AI you knew as Cain.”

The assassin’s face screwed up, though he did not challenge Cole. “I only gathered two uniforms. If she is who you say she is, then she’ll have to discard the BD uniform.”

“You heard the man, Nora,” Cole said, but the AI was already removing the outer layer of her uniform. Fortunately, she was wearing a nondescript jumpsuit underneath—a jumpsuit that was also discarded as CAIN pulled it down past her knees

Cole gawked at the bra and panties before he looked away sheepishly. ...Only to see Lin in a similar state of undress. It’s like all my fantasies are being realized in one fell swoop. Antigravity ménage à trois with one angry cuckhold.

“Um, keep your jumpsuit on, Nora,” Cole said, red-faced. “You might draw a little bit of attention walking around like that.”

Gray sighed, impatient. “I’m already regretting this insane mission.”

Cole laughed as he slipped on his shirt. “C’mon, Gray. It’s not like it can get any worse.”

Though it did. The world around them faded to black.

19 DARKNESS

A hush accompanied the darkness. Even the murmur of the cruiser’s engines were silent. Triston’s magboots lost power, and from what he could feel on his face, the nanobiotech failed as well.  It was as if everything had gone dead.

But Triston and his three charges were still very much alive, and their heightened breathing was like a storm in the impenetrable dark. He sought the wall to steady himself as he considered this newest development.

“This is your doing, right?” Cole asked. “Tell me you planned to infiltrate UniSys by shutting down all their functions.”

Triston shook his head, though no one could see it. “No.”

“‘No’,” Cole repeated. “Okay, so that means you’re just as screwed as us.”

Triston could’ve punched Cole’s face, but doing so would have only compounded his mounting problems. “I had not anticipated this attack or whatever it is that has rendered this cruiser dead weight.”

“Maybe Nora, here, can help with some answers.”

Nora, Triston thought with uncertainty. He had to trust that the Black Dwarf agent was truly the AI. He almost shot her where she stood when he had entered the cell. As it was, his rifle was useless. “What we need is a miracle. The mission––prior to what could only be an EMP attack––was impossible enough with the aid of power.”

“Look at this as a gift,” Cole said with his infuriating cockiness. “A level playing field, as it were. Everybody will be stumbling and drifting around in the dark.”

“We’ll need the aid of power to accomplish this task,” Triston said, impatient.

“Again, maybe Nora can help.”

Triston wanted nothing to do with the AI. That it could inhabit a human form at will was cause for alarm.

Then, like a specter materializing from the depths of Hell, CAIN’s eyes began to glow electric blue in the dark. The light enveloped her whole body, eerily illuminating her like a human lantern. She did not crackle with energy so much as exude an aura of power. Objects in her immediate vicinity reacted by regaining their normal state of function. Triston’s magboots drew him back to the floor with a resounding click, jostling him from a rare reverie. He quickly readjusted his features so no one would see the truth.

The doorway in which Triston was standing began to slide closed, stopping only when it detected his presence. The lights in the holding cell came back on, mimicking the AI’s illumination. The hallways, however, were still pitch black.

Perhaps this can work.

“There was no electromagnetic pulse detected, Director Gray,” CAIN said. “What we have experienced was an orchestrated cyberwarfare assault from somewhere within the Source.”

Triston thought of his sister. “By whom?”

“Of that I am unclear.”

“Was the assault only against this ship?” Cole asked, finally slipping on his magboots and adhering to the ground.

CAIN closed her glowing eyes––longer than Triston would have liked. When she finally opened them to face Cole, she answered, “The entire System appears to have gone dark.”

“That’s not possible,” Triston said, stunned by the answer. “How can you be sure?”

“Because I can no longer establish contact with anything.”

Anything... Triston decided to check his Ocunet lenses to see if the night vision was working. Thankfully, it was, and he gave his rifle a once-over to make sure it, too, was functioning. He directed the trio to the door. “If what your AI says is true, then we need to hurry to the Research division of this cruiser.”

“Still in good standing with them, eh?” Cole said. “Good. But do you know the way back?”

Triston frowned. Without the full aid of his Ocunet access to the ship’s internal layout, it was like venturing into the unknown. He vaguely recalled his journey through the winding corridors, rooms, and hallways, but there was no guarantee he could find his way back. Not without asking for directions.

He addressed CAIN without answering Cole’s question. “Can you access this ship’s mainframe?”

“That may take considerable time, Director Gray,” CAIN said. “There’s no telling what issues I may encounter along the way.”

“Do it anyway.” Triston started to march back in the direction from which he had come.

“Winging it!” Cole said with too much enthusiasm. “I would’ve done the same thing.”

Triston ignored him—mostly because he had heard footsteps up ahead. “Dim your glow and contain your energy,” he ordered CAIN. “And all of you remain here and stay quiet. I’ll be back.” To his relief, they obeyed.

He walked ahead, to the bend in the long corridor. Concerned voices were discussing the current situation, and Gray assumed from their banter they were the same sort of soldiers he was impersonating. He reminded himself that they would be unable to see him, so he approached as quietly as his magboots could allow. His night vision gave him a clear view of the three men floating and talking in front of an open doorway. Their weapons were holstered, their hands gripping nearby doorframes.

When he came within a couple feet of the trio, one of them gestured suddenly in Triston’s direction, nearly slapping him in the face. He politely responded by driving the butt of his rifle into the base of his skull. The man went limp, his body slowly spinning from the brutal impact. The other two men would have only heard the bizarre string of sounds, maybe felt a gust of air. Triston used the opportunity to dispatch them as well.

He gave a quick, low whistle to signal the others to join him while he carried the bodies into the adjacent room. By the time he was done, Cole and Lin had arrived, a floating CAIN linked to their arms. Cole detached from the AI and reached down by the grace of her light to retrieve one of the loose rifles. Seeing the weapon in the pilot’s hand immediately put Triston on edge—more so when Cole handed the other to Lin.

“Let’s try not to kill anyone on our way,” Triston said.

“Says the assassin,” Cole replied with a smirk. “How are your buddies doing? You sure you didn’t kill anyone? Those hits sounded pretty violent.”

Triston glared. “They’ll live.”

“Yeah, as the Three Quadriplegic Stooges.”

“Captain, can you at least pretend to be a real soldier for once in your life?”

Cole mock saluted. “That would require me to take orders. Musgraves suck at that.”

They managed to avoid the few soldiers and government suits as they traveled, making their escape a smooth one. Until Triston came upon an area he did not recall. He turned to CAIN. “Have you had any luck infiltrating the mainframe?”

The looked bewildered. “The assault appears to have inflicted damage upon the backup files. I am unable to locate anything that will aid us.”

Triston swore under his breath.

“However,” CAIN continued, her voice hopeful, “I may be able to generate a crude three-dimensional map of the interior by triangulating all the damaged computer stations and the mainframe. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to identify any of the locations or give precise distances.”

Triston was far from satisfied. “Whatever you can send my way will benefit us.”

“Don’t you think we should wait until Nora actually accomplishes that task?” Cole asked, tailing him. “Why blindly lead us deeper into the labyrinth? No one can see us.”

Yet, Triston thought. He stopped and lowered his rifle, rejoining the group without acknowledging his dilemma.

They moved into a corner, and Cole, Lin, and CAIN had a seat. Triston remained standing, nerves on edge. He had to consciously loosen his grip on the rifle.

“Take one second in your life to relax, Gray,” Cole said. “You’re always so serious. Don’t be like Chrys. Things didn’t end so well for her.”

Triston had not thought about the former SolEx inspector in some time, and he wondered what became of her. “Nothing ends well for anyone who stands in close proximity to you.”

“Yeah, but at least they become infamous,” Cole jested. “Better that than dead.”

“Is that what became of her?”

A very different shadow crossed Cole’s face. “I killed her.”

It wasn’t a shocking revelation. Chrysanthemum Emmerich, nobly intentioned, was as frustrating a person as Triston had ever dealt with. She and Cole had butted heads from the outset. “I’m surprised she didn’t kill you first.”

Cole frowned. “We definitely had our differences, but her death was unintentional.”

“Don’t leave me in suspense, Captain,” Triston said without inflection.

Cole’s frowned deepened, and the assassin realized that whatever had transpired between them had affected the pilot greatly.

“She betrayed us,” Cole began bitterly. “Not unlike Solomon, but her issues stemmed from blind allegiance to my mother and not cowardly self-preservation.”

Triston had read Cole’s account of what had occurred on the Terracom Interdimensional Gateway Station after he had been arrested, but the tale he had told seemed too tall—even for him.  Triston recalled the unique bond between Cole and Emmerich, despite their strained relationship. There had been a mutual respect that he had sensed near the end of his first stint with the crew of the Icarus.

“What really led you to kill her?” Triston pressed. “I know what you said in your statements, but I want the truth. No more fairy tales.”

Cole cast Triston a long, hard stare. The corner of his mouth upturned, but there was ice in his gaze. “Doesn’t matter whether or not you believe the circumstances surrounding her death. What matters most is that she ended up being the most honorable of us all when she came back to life.”

Triston looked down chuckled. “I don’t even know why I asked.”

“I know. It sounds ludicrous. Who wants to believe my mother survived my sabotage? I wouldn’t.” Cole looked away. “But it’s true. All of it. These two witnessed everything. I have no evidence to prove my claim. Not even the entire Daedalus––which CAIN and I piloted from another universe––is any recognizable condition. I’m sure UniSys covered up that catastrophe. You know, the same people for whom you secretly used to work.”

Triston had assumed Cole managed to take command of a Military vessel similar to the Daedalus and pilot it to Terracom’s greatest secret. There had been the “evidence” of the infamous battle cruiser—floating pieces around the edge of the solar system—but he never believed that his own mother and UniSys had hidden the truth. Cole’s truth.

But why would he go through the trouble of creating and perpetuating so fantastical a lie? Triston’s thoughts were disrupted when Cole took his turn to chuckle.

“Your sister’s in the Source,” the pilot said. “That’s where you’re headed, isn’t it?”

“If we survive this.”

“Change of heart, eh?”

Triston did not answer.

“What was it that brought you back into the fold? Guilt for joining the betrayal club? Or you realized you needed us to complete your personal quest to find your sister?”

“Casting stones are you, Captain?” Triston challenged. “You’re far from absolved of any guilt. The list of your crimes is too long to recite. My decision to rescue the three of you is for me to know; I owe you no answers.”

Cole shrugged. “And we owe you no favors for springing us. That door opened all by itself—before you came along.”

Triston sniffed. “Would you rather I leave you all here to fend for yourselves, or will you help me carry out President Jensen’s final wish?”

“Look me dead in the eyes, and tell me you believe my story, and we have a deal.”

Triston sighed and leaned forward to comply. There was none of Cole’s humor or cocky attitude, and it was in that moment Triston believed him. “I do.”

“Good,” Cole said, lowering his rifle from where it had been poised an inch below Triston’s chin.

The assassin gaped at his own oversight. He could see Cole’s finger still on the trigger, and he knew he would be dead now had he spoken otherwise.

Triston turned his attention from one encounter to another.  He thought he was hallucinating to see a spectrum of color dance upon the walls, changing from one hue to the next. Triston pointed his rifle but had no clue where to shoot.

“That’s my Rook!” Lin exclaimed, standing to greet her voice cube as it hovered around the corner. “I don’t know how it sought me out.”

The Rook played a string of piano notes.

“Keep that thing dark, Dartmouth,” Triston snapped.

The engineer didn’t seem to hear him, immersed in the implausible return of her voice.

“Isn’t that quite a thing,” Cole said, rising to inspect Lin’s Rook. “Survived the Extant Energy attack. How fortuitous.”

Indeed, Triston thought with sudden suspicion.

“I know where to go,” Lin said. “We have a clear path.”

Triston and Cole shared another look, but the pilot only shrugged. Triston’s trust, however, was not so easily won. With great reservation, Triston let Lin take the lead.  Her Rook seemed to have many mysterious capabilities, and its owner was too clever to have purely noble intentions.

Their path was clear of people, and Triston wondered if the cruiser’s inhabitants had retreated to safety. It was in these unexpected instances that he had learned to make his move, capitalizing on their fear. When at last they reached the corridor to Research, he ordered his followers to maintain silence so as not to alert any waiting guards. It was here, at the threshold of his mother’s former division of AMBER, that Triston halted the group so he could perform his latest transformation.

He changed out of his uniform with ease, his next identity already beneath his outer attire. Only the boots remained—a triviality he hoped no one would notice. He passed his discarded uniform to CAIN, and after everyone was properly dressed, Triston advised Lin to guide them while the AI remained at the back, He took the center in a respectable looking suit.

They marched forward together, their combined footsteps heralding their arrival. Triston could hear and see the soldiers’ rifles being drawn and lifted, though they would be useless against his group’s active weaponry. Murder, however, was not the assassin’s goal.

“Who’s there?” a man’s deep and raspy voice called out.

“Allow us passage,” Triston replied, grateful his voice strip still worked.

“Let who pass?”

He recognizes the voice, Triston thought, hearing the man’s hesitation. Time to seal the deal. He whispered to Lin, who activated her Rook to illuminate them in a soft, white light.  The following reaction was exactly what he had been expecting.

He allowed both the crew of the Icarus and the squinting guards to gaze upon the face of Research’s acting interim President.

PART THREE RESURRECTION

ICARUS LOG 005: Concluded

“It’s not Death I’m afraid of; Death has been my co-pilot from the outset. Hell, it’s not even fear of the Unknown that unnerves me. What scares me is disappointment—that no one will mourn my loss once I pass to the Other Side. The Musgrave name will forever remain marred, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

20 DISFIGURED

Vice President Arnoux Botha was not the witty, diabolical politician that Miranda Jensen was, but he did possess a keen aptitude for implementing governmental procedure. An honest man, driven by the desire to see Research succeed, he was the yin to Jensen’s yang. They were a formidable force, perfectly balancing each other in all aspects of politics. After one of the five pillars of AMBER fell, the devious side of the spectrum had died along with it, leaving the straightforward half of the duo to assume the role of President.

Triston knew what he was up against in impersonating a man of Botha’s ilk, and as Arthur T. Forester, he had spoken with him on numerous occasions. There were many similarities between him and Botha––secret assassin lifestyle aside. Namely, they both suffered from an obsessive-compulsive disorder; he would have little trouble pulling off a believable imitation.

As the acting president, Botha’s presence outside the Research section of the UniSys cruiser was not questioned. His safety came first and foremost. And the three people who had accompanied him inside the safety of the division’s walls escaped scrutiny on account of Triston vouching for their identities. Or perhaps the clustering Research members’ silence on the matter had something to do with their own magboots mysteriously regaining power.

Most of the attention was on Lin’s glowing Rook, allowing the shadows to obscure Cole’s infamous face. Lin and Nora were unknowns, and Triston’s disguise was only flawed in that he was three inches shorter than the real Botha—a trait remedied slightly by the combat boots

Triston, with familiar and unfamiliar soldiers in tow, hastened his way toward the offices of the Research president. He ignored the questions aimed at his unexpected arrival and focused on his destination. and the importance surrounding the intel he claimed to have acquired from Lin’s Rook.

