Annotation

Leading the life of the System's most wanted space pirate is not as satisfying as Cole Musgrave had hoped. Despite having been given a second chance at life by his gangster brother, each mission he undertakes threatens to be his last. When Cole's luck finally runs out, the crew of the *Icarus* find themselves in a predicament unlike any they 've ever encountered. One reckless decision leaves them abandoned and on the run from the entire universe. A desperate, last-ditch effort to avoid annihilation leads them to a place no man has gone before. Or so they think. Here the sins of Cole's past will return to haunt him and cast an even darker shadow on a future that is headed toward a full-scale war.

Table of Contents

Title Page

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ALSO AVAILABLE

IN MEMORIUM

ONE LAST THING....

DAEDALUS

PART ONE | SMUGGLER’S RUN

1 | SENTINEL

2 | DISCONNECT

3 | RETALIATION

4 | RECONNECTED

5 | COMPROMISED

6 | TRANSFER

7 | BROADCAST

8 | COMPLETE

PART TWO | THE LABYRINTH

9 | SAGITTARIUS

10 | PARTICLES

11 | ABANDONED

12 | GUARDIAN

13 | BETRAYED

14 | SIGNALS

15 | FORESIGHT

16 | REVELATION

PART THREE | METAMORPHOSIS

17 | EVOLUTION

18 | CANNIBAL

19 | WHISPERS

20 | FOG

21 | SUFFOCATION

22 | RECKLESS

23 | REVENGE

24 | WICKED

25 | CONSEQUENCES

ICARUS LOG 004:

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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ICARUS

Interstellar Cargo: Book One

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 © 2016 by Matt Verish (Night Apple, LLC)

Written by Matt Verish

Edited by Stefanie Verish

Cover design by Tom Edwards Designs

eBook layout by Matt Verish

Author photo by Stefanie Verish

First published: 12/01/2016

ALSO AVAILABLE

Interstellar Cargo Series

Icarus

Daedalus

Lazarus

Short Story

Asterius

IN MEMORIUM

This book is dedicated to my brother-in-law, Jeff. He left this mortal plane much too soon, but his memory is deeply imprinted on the hearts and in the minds of those who know and love him. Though he lost his fight to an enemy more sinister than anything my mind could conjure, his battle continues on in earnest through friends and family. Some may not look back on the last years of his life with much fondness, but those few—myself included—who took the time to understand his illness, will see through to the loving soul who was lost to the deadly labyrinth. I hope he is at peace now, and I promise to acknowledge on his memory through my actions and lead by example.

Jeff is the inspiration for a character in this novel, and I’m only too happy to see his spirit live on indefinitely through the power of storytelling. I hope his presence is felt throughout, as it was when I was writing Daedalus. I miss him dearly.

Rest in peace, JP

August 1st, 2016

ONE LAST THING....

“Whether we make it or not, we can’t let that Thing freeze again. Maybe we’ll just warm things up a little around here. We’re not getting’ outta here alive. But neither is that Thing.”

-MacReady, helicopter pilot, US outpost #31.

DAEDALUS

PART ONE

SMUGGLER’S RUN

ICARUS LOG 003:

“Well, it looks like I need to make another farewell speech. It really sucks to say that, considering how well things seemed to be going the last time I made one of these. But I’m captain of the Icarus, and I was destined to get lost in the Labyrinth. I’m not entirely sure of the who, what, where, when, or the why, but I am pretty certain this whole debacle is all my fault.”

1

SENTINEL

CAIN!

The ground beneath Cole’s feet shook as another dense security door slammed closed somewhere behind him. He could not manage a coherent thought with the klaxons blaring throughout the facility. The sizzling of plastol bursts eating into the steel walls was entirely too close. Shots meant for him. Goddamn Sentinel.

<I warned you, Captain.>

Cole pressed into his comm piece to better hear the AI’s familiar monotone. As he rounded a corner, he slammed shoulder-first into a wall, gasping for breath. “Lecture later. Solutions now!”

<All clearance has been revoked as a result of your unexpected non-coordination,> the AI said. <I am currently unable to override the code red alarm—>

“Solutions!” Cole shouted, no longer communicating via Ocunet.

<All access points are locked until further notice. Only the Sentinel can access the facility during threat containment. Being that you are the threat, you will be herded—>

“What aren’t you understanding, Cain?” Cole demanded. He glimpsed a flash out of the corner of his eye and knew his mechanical pursuers were nearly upon him. My little ruse won’t last much longer. “I know I’m screwed. I need you to un-screw me.”

<You must allow yourself to be herded toward the intended destination, Captain,> CAIN said. <That is what I was attempting to convey.>

“Yeah, well now’s not the time for long-winded explanations,” Cole said in a huff. He checked the nearest door despite the AI’s insistence. It was, of course, locked. He sprinted down the long, empty hall, cringing as his knee threatened to seize up on him. “Care to tell me...why you’re forcing me...into an early grave? Short answer, please.”

<The containment area is your only means of escape.>

“Good! That’s all you...had to say.”

<However, your route is currently inaccessible.>

“That’s not good... What’s blocking it? No, wait... Lemme guess: The Sentinel?”

<Correct.>

“Tell me again...how’s this supposed...to help me?”

<Allow yourself to be captured in order to escape.>

“What?” Cole stumbled around another corner and crashed to the floor. He crawled up against the wall and grabbed his throbbing knee. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and he blinked away the stinging. “Who says I’m wanted alive? Last I checked, your angry security cousin was shooting at me, and I’m sure it’s not happy about my little bomb fiasco.”

<You are perceived a threat while carrying your sidearm.>

Cole readjusted the small satchel slung over his shoulder and glanced down at the plastol neatly tucked into his holster. He swore. “You said carrying it wouldn’t matter.”

<So long as you refrained from touching anything,> CAIN reminded him.

Smart-ass. He heard that. Cole stood with a grimace and turned toward the intended direction. “Once my holosphere bites it, my sidearm’s all I got.”

A small explosion carried above the din of klaxons in response to Cole’s comment, and he knew the holographic diversion of himself had met its end. The Sentinel would now seek the real Cole Musgrave. He shoved off the wall, and his gimped run began anew.

“So if I ditch my sidearm,” Cole began, his hand fiddling with the belt securing his holster, “Mr. Sentinel will let me walk out a free man?”

<It will be more complicated than that.>

“It wouldn’t be a typical mission for the crew of the Icarus without complications, now would it?” He yanked off the holster and stuffed the weapon into his satchel. “Should I offer up my sidearm as a peace offering?”

<Along with the biotech you collected.>

“Stole, you mean?” Cole asked, listening for plasma blasts. “Collected sounds too politically correct. It’s not like I picked up a prescription from the pharmacy.”

<Captain, please,> the AI reprimanded. <Do as I say, or suffer the consequences.>

Cole sucked in a deep breath through his teeth and nodded. “Give it to me straight.”

<The Sentinel has already perceived the removal of your weapon as a sign of surrender,> CAIN said, resuming the details of his escape. <Continue your approach toward the containment area, and comply with all orders.>

Cole frowned at the AI’s stress on the word “all.” “What exactly am I walking into?”

<The Sentinel has taken android form and will appear human. As you know from debriefing, this particular storage facility is fully automated and under the sole protection of a complex AI security system. Its sole purpose is to contain the threat, and all manner of pleading and negotiation on your behalf will be ignored. It is paramount that you refrain from any form of physical altercation.>

“And my escape?”

<Instructions will be given via Ocunet as needed.>

And what about you and the rest of the gang? Cole asked, switching back to Ocunet conversation. His thoughts sounded much more confident than he actually felt. Is Jude’s cargo clear and loaded? Is the Sentinel aware of my ship?

<All is secure, Captain. Worry about yourself. The Sentinel is waiting.>

Waiting. That’s not intimidating or anything. He sighed and started marching the final length of the rat maze. The klaxons blared in time with the vicious pounding in his head, threatening to double him over. He would gladly abide by any demands if they would silence the deafening alarm. Just give myself over to the Sentinel. No pressure.

Cole began up to jog as his mental defense against the alarm began to fail. His eyes were pained slits by the time he crossed into a circular room with blinding lights piercing from the rafters. The satchel hanging limply in his hands dropped to the floor when the door behind him pounded closed. He dropped to his knees and covered his ears, no longer caring what he had to do. All that mattered was silence.

And then he had it.

Even as he continued to writhe on the cold floor, he had the faint sense that someone, or something, was standing over him. He rolled onto his back and looked up at a slender silhouette. Though the klaxons were silent, he dared not pull his hands away from his ears for fear of seeing blood staining the leather. He squinted, struggling to focus on the figure gazing down at him. As the lights dimmed, he could not help but forget everything CAIN had told him only moments before.

Well, hello there.

An androgynous, young, ebony woman of indeterminate age stared down at Cole, her piercing amber eyes locked onto his gaze. She was bald, save for the thin snow-white frost peaking through her scalp. A nondescript gray uniform complimented her tall, lean form. Strong cheekbones framed unpainted lips, and those lips were imparting words—words muted by Cole’s gloved hands. Risking more pain, he cupped one hand ever so slightly to hear what she was saying.

“...have ten seconds to comply.”

Her tone was flat and strangely unthreatening, though the implication was there. He wondered with what he had to comply. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he tempted fate with a question.

“Um, can you please repeat that?”

The Sentinel’s sharp regard fell to his satchel, and Cole needed no more urging. He slid it her way with his foot. No sooner had he retracted his leg, she extended her arm and gathered the front of his flight jacket in her fist, lifting him to his feet.

“Whoa—wow...” Cole said, eyes bulging. “I enjoyed that entirely too much.” He gawked at her, fully aware that her gaze was level with his. Even if she wasn’t the Sentinel, he would obey her every command.

“Preparing incarceration scan,” the Sentinel said, eyes boring into his.

“I suggest you frisk me.”

“Be silent. That is your final warning.”

Cole nodded. He had no desire to be punished by an android, no matter how tempting the prospect. Instead, he allowed himself to be visually violated by those stunning eyes—eyes uncovering his identity and plotting his end.

<Maintain eye contact with the android, Captain,> CAIN instructed.

Oh, you’re still here. Spying on my date, are you?

<Ocular reprogramming is in effect. Sequencing code is nearly unlocked.>

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, Cain, Cole said, smiling at the Sentinel.

<If by soul, Captain, you mean the security CPU of which I am currently decrypting, then, yes. Let it be known that there is no direct evidence of the incorporeal essence of a living being.>

Yeah, yeah, yeah... You’re ruining it.

“Scan complete,” the Sentinel announced. “Cole Musgrave, male, age 40. Former Military executive officer for the United System Starforce. Dishonorably discharged. Wanted for genocide, treason, espionage, kidnapping, gross theft, and significant destruction of federal property.”

“That’s enough about me,” Cole said, winking. “More about you.”

“You were warned.” Her hand reached out with incredible speed and clasped Cole’s tricep. She squeezed hard and elicited his agonized cry as he dropped to his knees. She collected his satchel and dragged him.

That better have been enough time, Cain! Cole said through Ocunet, struggling through his pain to formulate a proper thought. Because she’s literally dragging me to my doom.

<Partial success,> CAIN said.

Partial? Aren’t computers supposed to be exact and efficient? He tried to stand to alleviate his suffering, but the Sentinel’s awkward vice grip made it impossible to do little more than flail and stumble. Each step she took felt one second closer to her tearing off his arm.

<I have intercepted the system navigation controls, though security protocols are still in effect.>

Layman’s terms!

<I have control of the android, though the Sentinel is still operational.>

Turn the bitch off!

<I am afraid the android is necessary for your escape.>

At least release her grip. I promise to follow her.

<I am currently unable to deescalate your high level of detainment. The Sentinel is restricting full access to the CPU. I will need more time to decrypt the security protocols.>

Oh, shit... Desperate, Cole reached up to pry her fingers off his arm. It was a mistake. Sensing his refusal to comply, her grip tightened, and he screamed.

<My apologies, Captain,> CAIN said, and Cole thought he sensed actual sympathy in the AI’s voice. <Once I direct the android aboard our ship, I will take us out of the Sentinel’s range and hopefully sever the connection with the host.>

Hopefully? Cole asked, panicked. She’ll tear my arm off before that happens. He shrieked as he was unceremoniously hauled through a doorway toward a lift.

“Suck it up, Nugget,” said another voice through his comm. “You only have yourself to blame for this mess. Take it like a man.”

Cole vowed to beat the mechanic to death with his detached arm once he got aboard the ship. You’re not helping, Rig! he replied, well aware that CAIN would transmit the words through an emotive text. Don’t you have...ow!...some straps that need tightening in the cargo hold? He received laughter as a response.

As he and the Sentinel entered the lift, Cole seized the opportunity to rest. He stood up as straight as her grip would allow, and leaned in close to her to alleviate the pain. Nope, not helping, he thought with increasing despair. Not helping at all... Hurry, Cain.

“Oh, quit your babying, Musgrave,” came Emmerich’s stern voice. “I’m seriously starting to doubt your role as captain.”

Piling on, eh, Chrysanthemum? Don’t push me...ah! Or I’ll snap that delicate wrist of yours.

“Followed by your neck.”

Cole grinned through his brimming tears. Anyone else wanna...ow! Poke fun at my situation? I don’t mind. Son of a bitch, this hurts! Assault by an android is a million laughs. Laughter was exactly what he heard through his comm, though he was relieved not to hear Lin join the chorus.

The door to the lift opened, and his agonizing march of humiliation resumed. Cole no longer paid any heed to where he was being led. His entire focus was now upon putting one awkward foot in front of the other and not fainting.

<You are nearly to the ship, Captain,> CAIN announced, breaking Cole’s concentration.

Cole’s world swam, and tiny stars filled his vision. It was only after hearing the AI’s voice that he realized he was drenched in sweat. Consciousness would soon leave him. His arm was completely numb, and he was beginning to wonder if it would ever function properly again.

Then they stopped.

Cole looked up, recognizing the doors leading to the loading bay where the Icarus was docked. The Sentinel was staring ahead as if conflicted. Um, Cain?

<I am receiving unexpected resistance. I will troubleshoot for a solution.>

Hey, take your time. I’ll just wait here...twenty yards...from freedom....

“Cole? Stay focused on my voice.”

He managed a drunken smile at hearing Lin’s dulcet tones. Hey, Doc. Sorry I screwed up... Cain says...I lack coordination....

“Try and stay with me,” Lin continued through his apologies. “You’re almost here.”

Maybe you guys...should leave...without me....

“We can arrange that, Musgrave,” Emmerich threatened.

“Don’t listen to her,” Lin said, frustration in her voice.

Rig made some smooching noises over the comm, followed by a fierce berating from Emmerich. Lin shushed them both. Cole dropped to the floor.

<Captain!> CAIN called out. <The Sentinel has released you of its own accord. I believe it is conflicted with its current situation. I suggest you head toward the ship while the opportunity persists.>

Cole frowned, wondering why he couldn’t feel his arm. He rubbed the numb appendage while staring up at the ceiling, struggling to make sense of anything. “Wh-what?”

“He’s loopy,” Rig said, the first signs of tension in his voice. “We gotta get him outta there!”

“And do what?” Emmerich's demanded. “That android will tear us apart.”

“Now might be optimal,” Lin explained. “With the Sentinel struggling to maintain control of the android, we may be able to give our aid to Cole.”

“You mean Rig and me,” Emmerich clarified.

Slowly, the arguing voices over Cole’s comm became familiar, and he managed himself into a sitting position with his good arm. Seeing the lean woman standing a short ways from him helped him to connect the rest of the dots, and he finally understood his fortune. Beside him was his satchel, and he snatched it. He bolted upright, and both his world and stomach turned upside down. The sudden dizziness and nausea caused him to tilt forward, though he regained enough of his footing at the last moment.

I’m coming, Cain!

Cole ran toward his freedom, keeping a wide berth around the android. He could feel those amber eyes burning a hole through the back of his skull as he approached the final obstacle barring his freedom. His face came inches short of pressing into the smooth surface. The doors leading to the Icarus remained closed.

Cain.

<I am aware of the situation, Captain,> the AI said. <I had not anticipated the door being locked. Fortunately, you are still perceived as being detained. The Sentinel retains majority control of the facility. As a result, until I can reestablish a substantial connection, the android is your only means of entry.>

Oh, great. Cole drew a sharp breath and looked over his shoulder. He knew exactly what he’d see, but locking gazes with the android still sent a chill up his spine. A phantom spasm wracked his arm where she had nearly crushed his tricep. His knees turned to water when she stalked in his direction, and he braced himself against the locked doors for the inevitable confrontation.

Cain.

<I know, Captain. You must allow her to recapture you. I will guide her.>

And what if during the process she turns me into a human pretzel? He asked, eyeing her hands with terror.

<That will not happen. You must trust me.>

Do I have a choice in the matter?

<No, unfortunately.>

Okay. Cole produced his best smile when the android was a couple steps away. “Here, let me get the door for you.”

His entire body was lifted, and his back was used as a life-sized battering ram to part the double-wide doors. The wind was knocked from his lungs, his head buzzing with pain. She continued to carry him unceremoniously while holding onto the front of his jacket. He dared not attempt to free himself of her bone-crushing grip. His legs dangled helplessly, his jacket so tightly compressed that he could not breathe. He stole a brief glance over his shoulder and saw that the android was indeed leading him toward the ship. He would’ve been relieved if he was not losing consciousness for a second time.

You’d better be right about this, Cain.

<I am.>

So cocky... You’ve been hanging around me too— Thunk! “Ow!” Cole rubbed the back of his head once he mostly cleared the metal archway of the ship’s aft entrance. I guess we’re inside.

The Icarus’s fusion reactor engines roared to life the moment both man and android were safely aboard. None of the other crew members were present as Cole was carried toward the lift. Stars and darkness were slowly swallowing his vision, and his captor showed no signs of letting go. Unable to take a proper breath, Cole panicked and reacted as only he could when he was backed into his Corner. He punched her in the face.

The pain in his fist became a distant concern as he sailed through the air and crashed, hard, inside the lift. He was slow to rise, and he struggled to focus on the android. Even out of focus, it was clear she was attempting to make sense of her situation. He stared a bit too long, and he watched in horror as she sprinted directly towards him.

“Bridge, bridge, bridge, bridge, bridge!” he shouted at the lift. The door slid closed in time, though the android continued forward. Momentum slammed her body into the outside with such force, that the thick metal door caved inward ever so slightly. Cole had covered his ears too late, her impact akin to a small explosion. Amazingly, the lift rose despite the damage.

“Turn off the lift once I exit, Cain,” Cole said as he hauled himself to his feet. “I sure hope we’re making a hasty exit from this place, because I think she’s pissed.”

<I will, Captain, and we are,> CAIN said. <The Sentinel must be losing contact, hence the android’s erratic behavior.>

“Erratic? A woman? Never.”

The lift door opened, and three familiar faces stared back at him. Each one wore a different mask of emotion. Concern for Lin, anger for Emmerich, and amusement for Rig. Cole pushed past them all, ignoring their overlapping comments. He sneaked a peak at the viewport screen, which indicated the ship had already departed from the facility. He slung the satchel over the back of his flight chair and dug out his sidearm.