Cole was the quietest Triston had ever heard. Cole was never one to be shy in situations of great import; it could only mean he was taking in the whole situation, planning his next move. The pilot would not remain silent for long.

“Mr. President!” a voice called from up ahead. The woman slowed to a halt well before the wall of soldiers carving out a path for Triston. “I was unaware you had already left your chambers for the impromptu hearing.”

Triston vaguely recognized the middle-aged delegate for his mother. He thought her name was Anthea, but he decided not to take a chance at being wrong. “I’m currently en route for another matter of import. With the state of things, the hearing can wait.”

The woman blinked in response as he and the human circle passed her. “Then the hearing for Cole Musgrave has been canceled?”

“Heh!”

Triston glowered at Cole’s voice. “That’s correct. For the time being, I’m afraid I will be requiring privacy until further notice. Please see to this.”

“Yes––yes, of course, Mr. President.”

Triston cringed as she began shouting orders to whomever would listen. He ignored her and marched with his group down the final hallway leading to the only door in view—just as the first signs of life began returning to the ship. The dim flicker of lights steadily grew brighter, accompanied the sudden pull of artificial gravity. An Ocunet instant message indicated that CAIN had managed to restore only this section of the UniSys cruiser. Triston did not care to know how that was even possible. What mattered was that the AI temporarily shut it back down at the proper time.

And that time had arrived.

Triston whispered to Lin to darken her Rook, then leaned toward Cole and gave him specific instructions. As Anthea ran ahead of the pack to open the door, Triston gave CAIN the order to cut the lights. While the circle of soldiers was parting a path for him, he glimpsed the real Arnoux Botha’s reflection in the mirror of his wardrobe as he finished changing his attire. Their eyes met just as the world went dark.

~

Cole charged past everyone, using the residual image of the interim president to guide him. He slammed the door behind him as he crossed the threshold, praying he wouldn’t trip over any furniture and break his neck. With each step, he doubted more and more his instincts.

Lin’s Rook emitted a quick flash of light from behind him, aiding in his pursuit. The device had snuck in with him, allowing him to overtake the mortified president. As Cole dipped his shoulder to ram his frozen target, his trick knee gave out. He cried out in pain and stumbled into the man’s legs. They both collapsed to the ground, momentum driving them into the armoire.

Botha groaned, and Cole rolled over to slap a hand over the man’s mouth. They struggled for a moment, but it was clear the interim president suffered the majority of the fall. The Rook flooded the room in white light, and Cole could see the gash on the back of the man’s head. Cole felt his blood on his hands, just as the president’s body fell slack in his arms. Cole hoped he had only passed out. He let go the body, gritting through the pain to sit. He gazed up at the armoire, wondering how he would manage to stuff a body inside without screaming in agony.

The door to the room opened, and the Rook went dark, as the light of the hallway spilled inside. Cole grabbed Botha’s limp form, dragged him to the nearby desk, and hid him out of view. He hoped his ruckus was masked by the voices from outside.

Great. Now what?

“I assure you, Anthea, I will be safe in here with my personal escorts. I have matters I must discuss with them.”

“I understand, Mr. President,” Anthea replied. “But I must protest your actions in this current political climate. With the Madam President gone from dreadful circumstances, please allow me to at least remain so I can attend to your needs.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Gray said in Botha’s voice. “I will need you to locate Mr. Mercer from security command. His presence is requested here in my chambers.”

Cole used the desk to stand and tried not to seem out of place.

“Very well, Mr. President,” Anthea said, and her gaze fell upon Cole. He suddenly wished he had stayed out of view. She opened her mouth, then held her tongue, he squared her shoulders, and curtly turned on her heel to leave.

Cole waved to her as the door closed. “Awesome. Now we’re trapped in here with your unconscious doppelgänger. Or is it the other way around? You look so much like him that I can’t really tell the difference.”

Gray unbuttoned his suit jacket and yanked it off, draping it over the desk. “Where is he?”

Cole permitted the assassin some space to step around to the back of the desk, where the real Botha was laying in a heap. “Sorry about the blood on him. I, uh, tripped. You didn’t give me a lot of time to get creative.” He smiled at Gray’s glower.

“You’re fortunate you had any time at all.” The assassin shoved the body aside with his foot to access the desk. He waved his hand over the glass top and flicked upward to draw forth a holographic login screen. When the password protection appeared, he swore and faced CAIN. “Can you bypass this?”

“Details,” Cole said under his breath. “It’s a bitch winging it under incredible stress, isn’t it? Minor things like assaulting presidents tend to happen.”

The AI sheepishly approached the assassin. She looked at Cole––who nodded––then gazed at the three-dimensional image above the desk. She closed her eyes, and the unusual glow enveloped her again. It dissipated shortly as she announced, “Done.”

Lin’s attention was upon the display of government information. Gray cast her and her Rook a dismissive glance before proceeding with his mysterious task. Cole watched it all from a short distance, surprisingly calm despite the hurricane that threatened to pour inside. A thought suddenly came to him as he studied Gray’s altered appearance.

“You never explained how it is you work that special effect makeup head you’re wearing on your shoulders. It’s not every day that a person can morph their hair and features to perfectly match another’s. What’s your secret?”

Triston’s shoulders tensed, though he continued accessing the computer. “No secret. Just a painful reminder of growing up under the thumb of a powerful parent.”

Cole’s eyes widened at the unexpected reply. The assassin had not exactly answered the question, but his response opened a new door to a side he’d never encountered: the past. He wanted to dig deeper into the enigma that was Triston Gray, Ghosting son of Miranda Jensen, but he decided not to press his luck. Not yet, anyway. I may crack him yet. Unless, of course, we die in the next couple minutes.

Cole’s studied the holographic projection, watching in anticipation when a digital microphone appeared before Triston’s face. Curiosity turned to anxiety when he saw Gray tightly grip the desk with both hands and press his eyes shut. He didn’t get the chance to ask what grave decision was being made.

Uh oh....

Gray “grabbed” the mic and pulled it as close as the virtual object would allow. “Attention all members of Unity One. This is the president of Research, Arnoux Botha, speaking.

“I am addressing you under the direst of circumstances. The attack we suffered is an act of terrorism by a powerful enemy the likes of which our great United System has never faced. By the grace and cunning of a few brave individuals, we have managed to temporarily combat the assault from this foreign entity. I ask that you all steel yourselves for whatever is to come next. Your skills will be paramount in the time that follows. The ill-conceived machinations of Terracom have led us to the precipice of war, and we must be prepared.”

Cole turned to CAIN when she tapped him on the shoulder. She looked terrified and leaned in close to whisper.

“I cannot avoid it.”

Cole frowned. “Avoid what?”

BOOM!

Magboots or not, everyone was tossed to one side of the room. A distant, muted grinding permeated the cruiser, and a constant tremble shook the walls and floor. Lights flickered, though power remained. Cole was slow to rise, his throbbing knee and freshly aching back to blame. Nowhere inside the room was there any noticeable damage; it was clear whatever had happened to the flagship occurred outside in space.

“So much for impressive speeches,” Cole muttered as he helped CAIN to stand. Lin was already up by the time he reached her. “The timing was rather impeccable, though.”

Gray stormed back to the president’s computer, where the holographic visual had vanished. “Do you have a visual of this ship’s exterior?” he demanded of the AI.

“Probably one of the accompanying vessels drifting into us, I would think,” Cole answered for her.

CAIN used the desk to steady herself. “The captain is correct. “One of the neighboring vessels has collided with us; it was unavoidable. I am currently assessing the damage and working to maneuver us––”

“Ignore the damage report, and don’t override the pilots,” Gray ordered. “Allow them to do their job unhindered. Focus instead on trying to extend your reach into the accompanying vessels. We can’t afford to let the entire surrounding fleet spiral into ruin.”

CAIN looked anything but confident at accomplishing such a task. “I will try.”

“Or else what’ll happen? Cole asked Gray.

“This plan will fail,” he said.

“What plan? Escape or the overthrow of an entire democracy?”

Gray rounded on Cole, his face reverting back to that of Arthur T. Forester. “Would you rather we run?”

Cole held his hands palm-up. “Yes! Isn’t that the point of escape? To avoid death or prison time?”

“Even if that was a course of action, your days of running are over, Captain.”

I don’t like the finality in his tone. Cole crossed his arms over his chest. “Would you care to explain?”

Three quick raps upon the President’s door interrupted the explanation before it began. The assassin resumed his presidential face and turned toward his guest. He gave a fleeting glance at Botha’s body before stepping in front of his desk.

“Enter.”

Is he crazy? Cole thought with dread. Who could he possibly be expecting?

Anthea walked in, the suspicion so plainly on her face that it was laughable. She carried herself stiffly, her glances at each of them accusatory.

Oh, she definitely knows something’s up. But it was the person behind her that caught Cole’s attention. The tall man’s immaculate, bone-white uniform spoke of authority, though a mischievous sparkle in his eyes told a different story. A good ten years Cole’s junior, this broad-shouldered officer was a man of high rank and esteem, as indicated by the rows of colored pins on his breast.

“Commanding Security Officer Saul Mercer, Mr. President,” Anthea announced with little enthusiasm.

“Thank you, Anthea,” Triston said dismissively. “That’ll be all.”

The woman stared for a moment––clearly perplexed by her banishment––before slowly turning to leave.

“I don’t think she’s used to being ordered around like some common secretary,” Cole said not a second after the door clicked closed.

“Oh, Mrs. Corliss is indeed a secretary,” Saul Mercer said in a smooth baritone. “The Secretary of Treasury. And one of the president’s closest confidants.”

“Whoops!” Cole said, grinning in Gray’s direction. “You just set women’s rights back about 250 years.”

Gray ignored Cole and approached Mercer with the face of Arthur T. Forester. The two men shook hands, Gray’s grip the firmer of the two despite being dwarfed by Mercer’s.

“This is quite the mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Gray,” Mercer said, surveying the room. His eyes settled on the desk knowingly. “That’s not like you at all.”

Gray’s jaw clenched, and he took a sharp breath through his nose. “The plan has become...complicated.”

Mercer’s mischievous glint succumbed to uncertainty. He crossed his arms behind his back. “Sneaking you aboard Unity One with a false code, name, and title is something I can manage, but you can’t expect me to cover up for this.” He gesticulated toward the desk. “I can see the soles of his shoes. Arnoux Botha. What have you done?”

Gray’s face was so tense that Cole thought a vein might burst. “I’ve made a choice to rectify a great wrong.”

Am I hearing things right? Cole wondered.

“A coup, you mean,” Mercer stressed. “I heard what you said over the comm. Everyone did. This is madness, Gray. I know your mother was involved in dealings that got her killed, but––”

“You won’t need to cover up for anything,” Gray said. “We will take full responsibility for Botha.”

“We?” Mercer looked suspiciously at the crew of the Icarus. “I can’t begin to fathom why you would join the likes of Cole Musgrave.”

Cole smiled and pointed his thumb at himself. “That’s me!”

“A necessary evil,” Gray said. “But a means to an end. He, Dr. Dartmouth, and her sentient AI will aid me in persuading AMBER to confront The Source.”

Um, what? “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute there, Captain Charisma,” Cole interrupted. “I think I heard you wrong. Didn’t you spring us to avoid me facing AMBER a second time?”

Cole withstood their glare despite his aching knee threatening to turn to water.

“You still have a mission to complete, Captain,” the assassin said calmly. “Miranda Jensen’s mission to save her daughter. My sister.”

Cole frowned. “Since when did you become a family man? Hell, you don’t even go by your family’s surname.”

Gray was silent, his jaw so tight Cole thought his teeth might explode.

Mercer intervened. “Is that what this is all about?”

Gray opened his mouth to speak, but “Forester” disappeared.  A monster stood in his stead.

Cole gasped at Gray’s newest face. Somehow, he knew this was the real Triston Jensen. Melted described what remained of his features. There was no hair to be found anywhere on his head, and large splotches of smooth skin interrupted wrinkles of varying hues of beige, rose, and crimson. The papery skin of his nose was taut atop what remained of the cartilage beneath. He had no lips, and one of his cheeks was translucent enough to reveal the bone beneath. It was a horror story.

None of the wounds were recent, but Cole wondered how it was Triston was not constantly screaming. He gazed down at his own burned hands and shuddered.

“I never had a choice,” the assassin began shakily, his lipless mouth affecting his speech. “The ability to morph into identity was a curse foisted upon me by my mother at a young age, after my...accident. Research’s advances in medicine and nanobiotechnology allowed my mother to invest in surgery for tactical espionage. My identity was permanently erased, and under her mantle, I’ve remained a Ghost, doing her bidding without question or remorse. From birth I had been kept from the limelight and later trained as an assassin. She pounced on an opportunity to make me something even greater—at least, in her eyes.

“Outside of her tight inner circle, I don’t exist.” Gray paused. “My sister, however, was one of the few who knew and cared for me. She was allowed the life I never had the chance to live, and I did everything in my power to see that it remained that way for her. Until she flew into the Source.”

Cole realized he and the assassin were not so different after all. Betrayed by monstrous mothers with hidden agendas, they shared burns that forged a kinship between them. Suddenly he found a reason to assist Gray’s cause.

“I had forgotten about my pledge to her,” Gray continued. “After I left you and Dartmouth on Earth, I returned to my pretend life and tried to put everything behind me. But I lost everything there and was left with nothing but my guilt.”

Cole took a step toward Gray. “And then you saw the light.”

Gray didn’t reply. He looked from Cole to Mercer. “I’m going to unite AMBER to help me destroy the Source. But before I––”

We,” Cole said.

It might have been a touch of admiration in Gray’s eyes; a first for Cole. “I will save my sister before we carry out that mission.”

“You know she’s dead, right?”

Gray didn’t flinch at Cole’s comment. “I said the same thing to my mother, but I have to try anyway. It’s all that I can do now.”

Cole was shaking his head, chuckling lightly. “That is the single most insane plan I have ever heard in my entire life.” He extended his hand. “I’m in.”

Gray shook it. “Excellent.”

Cole retracted his hand, suddenly feeling awkward at the change in emotion.  “So how, exactly, do you plan on turning the other presidents to your side?”

Gray shifted back to Arnoux Botha, and the corners of his mouth turned upward. “By giving them you.”

21 JUDGE

Cole scratched under the collar of his shirt, his skin beginning to chafe from perspiring in a suit that was a bit too tight. Nerves probably played a role too, but he would never openly admit that. Botha had been the president of Research for barely a day, but wearing his clothing made Cole feel powerful—even if only for the remainder of the meeting––a meeting that could mean his end and the end of everyone involved in this righteous plan Gray had put into motion. Cole was willing to take that chance, seeing as the alternative was indefinite running. Better to burn out than to fade away....