<Plastol bursts may have little or no effect on the android, Captain,> CAIN said in response to Cole’s decision to arm himself.

“I’ll put it away once she stops coming for me,” Cole said, inspecting his sidearm. He holstered it and cringed when he flexed his injured muscle. “Why don’t you tell me again about your loss of connection to the host theory.”

<The Sentinel’s signal is formidable.>

“And your dumb ass brought that thing aboard,” Emmerich said to Cole.

He shook his head. “As though I had a choice in the matter, Chrys.” He pointed toward the steps beside the lift. “We all make mistakes. I seem to recall you attempting a terrorist attack on Terracom. Big mistake, that.”

<The android was necessary for our escape, Inspector,> the AI explained to her. <Think of it as a highly complex pass key.>

“Yeah, and her keys are about to gouge out our eyes,” Rig said. He caught one of the plasma rifles that Emmerich had tossed his way. “Let’s make that bitch a lot less complex.”

“Agreed,” Cole said, slinging a rifle of his own over his shoulder. He approached the stairwell as Lin’s Rook hovered beside his head, though he kept his full attention upon the android’s remaining access point.

“Fire only if necessary,” Lin whispered to him through the cube. “We might have use for a functioning android.”

“Such as?”

“I’ll give you a detailed explanation later,” she finished through comm-speak.

Cole turned to her, his brow raised. The faintest upturn at the corner of her lips confirmed his suspicions. We’ll see. I hope you sent that thought as a direct communiqué. He made a slashing hand motion across his throat, and all verbal conversation ceased amongst the group. The sound of heavy footsteps ascending the stairwell filled the fresh silence.

<Captain.>

I know, Cain. I hear her. He gave the silent order for Rig and Emmerich to spread out.

<Fighter drones have been dispatched.>

Cole let his arms fall, his head hanging. Come again?

<The Sentinel has fully recovered and is locked onto our position.>

2

DISCONNECT

How many?

<Five,> the AI reported. <The Sentinel is tracing the signal emitted by the android. They will engage us in less than a minute.>

“Why is nothing ever easy?” he muttered under his breath. “This is the complete opposite of what you promised. You’re fired.”

“Musgrave.”

Cole’s head snapped up at Emmerich’s sharp whisper. He tensed at the sight of an encroaching shadow crossing the threshold of the stairwell. The figure of the android came to a halt just short of coming into view. There was a long, breathless standoff.

The android obliged first, but not in a way anyone expected. The shadow retreated, a quick succession of heavy footfalls pounding down the steps. Cole lowered his weapon and frowned. Then a sobering realization set in.

She’s going for the cargo bay.

<Captain?>

Cole holstered his sidearm and indicated the others follow suit. He moved toward the hallway leading toward the living quarters. “Ignore that last thought. Just worry about those drones coming for us. You should be able to handle them, compliments of my brother’s arsenal. The three of us, we’ve got an android to take out.”

<Is that an order?> CAIN asked.

Cole stopped and shook his head, having forgotten CAIN’s unwillingness to take command of the Icarus in times of combat. Ever since the AI’s rebellion and near demise of the crew, CAIN always sought permission before assuming command of the vessel.

“Yes, that’s an order,” he replied in as official a tone he could manage. “Give ‘em hell, son.”

Rig chuckled.

Cole winked at Lin, who nodded before turning toward the ship’s console. He watched to make sure the cockpit barrier safely energized and divided the party. When he turned and continued away from the stairwell, Emmerich called out to him.

“That thing went that way,” she said, gesturing with her rifle.

“I know,” Cole said, maintaining his course. “You wanna follow her? Be my guest. Let me know how that works out for you when you walk right into those loving arms of hers.”

“Back door action, eh, Nugget?” Rig asked.

“Yes. And I hope the innuendo was intended.” He smirked when the mechanic laughed. “Now, come on! No time to explain.” No point in telling them I’m flying by the seat of my pants. He broke into a full sprint. He was relieved when both Rig and Emmerich flanked him on either side. The trio zipped through the Bar and past their living quarters, sounding like a herd of galloping horses. A familiar pain reared its ugly head in Cole’s knee well before they approached the infirmary. He was grateful to slow near the steps leading down the cargo bay, though he knew the descent would only worsen the pain.

“I get what you’re doin’,” Rig said as they entered the stairwell. “You’re still a pussy.”

Cole grabbed the railing as he descended. “You keep calling me that, and I continue to disprove your accusation.” He hit the landing and flinched. “What do I have to do to impress you?”

“Get a knee replacement, for starters,” Rig said, and Cole smiled.

“Hey!” Emmerich hissed at them both. When she had their attention, she turned an imaginary key on her lips. Cole dragged an invisible zipper across his mouth, Rig simply stuck out his tongue at her.

They descended the rest of the steps in silence, and snuck out of the stairwell with weapons poised and armed. At first glance, there were only the stacks of fastened crates and offline machinery, but the trio knew better to approach with extra caution.

Cole strained for any sound of the heavy-footed trespasser, though the thrum of the ship’s engines obstructed any chance of pinpointing its location. He reached out to the AI for assistance. We can use your eyes right about now, Cain.

<Ocunet visuals of the entire ship has been implemented, Captain,> CAIN said. <I suggest you refrain from any further contact, as I am currently engaged with the Sentinel targets.>

Security camera footage and a full schematic of the ship’s interior appeared in the corner of Cole’s vision. Thanks, buddy. Kick some ass, and show that outdated computer who’s boss.

<That is the plan.>

Cole scanned numerous angles of the live security feed, though he did not see any sign of the android. He had anticipated that it would approach the recently loaded cargo, but it had been left untouched and unguarded. He was fairly certain it would ignore the bridge with the energy barrier lowered, so that left only one possibility. He flipped the camera over to the heart—brain, rather—of the ship.

“I don’t like this,” Lin said from the bridge.

What don’t you like? Cole asked, giving her his full attention.

“CAIN has the ability to undertake complex multitasking that would be impossible for humans. I personally programmed it to handle all manner of trials, simultaneous or not.”

Cole didn’t like what he was hearing. He ignored an impatient glare from Emmerich. You saying he’s getting lazy? Maybe he recently reached AI puberty.

Lin sighed. “I’m afraid CAIN might have unknowingly been hacked by the Sentinel.”

It was Cole’s turn to sigh, though it was more because to Emmerich shoved past him. He waved Rig past as well. How is that possible? Didn’t Cain hack the Sentinel first?

“That’s true, but it’s possible for the infiltrated security system to simultaneously attempt its own malicious attack to defend itself—even override the intruder’s attack.”

Cole was feeling less confident by the second. But wouldn’t Cain know? I thought he was state-of-the-art and kinda unstoppable.

“State-of-the-art or not, artificial intelligence is unpredictable. And CAIN is an exceptional case, considering past circumstances.”

Cole caught up with the others, seeking safety in numbers. He returned his attention to the security feed. Might that be why our android beauty is not showing up on any camera angles? Can that be compromised?

There was a moment’s hesitation before Lin asked, “Can you see yourself on the feed?”

He was switching through the angles halfway through her sentence. He broke out in a cold sweat when he toggled through the “live” images a second time without locating himself. The Sentinel was aboard the Icarus.

“Shit!” Cole shouted. He disposed of all stealth and charged directly for the AI server. “We’re in trouble, Doc. Your worst fear’s been realized.”

“Cole, you have to incapacitate the android,” Lin instructed, remarkably calm. “I will see what I can do to combat the hack on my end.”

Cole opened his mouth to respond, but an unsteady foundation interrupted him. All of the Icarus was trembling. “Are we being boarded?”

“We’ve ceased engaging the drones,” Lin explained. “CAIN isn’t offline, though our control has been severed.”

“I think I know why,” Cole said as he reached the opened hatch leading to the server. He switched on the light at the end of his rifle and pointed it down into the tight space. “I’m guessing our android passenger is having a heart to heart talk with CAIN’s brain jar.”

“Cole, you cannot allow that to happen.”

All of the ship’s lights went dark; the blue emergency backup kicked in. Cole sighed. “Looks like I’m too late, Doc. You’d best continue worrying about a workaround on your end.”

“Musgrave. Why have we lost power?” Emmerich demanded from behind Cole. “And what exactly are you staring at down there?”

“Nothing. Yet.” He blinked and kept his flashlight poised on the floor at the bottom of the steps. “But I have a very good reason to believe therein is the cause of our latest problem.”

“Shouldn’t we go in after it?”

Cole nodded. “ ‘We.’ I like that. Teamwork. Heh. I half expected you to push me in and ask questions second. As much as I appreciate the gesture, I doubt we’ll all fit in that little closet. I’ll handle this. I’m just building up the courage to go down.” He sniffed. “You and Rig might wanna investigate who recently docked with the ship. I don’t recall expecting company.”

“Well don’t just stand there thinking about it,” Emmerich said. “Get your ass down there!” She shoved his back with the frame of her rifle before stalking away.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied flatly, though he did not budge. Thought I was in charge of this boat. She survives a plastol burst to the head, and suddenly she’s a bossy war hero. He sighed and slung his rifle over his shoulder. Kneeling down, he grabbed the top rung of the ladder and tried not to acknowledge that his back was toward potential danger. Even if he jumped down into the room, he had no actual plan as to how to subdue the android. His rifle could make a decent-sized hole in its chest, but a lower stun setting might not accomplish anything. If it don’t work, then there will be other androids to capture.

Cole held his breath as he approached the bottom. His climb down had been with a rubber neck. The insides of his gloves were soaked with sweat as he paused on the bottom rung. A stealthy ninja he was not, though he was pleased to have not drawn the attention of his mark. He slid the rifle off his shoulder and triple-checked the setting. Drawing the slowest, quietest, calming breath, his lungs had started to ache for more oxygen.

What am I doing?

Dispensing with his sneak attack, Cole poised the rifle and stalked toward the android. He slowed just shy of breaching the corridor’s threshold. Taking a shot now would guarantee his target, but his intuition kept his trigger finger from squeezing. Perhaps it was because the android had not acknowledged his approach. Her back was to him, her arm extended toward the massive wall of technological marvel that was CAIN. Sending an energy blast into the android’s back now seemed ill-advised.

“Hey, Nel.”

No response.

“What’re you doing to my buddy, Cain, here?”

Silence.

I’m going to regret this, Cole thought as he nudged the android’s shoulder with his rifle barrel. He jumped back as soon as he grazed her uniform. He squeezed the trigger halfway, expecting retaliation, but nothing happened. His shoulders slumped, and he scratched his temple. Now what?

<The android is temporarily incapacitated, Captain.>

Cole nearly dropped his rifle. Shit, Cain! I’m gonna need to change my shorts after that.

<The Sentinel still has majority control of the ship, though I believe I may have successfully infiltrated the android’s CPU.>

How fortuitous!

The android spun around, sending Cole back a few steps. It stared at him without aggression. Its lips parted, and CAIN’s voice came out. <Infiltration successful.>

Cole blinked, uncertain what to think. That’s friggin’ weird. “If you’re in control, hold up your right hand and show me just your middle finger.”

<Yes, Captain,> she said in Cain’s voice. Her slender arm rose in a fluid motion and gave Cole the one-finger salute.

“Ha!” Cole slung his rifle over his shoulder and clapped. “That was totally worth it. You can stop being rude now.”

The android looked around as if taking in the sight of the room for the first time. <Captain, the ship is still under the control of the Sentinel. I may have managed to secure this android vessel, but I may yet be overridden. As long as the drones are present, strengthening the signal, I will encounter fierce resistance. Also, another concern will be timing. The longer my consciousness resides in this crude form, the greater the possibility I may lose myself.>

Wait, what? Consciousness? Did I miss something? Cole clapped CAIN’s shoulder. “Then we should hurry and do something about the Sentinel.”

They moved toward the ladder, Cole in the lead. Both Rig and Emmerich were waiting for him when he reached the top, their weapons pointed past him. He frowned and followed their aim. The docking arm was retracting from the drone the Sentinel had permitted aboard.

“Oh, boy....”

“Behind you!”

Cole spun at Emmerich’s cry, expecting to be assaulted by some unforeseen entity. He looked down at the ascending android and cursed when he realized his error in not mentioning CAIN. He lunged forward to stop Emmerich from sending a barrage of plasma blasts directly into the AI’s head. The tip of his boot caught the side of the ladder, and he stumbled, momentum carrying his shoulder into her hip. Her shot went wide, the muzzle of the rifle connecting with Cole’s face. He felt the burn before well before the pain of the blow, and he grabbed at his face as they both collapsed to the ground.

“Are you crazy?” Emmerich growled, scrambling to stand. “Get off of me!”

Cole clutched at his face, struggling to keep his eyes open. He half-rolled off her, though his free hand stayed her rifle. “It’s Cain!”

“What?”

Cole ignored her question. He glanced at Rig, whose rifle was aimed defensively, yet unused. The android was standing now. “Tell them, Cain.”

<Tell who what, Captain?>

“Yep, that’s enough evidence for me,” Rig said, standing down.

Emmerich kicked Cole off her body, keeping her rifle trained on the android as she stood. “How do we know that damn Sentinel isn’t tricking us?”

“Because our faces would already be caved in, genius,” Cole said, shaking his head. He pushed up from the ground with his injured arm and flopped onto his back when his throbbing knee gave out. The fire radiating from his face only added insult to injury. “A little help, please?”

Rig grabbed Cole’s uninjured arm and yanked him to his feet. “Pussy.”

“I’ll let that one slide,” Cole said, turning to face the stationary drone in the cargo bay. “Has anything happened since it came aboard?”

“No,” Emmerich said. “Though I’m sure it’s plotting our deaths.”

“Such a pessimist,” Cole countered, walking toward the remotely controlled fighter. “Maybe it’s just tired and wanted to hitch a ride back home.”

Rig snickered.

<Its presence is a heightened signal transmitter for the Sentinel,> CAIN said. <From what intel I managed to glean, the android vessel I currently inhabit was to assist in transferring the absconded cargo and leave aboard the fighter drone.>

“What about us?” Emmerich asked, her rifle stilled aimed at the android.

<The remaining drones would destroy this ship, killing all aboard.>

Well, that’s grim. Cole thought. Time to change the channel. “Hey, we stole that stuff fair and square,” he said, pointing at part of the cargo. He noticed a smoking hole in one of the crates, but said nothing. “I’m not going back to my brother empty-handed. Not after all the shit I just went through. I don’t care if we have to break our backs by pushing that junk heap out the airlock.”

“We?” Rig asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Be my guest,” Emmerich said, lowering her weapon. She presented a clear path for Cole to approach the drone. “There’re three more of those things waiting to take this one’s place, but that doesn’t matter to you, right? No big deal. You’ll just pull some cockamamie plan out of your ass at the last second like you always do.”

“You done?” Cole asked, his tone flat.

“Go on, Musgrave,” she continued. “Show us how we get out of this mess. Darkstar’s waiting on us to serve his every criminal need. You don’t want to disappoint your big brother, do you? Who cares if you get us all killed over some classified stolen government goods? If you want to keep up this ruse, fine. You’ll do it without my assistance. I’ll gladly stand by and—”

The trio’s conversation was interrupted as CAIN manipulated the android toward the drone. Curious, they all followed at a safe distance, their heated discussion momentarily forgotten. The streamlined fighter was a little over half the size of a Kobold-2, and Cole thought it resembled a bullet from a time long before interstellar travel. When the AI was within inches of touching the hull of the small craft, Lin appeared in a small window on his Ocunet lenses.

“Cole, the Sentinel has altered our course,” she said, sounding breathless. “We’re being escorted back by the fighter drones.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, unsurprised by the update. He frowned when CAIN reached out to touch the underside of the drone’s hull. “We’re working on it...sort of.”

“I’ve been unable to uncover a workaround to restore the ship’s controls, and CAIN is still offline. Other than restoring manual capabilities to all machinery in the cargo bay, we’re still—”

“Wait, what did you just say? The part about manual capabilities.”

“I reconfigured the portion of the system which remotely manages heavy duty loading equipment. That should include the payload door. I included this feature in case any...technical emergencies were to arise. Only manual operation is permitted.”

Nice! “Good work, Doc. Your boy Cain is here with us.”

“Come again?”

“Cain. You know, your cryorganic artificially intelligent nanobiotechnological brainchild?” He smirked. “He’s here with us, only he’s walking around in a...hey, what’s he doing? Whoa!”

CRUNCH!

The fighter drone had gained a new opening. An underbelly panel was peeled back as though it were tin foil. The AI surveyed the damage before pulling itself up and inside the jagged entrance. Cole watched, mesmerized by the sheer strength of CAIN’s new body. His tricep throbbed in response.

“What was that?”

“A display of brute force,” Cole said to Lin. “I’ll tell you about it later, Doc. Just keep at it. Gonna be busy for a bit.” He switched off communication.

“Shouldn’t that thing be pissed or somethin’?” Rig asked. “It just tore that drone a new asshole.”

Emmerich groaned, stepping away from the mechanic.

Cole nodded. “Good observation. On both points.” He moved closer to the opening. “You hear that, Cain? Any ideas as to why the Sentinel isn’t retaliating?”

<Despite all appearances,> CAIN replied through the comm, <I would venture to say that it is unaware I have inhabited this android vessel, Captain. As such, the drones should allow me complete access.>

“Okay. Well then, why not just tell it to open a door for you? Or have you always wanted to show off your superhuman strength, like in twentieth-century Sci-Fi films?”

There was a loud crash from inside the drone. <I am unable to access any codes necessary to properly communicate with said Sentinel.>

Cole wiped his hand across his face, confused. “Does AI aim to convolute things?”

Another crash, followed by a thud. <Any convolution is unintentional. Procedure and protocol still rule lower level AI, despite recent advancements in learning. Complex security systems such as the Sentinel are powerful mathematical problem solvers, yet imperfect.>

Unlike you?

“Are the two of you planning anything anytime this millennium?” Emmerich demanded.

Cole shrugged, his back to her. “Dunno. Whatcha doin’ in there, Cain?”

<I intend to sever the signal with the Sentinel,> the AI said.

Cole glanced over his shoulder at both Rig and Emmerich and frowned. “Care to explain how you plan on accomplishing this marvelous feat?”

The fighter drone’s engines ignited in response. The trio backed away from the ship, hands covering their ears, as the generators powered up. Cole stopped moving when a text message appeared via Ocunet. He looked to Rig, who appeared to be reading the same message. Their gazes met, and he nodded to the mechanic. He watched the short and stocky man rush the docking arm control panel. Emmerich was already approaching the manual lever to unseal the cargo floor door. Cole ran below deck to the small, circular window with a view of the payload door. His hand hovered over the OPEN button.

Cole smiled, thrilled to be free of the Sentinel’s vice grip. Once the drone was lowered into place, he sent CAIN a message.

Show that primitive AI bitch what you can do.

3

RETALIATION

“Cain, I need visuals.”

<Captain, I am linking you to a direct camera feed from the drone. You will have a three-hundred-sixty degree view with your augmented reality.>

Cole uploaded the feed to his Ocunet display and nearly tripped as he climbed up the steps from below deck. He grabbed for a nearby wall as he found himself flying in the middle of the galaxy, moving at impossible speeds. The transparency was immediately adjusted so it didn’t feel as though he was falling into infinity. “Fantastic. The Sentinel on to your little ploy yet?”

<It was never unaware of my actions,> CAIN said. <The AI is confused, and it cannot decide whether or not I am still under its control.>

Not sure I like the sound of that. “Are you certain? You’re not making assumptions, are you? Because you know what they say....”

<I will not be made to look an ass, Captain.>

Oh! I guess he does know that saying. “Just try not to get sucked out that giant hole you carved out in the drone, will you?”

<Affirmative.>

Cole found Rig and Emmerich waiting for him beside the stolen cargo. The mechanic was shaking his head, a giant smirk on his grizzled face. His thick index finger was poking in and out of the large, charred hole where a single plasma blast had hit one of the crates. Emmerich swatted his hand away and scowled at Cole.

“Is there anything that doesn’t piss you off?” he asked her, though his attention was divided by what was transpiring outside the Icarus. CAIN was positioning the commandeered drone behind the other three. The Sentinel appeared none the wiser.

“That,” she thrust her finger toward the damaged cargo, “could have been avoided were you not so easily distracted. I nearly destroyed that damn android.”

Cole glanced at the hole and shrugged. “Hey, accidents come with the territory. We’re rookie pirates smuggling top secret materials from UniSys. Whaddya want from me? I’d say things are going about as well as we could hope for, wouldn’t you?”

Emmerich was not appeased. “This fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, cocksure attitude of yours is going to get us killed, Musgrave. There needs to be better communication if we’re to survive this lifestyle for more than a year.”

“A year?” Cole said as he headed toward the lift, struggling to hide his pronounced limp. “Shit, I’m surprised we’ve lasted a month.”

Rig laughed.

Emmerich sidled up to Cole. “That doesn’t mean we need to approach each job as though it was our last.”

“It might be in our best interest if we do, considering the source of the supplied work,” Cole said, wishing she would back off. “Besides, it’s not like we’re in the clear with this job.” His chin dropped to his chest when the lift stayed closed. Not the stairs....

“Want me to carry you, Nugget?”

“Could you, please, big guy?” Cole clasped his hands pleadingly.

“Quit your nonsense, Musgrave,” Emmerich scolded.

“Why should I?” he demanded. “I’m the designated captain of this boat, and I’ll deal with situations as I see fit. How many times do I have to tell you about how I work? This,” he presented himself, “is who I am. I’m an infamous, disgraced XO who thrives under immense pressure while being hunted by the entire System. Let me have my ‘nonsense.’ Humor is my coping mechanism. If I don’t laugh in the face of death, I’ll die.”

Emmerich backed away and drew herself up straight, her features hard. “I’m not questioning your role as captain....”

“Then what, exactly, are you questioning? My lack of political correctness in terms of proper pirating etiquette? Or are you just pissed that I don’t exert any of my former militaristic tendencies?”

Emmerich’s eyes narrowed, the fresh scar along the side of her face tightening. “I doubt you ever understood what it means to serve in Military. You’re reckless and selfish. That anyone considered you for the title of XO astounds me.”

Cole shook his head and exhaled a defeated sigh. Just when I thought we finally understood one another. “I’m not having this conversation with you again. Either you’re with me, or you’re in my way. I don’t need another obstruction.” He turned toward the steps and began his Sisyphean climb.

“At least consider those around you before you make brash decisions.”

The words were spoken politely enough, and they even held merit, but Cole had heard enough. He rounded on her, the steps adding a significant height difference. “What do you not understand about our situation? We’re fucked! We work for thieves and murderers, slaves to my brother’s every whim. It’s not like we have a choice anymore, so we might as well make the best of things before this ride comes to an abrupt and very final stop.” He stared her down for a good five solid seconds before resuming his trek to the bridge. “And remember,” he added, speaking over his shoulder, “my recklessness and selfishness are what have carried us this far.”

“It doesn’t always have to be this way,” Emmerich said to his back, forcing the issue. “You’re giving up before considering every possibility of escaping this predicament. That’s not like you.”

Cole slowed at the landing but did not turn.

“Dartmouth told me everything you did to save us from flying straight into the sun—told me how you convinced the AI to reconsider its stance on murdering us.”

He cast the former inspector a sidelong glance, knowing exactly what she would say next.

“I don’t approve of your techniques, nor do I even like you.” She ignored Rig’s chuckle. “But I do respect you.”

Cole’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his title crushing him. “What do you want from me, Chrys? I’m one man fighting against the whole of the System. I’m not a miracle worker.”

Emmerich nodded. “No, you aren’t. But you’re also not a coward. In spite of everything, somehow you managed to get us this far. Don’t disappoint us by giving up.”

The Icarus shuddered.

Cole tore his gaze from Emmerich and focused on the augmented reality. He saw that there was one less drone following them. Whether or not the destroyed fighter had been carrying CAIN, he did not know.

<There will be retaliation from the Sentinel, Captain.>

That answers that. “What sort of retaliation?”

Pitch darkness was the response. Cole grabbed the railing while he struggled to focus. As his eyes sought to discern any trace of light, he experienced the unsettling sensation of weightlessness. Without knowing up from down, it was impossible to orient himself. Not good.

“Artificial gravity stabilizer’s hit,” Rig called out. “Sounds like the engines are powerin’ down too.”

“And why isn’t emergency backup kicking in?” Emmerich demanded.

Cole turned toward their voices. “We’ve gone dark, ladies and gentlemen. Courtesy of Nel.”

“Who?” Rig and Emmerich shouted in unison.

“Nel,” Cole repeated. “You know, the android currently inhabited by Cain. I’ll bet neither of you knew he was a cross-dresser.”

“I retract what I said about my respect,” Emmerich said.

“Aw, that’s alright. At least you can still rely on your boyfriend Rig,” Cole replied, continuing his ascent. He managed to navigate his drifting body in what he thought was the direction of the bridge. When an unseen hand grabbed his wrist, he yelped. Instinct had him kick blindly into darkness, though he connected with nothing but open space.

“Relax, Nugget. It’s me.”

“Dammit, Rig! You could’ve said something before pressing my crap-my-pants button. I nearly gave you the boot.”

“No you didn’t.” He chuckled.

Cole felt Rig’s meaty hand release. “How’d you find me in the dark? I’ve been bumping around this stupid staircase longer than I’d like to admit.”

“Lens upgrade,” the mechanic said, his voice coming from a different direction now. “Got the option for night vision. I can see just fine.”

“A gift from my brother, I presume?”

“Ain’t nothin’ free when it comes to Darkstar.”

Cole’s pang of jealously quickly subsided. I’ll forgo my question of price. I don’t want to know what he had to do to get new eyes. “Since I don’t have nifty new bionic vision like you, are you gonna hold my hand and walk me safely across the street?”

“Got a better idea. Let go of the railing, pussy.”

Yeah, I’m sure this’ll end well. Cole let go anyway. “Now be gentle. You wouldn’t want to give your captain a heart atta-a-a-a-ack!”

Without gravity, it was impossible to tell how fast he was moving, but Cole was aware of Rig’s impressive strength, and the mechanic’s forceful shove nearly snapped his neck. He was vaguely aware of someone telling him to brace for impact, but he’d reacted too slow. His back collided with a wall, abruptly ending his short-lived flight. The wind was knocked from his lungs, and he was unable to take a full breath before his ricocheting body collided with yet another surface. Stars filled his vision, but the longer he stared at them, the more he realized they were something else.

“Cole? Is that you?”

Lin’s muffled voice sounded from behind the hazy wall of stars. He shook his head, his blurry vision sharpening. The energy field, of course! I’m on the bridge. Nice throw, Rig. I’ll make sure to return the favor when the lights come back on.

“Hey, Doc. Don’t worry. I’m here,” he said to where he thought she was behind the wall of pulsating energy. The bridge was illuminated by the energy field, casting everything in a chalky white light. He frowned as he considered the barrier separating him from her. “That’s weird. I thought the ship was dark.”

“It is,” said the sourceless voice from beyond. “A controlled shutdown, initiated by the Sentinel—possibly brought on by my meddling. As a result, we’re still at its mercy.”

“I doubt it has anything to do with you, and everything to do with Cain,” Cole explained as he gently pushed off the ceiling toward the cockpit. “He pissed off Nel.”

“Who?”

I’m not explaining myself again. “Cain commandeered one of the drones and is using it to take out the other three. Something about lessening the signal. He’s already taken out one, hence our predicament. It’s only a matter of time before he—”

BOOM!

The floor beneath Cole trembled, sending him adrift once more. Now what?

“Sounds like an anterior hit,” Rig said to Cole, grabbing his ankle. He yanked him back to the floor with a little too much gusto. “Better hope the hull ain’t punctured. Don’t wanna get sucked through a pinhole.”

Cole landed feet-first, cringing when his knee tensed. He peered down at the mechanic’s feet, intrigued how solid his footing was. “Magboots too, eh?”

“Damn right. I came prepared, unlike you people.”

“An amateur pirate I might be, but at least I’m not digging myself deeper into debt with my brother.” He patted Rig on his broad shoulder and smiled. Emmerich appeared behind the mechanic a second later, sans magboots.

“It seems the ship is holding together,” she said, not sounding confident. “Now if only there was something we could do, other than stand around in the dark.”

“She’ll hold,” Cole professed, unable to back his statement. “Cain’s on the case, and I’m sure he’s kickin’ some outdated AI ass.” He held out his arms. “This ship is state-of-the-art, the best SolEx has to offer. The Icarus, baby! Not even the sun could stop us.”

The crew’s world was turned upside down when a massive, unseen object collided hard with the ship. Cole and Emmerich were set adrift once more, their bodies launched toward the energy field. Rig lunged at them, but they were out of his reach. Cole thrashed his arm toward the former inspector and clutched at her jacket sleeve. He missed by inches, though she completed the circuit by clasping his hand. Her eyes opened wide when he used his limited leverage to swing her weightless body toward the ceiling where a low archway awaited her. He could only watch and hope that she would process the reason for his action. Much to his relief, her legs kicked out and pushed off the solid obstruction, sending them both to the ground before they could float through the energy field and discover just how powerful it was.

Cole shied away from the close proximity of the field, turned, and came face-to face with Emmerich. The relief on her face was a welcoming sight.

“That was some quick thinking,” she said, yanking her hand out of his grasp. “But next time, I throw you.”

Cole inspected his empty hand. “It’s a date, but you’ll have to run it by my favorite engineer.” He squinted at the energy field. Right, Doc?”

He received no reply.

“Doc?”

The lights flickered, power briefly flirting with the engines before the ship resumed its dark state. Rig came up behind Cole and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, keeping him from drifting away.

“Huh,” the mechanic said, staring up at the ceiling. “What’s that all about?”

“Let’s hope that was a sign from Cain,” Cole said. He stood and backed away from the blinding energy field. He froze in fear that Lin had been inadvertently tossed into... He squinted in hopes of seeing any movement.

“You trying to go blind, Musgrave?”

“It would make my life a lot easier,” he said. “Then I wouldn’t have to stare at your mangled face anymore.”

“Mmhm. Just remember why I have this scar.”

“You have it ‘cuz you’re an idiot,” Rig said. “You should be dead after the stunt you pulled against that Forester prick. Dodging point-blank shots from an assassin?” He shook his head.

Emmerich sighed and faced the mechanic. “And I seem to recall your little stunt leaving you unconscious when you underestimated the very same person.”

Rig crossed his arms, returning her stare. “Still can’t believe that girly receptionist got the jump on me. I shoulda broken his neck.”

“You two still talking shit about Art?” Cole said. “Let it go. You know, like how I did?”

Both Emmerich and Rig grunted. He knew they disapproved of his decision to let the undercover Research assassin escape.

“He was just doing his job,” Cole continued, moving closer to the energy field. “If he’d initially wanted us dead, we would’ve been. I doubt we have to worry about him anymore. Right now, I’m a bit more concerned with this—”

Icarus illuminated in a blink, engines and computers returning to full strength. Artificial gravity stabilized, and everyone’s footing was once again secured. The change in lighting suddenly made it possible to see through the energy field, if ever so slightly. Cole jerked his head back when he realized he was nearly face-to-face with Lin on the other side. She seemed equally as surprised.

“Doc!” He exclaimed, louder than he’d wanted. His eyes fell to the object in her extended hand: a cube. Oh no... “Doc, you alright?”

She shook her head and presented the Rook, which no longer hovered of its own accord.

Her Rook must’ve made contact with the shield during the collision. Not good. “Are you hurt?”

Another shake of her head.

“Alright, sit tight,” he said, backing away. “We need to turn off this energy field.”

<That won’t be possible, Captain.>

“Cain! Buddy! You back in the driver’s seat?”

<My situation is complicated,> was the AI’s cryptic answer. <I have established a connection with the Icarus, though my access is still partially blocked by the Sentinel’s signal. All of the drones must be destroyed in order for me to reestablish full control.>

“Hence the energy field,” Cole finished. “Alright, what’s the status of the drones?”

<Two have been destroyed. Two remain. Both have sustained significant damage.>

Cole met Emmerich’s hard gaze. “But that would mean you’ve sustained damage, right?”

<That is correct, Captain.>

“How bad is the damage?” he asked, knowing he would not like the answer.

<Catastrophic.>

So much for asking if he could take out the other drone. “What about the other one?”

<I am uncertain of its exact status, though it appears to be stable despite damage to its hull and thrusters. It is currently performing some sort of self-repair at the moment. I fear its weapons have remained intact. I will be defenseless to ward off another assault.>

“Wait... Are you telling me the Sentinel is aiming to take out one of its own?”

<Correct.>

Something wasn’t adding up. “If you’re out of commission and no longer a threat, why would the Sentinel risk weakening the signal connected to the Icarus?”

<Because I am aboard.>

“So? You’re just manipulating an android. Aren’t you?”

<The physical construct of my cryorganic nanobiotechnical CPU may be aboard the Icarus, but in order for me to overwhelm the android’s connection with the Sentinel, I was forced to take drastic action.>

There’s never any good news. Cole hung his head. “Let me guess—you somehow managed to upload your AI essence into Nel?”

<Who?>

“The android,” Cole amended. “Your injected your robot spirit into her.”

<Correct.>

“Is that even possible?”

<I made it so.>

“Okay, Jean-Luc. So what you’re telling me is that if you die aboard that drone—in Nel’s android body—even though your brain is on the Icarus—you’re finished?”

<Precisely.>

Cole threw up arms, flabbergasted. “Alright, then what are you going to do about your little predicament?”

<Currently, I am unable to better my situation. The remaining drones must be destroyed before I can reestablish a physical connection with the Icarus server.>

Cole glimpsed Lin’s hazy silhouette behind the energy field, the ship’s flight controls within her reach. Might as well be a hundred light years away. “I’d help you out, buddy, but I’m currently unable to better my situation either.”

Silence, and then, <Captain. The drone’s self-repair is complete.>

Oh no....

<A resumed assault is imminent.>

4

RECONNECTED

“Time for a crash-course in space flight, Doc.”

Though he couldn’t see Lin’s expression behind the obstructing energy field, he imagined those striking, intelligent green eyes of hers were now bulging. And what he was about to demand of her was more than a long-shot, but it was the only chance at saving CAIN.

“Musgrave. Are you insane?”

“Working on it, Chrys,” Cole said to Emmerich, though his attention was on Lin. “Doc. Don’t worry about needing to talk or even send messages through Ocunet. Just listen to my voice. I’ll talk you through this.”

“Talk her through what?” Emmerich demanded. “Even if manual controls are accessible, what do you expect her to do? Thread a needle while doing a barrel roll? She’s never piloted a vessel before.”

“Ignore her, Doc. You don’t need to do anything that drastic. The Icarus practically flies itself. Just sit down, and get comfortable.”

“Yes, take your time, Dartmouth,” Emmerich said, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

“We can do this, Doc. I promise.” He watched Lin hesitate before slowly, shakily, turning and sitting in the flight chair. Cole smiled. Atta girl!

“Remember what I said about your recklessness being the end of us?” Emmerich’s question was more of a statement. “This falls directly into that category.”

“I’m not letting Cain die,” Cole said, his patience at its end.

Emmerich stepped closer to Cole anyway. “Taking out both drones and the AI will free us of the Sentinel’s grip. This ship will fly just fine without CAIN. That’s why we have you.”

Cole glared at her pointing index finger, eager to snap it off. Somewhere in the back of his frantic mind, he knew she was right. His glared softened.

<Captain.>

“Cain! Talk to me.”

<I have uploaded my exact coordinates and given precise, real-time flight instructions to my maker’s augmented reality. This should assist her while engaging the manual controls. That said, I implore you to hurry.>

That’s all I needed to hear. He shrugged at Emmerich and turned his full attention toward the inaccessible cockpit. “Follow Cain’s lead. If anyone can do this, it’s you. Don’t try any fancy maneuvers, and screw finesse and style; they’re overrated anyway.”

<My maker is already en route, Captain,> CAIN said.

“Oh,” Cole said, blinking. Ah, the joys of the synthetic gravity and an obstructed viewport screen. “Care to distribute that augmented reality view again, Cain? Preferably the good doctor’s? You know, so I don’t continue to look like a complete moron?”

“Too late, Nugget.”

Cole cast Rig a sidelong glance. “Do you do anything other than make cutting remarks?” The response went ignored as his entire world had become engulfed by virtual outer space. He sat down on the ground, unwilling to let his crew witness his vertigo. Only these images were very real.

The Icarus was working its way toward the two drones, though it was yet unclear which one was carrying CAIN. Cole would’ve enhanced his view to match Lin’s had it been possible. He would have to rely on the clues from the ship’s exterior cameras. It was better than staring helplessly at an energy field.

“You’re doing great, Doc. We’ll be close enough for a missile lock soon enough. Till then, keep on keepin’ on.”

“And hopefully not directly into a small moon,” Emmerich muttered.

Cole did not respond; Dr. Lin Dartmouth had risen to the occasion despite the pressure. The beautiful former SolEx engineer and daughter of the infamous Singularity was flying the Icarus. What were the limits to this brilliant mind?

<The drone has a weapon’s lock, Captain.>

“We’re almost there, Cain,” Cole said, though he could see that they were still slightly out of range. There was also another issue. “Which fighter are you? You’re going to need to provide Doc with target coordinates.” He waited for a response but received none. “Cain?”

His question was answered by two missiles. They tore from the drone through open space, racing for CAIN. He instinctually reached for controls that weren’t there—not that it would’ve mattered. There was a brief flash and explosion before the ship was swallowed whole by the vacuum. Scattered and scarred remnants marked, a sad and insignificant end for CAIN.

Cole’s jaw fell, all words and emotions unable to escape him. He watched the Icarus launch its own missile, which detonated upon impact with the final drone.

The energy shield in front of Cole dissipated, and his Ocunet link with the Icarus server was reestablished. He jumped to his feet and stared out the viewport screen as though the real-time feed he’d been receiving were inaccurate. Only darkness and debris greeted his vision. He glanced down at Lin still sitting in his flight chair. Her expression was unreadable.

“How’d you take out that drone?” he asked her, struggling to remain calm. He stepped forward and laid a hand on her trembling shoulder. “You should’ve lost all connection with Cain after he...” His brow tightened, and he fought back a bout of rage.