He was glad to be among the remaining members of the Icarus as they marched the length of the hallways of Unity One, though it was hard not being nervous while surrounded by Botha’s secret service and the ever-suspicious Secretary of Treasury. Having Rig with them would’ve been nice; Cole had softened his stance on the mechanic’s motives of self-preservation.  He also knew that unleashing all his animosity on Rig had been beyond hypocritical. He was also glad CAIN had stopped him from doing yet another foolish thing he’d forever regret. As it was, he doubted he and Rig would ever cross paths again.

Gray’s inside partner, Saul Mercer, was supposedly assisting them by transporting the true Arnoux Botha somewhere for safekeeping. Cole wondered what sort of favor the commanding officer of UniSys owed Gray, for Mercer to agree to treason. Cole also wondered about Triston’s disfigurement. Just how long ago did his life altering experience take place? And was she the one responsible for his burns?

Would Gray ever relinquish his nanobiotech face in order to join society as Triston Jensen? Or did that person not exist? Perhaps he really was the loner known as Gray.

Cole glimpsed the strain on CAIN’s face, just as it was strangely missing from Lin’s. Where the AI’s mental state was delicate, Lin remained indifferent—almost removed—from the situation.  He considered his one-time relationship—or what he thought had been a relationship—from the onset of Jensen’s mission. The Rook was suspect in her growing apathy, as it had belonged to her father—the same father who was communicating from beyond the grave.

It was in these moments, while crammed with the entourage in a restricted lift, that his unpredictable nature threatened to rise.  With so many weapons within reach, Cole could take the “president” hostage and make one last run for it. But even if he acted on impulse, would his chance of survival be any better?

The door to the lift opened, and the opportunity vanished. Gray was led out of the tin can, beyond reach. The hallway led them to a room similar to the one on Cole’s prison moon:  a meeting chamber for members of AMBER. Large, nondescript, and in the shape of a pentagon, the space was bereft of distractions. The last time he had entered such a room, the five presidents had spoken with him as holographic projections. When the door opened to this room, the occupants were real, and it was a wonder Cole was allowed within a trillion light years of them.

Perhaps they don’t know I’m coming, he thought.

All of AMBER was there, despite the universal blackout. The presidents milled in their respective areas of the room, guarded by their personal security detail. Though invisible to the naked eye, Cole assumed a protective barrier served as a wall between him and the presidents. In addition to deflecting energy weapon blasts, trespassers without the proper clearance would be fried.

Gray removed himself from the group, and Cole, Lin, and CAIN were ushered through a narrow path dividing Research and Agriculture, toward the center of the room. Then they were abandoned and instructed to remain where they stood. Despite being unbound and free to roam, they were undeniably trapped.

Gray had masterfully manipulated and gifted them to the four leaders of the United System without firing a shot. They would be his bargaining chips in gaining whatever it was he wished to collect from this venture. He wore the face of a president, spoke with his voice, and carried himself as the former vice president did. Suddenly Rig’s “betrayal” didn’t seem so bad.

Cole looked at Lin and CAIN, defeated. “We’re done.”

~

Triston pretended not to notice Cole’s smoldering stare. He knew what the pilot was thinking, and he did not care. This was how it had to be in order to set things right. He took his seat at his desk, along with the other leaders of UniSys. There would be no room for error.

The calm president of Business, Amrita Sharmila, stood to address the room dark power pantsuit. “The U1 council recognizes the recently instated president of Research, Mr. Arnoux Botha.” She nodded in Triston’s direction, and he could read the uncertainty in her gaze. “You have the floor.”

Sharmila sat, and Triston stood, adjusting his jacket. “Thank you, fellow council members. I would like to start these proceedings by addressing––”

“The elephants in the room, I would hope,” Darius Sinclair of Military interrupted, his hand gesturing to the crew of the Icarus. “Afterward, the council would appreciate an in-depth explanation of your illegal commandeering of Research’s flagship.”

“We wish for these proceedings to be brief,” Sharmila added with no less authority. “These are troubling times, and it is unwise for us to gather after such tragic events.”

Triston expected the interruption. “My apologies if my actions have come across as rather...impudent. I assure you my intentions are wholly noble. I will address that matter in due time, as well as the details of my swearing in.” He faced the isolated trio in the center of the room. “First and foremost, I come before this council bearing grim tidings of my predecessor.”

The council exchanged glances at the abrupt change in subject. Terrence Concord of Agriculture was the first to recover. “Aside from her untimely death, I would presume?”

“That’s correct. These are indeed troubling times—disturbing, in fact, Ms. Sharmila. I have uncovered information about the late Miranda Jensen that has shaken me to the core—information regarding her secret agenda with the Source.”

There was an audible gasp from President Mateo Cruz of Entertainment, and Sharmila and Sinclair shared a concerned look. Only Concord seemed unmoved, and he addressed the claim.

“Yes, unfortunately Ms. Jensen was aboard her ship at the outskirts of the Terracom blockade. This council advised her against sticking her nose where it was not wanted. You mean to tell us that you have evidence which might shed some light on her involvement?”

Triston focused hard on Concord. “I do. And I regret to inform this council that she was a traitor, illegally freeing Captain Cole Musgrave and Doctor Lin Dartmouth from prison for her own familial expedition.”

This news won Triston their full attention, and he continued before any of them could respond.

“I verified her betrayal through the individuals standing here before us.” He gestured to Cole, Lin, and CAIN. “Ms. Jensen sought the assistance of the captain and doctor to rescue her daughter from the within the Source.”

“This is preposterous!” Concord shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

“I assure you that this claim is anything but, Mr. Concord. I’ve had my suspicions about Ms. Jensen and her unethical dealings long before she ever enacted her plan––a plan which eventually cost her her life and that of everyone aboard her ship. I had never been able to uncover evidence of her dealings until recently.

“After the capture of Captain Musgrave, Dr. Dartmouth, and her AI creation, I was able to discuss with them their association with Ms. Jensen.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Concord said, red-faced. “You expect us to believe this ridiculous account? That somehow the words of a convicted mass murderer can be trusted? And even if we were to acknowledge anything he might utter I question how it is you discovered his connection with Ms. Jensen.”

Triston crossed his arms behind his back, hands squeezed tightly together. “I obtained video and audio surveillance from a credible source close to her. It would seem not everyone within her circle was as willing to partake in her extracurricular activities. I have begun compiling a dossier which will detail her dealings prior to her death.”

“How convenient,” Concord said with contempt.

“I would hope you have more than words to present to us, Mr. Botha,” Sharmila said. “These are serious charges you propose.”

“Treason,” Sinclair clarified.

“Yes,” Concord added to the chorus. “It would be tragic for you if you were unable to present evidence against those who can no longer defend themselves.”

“Careful, Mr. Concord,” Mateo Cruz scolded. He bridged his plump fingers together and cast him a look of rebuke. “Your insinuated threat is uncalled for. Let the entire council judge what is presented us.”

Concord sighed but said nothing more. He gestured impatiently for Triston to continue.

“I assure you that I have not come to spit on Miranda Jensen’s grave for my own gain. Her contributions to Research were well recognized and appreciated by all, and I can only hope to be half the president she was, prior to her turn. But the facts speak for themselves.”

Triston flicked his hand upward from the table, and a holographic account of a meeting between an unknown figure and Miranda Jensen appeared; it replicated in front of the other presidents as well. He cast a fleeting glance at Cole, for it was the pilot’s private interaction with Jensen while in her bedroom aboard the Prism.

The entire unedited encounter was there, as seen through Cole’s eyes—eyes that the pilot had assumed were no longer connected to any form of Ocunet or government espionage. Ghosted, as it were.  It was a technique Triston employed to keep close tabs on a dangerous and unpredictable man. Only he could slip in and out of Cole’s point of view at will, and doing so had paid off in dividends.

“Her son?” Concord said, surprised by news of another Jensen child.

Triston had purposely not edited out the details of his identity and top secret position. It was his way of hiding in plain sight and proving to the council that Arnoux Botha was on the side of the council and not an assassin’s treasonous mother. It was as risky a move as he had ever made. The only thing that could make or break everything was the man standing at the room’s center.

Sinclair pointed his finger at Cole. “I wish to know why a man of your ilk would forgo a second chance at freedom and decline the mission Ms. Jensen proposed? Knowing what we know about you––and that is a great deal––I find it beyond incredible you would risk a second chance at freedom by doing the right thing.”

Triston swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Tell us, Mr. Musgrave,” Sharmila coaxed. “Convince us that your involvement with a reputed and respected authority as Miranda Jensen was as noble as Mr. Botha’s.”

All eyes fell to Cole, who was picking at his fingernails, disinterested.

“Nope.”

22 JURY

Cole relished the look of misery on Gray’s fake, presidential face. The assassin deserved every soul-crushing second of silence that followed his single word reply. While Gray had not betrayed him and his crew, being trapped in the center of a room full of the System’s most powerful individuals who wanted the Musgrave line eradicated demanded a bit of retaliation. It didn’t matter to him than Cole had delivered it at the most inopportune time.

“‘No,’ you won’t answer?” Sharmila asked, breaking the uneasy silence. “Or, ‘no,’ your intentions were not noble?”

Cole flicked away that last bits of whatever was underneath his fingernail. “Neither. And I said ‘nope,’ not ‘no.’”

Concord dragged his palm across his face, disgusted. “This is absolutely pointl––”

“Actually,” Cole interrupted, “I take that back. My intentions have rarely been noble, but I was never involved with Jensen’s family cabal.”

The council glanced amongst each other; there was some brief discourse between Sinclair and Sharmila. The Business president continued her line of questions.

“Clarify your lack of involvement with Ms. Jensen, Captain. Mr. Botha would not bring you before this council were you not to verify his claim.” She cast Gray another one of her withering, accusatory glances. “Though he still has much to answer for, we are currently speaking with you. So, no more games.”

Cole smiled. “I don’t play games, Madam Business. I live them. And this little referendum deciding my fate yet again is just another level in the unending RPG that has become my life.” He wove his fingers together and cracked all his knuckles, preparing to bend the truth. “But I see your point, and I will validate Mr. Botha’s seemingly ludicrous claim. I said I’d help Jensen get her daughter back, but I never intended to do any such thing. The crazy bitch wanted me to fly straight into a blazing blue ship-eating sun! What did she expect me to find in there? Her kid’s ashes? She didn’t even have the decency to lend me an urn.”

“Stay on track, son,” Sinclair warned.

Cole mock-saluted the Military president. “Sorry, Dad.” He shook his head. “As I was saying, I never intended to go along with her suicide mission, so I cornered Doc, here, and had her use her Rook to send out a secret distress call to whomever was listening in Research.” He gestured toward Gray.

Mateo Cruz of Entertainment leaned forward and rested his elbows on his table, eyes wide. “And how did you plan on evading Ms. Jensen’s Prism and the Terracom blockade?”

Cole shrugged. “The same way I deal with everything: by the seat of my pants. She was stupid enough to give me back my ship, then she deserved to watch her golden opportunity fly off in the other direction while I flipped her the proverbial bird.”

Concord sighed loudly. “Your voice irritates me, Captain. I would rather Dr. Dartmouth continue from her perspective. Seeing as she was the one who contacted Mr. Botha directly, I would assume her Rook will have evidence of her exchange.”

I don’t know about that, Concord Grape, Cole thought, suddenly anxious. He tried not to face Lin and make her any more nervous than she probably already was.

“In addition to her communiqué evidence,” Concord continued, “she might have some relevant information which might shed light on the rogue vessel which abruptly ended the truce we had been building with Terracom. All of us here are still confounded by the assault on the Prism––a ship which should have evaded detection. A ship that should never have been there to begin with.”

Shit, this guy ain’t as dumb as I thought! Cole stared at Gray, though the incognito assassin only offered a slight shake of his head. He had clearly not considered all aspects of this conversation. The presidential noose was beginning to tighten.

Lin’s Rook floated beside Cole, but another voice spoke in her stead.

“Perhaps we will dissect the finer points of Ms. Jensen’s demise at a later time, Mr. Concord.” Cruz said, surprising the rest of the council. “This council currently wishes only to explore the captain’s actions in alerting Mr. Botha. A formal investigation is already underway surrounding the Prism’s destruction. Let us not waste any more time veering off course.”

Concord’s face looked ready to split open. “And do you propose we just accept this fairy tale at face value, Mr. Cruz?”

Cruz traced his thumb and index finger along his graying goatee and grinned. “I accept Mr. Botha’s intuition. We have no reason to discredit him. Besides, we have yet to learn the true nature of this gathering.” He addressed Gray. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Botha?”

Eyes being windows to the soul, Cole was able to see right into Gray’s, which were full of suspicion of Cruz. “I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Cruz,” he said, his voice empty. “Only if the majority of this council agrees for me to continue.”

Concord and Cruz’s opinion had already been stated, so the remaining two council members engaged in discussion. Only one more vote was needed in Gray’s favor to carry the discussion past Concord’s line of questioning. Cole knew Gray had had won when Sinclair and Sharmila turned from each other, facing away from the Agriculture president.

With four in favor, and one opposed, Cole marveled at the eternal contradiction that was politics. Despite their obvious disdain for Cole and the preponderance of evidence which could sink Gray’s nearly capsized boat, they chose expediency over efficiency. He assumed they wished for a quick resolution, so they could abandon Unity One and return to safety of their own division and its familiar affairs. Why address the Source in-person when the advent of Ocunet and augmented reality could deal with the Unknown from a safe distance?

Concord leaned back heavily into his cushiony chair and folded his arms, clearly done with the meeting. Sharmila ignored him, gesturing for Gray to resume the meeting. The assassin obliged.

“I will get straight to the point. This council has asked why I took the liberty of putting Unity One under lockdown and sole control of Research. I will offer to you both an answer to the previous question, along with the true reason behind the presence of the crew of the Icarus. This trio is the only survivor of the Prism and the Terracom blockade. Their comprehensive knowledge of the mysterious Extant Energy unchecked on the outskirts of our solar system is invaluable and cannot be overlooked.

“The attack we suffered a short while ago was a direct energy assault from an unknown entity within the Source. I know this to be true, as the unnamed woman in the center of this room has verified its existence, for she, herself, was born of the Extant Energy.”

Concord scoffed, but he did not outright refute Gray’s claim.

The assassin’s mouth twisted in irritation. “As absurd as this may seem, I assure you that my doubts were quelled upon witnessing her abilities.”

“And just what are her abilities, Mr. Botha?” Sinclair demanded. “If she is capable of wielding this Extant Energy, then I question your judgment in bringing her before us.” He pointed a stern finger at CAIN. “And while you’re at it, perhaps you might be gracious enough to enlighten us as to her identity.”

Gray squirmed. “She is the evolved form of the artificially intelligent brainchild of Dr. Dartmouth. CAIN.”

“Nora,” Cole corrected, slightly at the roomful of glares. “She chose a new name for her new body. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Sinclair scowled. “I do not follow you, Mr. Botha.”

Cruz pointed at CAIN. “Her? You’re telling us that this Black Dwarf defector is the reincarnation of an AI program in human form?”