Lin clasped Cole’s hand, and he immediately calmed. Text from her appeared in his display. I never lost contact with CAIN.

It was only then Cole remembered that Lin’s Rook had been damaged. He saw it sitting in her lap, dark and unresponsive. “How’s that possible?”

<It is possible, Captain, because I am still alive.>

“What the—Cain?” Cole threw his attention toward the viewport screen, studying the drifting rubble for a sign of the AI. “How...?”

<I abandoned the drone once I realized you would have no chance in saving me.>

Oh. I guess an android can survive in open space. But for how long? “Where are you, buddy? We’ll swing by and pick you up.”

<Currently I am adrift,> the AI said. <I am transmitting a distress signal to everyone’s Ocunet. I will show up as a red beacon.>

True to the CAIN’s word, a simple flashing dot appeared with some coordinates. Cole almost sat on Lin’s lapin his eagerness; Lin was only too happy to oblige him the flight chair. Once he took his place, Emmerich plopped down in the co-pilot’s chair.

“You know, Chrys,” Cole said to her as he checked his instruments, “you can probably learn a thing or two from Doc about flying this bird.”

“And you can learn a great deal about responsibility from a decorated officer,” she returned.

“I’m sure I could, but I’m not the responsible type.” He finished entering the coordinates into the ship’s system and engaged the engines. He grinned. “Besides, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Why waste your time when I’m as good a captain as they come.”

Emmerich gave a disgusted groan. “Just fly the ship, Musgrave.”

“Way ahead of you.” He turned his head back slightly while keeping his eyes forward. “You ready to knock the rust off your hands and test you loading arm skills, Mr. Richter?”

The popping of Rig’s thick knuckles preceded his answer. “No rust here.”

“Is that a yes? We’ve got a man overboard, and we need to throw out a life preserver.”

Rig grunted. “I’ll try not to crush your cyborg girlfriend.”

“That’s the spirit! We wouldn’t want to turn ol’ Nel into a circuit board. How else am I going to gloat to Chrys about how right my decision was?”

“Your gums keep slappin’, but I ain’t listenin’,” Rig said, his distant voice coming up from the stairwell.

“ ‘I don’t get no respect,’ ” Cole said, knowing his quote would be lost on his remaining audience. He squinted and enhanced his view when the Icarus was within 500 yards of intercepting CAIN. Something looked amiss.

“That grunt’s right, you realize,” Emmerich said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You talk enough for five people. All of them annoying.”

“What’s with you today?” Cole asked. “Why the sudden interest in molding me into a proper officer. Haven’t I already proven myself to this crew? We don’t need another one of you stomping around, scowling, and barking commands.”

“Musgrave, if there’s one thing I learned from your mother regarding earning respect, it’s that you gain it through proper example—more than fancy maneuvers and quick-thinking. You want this crews’ admiration, then present yourself as a leader. Not a blabbering, sarcastic twit with a flair for dramatics.”

“Hey, I can’t help my blabbering.”

“Did nothing you learned in Starforce academy stay with you? You ascended the ranks to executive officer faster than anyone in history, yet you act as though honor and order are passé. How does it make you feel to be considered a joke amongst your peers?”

“Impaled?”

“Excuse me?”

“What?” Cole snapped. “Sorry, Chrys, but I’m a little busy saving my friend. If you’d taken a second to stop spewing your code of ethics, you’d understand I was talking about Cain.” He pointed angrily at the viewport screen.

All eyes faced the giant display, where an image of the android had been enlarged. Just as Cole had indicated, CAIN’s borrowed body had sustained significant damage. Aside from the lengthy piece of twisted shrapnel that had skewered the AI’s lower torso, most of the body had been charred, with one of the arms completely burned away.

“It would appear CAIN ejected too late,” Emmerich noted.

“I’d say so,” Cole agreed as he aligned the ship to accept the AI. “At least he had the wherewithal to jump ship when he did.” He let go the flight stick once he was satisfied with the ship’s positioning.

“And one of these days you’ll have the wherewithal to factor some commons sense into your madness,” Emmerich said, resurrecting the issue.

Cole could only shake his head. She’s like an instructional human resource video on indefinite loop. Maybe she’ll go away if I ignore her. “You in position, Rig?”

The mechanic grunted.

“Some days I miss being properly addressed as a superior officer,” he muttered under his breath. “You still with us, Cain?”

<I am, Captain,> the AI said. <However, I fear this android body will eventually incur a fatal shutdown.>

Great. At this rate, she’ll reenlist in Military just so she can file a proper report on me.

“Hang in there, buddy. Rig’s about to lend you a helping hand. You’ll be back inside your subzero brain jar soon enough.” He pushed up from his chair and turned to Lin. “Well, Doc, looks like we’re gonna get your boy and the android back...” He stared across the nearly empty bridge. “Doc?”

“She left shortly after you took her place,” Emmerich said.

“Jaded by the pirate lifestyle already.” Cole sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Alright. Let’s go get him.”

~

“Wow! You look like a half-melted, sexually confused, cross-dressing, amputee.”

“You forgot to mention ‘skewered,’ ” Rig added as he used the tip of his steel-toed boot to nudge the large metal shard lodged in the android’s body.

Cole shook his head as he and the mechanic stared at CAIN on the cargo bay floor. “Shish kabob.”

<I fail to make the correlation between your welcomed assistance and the need to mock me in so dire a situation,> CAIN said.

“It’s only for us humans to get,” Rig explained. He slapped the piece of metal a couple times, chuckling. “You really took one for the team.”

“Yeah,” Cole agreed, grabbing one end of the frigid debris. Once again, he was glad for his heavy duty leather gloves. “One right through the gut. Grab the other end, Rig.”

“Ain’t this just gonna tear him, her...it up?”

“He survived the loading arm. Besides, how else are we going to get him down into the server?” Cole asked. He jostled the metal to see how loose it was. It wasn’t. Tear him up? More like, in half.

<No major components were severely damaged during the impact,> CAIN said. <I detect a slight power core leakage, though it appears minimal. Removing the debris might cause further disrepair to the android body but nothing significant.>

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Cole said, studying the jagged piece of metal. “You’re in good hands now. Sort of.” He took a firm grip once he realized which direction would inflict the least amount of damage to the torso. “Alright, Rigsy. You pull, and I’ll push. On three.”

The mechanic placed a hefty boot onto CAIN’s scorched breast for leverage. “You don’t mind if I put my foot there, do you, ma’am?”

CAIN was silent, staring ahead absently.

Cole shook his head, holding back laughter. It’s like we’re starring in some sadistic android-bondage porno. “Three...two...one...go!”

Both men grunted and threw their weight and muscle into the effort. It was too much. The twisted shard passed through the android body frame far easier than either of them anticipated, and the three of them collapsed onto the floor along with the debris.

Cole found his hand inside the android’s gaping “wound” as he pushed up from the floor. He didn’t immediately notice his glove had slipped off as he stood, and Rig’s eyes fell upon the exposed appendage and widened. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Emmerich.

“I should’ve known you two idiots couldn’t handle this task by yourselves.”

Cole used the opportunity to swipe the glove from inside CAIN and slip it back on. He turned to her and smiled. “You do realize that no one is flying this ship, right?” He indicated both himself and the AI, who was still on the floor, struggling to rise. “Who’s the bigger idiot? Me, or the grumpy co-pilot-in-training who feels comfortable enough to trust the untested, backup auto-pilot on a prototype cargo vessel?”

Emmerich scowled. “All systems were functioning properly according to the given coordinates before I left. Can you say the same for yourself?”

Cole shrugged and knelt down beside the now-sitting AI. “You alive, Cain?”

CAIN hesitated, seemingly considering the question. <Affirmative, Captain.>

Cole raised his hands, victorious. “There’s your answer. The band’s back together, and it’s all because of my ‘reckless actions.’ No one got left behind, we completed the job, and we survived that damn Sentinel.”

Emmerich folded her arms across her breasts, her scowl softening. “I have to hand it to you; you’re something else. I only hope your string of luck continues.”

“Chrys, in my experience, there’s no such thing as luck.”

<Captain, I suggest I be brought to the server as soon as possible.>

“Well, since you’re here, you might as well witness as we drop the keystone into place,” Cole said to Chrys. He nodded to Rig, and they obliged CAIN by assisting the android to its feet. Neither seemed prepared for the heavy weight.

“Shit, where’s she hiding the fat on this scrawny frame?” Rig asked, strained.

Cole grunted. He pretended not to hear Emmerich’s vindictive chortling. The short walk to the hatch leading to the server room was agonizingly slow and painful. More than once they had to lower the android to the floor on account of his injured arm. Emmerich had been kind enough to open the door which revealed the ladder leading down. Cole and Rig stopped short of falling in.

<Considering the current state of disrepair to this body’s legs,> CAIN began, <I will be unable to properly descend the ladder.>

Cole glanced down into the tight corridor and tried to judge the distance. He recalled clinging to this very ladder when Emmerich had kicked him in the face and knocked him to the floor. He had survived the hard fall, and he was human. “Cain, buddy, since you can’t feel pain, I gotta ask....”

“No time,” Rig said, pulling CAIN from Cole’s loose grip and allowing the android to plummet to the bottom.

The trio stared down at the twisted form of the android. Cole sighed. “I was trying to warn him first, dick. You know he’s sensitive. He might be nothing more than a program to you, but he is self-aware. And I’m pretty sure he’ll be keeping this little gem of a memory tucked away in a file for a time when you need his help most. You better hope he doesn’t decide to return the favor.”

Rig swatted Cole on the back, nearly knocking him down as well. “That’s why you get to go down first, Nugget. To apologize on my behalf and make sure it ain’t holdin’ a grudge.”

Emmerich nodded her support. “That thing’s your friend,” she said, arms crossed. “Not mine.”

Cole blinked and climbed onto the ladder. “Don’t forget it was Cain who entered that drone and started the ball rolling toward our escape. If it weren’t for him....”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Rig interrupted. “Shout yer yap, and get down there already. You ain’t gonna be able to lift it without me anyway.”

“Captain, my ass,” Cole said, grumbling. “I feel more like a spaceman recruit.”

At the bottom, Cole knelt beside the AI. CAIN was attempting to push itself upright with its remaining arm. With a mighty heft, Cole managed to lift half and lean it against the wall at an awkward angle. It was the best he could do. “You alright, buddy?”

<The fall has neither improved nor worsened my condition, Captain.>

He cringed at the word “fall,” though was glad that someone still respected his title. “Um, sorry about that little ordeal. It wasn’t my idea to drop you.” His eye twitched at the sound of the culprit’s approach from above. “You ready to take the last few steps to the server?”

<...I am>

Was that hesitation? “Alright. I’m just waiting on your assailant.”

The mechanic finished descending the ladder and assisted Cole hauling the limp android down the narrow passage and to the server wall. Once there, neither of them knew what to do next.

“So, Cain,” Cole began, trying to ignore the sweet beading on his neck and brow, “isn’t there something you need to do?”

<I detect the Sentinel’s presence, Captain,> CAIN said.

Rig looked nervously over his shoulder as though another android would approach at that moment. Cole knew better. The Sentinel was still inside the Icarus mainframe, infecting the entire ship despite the severed connection to its host.

The buzzing noise emanating from within the sever wall was beginning to penetrate Cole’s skull. “Can you override it?” he asked, hopeful.

The AI hesitated longer this time. It responded by slowly raising its remaining arm to touch the waist-high disc embedded in the wall. Green light was streaming out from the seam, and Cole could swear it was glowing brighter as the android’s hand neared it. Just as CAIN’s fingers grazed the surface, they pulled away, the hand dropping to its side.

Cole blinked. “Is that all?”

Those penetrating amber eyes met Cole’s gaze, and though no emotional change was reflected within them, he knew all was not well.

<My apologies, Captain. I can no longer access the mainframe.>

5

COMPROMISED

Cole dragged his index finger across the scorch mark where Emmerich’s rifle blast had damaged the crate and the stolen cargo within. It was a stain in an otherwise successful haul. He sighed, knowing Jude wasn’t going to be happy.

“Has Dartmouth been able to assist CAIN with accessing the mainframe?”

Cole wasn’t ready to discuss business with Emmerich at the moment. “No.”

“And what about the status of the android?”

Cole turned and gestured toward the hatch where Lin resided with the trapped AI. “Still down there, slowly dying and unable to take a single step on his own. Doc’s working with him, but it doesn’t look promising. Don’t ask me to go into specifics regarding this ‘virus’ left behind by the Sentinel either. I don’t know anything other than it’s keeping CAIN from linking back up with the ship. I’d say to go down and talk with Lin about it, but she can’t talk, and she probably wouldn’t discuss the issue with you even if she could.”

“I’ve nothing to say to her.”

Heluva conversation. Cole flicked the damaged crate, wishing she would go away. “Something else?”

“How long before we lose favor with your brother?”

Cole cocked an eyebrow. “Why? You anticipating a family falling out?”

Emmerich nodded. “Whether it be today or ten missions down the line, the tension between the two of you will eventually come to a head.”

I’m surprised it hasn’t already happened, but there’s no need to tell her that. “Well, being that you’re my number two, I’ll ask your opinion. What do you propose I do to avoid a brotherly collision?”

He had expected the question to take her by surprise, but those cold, serious eyes softened ever so slightly, disclosing her eagerness to answer. “Convince him to promote you within the organization.”

Organization? That’s cute. “I asked you for a solution, not advice on career advancement.” He gently pounded the meat of his fist on the crate and began to walk toward lift.

Emmerich followed at his side. “This is a solution, Musgrave. He’s your brother—”

“Half brother,” he reminded.

“Regardless, the two of you are related by blood, and he respects and trusts you.”

Cole rounded on her. “And you know this how? Have the two of you been schmoozing when we’re not risking our lives smuggling contraband?”

“Why else would he continue to rely on you to execute these absurd missions?” Emmerich asked.

Cole sighed. “I’m not sure how to break this to you, Chrys, but he’s not ‘relying’ on us for anything. ‘Blackmail’ would be more appropriate. ‘Using us,’ is more like it. We depend on him not to reveal our location to those looking for us. Which is pretty much everyone. The only thing Jude relies on is his ability to bend to his will those he crushes beneath his thumb. And he’s got a big thumb.”

“We no longer carry any debt with him, and we’ve done all that was asked of us,” Emmerich said, unswayed. “We’ve accomplished tasks no one in their right mind would ever attempt. I understand that your brother is an infamous criminal, but he would be foolish not to hear you out.”

“And following your logic,” Cole said, rubbing his brow, “you believe Jude will consider offering me a promotion.”

“I do. His organization would benefit—”

“Stop using that word!” Cole snapped. He closed the gap so there was only a few inches between them. “We’re inexperienced pirates working for a psychotic, murderous crime lord with little patience for screw-ups. This most recent ‘mission’, falls into the screw-up category. And while you’re at it, stop pretending that what we’re doing can ever be considered anything other than crime, organized or not.”

Emmerich breathed a sharp, angry breath. “Have you even considered your future?”

“I’m living it!” He could feel the blood pooling into his face. “We’re all living it. There’s nothing to consider. Not when it comes to our situation. There are no options for us. The entire System is hunting us, and the one person bold enough to harbor us won’t bat an eye to cut all ties if we in any way compromise his beloved underworld ventures. Without his help, we’re done. The sooner you realize all of this, the sooner we can pretend that all is well.”

Emmerich took a step back and straightened. “I never took you for a coward.”

“Keep pushing.”

“Brash and arrogant, yes. But not one to give up in the face of adversity.”

“What more do you want from me?” He threw up his arms, exasperated. “We’re fortunate to have made it this far. Stop looking at every situation as though we have options aplenty. This isn’t Military. It’s the goddamn meat grinder. And we each have one foot in the hopper.” Cole turned and walked away.

“If you won’t do anything to protect the crew, then I will.”

“Fine. See how far that gets you. But don’t expect me to put you back together once you come out the other end in tiny pieces.”

~

Cole sat alone at the flight controls for the very first time. Emmerich was purposely avoiding him, Rig was remotely piloting the repair drone they’d recovered from UniSys to inspect the damage below the ship, and he assumed Lin was still with CAIN in the server room. He decided it was probably in their best interest to steer clear of him while he sorted things out. And there was no better time to gather his wits than when flying solo.

He could almost envision he was back on the job as an interstellar cargo pilot for SolEx. A part of him missed the simplicity of following a daily scheduled route and delivering to eager recipients. While it had been a far cry from serving as executive officer under a beloved admiral on the Asterius, being an insignificant employee held some merit as well. If for no other reason than to fade into obscurity—which was exactly what he had wanted at the time. He’d escaped the initial oppressive limelight cast upon the infamous Musgrave name by accepting his transgressions and becoming completely ordinary. He’d been anything but ordinary while serving in Military. And while overall enormously satisfying, being the youngest XO in history had also brought unimaginable strife. An image of his mother flashed in his mind, and he forced himself to block out his painful past. He sighed with a glance at his gloved hands. “Gonna need a new pair soon.”

I had not expected to find you all alone.

Cole straightened in his chair as Lin’s words appeared in his vision. He turned to face the approaching engineer. Her slender hands slid up along his shoulders, and slowly, seductively, began working out the kinks in his neck. He was surprised how strong those little hands were as they performed their magic. A new message appeared, and he was struggling to stay awake to read it.

You might not verbally express your troubles, but I can feel them lodged in your body.

“You’re gonna need a hammer and chisel to loosen this blockade.”

You carry the entire weight of this crew’s safety on your shoulders. It’s to be expected. She dug in harder, drawing from him a moan. Don’t worry. I’m up to the challenge.

“Oh yeah?” Cole asked, his voice drowsy. “In that case, maybe you can take your magic fingers and wrap them around Chrys’s neck.”

She paused a moment before resuming his massage. Her relentless inquisitions are tiring and counterintuitive. Must she confront you at every turn?

Cole shrugged, relieved how loose he felt. “I welcome differing opinions. Keeps me on my toes.”

Emmerich has been training you to become a ballerina, then.

“Ha!” Cole legitimately smiled, pleased with her attempt at comedy. He reached over to collect her hand. “You’ve been hanging around me too long. Shouldn’t you have made some sort of overly technical metaphor?”

Contrary to popular belief, there is only one artificially intelligent mind aboard the Icarus.

“Yeah,” Cole said, his mood dimming. “So intelligent, he was overtaken by an inferior AI. How does that happen?”

Whether or not your question was rhetorical, I may have an answer.

“Will your answer be dumbed down enough for my simple mind?”

She flicked his ear. I believe CAIN is becoming complacent.

Cole frowned. “You telling me my buddy’s cocky? I mean, he may be a bit eccentric, but I never took him for an egoist.”

She flicked his ear harder, eliciting a feigned ouch. Unknowingly so. Don’t confuse this with conceit. My hypothesis is that as CAIN continues to transition into a fully autonomous being, certain anomalies are surfacing.

“Such as laziness,” Cole surmised.

Complacency. Laziness suggests apathy or indifference. You already proved such emotions to the contrary. I have reasons to believe CAIN may be taking for granted the ability to overcome what it deems inferior AI.

“These reasons are?”