“I am,” Gray said. “If you might urge her, Captain,” he pleaded.

Cole’s brow furrowed. “Urge her to do what? Perform a magic trick to convince these phonies we mean business?”

Cole thought the assassin might give up the entire charade and murder him. “Have...Nora enlighten my colleagues.”

“Ah...” Cole said nodding. “That clarifies nothing.” He looked at CAIN. “Got any ideas how to ‘enlighten’ our audience? Seems they don’t believe you’re you.”

CAIN looked afraid, and was Lin’s gentle touch on her wrist that pulled her from the edge of panic. The Rook drifted close to the AI’s face, and Cole leaned in to hear what was whispered.

“Show them the truth.”

CAIN nodded met Cole’s gaze before looking at each president in turn. The room went dark except for the ethereal blue light at the center of the chamber that surrounded the AI. No one spoke.

And it was the “miracle” who opened AMBER’s eyes to the System’s greatest threat: The Source. How it was CAIN appeared to physically transform the room so the council was suddenly floating within reach of the storm of electric blue energy, Cole had not the slightest clue. Some form of imposed augmented reality was probably the cause, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if magic had been employed to teleport them all to the far reaches of the galaxy. He was just glad to be along for the ride.

CAIN was not the only cause for silence. The walls around them had vanished, and they were surrounded by the vision of Space—not just any place in the universe, but within arm’s reach of the storm of electric blue energy known as The Source. All at once, Cole’s crew and the five presidents were hurtling into the heart of the light. Still no one uttered a sound, but Cole had found Lin and CAIN’s hands and gripped them firmly.

And then the eight remaining participants were hurtling into the mouth of the gaping blue beast. Cole should’ve been terrified to be swallowed whole by the mysterious anomaly, but common sense kept him grounded. That and each of his fingers had somehow connected to the hands of both Lin and CAIN may have played a part as well. He gave them firm grips, which were reciprocated. “I have at last been given an audience.”

The demonic voice had spoken through the Rook, and Cole imagined this was what true evil sounded like.

“With who are we speaking?” Concord asked.

There was a moment’s pause where the AI’s feature’s strained.

“I am infinite,” the voice replied, strengthening in volume. “Witness my rebirth, as well as your own.”

Cole gulped, wanting nothing more than for the sinister red light of the Rook to vanish and they be returned to the safety of the chamber.

And then his wish came true. All was as it had been prior to the journey except CAIN was doubled over.

Cole knelt down to meet her. “Nora? What’s wrong?”

CAIN trembled in Cole’s arms. “I cannot defend against it. The draw is too strong.”

Cole’s mouth hung slightly slack, but the council launched its questions before he could.

“Would your AI care to elaborate?” Sinclair asked, his militaristic tone softer than before. “I’m sure I’m not alone in wondering what it was we witnessed and what it has to do with our discussion.”

Cole answered for her. “I don’t think Nora was responsible for who or what was talking to us.”

Sinclair sighed and rubbed his brow. “Then my question still stands, and I fail to understand the purpose of the captain and his crew, Mr. Botha.”

Gray stared at Sinclair. “You fail to recognize the threat we just witnessed? Mr. Sinclair, what evidence will allow you to see this with clarity?”

The Military president pressed his palms together and scowled. “I speak for this council when I say that we will need more than hologram hocus-pocus and electronic disembodied voices to convince us of any threat.”

Gray pounded his fist on the table. “I seized control of Unity One with this very fear––that neither you nor this disinterested council would recognize that the whole of the United System is at war with an enemy we do not understand.

“Do any of you believe I would sacrifice the safety of our democracy on a whim? President Jensen died because of her ignorance. The whole of Terracom fell to this faceless enemy.”

Cole’s face contorted at Gray’s rant. Very little of what the assassin was saying in regard to the Source was true, though he made it sound plausible. But the longer he pondered the Extant Energy monster Gray was creating, the more he believed it. It was only a matter of convincing the unconvinceable. And the council looked far from ready to join hands and dedicate the System to a unifying cause.

A high priority message interrupted the proceedings, and Sharmila reluctantly received the call. A woman’s nervous voice spilled across the room.

“Please forgive my intrusion,” she said, the din of chaos muddling the call, “but we have in a state of emergency.”

Sinclair sat straighter. “Is this Admiral Prescott?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

The Military president suddenly looked anxious. “What sort of emergency?”

“I–I’m not certain how this is possible, but our entire fleet has shifted its course. All systems have been commandeered by an unknown entity, and we cannot override it. I am seeking guidance.”

Cole watched five presidential brows furrow at the same time. He already knew to where Unity One and its surrounding fleet were headed before Sinclair asked the question.

Admiral Prescott cleared her throat. “I can’t be completely certain, but our current trajectory suggests we’re veering toward the outskirts of UniSys jurisdiction.”

“C’mon, Prescott!” Cole interrupted. “Tell my AMBER pals, here, exactly where our ‘trajectory’ is taking us. Prove Mr. Botha and me right.”

There was a moment of silence, while the admiral cleared her throat. “Um, uh, forgive me, but, uh... To whom am I speaking?”

Cole winked at Sinclair and let him resume the conversation.

“The council would prefer you answer the posed question, Admiral.”

“Of course, Mr. President,” Admiral Prescott said. “Our destination appears to be in the vicinity of the Source.”

Cole mouthed along with the admiral’s final two words and smiled.

None of the four real presidents had an answer for Prescott, choosing, instead, to dismiss the admiral while they discussed what to do in private. Sharmila finally addressed the assassin when they had finished. “Mr. Botha, it is clear that all of what you have presented before this council is not only factual, but of the highest order of importance. This is indeed a grave situation—one that will require the assistance of all five divisions of government. Being, the United System, we will unite under one cause. You have gained our sincerest trust and support, and we will follow your lead in the charge against this foreign adversary.”

Cole’s jaw fell, and he looked at Gray, who appeared ready to faint. Thankfully, the assassin recovered enough to continue his presidential charade.

“This council has my deepest respect, and I am pleased to serve alongside you.” He nodded to each of the four presidents in turn. “I suggest we get to work straight away.”

“Just a minute!”

Cole snapped his mouth shut and scowled at the voice of dissent: Concord of Agriculture.

“While I grudgingly accepted this council’s decision to support your...cause, I can’t help but wonder just how you’ll be seeking assistance.”

Gray blinked.

A single, piercing clap directed all eyes to Cole. He pointed both his thumbs at himself and grinned.

“This guy!”

23 EXECUTIONER

Triston despised spirits of any sort. Whether imbibed for celebration, killing emotional pain, or strengthening one’s resolve in societal situations, alcohol was nothing more than a distraction, an obstruction to complete focus. At times drinking was a necessary evil in his line of work, but he had mastered avoiding or discarding the drinks without notice.

Today avoidance would prove to be a challenge.

President Mateo Cruz had demanded to meet with Triston in his personal division quarters aboard Unity One—under the watchful eyes of both their security details, of course. Why drinks were in order, Triston had no idea. The only thing he did know was that he had been gifted a rare opportunity.

Cruz strode about Triston’s quarters as though they were his own. He approached with a crystal decanter, a pale amber liquid shimmered through the vessel. Two tumblers were in his other hand, and one was gently slid across the table in Triston’s direction. Triston could smell the alcohol the moment the stopper was removed; the Entertainment president set to apportioning the glasses.

“Scotch,” Cruz said, his eyes aglow. “Neat, I presume. One finger, for starters.” He replaced the stopper and took his seat across from Triston. He took up his tumbler in his left hand, passed the rim near his nose, and inhaled. “A man of your character has no need for ice. Straight to the point for President Arnoux Botha.”

Triston did not touch his glass. “Mr. Cruz, I admit I’m a bit confused by your presumptions, as well as our unexpected meeting. Under these dire circumstances, no less.”

Cruz waved off the notion, resting a forearm on the back of his high chair and reclining slightly. He was a far cry from the other power suit-wearing presidents and just what one would expect of the head of Entertainment: a spectrum of vivid colors adorned his loose-fitting attire. Triston would have described it as a clown costume.

“Dire circumstances are the best times to discuss the forging of future alliances,” Cruz said before taking his first sip. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Triston arched a brow before taking a seat across from him. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you. Perhaps you might elaborate.”

Cruz tipped his tumbler in Triston’s direction. “Don’t you?”

Triston considered asking him to leave, already weary of the conversation. So much needed to be done in preparation for the road ahead, and he had interaction with politicians to last him an eternity. What was clear was that the man was there for reasons other than speaking on the behalf of the people of the United System.

There was that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to consider....

Compliments of CAIN, Triston entered his Ocunet and infiltrated the real Arnoux Botha’s access to the room’s security. It took him a moment to suspend any audio taps throughout the room.

“I assume some privacy is in order,” Triston said

Cruz smiled. “Off the record, as it were. I trust your word, as you can trust that I have offered the same kindness.”

It was time to play the game. Triston pulled his glass closer, though he did not pick it up. “Won’t our aides question our actions?”

“The Presidents of the United System?” Cruz asked with amusement. He laughed loudly. “They can ask all they want, my dear Mr. Botha, but there are no laws requiring us to reveal our private conversations. As I said, this is strictly off the record––a conversation unfit for the public and for AMBER.” He eyed the untouched tumbler and sipped form his own.

Triston raised the glass and held it near his face. “You are quite a bold man, Mr. Cruz, to presume I would willingly go along with this little conference. What do you have to say to me in private that you could not in front of the others?”

Cruz shrugged. “The Constitution of the defunct United States of America was written in secret back rooms, over similar drinks, by men like us. That’s how true governments are run—not out in the open where there are those who threaten to collapse our way of life.” He smiled knowingly, but with venom. “You already know such things, or else we would not have forged a silent understanding in the midst of that session.”

Triston knew Cruz was speaking specifically of President Concord of Agriculture. It had been obvious from the outset of the meeting those two were at odds. Concord had been a thorn in AMBER’s side for years because of his moral high ground and strict adherence to the law. “But you said it yourself––the ‘defunct United States of America’.”

Cruz smirked. “Nothing lasts forever, Mr. Botha. Not even the 300-year experiment that was the failed melting pot on the drowned Earth.” He finished his drink and poured another glass. “But what did come from that country’s failure was the beginning of our present-day government. Secular democracy finally split from the madness of theocracy, and mankind evolved at an exponential rate. It took a worldwide catastrophe to instigate the movement, but it happened. You tell me if those initial talks to definitively divide god from science were all held in full view of the public and the hemorrhaging government?”

Triston tapped his index finger on the rim of his glass, processing Cruz’s words. He knew the man spoke the truth on this particular issue; there was just one detail missing. “That’s leads me back to my original question, Mr. Cruz.”

“The purpose of my presence,” the Entertainment president said. “I’ve come to thank you for presenting this rare opportunity for our two divisions to thrive. Before Ms. Jensen tragically met her end, the council often fell in favor of Mr. Concord’s ideals. While the man has never been viewed in a favorable light by his peers––Jensen and myself included––his righteous beliefs and firm input always managed to sway the council majority into questionable judgment and decisions.”

Triston brought the glass to his lips as Cruz was speaking, taking advantage of his tendency to speak while closing his eyes. He pulled away the drink and licked his lips just as Cruz’s eyes opened. “And I somehow altered the current format with my arrival.”

Cruz snapped his fingers. “Correct.”

“And where, exactly, does that leave our relationship?”

“Come now, Mr. Botha,” Cruz said with a forced sigh. “We’re beyond skepticism of each other. We both know where we stand in the grand scheme of things. Your willingness to reveal Jensen’s true nature tells me all I need to know about your character. You saw in her grave danger to the whole of humanity, and you acted accordingly. I had suspected her traitorous ways for some time, and it is why I did what I did.”

Triston felt his heart begin to race. That President Mateo Cruz was so willing and eager to reveal what he had already suspected made him lightheaded. Either the man was foolish beyond belief, or he had deep connections that keep him safe from repercussion. Triston assumed it was both.

“You tipped off Terracom to her ship’s presence outside the blockade.”

Cruz smiled and downed the contents of his second drink. He pushed the tumbler toward the center of the table. “These are treacherous times in which we live; we both know that. It is why we do what we do––for the betterment of our United System. Jensen was a traitor with selfish aspiration that would benefit only her division. You and I, we dream larger than self-aggrandizement. While she was freeing the vile likes of Cole Musgrave for her own machinations, she created the story of saving her daughter from the Source. Ludicrous though it was, the rest of the council believed it when I presented my evidence to them. I knew Jensen was seeking glory of the Source all for herself.”

Triston stared, his mind abuzz. He collected the decanter to pour a third round into Cruz’s glass. He slid the vessel toward the president. “I thought I had been the only one to discover her crimes.”

Cruz eyed the tumbler before gathering it and raising it toward Triston. “A toast. To a brighter future where the likes of Terrence Concord and Miranda Jensen can no longer negatively influence our council.”

Triston raised his glass to meet Cruz’s, and the crystal rang clear. He followed the Entertainment president’s lead and downed his own glass, fighting the urge to gag. It was a small price to pay for securing victory.

~

Freedom.

Cole still couldn’t believe it. Temporary though it might be, he was free to roam without a weapon pointed in his direction. But he was not alone; he had been assigned his own security detail—though he was the detail at which their security was directed. They encircled him now, leading, following, and walking side-by-side with him to the command room of Unity One. He was to meet with the ship’s crew and admiral for the journey ahead.

He was eager, if not a little giddy, to be introduced as the mission’s lead consultant. His infamous time with Military and firsthand account of all things Icarus granted him and his remaining crew a front row seat on the most unlikely mission to date.

Lin and CAIN had been separated from Cole the moment Gray had worked his small miracle with the council. He had been promised they would be returned later, once the mission was underway. Reading between the lines, Cole knew that AMBER and the flagship’s Admiral Prescott had purposely singled him out so they could test him on the bridge without any distractions. ...Other than the ones he, himself, would present when he arrived.

“What a time to be alive!” Cole said to the mute companion to his left. “Pirates and Military alike, working together to solve the problems of the multiverse. It brings a tear to my eye.”

Silence, aside from marching.

“At a loss for words, I see,” Cole continued. “I understand. Working aboard this boat, I’m sure you see all kinds of amazing things happening on a daily basis. The legendary U1... Sadly, the lesser known rock band cousin to Bono’s pride and joy. Ever listen to Joshua Tree in its entirety?”

No reply.

“It took my breath away as well.”

There was a deep, frustrated sigh from in front of Cole, and the lone woman in the group looked over her shoulder with contempt. “Shut you mouth, traitor. Just let us do our job in peace.”

There was a unified grunt of agreement from the others in Cole’s circle.

“Traitor?” Cole said as though the word tasted peculiar. “If that were true, would that make you all accomplices? I mean, AMBER and Admiral Prescott seem fine and dandy with me assisting your cause. Are you questioning their impeccable judgment?”

The woman shrugged the rifle on her shoulder so he could better see it; she stared daggers.

“My psycho mother would’ve loved you,” Cole added, driving in the knife. “Too bad I had to kill her twice to make sure she couldn’t tarnish her stellar reputation. Oh, did I mention I managed to bring back the Daedalus from another universe? You know, the ship I supposedly destroyed for reasons yet to be properly determined by the whole of Military. There’re lots of videos on the dark web verifying my story. You just have to sift through the fake news to find them.”

No one else remarked as he had hoped. It was Cole’s turn to sigh. Bunch of straight-edged cannon fodder. They must’ve cracked down hard on the brainwashing after I crapped in their pristine sheets.

The rest of the walk was dull—bereft of interaction—just as his “retinue” wanted. The door to the bridge opened, and despite the chaos that went along with managing a ship of this caliber, all eyes turned to acknowledge his presence. Cole straightened his back and shoulders and did his best impersonation of an admiral.

“Set a course for intercourse, Commander Wharf!” he ordered. “And make it so! Engage! Energize! Shut up, Wesley!” He clapped his hands and pointed ahead to nothing in particular. “And where’s my captain’s log?”

Not five paces into onto the bridge, Cole was confronted by a middle-aged woman not quite his height. The flat of her hand connected with his face, and the force behind the blow was dizzyingly. He saw stars, and the whole left side of his face was afire, the ringing in his ears drowning out the first few words of her rebuke.

“...a great risk in allowing you to assist our cause,” she said, her cheeks flushed with rage, a vein bulging on her forehead.

Cole smiled despite the lingering pain. “Wow! Thank you, sir, may I have another?”

She grabbed his forearm, her talon-like grip not unlike the Sentinel’s. “With me.”

She had ordered him to comply, but it was clear she was going to drag him to wherever she was headed whether he wanted to go or not. As it turned out, her destination was little more than five yards away, in the center of the bridge. All eyes of the crew gazed upon him, aghast.

“Members of Unity One,” she began, her fingers still digging into his flesh. “This is Cole Musgrave: the disgraced executive officer of the Daedalus and former captain of the Icarus. He is here only because my orders come from the highest office in the System.”

Cole used his free arm to offer a royal wave to the gawkers. He faced his captor. “And you must be Admiral Prescott. We talked, remember?”

Prescott glowered, but she did not smack him a second time. She continued speaking to her crew while staring directly at Cole. “Regardless of whether or not he will be any assistance, he is violent criminal with terroristic tendencies. Never forget that he was dishonorably discharged from Starforce, worked his way up the ranks of Solar Systems Express to become a test pilot, and finally turned space pirate.”

“Space pirate is redundant.”

“Furthermore,” she shouted over his comment, “he is a traitor soon to be gone once we complete this mission—no matter how instrumental he is in assisting us.” She let go his arm. “And from now on, he will show this department the respect it deserves. Am I right, Captain?”

Cole didn’t give her the satisfaction of rubbing his arm. “Permission to speak, Admiral?”

Prescott’s dark eyes widened slightly, though she consented with slightest of nods.

Cole had already decided he would speak anyway. As he turned to address the group of strangers, he caught sight of a new person entering the bridge. Something about the youthful, clean-cut man caused him to hesitate. “Who here can tell me what the plan is in dealing with our current problem?”

Cole waited, but wasn’t surprised when no one answered. “Too top secret to speak aloud? Or, isn’t there one?”

Prescott stepped forward to answer. “Our orders are to continue piloting Unity One safely toward our final destination.”

“That’s a ‘no,’” Cole said, his attention still upon the crew. “There’s no point in piloting anything, since our mysterious villain inside the Source is already doing that for us.” He looked around the room, scanning random sets of eyes for acknowledgment.

“What is the point of this speech, Captain?” Prescott asked. “Please finish your thought and do not waste any more of our––”

“Time!” Cole said, cutting her off. “It’s running out. For all of us. That’s the point of my speech. None of you––including your fearless admiral, here––has even the slightest inkling of what we are being sucked into or why.”

Prescott cleared her throat.

Cole rolled his eyes. “The truth is no one knows, yet here we are, under the thumb of a faceless enemy. This fleet isn’t the only one affected; the entire System has succumbed to Extant Energy escaping from the Source. It’s not good, and we have to figure out how to stop it.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Prescott asked, feigning politeness.

Cole smiled. “You won’t like my answer.”

“As opposed to the way you’ve conducted yourself thus far?”

“The only reason Unity One has gained any semblance of control is because of my AI friend––the one and only CAIN. She––yes, she—and she goes by Nora now––has given us an opportunity to fly ahead of the rest of the ships and space stations drifting toward their doom. That means we get to take this threat head-on in the hopes of stopping it before all is lost.”

“And when we get there?” Prescott asked. “Have you some semblance of plan which will defeat this foe?”

“The best way to fight the unknown is by learning something about it, and the only way to do that is for me to pilot my Icarus directly into that blue beast and get to know it.”

Prescott threw up her hands in aggravation. “That’s it. That’s your plan to save us all. Hoping we’ll trust you enough to follow through on a suicide mission. Forgive me if I find this all quite far-fetched. I can’t even begin to wonder what it was you said to AMBER that bought you their trust.”

An unexpected––and seemingly impossible––text message appeared in Cole’s field of vision. He decided it was time to conclude matters with the admiral and tend to another.

“I didn’t say much of anything to gain their trust,” Cole explained to the whole group. “The president of Research did that for me.” He allowed that bit of news to sink in before continuing. “Mr. Botha exposed the truth surrounding the crew of the Icarus, and he has since entrusted the fate of mankind to me.”

The only sounds were the hum of technical instruments, none of which were being tended by the crew. The approach of the stranger drew everyone’s attention, including Cole’s. He let the man assume control of the imaginary dais, enjoying as Prescott’s eyes widened at the sight of the ranking officer.

“General Bohannon, Sir!” Prescott straightened and offered a firm salute. The entire bridge, minus Cole, followed her lead. “My apologies for not acknowledging your presence. I was unaware you were aboard.”

General Bohannon returned the salute, though it was with far less gusto. For a man in his sixties, he was fit, if not a bit too lean. He had close-cropped, gray hair and a gaunt face with deeply recessed lines collected everywhere that wrinkles form. Where he lacked in height and girth, he compensated with his presence.

“At ease, Admiral,” Bohannon said, his voice as grizzled as his features. “I came unannounced. I felt it my duty to personally address everyone here regarding Captain Musgrave.”

Cole had never actually met the general in person, though he had heard plenty of the stories surrounding him and his efforts in the Carbon War. As he gazed upon the legendary Military figure, he could see through the façade. He decided to reply to the message he had received moments ago.

“In spite of whatever reservations all of you may have of this man,” Bohannon continued, “I will vouch for the validity of his words, no matter how asinine they may seem. I don’t ask you to forgive him for whatever crimes you may believe he committed; what I ask is that you heed his warning. Our situation is dire, and our only chance at tackling this threat is by placing our hopes in him. Musgrave is a man misunderstood, his tale complex, and like his late mother, he is a highly capable individual. I expect nothing less than the utmost respect given him from the equally capable crew piloting Unity One.

“What we will face upon entering the Source is anyone’s guess, though I can’t help but feel it could mean the extinction of our entire race if we don’t come together as one people to fight.”

The general turned to Cole, and Cole could see he was reading the response sent to him. “Do not disappoint us, Captain. Show the United System that your actions to this point were not wholly self-serving. Remind us of the man who once helped command the U.S.S. Daedalus and fought for a cause greater than himself.”

It took every last bit of Cole’s strength not to laugh in the general’s face, though he could not hide his smirk. He offered to Bohannon as practiced a salute as he had given in nearly twenty years. “I’ll do my best, General, but you and your flyboys and girls will have to trust my actions, no matter how ridiculous they may seem. I don’t play by the book––never have. It’s why I’ve survived as long as I have.”

The corner of Bohannon’s mouth twitched, and he leaned forward to speak exclusively to Cole. “Let’s wrap this up, Captain. It won’t be much longer before this ruse finally leads back to me.”

“Gladly, Triston,” Cole muttered so quietly that he was not sure if the assassin had heard.

“Save my sister,” Gray said and pulled away. As he concluded his speech, Cole reread the message the assassin had sent him upon his arrival to the bridge. If true––and he figured the man had no reason to lie––then it meant that this journey to the Source would be his last no matter the outcome.

Anonymous: No, your eyes are not deceiving you, Captain. You still have limited access to your Ocunet lenses. If not entirely through my blessing, of course. But don’t get any fancy ideas, because only we can communicate, just as I had intended after officially “Ghosting” you. It was the only way I could keep close tabs on you at the outset of my original mission.

And on the topic of missions, I’m afraid I have put us all in grave peril. I’ve let my emotions get the better of me. During the course of the AMBER meeting, I discovered the perpetrator of my mother’s death. I was presented an opportunity I could not refuse, and I acted. The crime may initially be blamed upon the real Arnoux Botha, but the trail will quickly lead to me. Of that I am certain.

I am not proud of what I did, but I cannot deny the satisfaction it brought me in killing the man who ordered Miranda Jensen’s murder.

I executed President Mateo Cruz.

24 ENERGIES

The Icarus rocketed away from the clutches of Unity One—freshly repaired on account of Gray’s impeccable foresight––and the only thing Cole wanted to do was avert course and fly away. He had thought the same thing when President Jensen had entrusted to him this very task. There were plenty of reasons for him to disobey then, but there were zero reasons to abandon now, despite what his instincts warned in the face of death.

Cole patted the front pocket of his flight jacket, where he had stashed the coin-shaped nano camera. He shook his head, marveling at the odds that he could record a third “Captain’s Log” send-off. Though where he and the dwindling crew of the Icarus were headed, the chance of someone locating the recording after his death was less than nil. At least he felt better creating an account of his honest thoughts. He desperately hoped there would be an opportunity for him to record a third “relieved-to-be-alive” epilogue as well.

Gazing upon the mass of electric doom erased any doubts about survival. He was going in; the Source had become his destiny––his expectant grave.

“I still can’t believe they let us go,” Cole said to Lin, his voice bereft of any brass. “Just the three of us. Leaving the fate of the universe to literally rest in our incompetent hands.”

Lin reached to Cole’s side of the flight console and laid a reassuring hand on his forearm. “This is right. What we are doing, it’s right. I know it.”

“Wrong” was the only word that came to Cole’s mind, but there was no point in dashing Lin’s hope. How it was she had come to such a certain conclusion, he had not the slightest idea. “Has your Rook received any messages or connection from our arch enemy Mr. Extant Energy?” Your father, he did not add.

Lin shook her head, her Rook dimming to black as it lighted on her lap. Her sight remained straight ahead, focused and unflinching on the Source. A chill ran up Cole’s neck when her hand pulled away from his arm and returned to where her voice box resided. There was definitely something amiss with her––as there had been for some time now––as far back as when he had first been reunited with Lin aboard the Prism. She still cared for him, but even her calming gesture seemed devoid of emotion.

The closer the Icarus came to reaching the Source, the stronger Cole felt the pull upon the ship. There was no point piloting at so close a distance, but keeping his hands on the flight yoke kept him calm. He thought of CAIN, their one and only reason for maintaining control in the midst of the celestial chaos. The AI had not been the same since she and Lin had reunited with him aboard the ship.

“How is she?” Cole asked, changing the subject.

Lin looked down from the viewport screen for the first time since launching into space. “Nora is dying. She is giving everything she has to keep us from losing power and prevent the Unity One fleet from drifting haplessly into oblivion.”

Shit... It was exactly as he had feared. The AI had silently boarded the Icarus with his and Lin’s assistance, and was brought to Cole’s quarters so she could continue her struggle in a quiet location. He had known then, but he dared not ask in front of CAIN. Now that he heard the diagnosis directly from Lin, he wished he hadn’t asked.

Cole thought back to when Gray had admitted to killing Mateo. The assassin was risking everything to see his sister returned to safety while counting down until he took her place in purgatory... if he wasn’t first killed for committing treason. Were that to happen, and CAIN to pass onto whatever existence awaited her, then only he and Lin would remain. Rig was likely still alive, but his departure from the crew was as permanent as death.

And death was becoming more and more a legitimate prospect as the Icarus approached the Source. The United System was on the verge of being rid of the plague that was the Musgrave name, and Cole was alright with that, for the most part. Regardless of the crimes he had been credited, he knew the truth behind his actions, and that was what mattered. Whether or not this mission would be recounted and change his tarnished image, he didn’t care. He simply wanted to be done— done with the constant running, done with facing impossible odds, and done with being a focal point.

It was time to end this charade.

There was no definitive way to gauge how long until they would reach the Extant Energy. It had been said Gray’s sister’s ship, the Copernicus, had vanished into the blue mass. Whether it had been destroyed, swallowed whole, or teleported to another plane of existence, Cole did not know. As the Icarus drifted across the celestial threshold of the Source, he figured something could happen at any moment.

That “something” came in the form of a communication breakdown. Not that it mattered to him; he had shut off all forms dialogue with Unity One and Gray the moment he boarded. He needed no instructions; Gray had already stated his singular directive. They would either succeed or die.

As the trio penetrated deeper into the outskirts of the Source, navigation systems became hijacked by an unseen force. They remained functioning, magically navigating the Icarus toward a particular point of interest. Whatever had taken over was expecting them.

“How about now?” Cole asked Lin. He lifted his hands off the flight controls to indicate their obvious predicament. “Any signs of contact?”

Lin gazed passively at the flight console as it functioned on its own. “I can’t help but think whatever has infiltrated our guidance systems is waiting for us to arrive before stating its intentions.”

Cole frowned at her usage of “it.” “And what makes you think whatever it is has intentions aside from destruction?”

Lin refocused on the blue sun. “It called out to me during the council meeting––when Nora brought us inside the artificial center of the Source.”

Cole’s frown deepened. “You mean when that demon voice was speaking to us?”

Lin nodded.

“I don’t recall it saying much other than finally being given an audience. And some shit about its and our rebirth. Whatever that means. Are you saying you received a separate message from what the rest of us heard?”

Again, Lin nodded. Her Rook flashed a brilliant blue, and she replied with, “Not so much words of a voice as it was a strong emotion originating in my consciousness.”

Great. “Well, let’s hope you weren’t just having some epileptic fever dream from being inside Nora’s strobing rave for too long. I’d hate for us to be flying into the sapphire abyss because of a misconstrued hallucination.”

“I know what I experienced,” Lin said, her voice distant and monotone. “This is right.”

Cole cast her a perplexed glance. Uh, okay... Since when did you become a true believer? “Whatever you say, Doc. I trust you.” Like I have any choice at this point.

The entire viewport screen was nearly overtaken by the Source; Unity One and the rest of the System were a distant memory. As Cole continued to search the blue mass of energy he began to notice oddities about its composition. He had assumed from Lin’s explanation that the Source was a new form of energy, but this was no gas giant, nor was it some living electrical field or a solid. The Source was a combination of all states of matter––a slowly meandering river of indeterminate origin, flowing in all directions. Every hue of the color blue was represented, light to dark, bright to dull, heavenly to hellish....