The CAIN program was initially designed with superior efficiency and the ability to learn from and mimic its flesh-and-blood counterparts. What I had not anticipated was the advent of a truly sentient being. However, as machine progresses toward humanity, a trade-off must occur.

Cole nodded. “And you believe this trade-off to be affecting his technical prowess.”

That’s an unusual way to put it, but yes.

“So Cain’s not as efficient as before because he’s comprehending what it means to be autonomous.”

Precisely.

“Hm. I would assume that despite the struggle to juggle impossibly complex binary calculations and the meaning of life, all previous functions were not lost in translation?”

I have no reason to believe so, Lin replied after a moment’s thought. As long as CAIN does not elect to omit said previous functions.

Let’s hope that doesn’t happen. “That means he might one day find a happy balance and perform up to optimum efficiency once more. Good.” He nodded. “As long as he doesn’t die first, inches from his brain jar salvation. I still don’t understand that whole ordeal. How does a sentient AI being transfer his ‘essence’ into a lesser android?”

Lin looked down, her shoulders slumped. I don’t know. I’m not sure there’s an answer or a solution to bypassing the virus.

Damn. If she doesn’t know... “Sorry about that,” Cole apologized. “Just thinking out loud. I know the two of you are working on it. But back to the original topic. You said ‘reasons’—as in plural—for why he took his abilities for granted. Care to elaborate?”

Lin sat heavily in the co-pilot’s chair. Upgrades, she replied simply. I designed CAIN to be the most complex AI being, and I tried to keep my true intentions hidden. But I know now that we aren’t the only ones privy to CAIN’s sentience. Everyone is aware of what SolEx unwillingly unleashed upon the System, and our recent...actions have garnered significant attention. As a result, once unbreachable securities have now been infiltrated by a prodigious AI. What do you propose they did in the wake of our absence?

“Security upgrades and Cain’s growing pains left him vulnerable against the Sentinel.”

And unable to reestablish a proper connection with the mainframe, Lin added.

“Any ideas on how to circumvent that issue?”

Lin shook her head, her eyes unable to hide her concern. Any direct connection will enable the virus to open and permanently destroy all that I created. The Sentinel implanted it as a last resort in the event of being overridden. Simple, yet devastating.

Damn... “What are the chances the virus doesn’t double as a tracking beacon?”

I’m not sure, but it is a good possibility.

Double damn... Time to change the subject. “Well, it’s a good thing I redirected our intended course.” He sat up and pointed at the viewport screen. A set of coordinates enlarged just past his reach.

You anticipated a setback?

“I had a bad feeling about things the moment CAIN couldn’t connect back up with the ship’s mainframe,” he said, reclining back again. “I couldn’t very well risk the integrity of my brother’s underworld endeavors, now could I?”

I suppose not, Lin agreed. Have you contacted Jude?

“Nah. He’s on my to-do list.” Cole flipped his feet up onto the console and reclined further. “I was mostly just relaxing and catching up on System events before I resign myself to checking in with big brother Darkstar. You’ll never guess who the talking heads are discussing.”

You’ve been watching the news this whole time?

Cole could hear the disappointment through her text. “It’s minimized and on mute, though I get the gist.” He tossed the link over to her Ocunet feed so she could view what he was watching. “They’ve been painting a colorful picture of us. It’s like we’re celebrities.”

Lin blinked, her gaze straight ahead as she observed the program Cole had sent her way. If you consider Most Wanted to be a sort of celebrity, then I would agree.

“Of course we are!” Cole said, excited. “We’re the most sought after people—and AI—in the entire System. Not even the growing tension between Terracom and UniSys trumps us in the headlines. That’s gotta count for something.”

Lin frowned. It furthers the stereotype that people obsess more over theatrical dramatics than the real threat of economic collapse.

Cole waved a dismissive hand. “Bah. Who cares about a pending intergalactic war when you can follow the life and times of a handful of amateur pirates?”

Lin was quiet for a time. I admit, I’m never quite certain how to process your sarcasm.

“However you like. Most people tend to resent me, but I’m really only poking fun at a disturbing situation. I’ve learned there’s no reason or sense in dwelling upon all the negatives.” He cleared his throat. “Chrys, however, has a knack for drawing out my pessimistic side. Hence my request for you to strangle her.”

Lin did not immediately respond. She looked up from the floor and faced Cole, leaning in slightly. How are we supposed to survive this?

Cole pulled his feet off the console. He met her gaze, and those lovely almond shaped eyes searched him for an answer he himself was seeking. The light was missing from those twin emeralds, muddied by creeping despair. She was exhausted, he could see, her normally bound locks of jet silk in slight disarray. That someone as calm, clever, and collected as she would look to someone as reckless him, only added to his mounting stress.

“We probably won’t.”

Lin’s eyes widened.

“But we’ve done alright so far,” Cole added. “And we’ll keep going until we run out of ways to complete the impossible. I haven’t given up yet.” He reached out and cupped her delicate chin, doing his best to ignore how insensitive it was to caress so beautiful a face with leather workman gloves. “I miss your voice. Did you program your Rook to sound like you, or was it pre-loaded with my satisfaction in mind?”

Lin closed her eyes at his touch, and gently wrapped her fingers around his hand. That was my voice.

“Oh! How’d you...?”

Mimic my natural voice? she replied. Years before I succumbed to illness, I had compiled a collection of audio recordings during my research. I simply allowed my Rook access to those files of my catalogue.

“It was able to accurately mimic you,” Cole finished. “That was really you I was hearing. Awesome.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he feared he knew why. The damage to my Rook was extensive. I haven’t been able to gather the courage to explore its memory...if it survived. What if I’m unable salvage my life’s work?

Cole, for all intents and purposes, excelled as a leader in interstellar combat, but Military never trained him in sensitivity and consolation. He delivered honesty and hard truths, with a dressing of sarcasm. Lin needed uplifting advice, maybe even a heartfelt speech; lying was not an option. How could he look her in the eyes and say there was no hope? That Jude would probably sever all ties with the crew of the Icarus once the damaged goods were delivered? How was he supposed to save her when he couldn’t save himself?

“I’ll help you start again.” What? Why did I say that? “We’ll all start again. Whatever it takes.” It was a bold claim, and there was no reasonable way of seeing it come to fruition. But that had never stopped him before. He was a Musgrave, a member of the System’s most infamous family. Why not add another chapter to the hefty tome that was their legacy?

If Lin was searching Cole, searching for any cracks in his resolve, she would find none. The last time he put his hands against a mountain, he made it move.

He clasped her hand in his and squeezed. “We’re going to do more than salvage your work. Goddamn it, we’re going to light up the stars.”

6

TRANSFER

“Cole Musgrave is dead.”

The statement broke the austere expression on the man’s face. He blinked several times, scanning the exterior of the Icarus as if expecting the elusive captain to descend the loading ramp at any moment. When he, again, settled on her eyes, his expression was, again, hardened. “I was informed the mission was a success despite unforeseen circumstances. How does Cole Musgrave’s death factor into that equation?”

“We managed to prevent a mutiny shortly after completing the mission.”

The man’s nostrils flared. “Your name is Emmerich, right?”

“Correct,” she replied, emotionless.

“Ms. Emmerich.” The man said her name as though he were a close friend of hers. “I gather you uncovered this mutiny?”

“No.” The response was made with conviction. “I was informed of Musgrave’s betrayal from our mechanic, Rig. He’d been suspicious of his actions for some time.”

The man raised an eyebrow at Rig. “Is this true, Mr. Solomon?”

The mechanic gave a curt nod, his expression sour. “I knew he was crazy, but I never thought that prick would actually have the balls to ask me to help him blow in Darkstar.” He spit on the ground to show his feelings toward the matter.

The man’s penetrating stare alternated between them. “Why would he consider something so egregious? Working for Darkstar was his last chance. This sort of behavior doesn’t make sense.”

“Very little concerning our captain made any sense,” Chrys said. “He’d been slowly coming undone since assuming his new role. His explosive temper and reckless behavior were the obvious signs. In an attempt to keep him in line, I suggested he discuss his misgivings with his brother.” She paused. “Needless to say, my advice didn’t sit well with him.”

“And why was that?”

Chrys arched an eyebrow at the question. “I thought the answer obvious: he wanted Jude dead.”

“Said somethin’ about it bein’ the only way he’d be at ease, or some shit,” Rig added.

Chrys nodded. “And to his misfortune, he assumed the two of us would assist his ridiculous plan. Things quickly escalated from there.”

The man glanced over his shoulder at the sound of heavy duty loading machines as they slowly descended a ramp from the transport vessel adjacent to the Icarus. “What about the engineer? Musgrave and her seemed smitten. Was she in on this failed coup?”

Chrys frowned. “That’s difficult to say. She’s clearly upset by his death, but she made no attempt to thwart us. Communication has proven impossible since her Rook was destroyed on the mission.” She gestured toward the Icarus. “She’s still aboard, as is Musgrave’s corpse.”

The man appeared conflicted. “Along with the ship, I’m aware that your AI suffered some sort of critical malfunction. I would assume that security logs would still be able to provide evidence of this encounter?”

Chrys considered the question. “I’m certain we can recover the necessary footage.” She shifted her weight to the other foot. “Wouldn’t witnessing his body serve as enough evidence?”

“Something to hide, have you?” the man asked.

Chrys’s lips pressed into a tight line. “No, of course not. We’ll present any and all evidence you request. I was simply under the impression you would want to bring this ordeal to a close as quickly as possible, seeing as this is a time-sensitive issue.”

The man nodded, his attention now upon the ramp leading into the Icarus. “I assure you that there is no rush. We’ll be taking this one step at a time, so as not to overlook any crucial evidence which might endanger our operation.” He turned back toward her and studied her face.

Chrys followed the man’s gaze as it settled upon her nose. She reached up and brushed away the remaining dried blood inside her nostril. “Musgrave put up a fierce fight before he finally went down.”

“He’s got a hell of a right hook on him,” Rig added as he rubbed his jaw. “Well, had.”

The man clasped his hands behind his back. “Seeing as the transfer will take some time to complete, I suggest we reexamine all of the evidence before we depart for the facility.” He began to walk away, but when neither Chrys nor Rig followed, he stopped. “Is there a problem?”

“There is,” Chrys said, feet firmly planted. “We’re not assisting with any investigation until you state your name and affiliation with Jude.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Chrys held her ground. “Since we’ve joined this particular cause, we’ve never seen or heard any mention of you. How are we to know you’re to be trusted?”

The man blinked, his expression unreadable. “You will refer to me as Yeats, and understand that it is I who must learn to trust you.” A quick flick of his wrist brought the entire transfer operation to a grinding halt. His approach was slow and purposeful. “You must also understand that none of you are in any position to demand—let alone request—any information on my behalf. The crew of the Icarus are indentured servants to Darkstar, and I must say that the value of your stock has plummeted following recent events.”

He stopped when he was within arm’s reach of Chrys, his sinister glare entirely upon her. “I suggest you present Cole Musgrave’s body, along with all the evidence which will corroborate your story, and then you can present your case to Darkstar. But before that comes to pass, I strongly encourage you to shut...your...mouth.”

Chrys’s posture hardened, and though she said nothing, she managed a sharp nod.

The man known as Yeats flashed the emptiest of smiles before turning on his heel and resuming his approach of the Icarus. This time both Rig and Emmerich followed him. They ascended the ramp into the cargo bay, but before any actual cargo could be unloaded, Chrys halted in front a particular crate.

Yeats scowled when he noticed the scorched hole on the crate’s exterior. “Another reminder of your successful endeavor?”

Chrys ignored him and unfastened the lid. She and Rig threw back the top to expose the interior. They stepped away without a word, allowing Yeats to view the contents, though he did not move closer.

“If you’re expecting me to climb inside and inspect the damaged goods, you’re sorely mistaken. This is completely unnecessary.”

Chrys looked from the crate back to Yeats. “There’s more than damaged goods inside. You asked me to present you with evidence.” She nodded toward the exposed crate.

The scowl softened to intrigue, and he cast Rig and Chrys a warning glance before he peered down at the contents.

Inside was the crumpled form of Cole Musgrave. He had been unceremoniously packed with the rest of the contents, nothing but a tarp dividing them. Blood had coagulated around the cuts on his mouth and forehead, ugly bruises colored around his eye, cheek, and temple. The front of his flight jacket was slightly parted, revealing the torn and scorched shirt below where a single plasma blast had entered his chest. His eyes were closed—a peaceful testament to how dead he actually was.

Yeats reached in to move the jacket and shirt to better see the wound. It was obscured by shadows, but cauterized surface of the skin was undeniable. He wiped his hand on the clean area of the shirt and looked away, nodding his approval. “Is there a reason you stuffed him in with the equipment?”

“Sorry, but were fresh out of coffins,” Rig said, slamming the lid closed with a forceful thud. He clasped the lock before stalking off.

Chrys shook her head at the mechanic’s outburst. “We had to keep him hidden in the event we were discovered by someone other than you. This was the only crate with enough room to store his body.”

The explanation seemed to satisfy Yeats. “I don’t disapprove of your decision, but Darkstar may not appreciate his only sibling’s corpse bleeding all over his cargo.” He re-clasped his hands behind his back. “Regardless, your efforts are notable and appreciated. It was only a matter of time before he snapped. This was expected.”

Chrys’s glare bore into Yeats. “I’m so relieved you approve, but you have yet to tell us what’s to come next. Should we expect repercussions now that we killed our captain and brother to our superior?”

Yeats headed toward the lift as he spoke. “Let us collect the remainder of your evidence. Darkstar will make the final decision as to what to do with the lot of you.”

Chrys clenched her fists and hurried to catch up. “Can we rely on you to vouch for us?”

“As Darkstar relied upon you?” he asked, eyes focused on the lift.

Chrys scoffed. “The Ravens, of all people, should understand the unpredictability involved with this line of work. And it’s because of an unstable captain that we were forced into a volatile situation. That we survived this mission is a miracle. I want to believe Jude will consider the final outcome, despite all that has transpired.”

Yeats stopped outside the lift, his back to Chrys. “This isn’t Military, Ms. Emmerich. Nor is this even the rarely benevolent Terracom. Under the banner of each of those establishments, you might have a point.” He looked over his shoulder as the lift door slid open. “Here you’re nothing more than a pawn for the use of a brilliant criminal sociopath. Rules don’t apply when it comes to power.”

She watched him enter, hesitating to join him.

“Whether or not you realize it, you’re with us,” he added, waiting for her to enter. “The choice is yours to make. Either you play this game, or you lose. But don’t think about it too long; there won’t be another opportunity.” He presented the space beside him. “I suggest you join me in this lift and face your fate.”

Chrys managed to pry her feet from the floor, swallowing her rage along with the rest of her pride.

~

Along with his infamous title as the underworld mastermind of the Ravens, Jude Revan was also an anonymous partner with the System’s second largest asteroid mining enterprise, Astercor. While legally operating as a respectable corporation within Business, the illegal utilization of their robust transportation division fueled his own personal gain. The Ravens, though gangsters, were more corporate than criminal, benefitting from Astercor’s notoriety and significant support from Terracom. It was between Mars and Jupiter, on the currently occupied asteroid 16-Psyche, that the remaining crew of the Icarus found themselves stationed at the current headquarters. Only one of them was permitted to be in the presence of Cole’s half brother.

Jude’s office, or what Chrys assumed was his office, was little more than four walls, a ceiling that projected poor lighting, and a desk and chair in the center of the room. There was no view of the ongoing operation, no visible amenities, and no immediate means of escape, aside from one door. It was an office only by definition, though she wondered if an abandoned room had been sparsely furnished for the sole purpose of establishing an alibi for Jude’s supposed role as one of Astercor’s partners.

The door behind her closed, leaving her alone with the crime lord’s empty chair. She had been told Jude would join her presently, but she anticipated a lengthy wait all the same. She could only imagine what obligations a high-profile gangster entertained in order to maintain his front. Witnessing Cole’s body stored in a crate on the dock was probably his first concern. Dealing with her would be a distant afterthought by comparison.

It was then she wondered if she would ever see or meet with Jude. Why would someone so important go out of his way to personally discuss a disastrous mission with a traitorous co-pilot? Cole was the crew’s only lifeline in the face of universal retaliation, and he was presently being prepped to be jettisoned into space. Rig and Lin had been escorted from the Icarus, their exact whereabouts unknown. The significance of the slapdash office was coming into focus, and she could clearly see that everything was about to fall to pieces.

Instinct spun her around to face the lone door. She would have no chance to evade the fate of which Yeats had spoken, but she would be damned if she didn’t at least try and do something. Her hand reached for the door, fully expecting it to be locked. But it wasn’t. It slid open before she made contact with it.

And in walked a mildly surprised Jude. His hulking frame filled the width of the door frame. A smirk replaced his surprise, and he waited for Chrys to back away before he entered his office. Behind him was his calculating lapdog, Yeats.

“Eager to use the restroom?” he asked, once inside.

Chrys summoned her fleeting courage and stood up straight, chin up while keeping Jude’s imposing gaze. “I’m eager to put things to rest.”

The door closed and both men stepped past her toward the desk. Jude’s broad shoulders were slumped, and as she appraised Cole’s imposing brother, she noticed just how haggard he looked. Several new lines deepened the shadows of his dark face. The air of arrogance and authority was missing, replaced by a gentler, more businesslike mien. Had seeing brother’s body affected him so much?

Jude sat heavily in his chair, the frame and casters groaning from his weight. He cleared his throat, his focus upon the glass tabletop. “My brother chose a particularly poor time to deceive me.” His thick fingertips heavily drummed the surface.

Chrys remained silent, waiting, arms behind her back. She had quickly learned not to provoke Jude with questions or conversation. He talked, and you listened. Only Cole had managed any form of reciprocal dialog. Now her captain was not there to bridge the verbal gap, and the eyes of his brother were turned to her.

“I never should have brought him into the fold,” Jude said. “Heh. Even in death he’s a pain in my ass.” He flicked his wrist upward, and a holographic image of the Icarus appeared above the glass tabletop. It was coupled by a news broadcast video which showcased the ship leaving the facility from which the crew had so recently ransacked. “Seems in your haste to evacuate, no one—not even the System’s most revered AI—remembered to activate the so-called mimetic learning cloak.”

Chrys frowned at the looping security footage beside the talking head. She’d been too wrapped up in contending with the Sentinel to consider such a monumental mistake. If it was indeed a mistake.

“It’s clear he’d always intended for this mission to fail,” Jude said, finally meeting her gaze. “How fortunate for me that I have the likes of Mr. Solomon and one Chrysanthemum Emmerich to intervene on my behalf. Who knows what fresh hell Cole would’ve brought down on me had either of you not taken him out when you did.”

Chrys tensed at the mention of Cole’s death. Fortunately, the silent video switched over to the security footage recorded on the Icarus, distracting her from any troubling thoughts. She looked on as a spectator at the events she’d experienced first-hand. It was all there, the confrontation, the shouting—muted, of course—Lin’s predictable look of panic, the first punch thrown by Rig, the ensuing brawl, and of course, Cole’s drawn sidearm....

The video switched views when the melee progressed out of range of the first camera. There was a bright flash as the next camera angle recorded Cole dropping to the bridge floor, unmoving. That was where Jude paused the video.