It was then he finally spotted a spot—a black point as deep a darkness as Cole’s eyes had ever experienced. It penetrated the enveloping life, tainting it like a vacuous plague, drawing the Icarus toward it.

“Captain.”

Cole barely heard Cain in his earpiece, and he prayed––something he never did––that his friend would know toward what they were headed. “Hey,” he mustered.

“I’ve lost contact with Unity One and its fleet.”

Not the news I was hoping for. Cole turned to Lin, whose expression could not be any more serene. He wished he could see what she was seeing.

“Captain?” CAIN gasped.

Cole was shaking. “Yes.”

“It has come.”

~

Cole’s death was not quite what he was expecting. Then again, he hadn’t been expecting anything other than nothingness. He saw nothingness, but the rest of his senses experienced... Just what was it they were experiencing? He didn’t smell anything, hear anything, taste anything—not even the residual flavor of gruel Unity One had provided him before this foolish mission. As he wondered about his mouth, he realized something else he should’ve noticed sooner: he couldn’t feel his mouth.

The longer Cole’s consciousness drifted, the more he became aware of what might have become of his being after entering the darkness. He was glad he could at least still think, as it was his brain––or the essence of his brain––that realized that he had become part of something greater than himself. At least, that was his hope. His consciousness drifted alone in the darkness, questioning his state of being and wondering if he was still alive or if this was the afterlife.

A pinpoint of light blossomed in the distance, and Cole began to wonder why he ever turned to atheism. It was not the pearly gates of heaven that he approached––or perhaps it was coming to him––it was a lone figure, born of the same ethereal electric energy he had seen prior to being consumed by darkness. It lighted toward him like some ghostly apparition, legs beneath the body, unmoving––arms at its sides. As it came closer, he was able to distinguish its sex.

When she was upon him, he could see there were no features upon her face. Despite having no eyes to meet his gaze, he was certain she was scowling at him.

It finally happened.

Cole knew that voice, though it was more of a sound inside his mind than actual words spoken. He tried to speak, though he had no mouth through which to offer a reply.

Use your mind to speak, Musgrave. The physical does not exist here.

Cole was awash in emotion—so much so that he “blurted,” Chrys!

The “face” of the deceased inspector appeared to smile, if for the briefest moment. Always the quick learner. Only you could manage to wedge yourself in between the Planes.

The“Planes?” Cole asked. He kept his full attention on her, not wanting to think about what had become of his physical being or what might happen to what was left of him.

Even at your end you ask questions. Emmerich shook her head, stirring the swirling blue contents into an excited state. You would automatically know the answer to your question were you meant for this existence.

Cole was on the verge of panic. I don’t understand. What is happening to me?

Emmerich “stared” for a moment before answering. I’ll give you the answer to the question you didn’t ask. You’re clinging to life by a thread—by the good graces of Dartmouth’s creation, it would seem. Not for long, though.

Cole would have gasped were it possible. What do I do?

Choose.

Cole frowned. A little clarity, Chrys.

I may not be among the living, but that doesn’t mean I have any answers. The only thing I know is that I’ve gone on. As for you, I only came here because I sensed you––recognized your energy signature––and I had to see it for myself. But as it turns out, even in the most impossible of situations, Cole Musgrave finds a way to cheat Death.

Maybe I should change my name to Deus Ex Musgravena, Cole projected with what he intended as a heaping amount of sarcasm.

I should cut that thread connecting you to life.

Cole’s laughter was silent.

Choose, Musgrave. Emmerich’s words were again serious. Either join me beyond this manufactured purgatory, or return to face whatever trouble you’ve stirred. Neither choice is wrong, but from what I can see, you are still needed.

Cole decided he was officially insane. What do you see?

The bastardization of something sacred––a monstrosity that should not exist. Perhaps your destiny.

Are you trying to sound like a crazy, old wise-woman?

Choose, Cole.

His head was spinning with questions, and despite the decision to be made, he asked The question.

So...are you, like, in the...Afterlife?

Cole knew Emmerich was shaking her in disappointment. I like to think of it as the Energies, but the only way to understand that is to let go.

Doc refers to your blue world as Extant Energy. Something tells me they’re one and the same. Neither explanation really helps me to understand, though. Won’t you at least allow me a preview?

No. Time to choose. Life or death.

Cole knew that even if he chose to return to whatever awaited him, he would soon be joining Emmerich anyway. Why even make the effort to confront the monstrosity of which she spoke? Who was he that he should crown himself the savior of the multiverse? He was nothing more than a failed pirate with no hope for a life outside a prison cell. In this place, the “Energies”, he could be a part of something greater––something infinite. Leave behind his life of running and fighting—appealing though it was, where was the fun in giving up? CAIN was holding onto him for a reason, and he was not about to abandon her after coming this far.

His choice was clear.

I’m ready, Chrys, Cole said. There’s only one problem: what do I do after I make my choice?

Emmerich was drifting away. I don’t know. Something tells me you’ll be the first to attempt such a feat. Should be simple for one as cocky and arrogant as you.

Gee, thanks.

Good luck, Musgrave. Promise me one thing.

Anything.

Please allow me just a bit more time to integrate myself here before you show up.

Cole realized that Emmerich had already known what his choice would be. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.

Get back there, and close that rift, she said faintly. There’s no telling what will happen when It gets out. There might not be a place for you to come.

It. The supposed monstrosity. Cole wanted to ask so much more, but Emmerich was already gone, leaving him alone in the dark. All that was left was to go back, but he had no idea how. So, he thought of CAIN, his tether to life. The longer he thought of his AI friend, and the more he tried to recall the last moments before he was torn asunder, an image began to form in his mind. A new figure bathed in blue Extant Energy. The harder he concentrated on this form, the more it came into focus.

It was CAIN.

But she was not standing as Emmerich had been. She was in a fetal position, curled in pain. Cole was devastated, struggling to comprehend just how difficult it must be to keep him connected to the world of the living. It was time for him to answer her call and return.

Reaching toward her huddled body, he touched her shoulder with his invisible hand and pulled himself close to where he knew her ear would be. He conjured the thought in his mind and managed to whisper two words.

“Thank you.”

25 ETERNITY

“Admiral, we’ve lost control of the ship!”

Triston looked on in horror at the viewport screen as Unity One headed, unimpeded, toThe Source. It meant that Cole had failed in his mission, severing CAIN’s connection to the flagship, rendering them useless. Thousands of lives aboard the massive vessel would all soon share the fate of the crew of the Icarus and Copernicus. There was nothing that could be done about it––no Musgrave miracles to save them at the last moment.

As Admiral Prescott struggled to control the growing pandemonium, Triston saw a giant portal open in the center of the Source. Inside he saw a mechanical monstrosity to rival the largest manmade war machine in existence.

Every plan Triston had slap-dashed together in hope of saving his sister’s life had been for nought. Terracom’s greatest secret had been left unattended for too long, and Cole Musgrave’s involvement had unwittingly unleashed an unparalleled calamity. There would be no combating such a force.

~

Cole re-entered his drifting body, exposed to the unforgiving elements of Space. Lin and CAIN were gone, as was the Icarus. He was all that remained, enveloped by the spirit of the AI which now consisted solely of Extant Energy. No longer the once-burgeoning cryorganic nanobiotechnoligcal marvel unveiled to the System, or the transformed being that had sought refuge in a bastardized life form, nor was she even the further evolution of a human’s mind to house a dying light––CAIN had become something truly unique.

Cole seized onto the remarkable opportunity to set things right.

Out of the darkness, he rocketed back into the core of the Source, as a blazing blue beam of light. CAIN had somehow merged with him in a strange sort of symbiosis that might just allow them to turn the tide of the war.

He second guessed his confidence once he laid eyes upon his destination. His transformation paled in comparison to the monolithic spacecraft materializing at the threshold of the gargantuan portal that had opened within the Source. He watched as it constructed itself upon bridging the gap between life and death, by use of the alien energy and seemingly nothing more. It could have been a fever dream, except that it was anything but.

CAIN’s energy shell kept him safe as he flew missile-like, straight at the mysterious anomaly. The AI was determined to get him inside to contend with whoever or whatever was creating the craft.

On the brink of the behemoth, small pieces of the very materials which were forging the vessel drifted away from their intended course and began to collect around Cole. They gathered in front of his head, blocking his view. Their purpose became clear when he crashed through an invisible but solid wall. He was immune to the impact, thanks to CAIN and the vacuum that was Space.

Cole’s Superman journey landed him on his feet inside the strange ship. His dimly lit surroundings were only revealed by CAIN’s blue aura, and it glinted off smooth, angular surfaces not reminiscent of any sort of craft. His vision strengthened as he began walking down a long, narrow corridor that felt more like an oppressive tunnel. At the far end was a glow that intensified with his approach. Unable to resist the sudden urge, he laid the flat of his palm upon the wall. There was almost no light, the walls barely distinguished from the empty surroundings. It was an experience not entirely unlike his bizarre trip aboard Fej to another universe. This particular interior felt undeniably unwelcoming and foreign. There was nothing in sight to indicate he was within the confines of a functioning starship––or whatever type of ship of which it was taking shape.

He was inundated by a deluge of scattered memories—memories not his own. He was witnessing at high speed snippets of the lives of thousands of people at once: childhood to adulthood, and all the emotions experienced through those years. It was more than he could handle––more than any one person could handle––and despite pulling away after a couple seconds, he struggled to recover. A cacophony of echos—both voices and images—lingered on.

He stumbled backward, dizzy, and certain his hand and head were both afire. They made him dizzy, and he struggled to keep from falling over. He tucked his hands under his armpits in case he did hit the ground, but a primal fear of what might ensue were his head to touch the floor or walls helped him regain his balance. It took him a moment to realize they were not, and he took the time to calm his breathing and refocus his thoughts. When the head-traffic abated, he resumed his walk. His walk turned to a jog, and the light came into focus as a muted, gray pall with an undistinguished form at its center.  Cole tried to contact CAIN.

“Nora?”

There was no reply.

“Nora, are you there? Can you still...talk?”

Nora no longer exists, Captain, said a familiar androgynous voice inside his head.

“Back to being plain ol’ Cain, eh?”

A brief lapse in judgment, I am afraid. I allowed myself to join too closely with her mind, and the results were––unfortunate.

“Hey, variety is the spice of life, buddy. No need to feel bad for succumbing to the hormonal whims of the female gender. Besides, you helped that poor, misguided woman find a better life at the end. She was nothing more than a murdering zealot before you showed her your light.”

I killed her.

Cole winced. “Well, it’s hard to dispute that little fact, but you did what you had to in response to a desperate situation. Look at it this way: Nora might be gone, but you managed to save me, for better or for worse. Most of the System might question your motives, but I appreciate what you did. Whatever it was you did...and are still doing.”

Saving my savior, CAIN said.

Cole wasn’t exactly sure how to take the comment. “Never been confused for being anyone’s savior, and I don’t want things to change now. How about we stay as friends and equals? ‘Cuz that’s what we are: Friends. And true friends got each other’s back no matter what. Don’t elevate me to some status I don’t deserve.”

As you wish, Captain.

“No more ‘Captain’, Cain. Call me by my name.”

Cole continued to jog toward his destination in the ensuing silence when CAIN’s protective glow brightened unexpectedly. He could feel his entire body energize, and his jog became a run, then a full-on sprint at a speed he did not know he possessed. He laughed aloud with joy, feeling invigorated and invincible—nearly forgetting his circumstances

Thank you, Cole.

“Woohoo!” Cole shouted, pumping his fist as he soared. “I guess the Source his given you a bit of a boost.”

You would be correct.

The opening was nearly upon him now, and Cole decided to impart some words of encouragement. “With your double E super powers and my nefarious brain, I expect we’ll make short work of whatever it is we’re about to face.”

CAIN did not respond, and Cole learned why

He crossed the threshold into the monolith’s one and only room—a vast chamber with an expansive view of the universe.  Standing alone in the center was Lin.

Time froze, and Cole’s breath caught as he gazed upon the woman he loved. She was no longer dressed in her government-issued clothing but was enshrouded, in what looked like an ethereal gown of the flowing blue energy that made up the Source. Its intense glow constantly rearranged itself around her petite body, occasionally revealing her nude form.

Her back was to him, her head slightly tilted back as she gazed upon the far reaches of Space. Her sight was focused upon massive Unity One as it drew toward the clutches of the Source. All of his fight fled, and any semblance of a plan his subconscious had been concocting immediately evaporated.

The silence in the room was absolute.

“My daughter’s love for you stays my hand.”

The words had come from Lin, but her voice sounded alien––a combination of her own and something sinister. She had spoken without her Rook; the cube was nowhere to be seen.

“Because of your previous actions at the Debt Colony on Terracom 3,” the horrific voice continued, “we extend to you the offer of eternity.”

Cole wanted to scream and cry at the same time. Then Lin turned to face him, and a tear did escape his eye. She was as beautiful as ever; nothing about her features had changed. But her unearthly, shimmering emerald eyes hinted at the darkness within.

Cole forced himself to speak the name that tasted of rot in his mouth. “Kingston....”

Lin smiled, and it was as evil as the soul of the man who had captured her. “An appellation by which I no longer abide. With the help of my daughter, I have now truly become the Singularity.”

Seeing her lips move with the spoken words was as surreal as sight as the spectacle before Cole. With Lin’s help? he wondered. Willingly or not? He took his first steps toward the abomination standing at the center of the room––a room bereft of piloting mechanisms. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Kingston’s pulpit and command center for madness. He noticed a familiar, fist-sized cube hovering in front of her heart, emitting a blood-red glow muted only by the energy gown overtop it. He could not wrest his eyes from it, wondering at its significance.

“All this time,” Cole said, testing the waters, “you’ve been biding your time here, in the Source, awaiting an opportunity to seize Lin’s body so you can rule the universe from beyond the grave.”

The Singularity extended Lin’s hand, her index finger pointing up and wagging back and forth. “Proceed with caution, Mr. Musgrave. I would hate to disappoint my daughter by having to destroy you where you stand.”

Cole clenched his fists. “We’ll see about that.”

“Indeed we shall. Consider the possibilities before you foolishly choose your end.”

Slowing to a halt, Cole frowned at the cryptic comment. “Possibilities?”

“Yes.” The demonesque quality of the voice had fallen away, leaving behind the familiar dulcet tones of the woman Cole loved. “This is an opportunity to join me and live forever; together we will witness the end and rebirth of an entirely new civilization––one which will rid itself of its base tendencies. The Age of Man will surge forward into an unparalleled future dedicated to Science and discovery.”

She certainly sounded like Lin, but it all felt wrong, bereft of familiar emotion, devoid of the critical decision making characteristic of her. This was Kingston Dartmouth wielding his daughter as a puppet for his own selfish gain. How could he accept such a ludicrous offer and pretend to love someone possessed by the spirit of her evil father?

“Let her go, Kingston.” Cole was incensed, his quiet words laced with the fury of a nuclear holocaust. “Universal domination is bad enough; forcing your daughter’s hand to do it for you is insanity.”