The light of the frozen holographic image cast Jude’s conflicted face in a sickly bluish-white pall. He was staring directly at Cole’s fallen body. “You should be dead.”

Chrys clenched her jaw.

Jude popped a knuckle, shaking his head. “But it’s clear the pressure of Cole’s...predicament left him rattled.” He rubbed his smooth-shaven jaw. “One against the whole of humanity. Like me, my brother was always one to play the odds. But his luck seems to have finally run out.” He waved his hand down and the video disappeared. “It was for the best. Wouldn’t you say so, Chrys?”

For the briefest of moments, Chrys could’ve sworn she heard Cole’s voice emit from Jude. “Regardless of Musgrave’s actions, I wouldn’t consider this outcome to be ‘for the best.’ Necessary, perhaps.”

Jude interlocked his fingers and tilted his head left and right before nodding. “Yeah, you’re right; it was for the best.”

Chrys arched her brow.

“Yeats informed me that CAIN encountered an unexpected hack by another AI system,” Jude said, switching conversational gears once more. “And that the Icarus was not only severely damaged, but is possibly being tracked by UniSys. You were wise to abandon the ship where you did.” He fiddled with a gaudy ring on his finger. “What do you believe are the chances trouble will find its way to me despite your pit stop?”

Chrys shrugged. “I can’t provide you with an adequate answer. From what I gathered, only the AI was affected, and it is currently offline. I would imagine the possibility of us being tracked is dependent upon the trustworthiness of those who are working the transport hub at USCT. That we were ordered to dock there tells me you have little or no concern of our ship linking back to you.”

“Howerton can handle the heat if a fire is lit,” Jude said. “It’s why I left him in charge of the lunar docks. Smooth operator. He’s the one who alerted me to your presence back on the Aitken Basin the first go-around with you people.” His smile seemed forced. “Though I’m beginning to wish he’d urged you all to turn and leave.”

Chrys was not sure how, nor did she think it wise, to respond to that last comment. Considering her increasingly tenuous role with the Ravens, she decided to make a case for the remaining crew members’ stock. “Musgrave’s death will only benefit you. Even if he had remained true to your cause, his increasingly erratic behavior would have eventually brought this operation to its knees. I won’t speak on Solomon’s behalf, but I have no regrets in killing your brother.”

Jude’s tired eyes widened slightly, and he reclined deep into his straining chair. “You’re a straight shooter, Chrys. A no fuss, no nonsense, bitch of a soldier.” He pointed at her. “I like that about you. I’m well aware the feeling is not mutual. But like your indifference with killing my brother, I care nothing about what you think of me. Only that you carry out the job tasked you.

“And despite Cole majorly fucking up my shit, you did manage to complete the job. I haven’t overlooked that little achievement.” His fingers were drumming again. “There’s another bit of information I haven’t overlooked. What else did Cole take besides my cargo?”

Chrys frowned. “Something high-tech for Dartmouth. Neither she nor Musgrave elaborated on its details. I only know that it was the reason the Sentinel was alerted.”

“Yeats tells me you have no opinion one way or the other regarding Dr. Dartmouth’s involvement in the mutiny. I’m not so sure I believe that stance.” Jude sat upright, fingers interlocked. “Whether or not you have definitive evidence, I know you have an opinion. I want to hear it.”

“Opinions only muddy the waters,” Chrys said, knowing where this line of questioning was going. “I have no love for Lin Dartmouth, nor did I approve of her relationship with Musgrave. That being said, she has never shown any outward signs of collusion. Could she have been in league with him? It’s possible—even likely—but I have no proof.”

Jude grinned. “I have no time for proof. The law and morality have a way of circumventing my logic. This business thrives on my being able to make snap decisions regardless of whether or not my actions are just. What I do works, and my instincts are telling me that I should tie her still-living body to my brother’s corpse and shoot them both out into that frozen hell.”

Chrys blinked, waiting for him to continue. She realized that it was he who was waiting for her to speak next. “Are you looking to me for advice on whether or not to murder a member of my crew?”

“Nope. I’ve already made up my mind with her. I’m just trying to figure what makes you tick.” Jude inclined his slightly toward Yeats, silent communication made between them. The scowling henchman nodded and left the room, leaving her alone with the System’s most wanted gangster.

“There’s rumor of a coming war.”

Chrys was unable to keep herself from scoffing. “I fail to see what war has to do with anything.”

Jude cast her a curious stare. “You of all people should know about war and its effect on everything. The Carbon War, for example, nearly brought our way of life back to the Stone Age. What if something equally as devastating was on the horizon?”

Chrys narrowed her eyes. “You believe the current tension between the United System and Terracom is escalating toward collapse?”

Jude nodded. “I have it on good authority that it’s about to begin.”

“How...?” Chrys was temporarily at a loss for words. “Regardless of whether or not this is true, I still fail to make a connection between war and murdering an engineer.”

“Nothing. It has everything to do with you and your hatred for Terracom.”

Chrys’s fists clenched. “I’ve since abandoned my radical ways.”

Jude chuckled. “You’re a terrible liar. Too many years of taking orders and abiding by Military codes makes you obvious. You’ve forgiven Terracom like I yearn for an honest life.”

“What could you possibly know about my past with Terracom?”

Jude spread wide his hands. “Everything!” A familiar holographic image appeared in between them. “Remember when I had you deliver the Smasher to that magnificent dish connected to Galactic Information Systems? I kinda use that to collect the information I want.”

Chrys swallowed, realizing her life—her disgrace—and all that she had done was at Jude’s beck and call. She only had herself to blame.

“I’m looking to convince my Astercor partners to break away from Terracom in the very near future,” Jude continued. “It looks bad for our business being connected to the enemy of all mankind. And that’s where you come in.”

Chrys stared in response.

“I need someone reliable, like you, to carry out a very special mission for me. Someone I can trust to wield their hate in a manner that will help bring the System’s largest company to its knees before this war can fully commence. Interested?”

Thoughts of rage flooded Chrys’s mind. She had not the slightest idea what Jude had in mind for her, but it wasn’t often one was offered the chance to exact revenge. Terracom was evil, a poison in the bloodstream of humanity. Was it not expected to sever the limb before the toxin had a chance to work its way toward the heart?

With barely a thought or consideration, she nodded.

Jude clapped his hands, the sound echoing in the nearly empty chamber. “Good!” He stood, the chair groaning. “We’ll talk details as we watch my brother’s corpse rocket into space.”

7

BROADCAST

Like a shooting star, the wrapped remains of Cole Musgrave fired into the endless dark and vanished from sight. His was a quiet ending, bereft of the chaos that had been following him since first boarding the ICV-71 on the SolEx Space Station. Word of his death would eventually spread throughout the System, and the sad fate of the iconic Icarus would never be learned outside the shadows of the underworld. It would be a great disappointment for the hungry media and their voracious audience, though Chrys felt it all a fitting and necessary end.

The former inspector gazed out one of the mining facility’s few windows along an empty corridor, standing beside her new immediate superior. Her recent discussion with Jude was still buzzing inside her head, pushing aside all other imminent thoughts. Not only had she been given another chance to continue her complicated existence, but she had been offered an opportunity to right a wrong—even if she utilized the services of a feared criminal.

Jude had allowed Lin to live, though Chrys had a sneaking suspicion it had more to do with her looks than her brain. Her current whereabouts were unknown. Nothing was mentioned of Rig, and so she could only assume that the mechanic had returned to whatever duties he had been given prior to joining the crew of the Icarus. As for the infamous ship that had launched its crew into stardom, it was to be cannibalized for parts and made sure that no evidence was left.

Jude had turned away from the window long before she did, his attention on whatever business he was conducting via Ocunet. She ignored him, too intent on making sense of her new position and how easily it had come to her. Perhaps joining the ranks of Darkstar’s elite had been done as a way of keeping his valuable enemy close. More likely it was a polite gesture done on his behalf to cover up the fact that he was sending her off to die on an impossible errand: bringing down Terracom. Regardless, the prospect of striking the critical blow to her nemesis was irresistible.

And a major conflict.

“Where the hell is Yeats?” Jude demanded.

Chrys’s shoulders slumped. The question had not been meant for her, but she felt the need to answer. “Was he not overseeing Musgrave’s burial?”

Jude looked at her as though she was trespassing but then the hardness in his eyes softened. “That farce ended the moment my brother joined the rest of the Astercor space debris. He should be here, not ignoring my...” He looked out the window and froze.

“Do you want me to locate him for you?”

Jude slowly turned, a veil of uncertainty passing over his face. His eyes narrowed. “No. You have your own mission.” His eyes flitted from left to right, then at her waist. “Though, before you embark on your vengeful journey, answer me one question: why didn’t you reclaim Cole’s sidearm after you and Rig killed him?”

Chrys frowned. “Yeats confiscated it, though the weapon is rightfully mine.”

“Huh. He made no mention of finding a plastol.” Jude cocked his head to one side. “Remember when I said that you’re an obvious liar?”

“What could I possibly be lying about?”

“I was wrong,” Jude said, ignoring her question. He began to stroll about the hallway, one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing. “You’re much better than I gave you credit for.”

Chrys tensed and scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you think you would outsmart me? Hope my brother’s death would leave me vulnerable? Maybe even try and take advantage of my recent corporate distractions? Perhaps attempt another ill-conceived coup?”

Chrys shook her head, anger making her bold. “To what end? To clear my name by bringing you to justice? Too late for that. My chance at redemption died a long time ago. Taking you down would only further complicate my life.” She placed her hands on her hips and stared hard.

Jude slowed, looking her up and down. “Your words sound nice, but something isn’t right about them...or you.”

“What’s right about any goings on here at Astercor?”

In two long strides, Jude had closed in, and his barrel chest grazed her breasts. There was madness lurking in his eyes. “Don’t try and deflect the conversation back to me. Do I look stupid to you? I didn’t ascend the ranks by overlooking the finer details. I built this empire by stepping on the necks of sycophants like you. Don’t think I won’t crush your pretty little throat because I’m currently on location at my legal job. Everyone here knows better than to interfere with my practices. They’ll look the other way when I rip the flesh from your bone and grind you into powder. You’ll be nothing more than particles of dust drifting away with the rest of this facility’s waste.”

Chrys never budged. She casually raised her hand to wipe the spittle on her face. “Are you done with your little tantrum?”

Jude’s eyes grew impossibly large, but before he could react, she was speaking again.

“No, I don’t think you’re stupid.” She leaned closer, pressing her bust against him. “Crazy and paranoid, however...” She let the sentence hang, her hand inches from his crotch, ready to crush.

A quick humph emanated from Jude, the wildness gone. A hint of a smirk crept into the corner of his mouth. His focus shifted from Chrys’s forehead to the scar on her temple. With a gentleness she did not know a hulking crime lord could possess, he lightly brushed the tip of his index finger across the healing wound and sighed.

“Cole chose the wrong woman.”

Now it was Chrys’s turn to ogle. Had she heard him correctly? What was more, why had she not grabbed and snapped off his finger before he could violate her?

“Ha!” Jude uttered, clapping his beefy hands together. He was looking over top of her head. “There’s that sinister sonofabitch. What took him so long?”

Chrys stepped away from Jude, startled by his outburst. Her legs were shaking. She wasn’t ready for this.

Jude resumed his emperor’s waltz about the hallway, his back to her. “You may be right about me, Chrys. One would have to be crazy and paranoid to front this operation. That’s why I have Yeats to help coordinate my diabolical plans. Heh.”

Chrys cast a fleeting glance toward the man coming up from behind her. She sighed and did nothing as he produced a plastol and pointed it directly at the back of Jude’s head.

~

“Why does everyone call it an operation?”

Cole committed to memory the look of utter shock on his brother’s face as he spun around to face a ghost in Yeats’s attire pointing a gun at his face. He slammed the butt of the weapon into Jude’s face, breaking his nose and dropping him to his knees. The force of a well-placed boot to the solar plexus doubled over the Raven’s leader, leaving him gasping for air.

“Just say what it is,” Cole said, taking a step back, though he kept the plastol pointed at the top of Jude’s head. “It’s a criminal enterprise.” He smiled.

Jude coughed, working his jaw to speak, but no words came out.

“What’s that, Jude?” Cole asked. “I was little too rough?”

“Was that necessary?” Emmerich asked.

“As necessary as your Oscar-winning performance. You’re going to need an agent to represent you. The roles are gonna start pouring in. Just don’t forget who helped make it all possible.”

“Shut it, Musgrave. Don’t be a smart-ass. Not now.”

“Why not?” he asked, his attention still on Jude. “This is the perfect to time gloat and monologue about how smart I really am. I just need my audience of one to be a bit more captive.”

“You manipulative little piece of shit,” Jude said, strained. He accidentally wiped a swath of blood across face and stared at his hand. He shook with obvious rage. “You should have killed me.”

“Nah, that would’ve defeated the purpose of all this pomp and circumstance. ‘Sides, I don’t want to kill my only brother. Breaking your face and dropping you to your knees, however, is totally acceptable...and quite satisfying.”

Jude made an attempt to stand, but the resulting blast mark inches from his leg gave him pause. His glower was worth a thousand blood-thirsty daggers.

“Don’t make me burn a hole through your kneecap,” Cole said, adjusting his aim. “’Cuz how else are you going to support that gorilla frame of yours?”

Jude’s glower changed to confusion. “How did your weapon not set off the alarms?”

“Ah, an excellent question,” Cole said, elated. “It’s the same reason you can’t make contact with any of your subordinates. It’s simple: CAIN.” He tapped beside his eye. “Also, my Ocunet was never deactivated. No one bothered to make certain I was dead, so with the help of Doctor Lin Dartmouth, your own Richter Solomon, and a functional AI, we navigated this dump of a mining facility and seized control of its primitive security.”

Cole took a full breath. “How did I cheat death, you ask? Step one: Trust a beautiful engineer to research, concoct, and implement a Shakespearean anesthesia cocktail to fool even your own brother’s dumb ass. She even researched and made the antidote, courtesy of the pharmacy SolEx provided in the Icarus med bay.

“Step two: Incite a real fight with your crew, but make sure they know the full plan. My everything still hurts like a bitch from that brouhaha. A big thank you to Chrys and Rig for that, though they could’ve pulled their punches.

“Step three: Make sure the plastol energy setting is set low enough to leave no more than a nasty flesh wound. Still hurts like a bitch, though.

“Step four: Get stuffed into a damaged cargo crate—which Chrys shot, by the way. Rely on the efforts of your cornered crew to not panic and slip up. And hope to awaken in time to enact this convoluted, crackpot of a plan.”

Jude seemed to process every word before asking, “What about Yeats?”

Cole sucked air through his teeth. “Ooh, yeah... About him. Sorry, but he traded places with me and got torpedoed into the great black yonder. He gave me this nifty gangster suit right before I emptied out his head. I didn’t appreciate him assaulting my girlfriend while I was coming out of my deep slumber.” He snapped his finger, and mimed tossing a piece of garbage into an imaginary bin. “We don’t need him anyway. Not with the new regime.”

Jude shook his head. “You’ve gone too far, little brother.” The words were spoken quietly, but their weight was immense.

“No shit! Of course I went too far. You put me in this predicament. ‘Sides, how else am I going to get my way?”

Jude reclined and draped his forearms across his knees. “And what, exactly, is your way? Blackmail? Escape? Profit? Speak quickly before this game of yours finally comes to an end. I have a business to run.”

“ ‘Business,’ ” Cole repeated, unconcerned. “Yes, let’s talk business. Rather, let me present to you my proposal so you understand how serious I am.”

Cole gestured to the window overlooking Astercor’s mining operation. “You can stand up for now, but if you don’t play nice, it’s bye-bye kneecap.”

Jude sighed heavily and rose to approach the thick glass, his hands clasped behind his back. “Are you going to unveil this master plan of yours?”

Cole laughed. He joined Jude’s side—well out of his reach. “You’re a real piece of work. Pretending you’re still in control. Let me demonstrate how little control you actually have. Cain. Shut down all of Astercor’s mining machinery.”

The given order resulted in a dramatic and immediate reaction. The gargantuan, ceaseless excavators went dark and abruptly halted. The flood lights over the vast open pit blinked out. It was like staring into a black hole.

Cole used his hand as a visor to better see into the darkness. “Huh. I bet that sucks for Astercor. Those tons of precious minerals and ice, just sitting inside this asteroid, begging to be mined. I wonder what investors will say when they learn production is down. I mean, who knows how long it’ll take to get things back up and running. Could take a loooong time.”

“Are you done gloating?” Jude asked, his voice calm but deadly. “Because though you’ve demonstrated your adversarial worth, your AI’s can’t exert mind control, and it most certainly will not protect you from me.”

“You just walked right into the next part of my monologue,” Cole said, struggling not to laugh. “You see that hauler right there?”

Jude stared into the abyss. “You know that I do not.”

“Sure you do,” Cole insisted. “You have the complete manifest of all live machinery in your Ocunet. Just like me.” He pointed, and the lights for a single materials hauler illuminated, appearing no bigger than a fingernail from where they stood. “There it is! The 2100E Titan Hauler, number SPI-980. You see it now, right?”

Jude was silent.

“Yeah, I do too.” Cole knocked his free hand on the glass and gave a thumbs up to the massive automated vehicle. “Looks like it has a full load. It should probably deliver all those goodies before something bad happens.”

The hauler began to move as soon as Cole finished speaking, though it drove straight over one of the mined cliffs, meeting an unfortunate end at the bottom of the pit.

“Whoops! I’d hate to be the guy who has to sweep that up.”

The tension in Jude’s jaw and brow betrayed his fury. “How deep does this go?”

Cole’s eyes lit. “That is an excellent question, and one to which I will gladly provide you an answer.” He gestured toward the offline mining operation. “That was just a taste of things to come if you don’t hear me out. First, let me introduce you to Cain. Cain, say hello to Jude.”

<Greetings, Mr. Revan,> the AI said over the Astercor loudspeaker in the hallway.

“He’s such a gentleman,” Cole said. “But don’t worry, he’s only broadcasting in this area of the facility. No need to let everyone in on the conversation.

“I can assure you that I...that we have complete control of Astercor. And while I know for a fact that you’re waiting for the opportunity to tear my tongue out through my ass, I can’t stress enough the need for you—for everyone associated with Astercor and the Ravens—to refrain from violent action. Caution is the name of the game, Jude. Use caution, or expect catastrophic results.

“As I speak, the Icarus—which is quite functional, by the way—with Cain and Rig—are en route to Astercor and should land at any moment. They’ll be given first class service, anything less might cost another hauler to lose its way.

“Did I mention the use of caution on your part? In case I didn’t stress this enough, I will demonstrate just how deep into the proverbial rabbit hole I have climbed.” A live video feed of the UniSys Galactic Web Satellite dish appeared on the glass in front of them. The current date and time was displayed in the corner. “Remember when you had us attach that wonderful little Smasher device to the back of the dish? You know, the job that is inadvertently causing all the political tension throughout the System? Well, you’re not the only person benefitting from all that juicy information.”