The Singularity gently shook Lin’s head in disagreement. “She came willingly to me.”

It was Cole’s turn to shake his head, cringing at the return of the demonic voice. “I don’t think so. Her intentions may have been set on studying and visiting the Source, but she never would’ve willingly given herself to you—not after your betrayal of her trust.”

She smiled deviously, driving Cole closer to madness. “My daughter would not have preserved my consciousness and continued my research were your statement true. Her words did not mirror her emotions.”

“And this is how you reward her for absolute loyalty?” Cole challenged. “Sorry, but I’m not buying this shit. Just admit it––you lured her here with the intention of claiming her body Allowing her to watch from a prison inside herself won’t make your actions any less despicable. It’s obvious you would’ve done this all a lot sooner, but you sent her away while you continued to build up your strength. Pathetic. I suggest you take your dead ass back into that blue pit of energy, along with the rest of people you somehow infused within this ship, and let your daughter go on living her life without you.”

The flow of energy coursing around Lin’s body intensified. Cole knew he had worn out his welcome.

The Singularity made Lin scowl. “For the life of me, I cannot fathom what my daughter sees in you. Trusting in a cowardly failure who has no ambitions other than to live as the System’s most wanted fugitive. I had been willing to bring you into the fold of a grand future, but no longer. It is clear you only wish to cause destruction wherever you go.”

Fuck it.

Cole ran at Lin with every intention of tackling her to the ground. Beyond that, he had not the slightest clue what he would do to wrest her away from Kingston’s influence. Rage had a way of eliciting impulsive behavior from him, and as he came within a few feet of reaching her, he was reminded why such decisions rarely end well. An incredible force descended upon his body, driving him straight to his knees. The pain was excruciating, and he was certain he would be crushed beneath the invisible weight. To make matters worse, the floor came alive, wrapping itself around his arms, legs, and torso, making him a permanent fixture. He expected to be torn to pieces at any moment.

“Such ignorance,” the Singularity made Lin say, fiercely. Very little of her own voice could be heard now. “But I expected no less.”

“Just kill me already,” Cole said, his voice strained from the crushing pressure “Spare me from having to hear whatever monologue you have in store for me.”

The Singularity gazed down at Cole with both revulsion and pity. “There is no point in discussing my obvious intentions.” She closed the gap between them and crossed her arms behind her back. “Before you depart this existence and join the Collective under my control, I wish to make sense of your futile efforts to cease my advancement toward Utopia.”

Cole laughed aloud, despite how hard it hurt. “Utopia? You’re a real chip off the old cliché block.”

“Yes, Mr. Musgrave, Utopia is what I will achieve once I gather all of the approaching vessels, space stations, and outposts. The next will be the hapless Unity One. They will complete the construction of this magnificent creation which I will pilot to every reach of this System and shape a new––”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it,” Cole interrupted. “I’ve heard it all before. Psycho thinks up twisted plot to change the face of humanity to fit his or her needs without the approval of those who will be annihilated by said plot. My mother’s plan for domination wasn’t all that different. What makes yours so much more palatable to those who have no idea you’re even coming?”

Lin’s head shook slowly. “Again with the ignorance. Clearly you cannot grasp a simple concept. I don’t need the approval of the living when the eager deceased outnumber them a hundred thousand fold. You’ve no doubt sensed their presence within these walls.”

Cole’s mouth twisted, recalling the overwhelming influx memories. “Not all of the deceased.”

Lin scowled. “The whole of the Consciousness will come to understand as I do.”

Cole was too tired to argue with a madman. “Collective. Consciousness. I don’t care. C’mon, Kingston... Just let me talk to Lin before you end me.”

“Have you not already been doing so this entire time?”

Cole’s sigh was loud and angry. “Let. Me. Talk. To. Lin.

The Singularity moved so close that their faces nearly touched. The energy coursing around her naked form tingled upon Cole’s chin. Lin’s expression changed suddenly and completely, the arrogance and madness replaced by fear—the true feelings of the woman he loved. Behind her tears was confusion and panic, and when she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Lin could not speak without her Rook, but Cole could read lips just fine, and they said, “help me.”

It was the colossal burst of rage Cole needed to act. He smiled, anyway, and only two words could be mustered before he risked everything.

“Thank you.”

Now, CAIN.

Cole suddenly knew the strength of ten thousand men. He drew greedily upon the reserves the AI had been storing since its return to the Source. Intoxicated by the limitless essence of the cosmos and the well of the dead trapped in Eternity, Cole was invincible.

The clutch of the metal fusing him to the ground peeled away like a sheet of tinfoil, the crushing weight of the unseen force lifting as though it had never been there. Even as Cole reveled in his newfound superpowers, he knew the Singularity possessed strength infinitely above his own. The wrath of his enemy would quickly and easily dispatch his futile efforts.

But Cole’s aim was not battle.

In one swift, devastating motion, the combination of both Cole and CAIN drove a fist into the blazing blue inferno that was the Singularity’s life force and grabbed Lin’s Rook. The pain was unlike anything he had experienced, nor ever would again. Drawing upon the whole of Extant Energy, he squeezed with all his might and crushed the heart of a god.

26 LAZARUS

Triston wouldn’t have believed it were he not gazing upon the miracle with his own eyes. Unity One had regained power, all systems functioning as though the encroaching ship from inside the Source was no longer there. It was there, but something had changed. No longer growing in size, it was clear that it had suffered some sort of crippling damage.

While the crew scrambled to take control of the flagship, Triston focused on the giant spacecraft as it was beginning to tilt on its axis. Whatever had happened bisected the middle of the ship’s hull, leaving it adrift.

And there was something else....

A wave of energy crashed into Unity One with the force of another vessel of equal size. The scanners detected no immediate physical damage, but the scanners and the rest of the ship’s computer systems had been affected. Before the crew could attend to this newest issue, another problem was close on the heels of the energy blast. A spreading field of shrapnel had detached from the Source ship and was speeding toward Unity One. With all systems compromised, they felt the full impact.

Triston was thrown from his feet and slammed into something solid before losing consciousness

~

Cole’s arm was ruined.

He attributed the absence of pain to shock and an influx of CAIN’s energy. The remnants of Lin’s Rook were fused into his ravaged hand, the damage reaching past his elbow. His fingers were erased down to his knuckles, and melted flesh revealed exposed bone and sinew. Strangely he was more upset over the destruction of his flight jacket sleeve than his own body.

With great effort he stood, removed the tattered jacket, and approached Lin. He draped the material across her exposed form. She was unconscious but still breathing; the Extant Energy “gown” had vanished, revealing a scorch mark in the center of her chest where her Rook had been.

He knelt beside her, ignoring the crumbling scene around him. As petite as she was, lifting her dead weight from the ground with one and a half hands was nearly impossible. CAIN’s borrowed strength was gone, and he was terrified to see if the AI had survived.

He suddenly received his answer, and it came in the form of healing.

Raising Lin’s limp form to lean against his shoulder, Cole watched in amazement as his disfigured hand and arm began repairing themselves. Pieces of the surrounding ship peeled away from the floor, reshaping and conforming into the damaged flesh and bone. An intense glow of energy and warmth accompanied the process, and Cole knew it was the only reason why he was not screaming in agony as machine fused with his body. When completed, his arm was again whole, more cyborg than human. He could pretend that he was wearing a heavy, black, metal gauntlet, for it moved and functioned as if it were his own flesh and blood.

Cole gazed in wonder at the oddity of a coin-sized beacon of familiar blue light on the back of his new hand. He knew without asking that it was the remnants of CAIN. He made a fist, one powerful enough to crush steel. “Thanks, buddy.”

The lack of an answer confirmed his suspicions that the AI had indeed sacrificed a great deal to see Cole to safety. Or so he thought....

What he assumed was the collapsing of the ship caught his attention in his periphery, but whatever was happening at the end of the corridor was too organized. Then Lin stole his attention.

Cole pulled her away from his shoulder to look at her, his new arm braced around her middle, out of sight. Her green eyes took in her surroundings, her slender hand tracing across her chest at the memory of her Rook. Those eyes then gazed upon Cole and she looked crestfallen.

“Hey, Doc,” Cole said gently. If they were going to die together, he would at least try and console her with his final words.

It was Lin who opened her mouth, and though no words came, her lips mouthed his name.

Cole smiled, and he caressed her long, jet hair. “It’s alright. I understand.”

The sudden change in her expression said otherwise. She shook her head and pointed down the corridor where the mysterious construction was transpiring.

Cole shrugged. “I don’t know what it is.”

Again, Lin shook her head, and she pointed emphatically. She nodded at him, then in the direction of her arm. She mouthed, “Go”.

I don’t like this, Cole thought. “Alright, I’ll go. But I’m bringing you with me.”

Lin vehemently shook her head. She placed her hand on her chest and pointed firmly at the ground. With her other hand, she gestured toward the front of the ship.

“Why?” Cole asked. “Why would you stay? It’s over.”

“No,” she mouthed, shaking her head. She grabbed his hand and placed it, palm-down, on the floor.

Cole sensed the energy pulsating within the ship, memories and images flashing through his mind. He yanked away his hand with a gasp. Lin was pointing in the direction of the portal inside the Source.

It finally made sense to Cole. “No!” he barked, getting to one knee. “Let someone else clean up your father’s mess.” He reached to pick her up, but an invisible barrier had formed between them both, preventing him from grabbing her.

Lin moved away from Cole and stood, a look of resolve on her tear-streaked face. She slid her lithe form into his tattered flight jacket and began to back away.

Determined not to let her get her suicidal wish, Cole jumped up and lunged at her, hoping to catch her off guard. He didn’t. Kingston Dartmouth may have been destroyed along with Lin’s Rook, but his residual Extant Energy still resided inside her—just as CAIN’s did in Cole. He could only look on helplessly as his lover raised her arm and used that energy to cast him from the confines of the crumbling ship.

~

Triston dreamed his sister had come to rescue him. She was bathed in ethereal light, like some supernatural specter come from the land of the dead. None of her features were recognizable––as she was little more than a female form of electric blue energy––yet, he was absolutely certain it was Regina. He could feel that it was her. Her presence reminded him of a simpler time when they were young, and all that mattered was that he protected her from his mother. Now it was she who had come to protect him.

And then she spoke.

“You came for me.”

Triston gazed upon the apparition, confused. Was this a dream? “How could I not? You’re all I have left.”

Regina’s glow intensified, and Triston recognized it as happiness. “You saved me.”

From what Triston recollected, he had failed at his mission, so he knew this episode was little more than a fever dream leading up to his eventual death. None of this was real, so there was no need to respond. He only hoped the end would come quickly and painlessly.

But the reverie lingered.

Triston sat up, noticing for the first time that he was still in the confines of the U1 bridge. He was somewhere near the back of the room, watching the frantic crew as they set about their tasks. None of them seemed to notice a blue ghost in their midst. Nor, for that matter, did they take note of Triston.

“Your friends released us from the vortex prison,” Regina said.

Last he had checked, Triston did not have any friends, and he certainly didn’t know what a vortex prison was. “I don’t understand. Please, just leave me to die in peace.”

“Die?” Regina asked brightly. “Only life awaits you.”

Now Triston was beginning to doubt himself. He stood on shaky legs but did not stumble. Regina’s ghostly arm presented the crew behind her. “This ship has been bestowed a great gift. With the corruption destroyed, the Energies have been allowed to flow freely before they can return to where they belong.”

Triston’s head hurt; nothing made sense. What energy? What corruption? What gift? He was about to ask when a painful revelation hit him. “You’re dead.”

Regina brought her hand to his face. The warmth and energy that spread from her touch was vibrant and enlightening. Visions from a past he had not considered in ages swept through his mind, a lifetime of Regina’s memories playing all at once. The highs, the lows, the beginning, and the end. His answers were there, in that brief moment of clarity, and he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this was real.

His sister was dead. But it was not sadness nor failure that Triston felt; it was an emotion he had not experienced in a very long time: serenity. Despite his sister’s death, she had gone on. To what or where, his mortal mind could not understand—only that she was a part of something else, a place that Terracom had tapped for its own selfish reasons. It was not Extant Energy, as Dr. Lin Dartmouth had described in her technical manner, nor was it the Source, as had been ignorantly labeled by the United System.

It was purpose.

Triston gazed around the bridge with open eyes, finally seeing the “gift” that Regina had spoken of. What had been a badly damaged ship was now repaired, given a new life by those freed from the vortex prison. The blue light of the Energies filled every line, crack, and crevice, reanimating what had been doomed only moments ago. Now Unity One flew free of the clutches of the corruption.

“How did...?” Triston started to ask his sister, but Regina had vanished—returned to the collective Energies to assist in resurrecting the ship. He could still feel her presence, and he embraced her remaining moments with him watching in awe as the enemy ship turned back toward the portal to meet its end.

~

Cole’s feet left the ground, his free-falling body barreling down the long corridor, arms and legs flailing. He should have landed at some point, but whatever witchcraft Lin had employed kept him afloat. He was expelled out of the ship, into the depths of space. Overcome with horror at certain death, the panic passed when he realized he had not succumbed to the vacuum.  Instead, he was awash with warmth and euphoria, his drifting body enveloped in a sphere of blue energy. He was no longer tumbling, but his rapid decent was sending him into a pit of converging shrapnel.

Though he was swallowed whole by the jaws of the spiraling mechanical monster, not a sliver of metal touched him. In his state of shock and disbelief, Cole wondered if he had managed to land inside the very construction he had glimpsed while aboard the monolith. What else could it be? A flurry of activity took place around him, the shrapnel reorganizing impossibly but with purposeful precision. In the blink of an eye, Cole found himself resting in a chair connected to a pristine floor. He could not begin to speculate the origin of the leather cover or the oxygen he was breathing. Flight controls materialized in his hand, and a console and viewport screen came next. The pieces continued to connect, the greater whole beginning to resemble a new ship to replace the Icarus. But it was the woman left behind—the one orchestrating this feat—who he could never replace. The viewport screen came to life, and as he sped toward Unity One, he watched the Singularity’s ship head back into the portal inside the Source. His heart hammered in his chest as he looked on helplessly, and the beginning of a cataclysmic explosion was snuffed as Lin passed the ship across the threshold of the vortex. The Source and its Extant Energy vanished into the portal as it closed.

It was over.

27 ACCEPTANCE

Cole stared at the coin in his cybernetic hand, contemplating whether or not he should employ its abilities. That he had managed to keep it throughout his incredible journey was a marvel, but he just could not bring himself to switch on the drone to record one last event log. It didn’t feel right on so many levels, most importantly, he could no longer refer to it as the Icarus Log, for his prized ICV-71 ship was gone.

He did have the honor—if only briefly—of piloting––its successor, the Lazarus, but it had not truly been his. It belonged to the lost souls who had saved him. There was also the little fact that the remaining members of AMBER had kept it as payment for his freedom.