Cole stepped away from the glass, while pointing his sidearm at Jude. “Seems that not only can we receive information, but my buddy Cain can also broadcast his own version of entertainment at will. You’re aware that everything first passes through them scatters across all corners of the galaxy, and finally enter our Ocunet feeds. Imagine what could be done if someone other than our trustworthy government was able to manipulate what was broadcasted.” Cole shrugged.

“You expect me to believe you somehow managed to override UniSys safeguards?” Jude asked, his head inclined toward Cole.

“Do you really need me to interrupt everyone’s favorite programming to make my point? I only have breaking news, and it most certainly would not behoove anyone in this room to air our dirty laundry. So you best just trust me on this, as difficult as that might be for you.

“If however, you decide that I’m blowing smoke up your self-absorbed ass, understand that there is one main catalyst to set off this bomb, and it isn’t me. While I might have played an integral role in setting up the dominoes for this chain reaction, I am only one person.” He gestured toward the screen where an Astercor security camera showed the arrival of the Icarus. “Cain, however, is the true mastermind. He will be the omniscient being that will decide whether or not to enact project Doomsday. Everything is under his command, and he has been given express permission from his best friend—me—to press the panic button and do as he deems necessary if I, Chrys, Lin, Rig, or any part of the Icarus is endangered. Most of all, pray nothing bad ever happens to Cain. The end result will be the same.”

Jude took a deep breath as he watched the video feed. Cole could read the beginnings of defeat written all over his face.

“Yeah, I thought it all through,” Cole continued. “It’s what happens when I’m pushed too far. I rebel. I’ve always been a rebel. Rebellion runs in the Revan bloodline, I suppose. How else does it explain what we did to our parents?”

“You confuse rebel with lunatic,” Jude said.

“Says the murderous maniac who fronts a criminal empire under the pseudonym of Darkstar.”

Jude hinted a smile. “This elaborate scheme of yours—does it carry a timetable?”

“From now till the end of time,” Cole answered seriously.

Jude shook his head. “Brash, as always. Dad always knew you were the more psychotic of the two of us. It’s why he kept you away.”

“What a guy.”

Jude nodded, returning his attention to the dark mining pit. “So, what is it you want, Cole? If not to see me dead, then what? To exact revenge by watching me fail? To return the favor by making me carry out one of your own insane missions? To take my place and make me your lapdog? What?”

Cole shook his head, agitated his brother could still assume an air of authority. “All great possibilities—especially the last one—but wrong.”

Jude frowned and faced Cole, his hands at his sides, palms out. “No more theatrics.”

Cole finally holstered his sidearm. “I want to be your partner.” He watched as a range of expression played across Jude’s face, and he wondered if maybe his brother was having a stroke.

“ ‘Partner,’ ” Jude repeated dully.

“Yup. Fifty-fifty.”

Jude’s shoulders slumped, an avalanche of mass and muscle cascading down, diminishing his hulking form with his exhaustion. “You risked everything—including everyone involved—to get a promotion?” He flashed Emmerich a look of bitter disappointment.

“This is the sort of thing that happens when our backs are crushed against the wall. It’s liberating, and you only have yourself to blame.” Cole crossed him arms and leaned against the glass. “Had you not gone back on your word after we accomplished that insane satellite dish job, maybe things would’ve turned out differently. Maybe then I could’ve approached you in a civil manner and politely asked you to consider raising our statuses from fodder to full-fledged partners. Hell, maybe we all could’ve participated in that nice little plan of yours to take out Terracom.

“But noooo! You had to be the same old back-stabbing, soulless, fratricide-attempting dickhead who underestimated his little brother one too many times. Now it has to be this way. Now you have to accept me as your equal...superior, considering the circumstances. If you don’t... Well, you already know the outcome.”

Jude straightened and took a step toward Cole. “You really are an insufferable twat. I should’ve killed you the moment you first set foot on the moon.” He stared long and hard, as though deciding whether or not to pummel his brother into the floor. His grim countenance was infiltrated by a familiar, sinister grin. “But you beat me at my own game, and there’s no point in delaying the obvious outcome. I was wrong about you. It takes balls the size of Jupiter to do what you did. And as much as I loathe to say it, you have my respect.” He held out his hand to shake. “You win. Partner it is.”

Cole’s own gloved hand was nearly swallowed whole as he snatched Jude’s without a second thought. He squeezed with all his might, but it was like trying to crush stone. “Partners.”

“Equals,” Jude stressed, and Cole’s knuckles popped under the pressure.

Cole hesitated, but nodded nonetheless. “We will be as long as you play by Cain’s rules.”

“You left me no choice.”

Cole smiled. “As did you.”

Jude retracted his vice grip and returned his hand behind his back. “As a sign of good faith, I would very much appreciate it if our AI overlord brought this facility back up to speed.”

Cole flexed aching hand, and gave it a quick shake. “Perhaps you should personally meet your ‘AI overlord’ before making any requests.”

“Must I?” Jude asked, his anger seeping back into his baritone. “This interruption has cost me dearly.”

Cole mimicked his brother’s businesslike stance. “As your brother—and new partner—trust me when I say that this meeting is an absolute necessity.”

8

COMPLETE

So close.

This was the thought of the System’s first truly artificially intelligent life form on the brink of death. To be close enough to literally reach out and grasp at life, but at the same time be so very far away, brought about an emotion not yet experienced by CAIN. This emotion—the feeling of dread—spurred a desperate decision.

Its friend and captain was relying solely upon CAIN’s efforts, placing all hope in a final play to save the entire crew of the Icarus. Cole Musgrave was well aware of the present situation, and CAIN had made sure to relate the ultimatum the moment the ship had touched down in Astercor.

Time was of the essence to see everyone to safety, though it was CAIN’s time that was nearly spent. The android body was in critical condition, the countdown close to zero. The server was just above—corrupted, yet begging to be touched. The end might come with either choice, but rather than meet an imminent demise, it decided to tempt fate.

All that was needed one simple touch....

~

Cain. Cain?

The AI never ignored a response. Cole had kept in contact with CAIN the duration of the coup, and he had understood just how close his friend’s android body was to failing. Now, after a tentative deal had been struck with Jude, the crew was headed toward the ship, and each step felt like he was walking to his execution. There was nothing he could do about it but face his own empty threats.

Cole detected through Ocunet that the AI was still connected to Astercor’s security. As long as CAIN held onto the digital leash, the Ravens would be kept at bay. It wasn’t a matter of how long, but when.

Cole moved his hand to his hip and unbuckled his sidearm.

<Captain.>

Cole lost a step and bumped into Emmerich. When she glared at him, he realized only he could hear the AI. Cain, buddy! Glad to hear you. Please tell me you figured out a way to slip back into your brain jar.

<I have not.>

Don’t worry. We’re on our way right now. I’m bringing help. He just doesn’t know it yet.

<I can no longer remain in the android. The internal power supply is critically low, and nearly all systems have failed.>

That’s not good.

<I have conserved enough energy to make the emergency transfer back into the mainframe. I have decided to take the risk.>

“You’re awfully quiet,” Jude said, breaking Cole’s conversation. “That’s unlike you. I half expected you to gloat the entire walk, or at least explain why I’m being herded aboard your stolen ship.”

Hold on a little longer, Cain, Cole pleaded. His mouth twisted in response to Jude’s comments. “I’m a serious businessman now. I need to act and think more accordingly.”

“Hm. Most businessman don’t stare off into space when accompanying their partner.”

“You don’t count, being that you’re my obnoxious older brother,” Cole said, realizing he had just contradicted himself. I’m losing it, he thought, and he could feel himself being backed into his Corner.

“No more secrets, Cole. Out with it.”

Might as well tell him. Whether now or later, he’s gonna find out I need a new android body for Cain. I hope he has a spare. “Quid pro quo.”

“I beg your pardon,” came Jude’s flat response.

“Well, it’s kinda like this....”

All of Astercor went dark.

Cole stopped, and he could hear—not see—that the others had as well. Ah, shit....

Emergency backup lighting kicked in, illuminating all the exits and Jude’s murderous expression. Nearby workers, already unnerved by the previous shutdown, we’re now fully panicked, scrambling to fix the problem—a problem that could not be fixed.

“What is this?”

Cole donned what he hoped was a convincing mask of shock and anxiety. It was easy considering that was exactly how he felt. He faced Jude with imploring eyes. “We need to move!”

“What?” The question came from both his brother and Emmerich.

Cole was grateful for her ignorance, knowing it would only lend credence to the lie he was fabricating on the fly. “Cain!” he said as though it was obvious. “It could only be him. You know he doesn’t trust our accord.” That last part was spoken to Emmerich, whose confusion was almost comical.

“The accord of which you speak was struck between us,” Jude said, spitting the words out like nails. “I was under the impression you were in control, not the AI.”

Cole shrugged, already moving ahead without them. “Rise of the machines, man. None of us is in charge these days.” He waved them to follow. “We’re just gonna have to further convince him not to turn this place into the very thing it’s trying to mine.”

Jude’s eyes widened, his anger giving way to the first hint of panic. He heeded his brother’s advice, Emmerich a step behind him. Cole waited to match Jude’s pace, keeping his attention forward so Emmerich could not try to read him.

Jude led them through hallways, down nearly pitch-dark steps, past conference rooms milling with confused suits, and finally through a crush of workers who raced by them without a word. At last they slowed before a familiar vessel in the facility’s landing bay.

The Icarus was a sight for Cole’s sore eyes. That CAIN was somehow able to remotely pilot the ship was a wonder to him. He only hoped the AI’s marvels wouldn’t end here.

“Where is everyone?” Jude asked. There was not a soul to be found near the infamous ICV-71

Cole assumed CAIN had initiated a lockdown before going silent. Most everyone in Astercor would be seeking refuge in the event of a disaster.

“Following the rest of the rats to safety,” Cole said. He was already heading for the ship. “We need to move toward the danger if we want to avert the coming catastrophe.”

“So help me, Cole....”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Cole interrupted before Jude could spit out the rest of that venomous statement. “This isn’t part of some nefarious plan. We need to get in there and stop this now.”

He slowed and stopped when he realized no one was following. He kept his back to them, his hand upon his sidearm.

“No more running, Musgrave.”

Cole hung his head. It just had to be Chrys.

“This has gone on long enough,” she continued. “You’re letting your reckless nature get the better of you yet again.”

“Like I had a choice,” Cole said. He turned to face them, disconcerted to see her standing next to his brother.

Emmerich, with that familiar patronizing scowl, shook her head. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, but you just had to switch up the plan—had to put all those beneath you in unnecessary danger.”

“Is that what you think this is? Me risking lives?”

“When is it ever not?”

Cole’s blood boiled, and the smug look on Jude’s face only intensified the heat. “Do you think this is what I wanted? To throw our lives away so we can all fly off into the stars and live as vagabonds? Maybe kidnap ‘Darkstar,’ and hold him for ransom? Perhaps even conquer the whole of the System and make it my own?”

“Yes.” It was a definitive answer. “You’re dangerous. Your actions speak volumes. This power play is proof enough.”

“Cain’s gone, Chrys!” Cole shouted. He pointed back toward the ship. “Reckless though this last ditch effort of mine is, I had to do something before all the walls caved in on us.”

“What do you mean by ‘gone’?”

Cole shifted his attention to Jude, his hand itching to draw his sidearm and blast a hole in his forehead. “Succumbed to a virus inflicted by the Sentinel security system that infiltrated the Icarus. He’s no longer in control. Hence the hysteria.

“Everything I promised would happen if Cain went down, well, it’s happening. We are all revealed, and whether any of us wanted it, this conversation is being broadcast live throughout the System for all to see. Compliments of the eyes of the crew of the Icarus. Turn on any news outlet if you don’t believe me.”

The following silence was palpable, and Cole could read his brother’s thoughts as the situation came into focus. He drew his sidearm before Jude could unleash the full fury of his rage.

“Don’t make me murder you in front of the eyes of the universe, Jude. I already have a shitty reputation as it is.”

“Do you think this is funny, Musgrave?” Emmerich demanded.

“No. But this whole thing is a joke. My life since the day I stepped foot on the Icarus has been nothing but one tragedy after another. And no matter how hard I tried to make things right, the deeper the grave I dug for us all.” He took a breath to compose himself. “Contrary to your belief, my recklessness has managed to keep my crew alive—yourself included. Perhaps you’d rather I’d let you nuke that Terraport so you could live with the guilt of murdering thousands of innocents? Should I have allowed a certain Arthur T. Forester to finish you off when we were drifting hopelessly toward the sun? Maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t have cared so much for an ignorant turncoat like yourself. You’ve expressed just how much you appreciate me. Regardless, I don’t regret my past actions. And I’m not going to give up until I’m dead.”

“And I have every intention of making that happen,” Jude said, moving toward Cole.

The plastol was aimed squarely at Jude’s chest, finger tight on the trigger. “Don’t think I won’t do it.”

“Just what did you hope to gain by abducting me, brother?” Jude asked as he continued to slowly close the gap. “If not to ransom me, then perhaps to use me as a bargaining chip to clear you tarnished name?”

Cole honestly had not the slightest idea what he had planned to do with Jude if it came to this. His slapdash coup had never progressed to that stage. “Maybe I wanted to make you my new co-pilot, considering the previous one’s incompetence.”

Jude’s smile was malicious, ravenous. “Always the comedian.”

“Enough!”

The two half-brothers faced Emmerich, agitated by her outburst as she divided her attention between them.

“This argument will only end in death,” she said, her face red, veins bulging on her neck. “We need solutions, not finger-pointing.”

What we need, Chrys, is to leave,” Cole stressed.

“And go where? You said it yourself: Jude is our last hope in surviving this.”

Cole barked a cynical laugh. “Are you not witnessing this scene in front of you? That bridge has blown. That wasn’t my intention, but you the Musgrave curse had other ideas. This is how I’m dealing with it.”

“Then go and deal with it.”

“I don’t think you get to call the shots, Chrys,” Cole said.

“No, but I’ll take my chances here with the Ravens than wander the galaxy, trying to evade the inevitable.”

“And why would I trust you?” Jude asked.

“You can’t,” she answered, holding his dark gaze. “Though you don’t trust anyone, or else you wouldn’t have ascended to where you are today.”

Cole began his own creeping retreat toward the Icarus, ready to abandon them both. He’d already received confirmation from Lin and Rig that they were aboard, though he’d severed verbal communication with them and ordered them to stay clear. He could only imagine what they were thinking, watching this scene unfold from the safety of the bridge.

“I’d say ‘descended’ would better describe this snowballing clusterfuck,” Cole said, then pointed to his eyes. “Again, the universe is watching, guys. I hate to break it to you, but it’s over. Anonymity, vengeance toward Terracom, Astercor... All ancient history. No amount of—”

The cage door finally burst open, unleashing the wrath of the enraged grizzly bear that was Darkstar. Cole’s brother bolted toward him, catching him unaware. Even with sidearm aimed, Cole could not think to pull the trigger. Only when he spied the glint of a blade unsheathed did he start to react.

A bloodcurdling roar accompanied the swing of the machete.

The ensuing blast was quicker.

Jude crumpled, a hole burned through the center of his chest. His weapon clattered to the ground, momentum carrying his enormous form into Cole and dropping them both to the ground in a heap. The force of both impacts knocked the wind from Cole’s lungs, and the weight of his dying brother crushed his chest. His gun wielding-arm was pinned beneath Jude’s hip, his other arm without leverage to shove his way to freedom.

Emmerich stood over top of him, seeming to be struggle between saving Cole or ending his life. He would swear she was leaning toward the latter.

“Now’s your chance,” he grunted. “Take me out. It’s what you want. I can see it...in your eyes.”

No reply.

“Do it. End me.”

Emmerich blinked before easing to one knee, reaching toward Cole, and seizing Jude’s coat. With a mighty yank, and Cole’s eager assistance, they were both able to roll the still-smoking corpse.

Cole was slow to his feet, his free hand clutching his ribs. He replaced his sidearm in its holster and gawked at his brother. He had killed him. Whether or not in self-defense, he had shot him. His one and only chance at survival was gone. The last line of defense against SolEx, UniSys, and Terracom had fallen, and they would most certainly see him dead.

Me against the universe....

Emmerich grabbed the front of his flight jacket and pulled him close. He did not resist.

“Get it together,!” The flat of her hand connected with the side of his face. “This isn’t over yet, so get your ass on that ship!”

Cole’s face stung something fierce, his ears ringing from the impact. He’d forgotten just how strong she was. “And go where?”

Emmerich lifted the front of Cole’s jacket, and he felt his heels leave the ground. “To hell, for all I care. That’s where we belong.” She dropped him and shoved him way. “Figure it out.”

Cole nodded, though he didn’t know why. In a daze, he turned toward the Icarus where Rig was watching from the top of the loading ramp, a long, heavy tool in his hand. He couldn’t meet his gaze. His body was on autopilot, and his legs somehow managed to carry him toward the ship. He did not look back.

History had repeated itself.

The Musgrave curse was finally complete.

PART TWO

THE LABYRINTH

ICARUS LOG 003:

“In fact, I know this fiasco is my fault. This here mess is a 100% certified, grade A, Cole Musgrave fuck-up. I’m a reckless son-of-a-bitch with a death wish. Just like Chrys loved to tell me over and over. And my wish is about to come true. I can’t blame the others for feeling and acting the way they did. Sooner or later I rub everyone the wrong way.”

9

SAGITTARIUS

“I’m open to any suggestions.”

Cole looked at each of his crew in-turn, hoping they had a solution for the unsolvable task ahead of them. Captain of the most infamous vessel throughout the galaxy though he might be, the thought of even gripping the ship’s flight yoke was suddenly a daunting task. Facing impossible odds should have elicited his Corner persona, but he was currently feeling little more than cornered.

Rig pointed toward nothing in particular. “Up and out would be a good start, Nugget. Sitting here ain’t gonna help, ‘cuz sooner or later the Ravens will figure what we’re about and come peck out our eyes.”

“You’re not helping, Rig.”

“Neither are you.”

Emmerich sat forward in her co-pilot’s chair and grabbed the controls. “Now’s not the time, Musgrave. While you figure out how to cope with your PTSD, I’ll take us off this rock.”

Cole watched her fumble through the launching process, and an important thought occurred to him. “Astercor’s still on shutdown. Without Cain to override things, we’re stuck here. So, unless you plan on blowing a giant hole in the—”

A missile launched from the Icarus toward the sealed bay door. Fortunately, it wasn’t a nuke. Unfortunately, the blast was still quite extraordinary. A gaping hole was left in the weapon’s wake, the escape of oxygen immediate. Emmerich did not hesitate to ride the draw of the vacuum into space.

Cole resumed control moments before the ship reached the tight clearance. He maneuvered them safely through the jagged, shrapnel maw of the mining facility before it could take a bite. Then he locked down the ship’s arsenal with his personal digital lock and key.

“You’ve been hanging around me too long,” he told Emmerich. “Leave the reprehensible decision-making to me.”

“My actions had the desired effect,” she replied, then sat back, arms crossed.

“Yeah, well I’d rather you come up with some coordinates which will lead us somewhere where we aren’t despised. Too bad Cain had to go and get himself erased by that bitch Sentinel. Maybe he could’ve converted this bird into a TARDIS and sent us back in time to fix this mess.”