Cole pocketed the small device when a knock came at his door. He rose from his comfy recliner and strode the distance to the front door of his fancy new government-owned estate. Behind the ornate wooden door was a cool, afternoon Mars breeze to greet him

And an assassin.

The man’s face was obscured by the setting sun behind him, and there was no sign of his transportation.

“Triston....”

“Captain.” Gray offered a light nod, and Cole glimpsed the visage that belonged to Arthur T. Forester.

Cole debated whether or not to slam the door in the assassin’s face or invite him in for a drink. He decided upon the latter.

“You...” Cole cleared his throat. “Conversation or castration?”

A hint of a grin appeared on Gray’s hawkish face. “Neither.” He stepped past Cole and turned to face to face him in the parlor. “Proposition.”

Cole gazed at the empty doorway, then back at Gray. “Won’t you come in?” He closed the door behind him, feeling incredibly awkward. “Beer?”

“I’m fine, Cap––”

“Not a captain of anything anymore, Triston,” Cole cut in with a bit more anger than intended. He cleared his throat again. “And I wasn’t offering. We’re drinking a beer together out on my fancy shmancy porch. It has a great view of Olympus Mons. Those are my terms if you wish to tell me whatever it is you’re going to tell me.”

A few uncomfortable seconds passed before Gray replied. “Very well.”

Cole collected two bottles of the golden brew, and the assassin followed him onto the veranda where the vast and majestic shield volcano loomed in the distance. Miles upon miles of terraformed nature stretched before them, not a glimpse of a human in sight. They took their places in separate wooden rocking chairs and gazed at the beautiful scenery in silence.

Two bottle caps fell to the deck floor in succession, and Cole doled out one of the bottles to Gray, who collected with obvious uncertainty. Cole reached over and tapped his bottleneck on the assassin’s before taking a healthy draught.

A bit more time passed, the creaking of Cole’s rocking chair and a light breeze filling the absence of words. He was glad that Gray had the patience to wait for him to initiate the conversation. Cole finished his entire beer before he did.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save your sister.”

Gray only stared, his drink untouched and resting awkwardly in his manicured hands.

“After I made it back to Unity One, you had disappeared,” Cole continued. “Not that I was surprised, being that you’re you. AMBER was pretty pissed when they finally figured out that they had been infiltrated by the likes of an assassin with infinite faces, though I’m not quite sure they ever worked it out who had manipulated them the way you did. I was already on my way here, to retirementland.”

Gray set his drink on the table separating them. “I left them quite a convoluted mess to sort through.”

Cole grunted in agreement, then sat forward and collected Gray’s drink for himself. “You saved their asses. Though I’m pretty sure President Cruz still holds a serious grudge with you. They should’ve sought you out to give you a million medals, not commit to hunting you down.”

“They would have to know who they are hunting first.”

Cole frowned. “You certainly are chipper and cocky for someone in your situation. You sure you aren’t here to exact revenge on me for failing to save––”

“You didn’t fail.”

Cole’s frown deepened. “The overall mission may have appeared a success, but....”

Gray was shaking his head. “She was already dead.”

Cole set down Gray’s beer, his jaw slightly fallen.

“Your actions aboard the enemy vessel released her from the vortex prison. Regina, and I assume those trapped with her, came to Unity One’s aid after you defeated the enemy. We had taken crippling damage from a blast expelled by the ship.”

He sounds like Doc did, Cole thought to himself. “You seem to know some things I don’t. And I was the one aboard that enemy vessel’.”

“The details don’t matter,” Gray said with finality. “Only the results. I’m telling you that your mission was a success on multiple levels.”

Cole’s shoulders slumped, and he downed the contents of the second drink. He chucked the bottle into the field beyond, belching when it smashed into a large rock. “Nope. Not everything was a success.”

Gray nodded. “I am aware of that. My condolences on the loss of Doctor Dartmouth.”

“Yeah.” Cole was glad Gray had said nothing else on the matter. He pointed at the assassin. “You talk of details not mattering, but it was a minor one that was her undoing.”

“Her Rook was the conduit between her and her father, Kingston.”

Cole’s stared, flabbergasted. “How... How could you possibly know that?”

The assassin’s sigh was long and deep. “After Regina returned, she was...different. She touched me, and in that moment I understood––”

“Things,” Cole finished. He recalled what had happened when he had touched the wall. “I had a similar experience. Your sister must’ve given you insight into everything that had happened with me.”

“Yes.”

Cole was suddenly very tired. He rubbed his brow, thinking of Lin. Seeing her now was just as painful as when she had pushed him away. “Even after I killed that son-of-a-bitch, he left his own daughter to sacrifice herself to save us all. She knew that damn ship had to return to the Source.”

“Which it did, much to the approval of the entire United System,” Gray said.

“Heh, yeah,” Cole scoffed. “They’re pretty much the only ones who know, outside of us and the few on Unity One who might’ve figured things out. That’s why they stuck me out here in the middle of nowhere, with a new identity, a dickhead parole officer, and unicred to last me a million lifetimes. To keep me quiet on the truth.”

“And it’s better that way. The majority of the System doesn’t need to know what happened.”

“I don’t even know what happened,” Cole said, sinking a little deeper into the depression that had taken up residence with him in his new “home” a month ago. “All the shit I saw––we saw...it changed me. And then it was gone. All of it. Gone....”

Cole could feel Gray gazing thoughtfully at him, and it pissed him off. He threw up his arms in frustration. “What? You said you didn’t come here to reminisce, nor to assassinate me. What is this proposition of yours?”

Gray stared a bit longer. “I’m trying to decide if I should relay to you the offer.”

“Why? Don’t care for what you see? Neither do I.” He abruptly stood and began to pace. In a sudden fit of anger, he kicked his Adirondack chair and instantly regretted it. He walked through his stubbed toe anyway. “I thought taking their little ‘deal’ was the right thing for me. To ride off into the sunset and settle down, away from all the craziness.” He drew a sharp breath. “But I was wrong. No amount of land and unicred can satisfy Cole Musgrave––the System’s most wanted. I’d rather fly into the sun than settle comfortably beneath it. That’s because I found myself out there, mingling with the underworld, fighting against the odds, and encountering whatever divine entity it is we came face-to-face with.”

Cole realized he was yelling, his arms gesticulating as he attempted to preach his case to the one-man choir. “I’m fucking dead out here––a nothing!” He wiped away streaks of tears. “I gave up! How could I do that to her? To the whole crew?” He grabbed the chair in a rage and threw it off the porch. It landed and shattered into a pile of splinters and wood chunks. His vision grew dark and tunneled, and he sat on the porch edge, forgetting Gray was even there.

“Alright.”

Cole ignored him.

“I’ve seen enough.”

Cole heard Gray stand and brush himself off, the floorboards creaking as he did so. But the assassin didn’t leave as Cole thought he would. Finally, curiosity got the better of him, and he looked back at the arm-crossed man.

“Come with me.”

In a daze, Cole did as was instructed. He followed Gray through his own house and out the front door where he had met him. They walked down the front steps toward the empty space in his driveway. Their brief journey ended a short distance on the front lawn, where Cole noticed a large, peculiar indentation in the ground. Being in his current miserable state, he didn’t think much of it.

There was an unusual glint in Gray’s normally cold and calculating eyes, and Cole couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit unnerved by it.

“You did right by accepting AMBER’s offer,” Gray said. “Because it gave me the opportunity I needed to cobble together the next leg of your pathetic existence.”

Cole stared, uncomprehending. He was further confused when the assassin reached out his arm and placed his hand on empty air. Gray leaned his weight on nothing, and Cole knew his mind had finally cracked.

“You still don’t see it, do you?”

And in a breathtaking moment of clarity, Cole finally did see. How had he not noticed earlier? It should’ve been obvious, seeing as there was no sign of a vehicle that Gray could’ve taken to reach him. It was the most wonderful sight.

Lazarus.

The second incarnation of the Icarus appeared from thin air, the front landing gear the cause of the impression in his yard. The mirror-shine chrome exterior that had covered the original hull had been replaced by a polished, jet black finish. Its design was not unlike the Icarus, though there were no seams indicating how it was fit together and where the doors were. It was like one, solid, smooth piece of onyx.

It made Cole smile like a kid.

“I have a proposition for you, Captain,” Gray said, the full breadth of his smile in view. “And I have a feeling you’ll accept.”

“Yes,” Cole said, not caring what the proposition was. “I accept.”

Gray nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. There’s just one last addendum we need to see to.”

Cole’s smile diminished. “What’s that?”

The seamless cargo door parted from the underside of the ship and lowered to expose the ramp leading into the cargo hold. There, waiting at the top with a gnarly cigar in his mouth, was Rig.

Cole laughed at the sight of the mechanic, surprised at his own reaction. They met halfway on the ramp and shook hands.

“Nugget.”

“Shithead.”

The mechanic grinned.

Gray met them on the ramp, and they ascended into the Lazarus. Cole took some time to take in the sight he had not been able to appreciate after the events at the Source. When the trio finally met inside the bridge, he was presented with the captain’s chair. He gladly took his seat and wrapped his fingers around the flight yoke. He was positive the fading blue light in his new hand glowed a little brighter.

“Alright,” Cole said, pulling himself back down to the planet’s surface. “How is all this possible? The ship, asshole, here, and you, Triston?”

Gray sat adjacent to Cole in the co-pilot’s chair. “I took my doppelgänger tendencies to an extreme when you first came back aboard Unity One. The story is far too convoluted and ridiculous to tell in one sitting, so I’ll give you the abridged version.”

“He blackmailed and manipulated AMBER to do his biddin’,” Rig said.

Gray’s characteristic emotionless face silently put the mechanic in his place. “I convinced a certain member of the council––the newly elected president of Research, Arnoux Botha––that he allow me access to this ship or risk facing the consequences of his actions regarding President Cruz’s murder.”

Cole slow-clapped. “You devious son-of-a-bitch. You exacted your revenge on Cruz for your mother’s death while prancing about as Botha. You dangled the incriminating evidence in front of him in order to re-secure your place within Research.”

Gray only offered the slightest of smiles.

“Yes! Love it!” He clapped again, then recalled a brief conversation Gray had had with him shortly before heading into the Source. “That’s some incredible foresight you had, Mr. Jensen.”

“Gray,” he reminded in a monotone. “I work almost as well as you under immense pressure.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Tell him the best part,” Rig said, impatient.

Cole glanced at the mechanic, then Gray. “What ‘best part’?”

“The purpose of this ship and its missions. You are now part of a legally sanctioned secret organization dedicated to spying for the government.”

Cole stuck out his lower lip and nodded, impressed. “I need to see that evidence.”

“Legally sanctioned, Captain,” Gray stressed. “No need to openly discuss such matters while on duty. We are again law-abiding citizens of the United System, and we answer only to the highest office in the universe: AMBER.”

“No shit....”

“No shit.”

A heavy piece of clothing landed on Cole’s head, curtesy of Rig. He pulled it off and discovered it was a brand new black leather flight jacket, designed with the block letters UNISYS emblazoned across the back. He slipped it on without hesitation, and it fit like a glove.

“So, what’s first?” Cole asked his crew of two.

Gray frowned. “Don’t you first wish to gather any belongings before officially coming aboard?”

“Fuck no! I don’t care if we drop a bomb on the house once we take off. I’ll gather what we need along the way. I’m never setting foot inside that place again.”

“Alright,” Gray said, shaking his head. “Seeing as you’re eager to get underway, sans past life, our first mission is to investigate certain dealings involving your past employer, SolEx.”

“Heh.”

“It seems Mr. Frederick Caliber had ties to Black Dwarf outside government jurisdiction. AMBER wants us to find evidence of his treachery and bring him down.”

Cole interlocked his fingers and cracked the knuckles on his human hand. He clenched his cybernetic hand into a fist and whispered a quick thanks to his AI friend before grabbing the flight yoke.

As Cole was engaging the Lazarus for flight, a song mysteriously came through the loudspeaker. Cole instantly recognized the epic riffs of the electric guitar, followed by the thundering beats of the iconic drum machine. It was as appropriate a music track to take the Lazarus into stars as any he could think of.

Danger Zone.

BOOK FOUR AND BEYOND?

Lazarus is the conclusion to my Interstellar Cargo trilogy story arc. Did you like it? I truly hope so. Would you read more if presented with a new story? I never intended to continue Cole’s further misadventures, as I felt I covered pretty much all the avenues of his character to my liking. That doesn’t mean I don’t have more ideas stewing inside my brain-pot. I do. I always do. A brand new trilogy idea, as a matter of fact.

But I’m not sure I want to take Cole to the places I’m planning on bringing him. Space Opera can be quite fun to write, though it can easily drift into a nonsensical mess and ruin something special if characters overstay their welcome. Knowing when to conclude a series can be difficult for the readers to accept, though ultimately necessary for the authors who wish to end on a high note.

I’m sure you might be thinking that I’ve only written three books, and that a few more couldn’t hurt. You’d probably be right, and I might come back to my little space world 200 years into the future. But for now, I’m going to step away for a bit and ponder whether or not I deem it necessary to subject Cole to the trials and tribulations ahead.

Unless, of course, you—the loyal reader—convince me otherwise. Tell me your thoughts. I eagerly welcome them. Shoot me an email at: [email protected]

As always, thank you for your support! It means everything to me.

-Matt Verish

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As with any novel, the person who writes it is only one of an orchestra of talented individuals to bring the finished product to fruition. I would like to properly thank them for all their diligence and hard work. Without them, my series would be a mere shadow of itself. I am forever grateful for everyone’s contribution.

First and foremost, I must once again thank my incredibly talented and beautiful wife, Stefanie. My muse. My everything. Her very presence is an inspiration, and she continues to champion my little writing endeavor. Her insight and sometimes brutal honesty keeps me on my toes. You really shaped this third story to be a much better book. I can’t thank you enough, Babe. I love you.

Mom and Dad. Your undying love and support continues to carry me through this thing called life. Your willingness to pimp my brand to any and all who cross your path honors me. That you actually like my writing also helps. I love you both.

Tony. T.E.M.H. forever! \m/ We might not make cassettes, movies, record music, or write stories together anymore, but I promise you that I infuse everything I do with a little bit on the insanity we created together. Time for some Str8 Wizkee!

To all my social media and real-life author friends who continually inspire me to be a better writer. Thank you. Keep on living the self-published author dream!

Finally, to all of my wonderful (and patient!) readers. Thanks again for taking the journey into the stars. Cole Musgrave and his crew can’t thank you enough for joining them on their journey.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lazarus

Matt Verish is a science fiction author who has been writing stories since the fourth grade. He realized his desire to become an author when he met his wife, Stefanie, in the autumn of 1997. They kept in constant contact while Stefanie was away at college, and it was through email that they planted the seeds of their epic fantasy world, Secramore. Eventually they became M.S. Verish, and they have been writing books as married co-authors ever since. Matt is a John Carpenter film buff, lover of all things nature and science, hopelessly behind on his reading, collector of his wife’s artwork, and a thrash metal music connoisseur. The Interstellar Cargo series is his first full-length solo project.


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