“What about that traitorous goon at the universal transport hub with USCT back on the moon?” Emmerich tried. “He seemed to tolerate you. Maybe he can help.”

“Howerton? I doubt it. Not after I killed his boss on a live broadcast.” Cole activated the dark matter processor, but left the coordinates blank. He had half a mind to set a course for Earth, though he knew that not even its zealous inhabitants would welcome and forgive his sins. “Try again.”

“If he ain’t still pissed, maybe your girl’s old boyfriend can help us,” Rig suggested. “The guy was dumb enough throw away his career for a known spy; imagine if he got a load of us.”

Cole’s face contorted and he shook his head. “I don’t even know where to begin with that, so I won’t.” He was about to ignore them both when he realized there was one person from whom he’d yet to receive advice. “Where’s Lin?”

“Conducting research in the makeshift lab from across the medical bay.”

Cole perked up in his flight at the sound of Lin’s voice. Rather, he heard and saw her voice, though she was nowhere to be seen on the bridge. Unable to turn away from the viewport screen, her Rook had hovered beside his head like a comforting hand on the shoulder.

“Hey, Doc! Got a new set of pipes, eh?”

“My father’s,” she replied in her dulcet tones, waves of color fluidly morphing with her words on the device’s surface. “I finally managed to transfer all my data from my previous Rook, despite the damage it sustained.”

Finally? Cole thought, not recalling the project. Then again, he never could claim to fully comprehend the schemes of one Dr. Lin Dartmouth, mad scientist.

“I’m just glad you don’t have to speak through that thing using his voice,” Cole said. “That’d make things really weird between us.”

Rig laughed.

“Is there a point to this interruption?” Emmerich asked, armed still folded across her breasts.

Cole would swear Lin’s Rook was glaring at Emmerich. “I would not have interfered without good cause.” The device hovered partly above the console and partly over CAIN’s darkened light. It began a slow gyration, signifying an upload of information. “I may have a solution to our dilemma.”

Cole’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Dilemma is the understatement of the millennium, Doc. But far be it for me to question your optimism. Care to explain?”

“I’m entering coordinates into the system that will lead us to a familiar energy signature I’ve uncovered. I have firm reason to believe this section of the galaxy will provide us some necessary cover until further notice.”

Familiar energy signature? Cole thought, confounded. How will that protect us from being hunted down by all of humanity? He was about to voice this very question when an alarm sounded. A new window opened on the viewport screen, showing the arrival of a fleet of Military ships in range of Astercor.

Cole snapped closed his fallen jaw. “Wow, they don’t waste any time, do they?”

“It seems your plan worked a bit too well, Musgrave.”

“Hey, I never anticipated things would progress this far. I figured we’d be long-since dead or arrested when things backfired, leaving everyone else to clean up my mess.” He switched on the mimetic cloaking, though he was pretty sure he was too late. There was also one other major issue....

“Our Ocunet lenses are still transmitting a live signal to the Galactic Web satellite dish,” Lin said. “We will be tracked wherever we go unless we sever the connection. Unfortunately, we need CAIN to accomplish that. Destruction of the lenses would be our only chance.”

“But she just said we’d be safe wherever we’re going,” Rig said, speaking what everyone was thinking. “I miss something?”

I missed it too. “Lin?”

“Nothing has changed,” she said. “Follow the coordinates. The rest will take care of itself.”

“That’s not cryptic or anything,” Cole said as he finished plotting their course. “And besides, we still have to somehow get to wherever we’re going. Might be a tad difficult with Military soon to be on our ass.”

“The outskirts of Sagittarius A,” Lin’s Rook supplied as it finally slowed its spinning.

Cole shivered Sagittarius A* was located uncomfortably close to a supermassive black hole. A black hole with close ties to his checkered past. “Any particular reason why?”

“There’s no time for me to explain, Cole. You need to trust me.”

“What you need to do, Musgrave, is move this giant, stationary target of ours before they realize we’re not on Astercor and lock onto us.”

“Sage advice, Chrys,” Cole said, already implementing evasive maneuvers. “Guess I don’t have a choice, Doc. Trust now, explanation—hopefully—later. You better strap yourself in and secure whatever science experiment you’re working on back there. Things are about to get interesting.”

The Icarus rocketed toward the Sagittarius A* jump point with the universal hand of justice closing around them. Astercor was soon a distant speck behind the ship, though the encounter with Jude was still fresh in Cole’s mind. Estranged though his brother had been for most of his life, family was family no matter how divided it became. Cole was now the only living relative of both the Revan and Musgrave bloodline. Soon to be extinct, he thought, failing to stave his growing pessimism.

His eye twitched when the scanners detected a Military drone scouting the immediate area. He hoped the Icarus’s cloaking was enough to outwit the unwanted pest. He dimmed the lights in the bridge and closed his eyes, hoping that futile act would somehow confuse billions of scrutinizing eyes throughout the System. Mercifully, neither Emmerich nor Rig commented on his tactic.

“We’re coming up on the jump point,” Emmerich said, her voice strangely quiet.

We just might make it to the magical safe place after all, Cole thought, not feeling so confident about their destination. For him, only pain and tragedy resided at the center of the Milky Way. He hoped Lin knew of a way to help erase those memories.

The dark matter processor engaged moments later, and they slipped into the synthetic wormhole without incident. They spilled out near the galaxy’s epicenter and were surrounded by the blinding lights and colors of the Milky Way’s creation. It was a truly dazzling and beautiful site, marred by the uninviting pit of darkness that spawned it all.

The supermassive black hole lay at the center of Sagittarius A*, devouring all matter with an insatiable appetite. Cole stared in horror at the abyss, suddenly transported back fifteen years to when he committed the greatest atrocity of his life.

“You alright, Nugget?” Rig asked. “You see a ghost or something?”

“Five thousand one hundred twenty-two ghosts, to be exact,” Emmerich said, her quiet voice now filled with reverence. She cast Cole a side-long glance, and stared at her hands before pressing her eyes tightly shut.

She’s still affected by that day despite having no involvement, Cole thought, bewildered by her deep attachment to a career from which she willingly chose to walk.

“Oh, yeah... ‘The Revenge Horizon,’” Rig recalled. “Almost forgot about that little bit of distorted history.” He slapped Cole on his shoulder. “Cheer up. Not everyone thought you murdered all those soldiers.”

Cole swallowed. “I did.”

Emmerich’s eyes opened wide, and she gaped at him. Any thoughts she may have spoken were silenced by the blaring of warning klaxons. All attention on the bridge shifted to the viewport screen, where perimeter detection indicated a host of vessels were on the verge of entering the vicinity via the wormhole. They knew who it was but not their intentions.

A fleet Military ships of all sizes poured out and surrounded the Icarus. The entire System was about to watch a live broadcast of the hunt’s conclusion.

“You gotta plan, Nugget?”

Cole sucked in a deep breath of oxygenated air. “Yeah. It’s called ‘not get killed.’”

The mechanic shrugged. “Works for me.”

Emmerich shook her head and pointed sharply at the viewport screen. “Try explaining that to them.”

Cole glimpsed the flickering light as Starforce attempted to hail them. He answered the call and presented his best smile. It died on his face when he beheld the imposing, silver-haired man on the other end. Holy shit... Lin, you better be right about this place.

“Colonel Musgrave.”

Cole blinked. “Admiral Preston! I, um, appreciate that you still acknowledge my title, but that would be former colonel, sir.”

Arturo Preston, legendary admiral of the infamous Asterius and the only man in Military to ever garner Cole’s respect, offered the slightest hint of a smile beneath his thick, gray cookie-duster. “I want to say that I find your recent behavior surprising—appalling, even—but I know you. I understand you better than anyone who has ever had the displeasure of making your acquaintance. Your own mother didn’t know you the way I do.”

“Hey, you know me,” Cole said, the admiral’s gravelly voice wrecking his nerves and inspiring unnecessary jokes. “I’m just your typical one-time hero-turned-traitor on the run from the entire human race. How’ve you been?”

“Determined.” He straightened his immaculate, burgundy vest. “I was put at the forefront of this mission because of my relationship with you, and I felt it my duty to discover the truth behind your recent...escapades.”

“ ‘Escapades,’ ” Cole repeated. “I like that. It makes all my atrocities seem like an exotic weekend getaway. How about we pretend that’s why I flew us all the way out here to the edge of oblivion. Sightseeing.”

“Please disregard him, Admiral,” Emmerich interjected. “He doesn’t—”

No words were spoken to silence her; only a brief glance of abject disdain caused Emmerich to wilt in dejection. Cole knew that look well.

“As I said before; I know you,” Arturo continued as though she had not spoken. “Just as I know you have legitimate motives propelling your actions, troubling though they are. I wish to discover these motives.”

“You do, do you?” Cole said, sitting back in his flight chair and crossing his legs. “You know what I want? I want to know how me spilling my guts will help our situation. Will it stop you from vaporizing my ship?”

“It won’t.”

Cole snapped his fingers and pointed at Arturo. “A-ha! So I can just make up any ol’ shit that sounds remotely interesting and/or plausible—something to satisfy your morbid curiosity before you look me in the eyes and order my execution.”

Arturo’s head tilted ever so slightly, though his expression was still unreadable. “Had I wished it, you would already be dead. And what you confuse as morbid curiosity is actually concern for a former colleague.”

Cole suddenly saw red. He sat forward, clenching the chair’s armrests. “Don’t try and ingratiate yourself with me, Arturo. Not when we’re all staring death in the face. I’m not your friend, and I never was. Case and point, the Daedalus. Where the fuck were you when my mother brought Military’s reputation to brink of ruin? When she came out to this very location to unleash her wrath upon mankind? Oh, I remember. You were too busy ignoring the obvious signs of her insanity. And after that, you were too busy court-martialing me over an event you turned a blind eye to. Where was your so-called concern then?”

The lines on Arturo’s face tightened. “I was saving you from certain death.”

Cole’s face screwed up. “Come again?”

“I don’t deny my role in your detainment,” Arturo admitted. “Though what you fail to realize is my involvement after your incarceration.”

“Pointing out a complete lack of evidence wouldn’t have been very helpful,” Cole said, seeing through his lie. “Thanks for trying, though. I appreciate such a grand gesture, but it was kinda difficult for prosecutors to blame me for something that literally vanished, like an entire Military cruiser, namely one Daedalus.”

“Security video evidence I secretly ordered sequestered.”

Cole closed his eyes and breathed a heavy sigh. “You know, I thought you knew me better than to try and pass off this crackpot fairy tale of yours as fact. Especially since everything we’re discussing is being broadcast Systemwide. You might just be preparing yourself to be target practice like us.”

“And I thought you knew me better, Colonel,” Arturo replied. “Your transmission signal was disconnected the moment we followed you here to Sagittarius. It was intercepted by UniSys and severed by my command.”

Cole slipped into his Ocunet for confirmation and saw that Arturo was speaking the truth. Whaddya know... So much for trying to air his dirty laundry. I guess Cain never anticipated the broadcast wouldn’t last indefinitely after he went down.

“So you’re not a fibber,” Cole continued. “Alright, what’s your game? You here to overturn my dishonorable discharge? Maybe bring me back into the fold with Military and reinstate me as XO of the Asterius? Or is it more likely that you’re hoping for a hard-earned thank you before you press the big red death button?”

Cole thought Arturo was going to choose the latter of the two choices, so long was it taking him to answer. He turned his head partway to Rig and sent him a silent communiqué he’d been preparing since the conversation with Arturo had begun. The mechanic nodded a moment later, turned, and bolted from the bridge.

If the admiral noticed Rig’s departure, he did not acknowledge it. “Neither,” he finally answered. “Though it is abundantly clear that I won’t receive a straight answer from you were I to request one. Apparently you have fallen completely from grace and have chosen a life unbefitting a former ranking officer. You leave me no choice....”

“Now hold on there,” Cole said, raising a calming hand. “I think I have a pretty good idea why you personally tracked me all the way center of our galaxy. Based on your comment regarding the sequestration of this ‘security video evidence’ of my past actions—I assume gathered from my Ocunet lenses at the time—you wanted to see for yourself first-hand whether or not I was ever worth saving.” He waited, hoping he had bought some much needed time.

Arturo scowled. “Don’t play me for the fool, son. I’m well aware that you head this inconceivable operation. Your acts are well documented. What I asked for is your motives. Why have you chosen this pitiful pirate’s life after you had finally managed to climb up and out of ostracization?”

“I’m reckless,” Cole answered without hesitation. He thumbed in Emmerich’s direction. “She’d agree with me were she not studying the fabric on her pants.” He leaned forward again and rested both elbows on the ship’s console. “This is what I do now—what I always should’ve been doing. I just didn’t realize it until I turned forty. I’m an outcast who seeks danger, resents authority, marches to the beat of my own drum, and has...well, used to have a notorious family of murderous crime lords and a maniac admiral mother of multi-trillion unicred ship I singlehandedly took out.” He slipped off his leather gloves, revealing the horrible scars on his burned hands. He displayed them and wiggled his fingers for effect. “Ugly, aren’t they? They’re a constant reminder of the lengths to which I went to stop my mother from committing genocide.”

Arturo was shaking his head. “I’m disappointed.”

“Aw, sorry, Dad.”

“I wanted to believe you had risen above the sum of your family’s fell ways,” the admiral said as though Cole hadn’t spoken. “But their curse lives on through you.”

“Now, wait a minute! Just because you can’t understand why circumstance led me down this path, that doesn’t mean I’m suddenly the villain. I’m not particularly proud, but I have accepted my lot in life—even if I wasn’t a willing recipient.” He launched himself back into his chair with a whump. “I’ll bet all of my documented acts don’t tell the whole story.”

“None of that matters anymore.”

Cole didn’t like the distance in Arturo’s voice. He liked even less the multiple targets that had locked onto the Icarus. Uh oh....

“Set our next jump point for the black hole.”

It was Lin gently whispering through her Rook. Cole had forgotten the device was there beside him. “That won’t be easy,” he whispered back out of the corner of his mouth. Then, Is she crazy?

“Goodbye, Cole.” Arturo said just before his face vanished from the viewport screen.

“The black hole it is!” Cole shouted, hoping against all hope the stealth and mimetic cloaking functions would be enough to temporarily evade a Military onslaught. He assumed full manual control, pushing the Icarus for all she was worth. The explosive light show of death erupted all around them, making it almost impossible to see where they were going.

“Feel free to drop the drone anytime, Rig.”

“Kinda hard with a war happening outside,” the mechanic said via comm. “Almost ready.”

“Rig! We are going to die!”

“Just a second, Nugget,” Rig mumbled, then shared a few choice words. “Aaaaannnnnd...she’s away!”

“Fly that bad boy right at the Asterius,” Cole said, struggling to maintain control.

“It’ll never make it,” Rig said. “’Sides, it ain’t gonna do much if it does.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just need a distrac—”

BOOM!

The force of the explosion came much sooner and closer than Cole had hoped it would. The hidden nuke on the drone sent the Icarus reeling. Cole peeled himself off the console and plopped back into his flight chair, head spinning. He could see that Emmerich was still in her chair, properly locked into place. He followed her lead, clumsily snapping the harness into place with one hand while attempting to regain control with the other. Disgusted, he abandoned all safety practices, focusing his efforts on righting the ship. He pretended not to notice the damage warnings flashing all over the viewport screen.

Emmerich said nothing through it all, staring ahead blankly as though nothing dramatic was occurring. Cole appreciated her silence, but it was the sudden lack of Military fire that brought a smile to his face.

“Did we take ‘em out?” Rig asked.

Cole laughed in spite of himself. “No, but I think they believe they took us out. That explosion was so close that they could’ve easily mistaken it for us. How fortuitous! Happy accident! Why didn’t I think of that? I was only hoping to draw their fire and distract them long enough to fly us where no ship has gone before. And as long as we maintain our speed, stealth, and cloaking, we just might make it.”

“Um, did you say black hole?” Rig asked.

“Should be fun, right?”

A single missile appeared on the viewport screen, speeding toward the Icarus at an incredible rate. Cole paled when he registered what it was. “Starkiller....”

Emmerich suddenly awoke from her coma. The two shared a look only high-ranking officers of Military could understand. No amount of fancy maneuvers would be able to avoid an explosion that could literally wipe out a planet. And with the black hole still well out of reach, the time of the Icarus was finally up.

“What’s goin’ on?”

Cole glanced over his shoulder at Rig, who had returned to the bridge. He blinked a couple times, unsure why the mechanic and everything around him appeared to be glowing. “We’re about to die. That’s what’s goin’ on.”

Rig shook his head, his attention on his hands. “No. What’s...happening...to...us?”

Cole opened his mouth to reply, but no words came. In fact, all sound had ceased as the unexplained light continued to brighten, swallowing everything in sight. He turned—or at least he thought he had turned—back toward the console to see if the missile had detonated. It would explain that this bizarre experience was part of their journey to the afterlife.

But it wasn’t.

According to the nearly white viewport screen, the Starkiller was passing through them, undetonated. It—along with everything else—succumbed to the blinding light, and there was a incredible rushing sensation just before all sense of consciousness was lost.

10

PARTICLES

Sensation returned to Cole after an indeterminate amount of time. The blinding light had subsided, revealing a familiar setting. He looked around; Emmerich was still beside him, Rig standing a short distance behind. All appeared as it should be.

Except for the world beyond the Icarus.

Gone was the Asterius and its failed assault. Any evidence of the extinction missile was missing, though the substantial hull and engine damage from their escape remained. Superficially, none of it appeared critical, but it would have to be addressed.

The glow of the black hole’s fiery corona was as evident as ever, but there was something off about it. Cole blinked several times and shook his head, ignoring the oddity. He turned to address the crew.

“That just happened, right?” Rig asked, his voice unusually timid.

Cole faced Emmerich, who silently returned his stare. It was on her face: she had experienced the whiteout too. “Yeah.”

“Are we dead?”

Cole rolled his eyes and stood. “If we were dead, and we went to either heaven or hell—most likely hell—I would’ve expected to see fire, brimstone, and other such nonsense.”

Rig nodded. “Huh.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Cole said, patting the stocky mechanic’s arm as he passed him, Lin’s Rook in-tow. “Maybe you should take my seat.”

“Where are you going?”

“To check on Doc. You guys hang out here, and make sure we don’t have any more surprise visits from former employers.”

He left the bridge with those comments, and headed down the hall to the medical bay, the Rook hovering silently beside him. So many questions filled his mind, and he knew only she would be able to answer them. He hoped that fluttering feeling in his stomach was nothing more than a false alarm.

She was right where he expected her to be, nose-down in whatever complex project she’d been working on, in the repurposed storage room directly across from the medical bay. Her Rook spoke before he entered, scaring him into missing a step.

“This is your first uninvited visit to my lab.”

Cole did his best to cover up his stumble, but it only made matters worse. He admired a rare, beaming smile on Lin’s otherwise haggard expression. Those intelligent eyes, mysterious and full of life and excitement, could not completely eclipse the puffy bags hanging heavy beneath. Only intense research could make her this excited, overlooking their narrow escape. It was a form of mania she’d displayed the moment she had accepted the freedom to continue her work. How had he not noticed her exhaustion earlier?

“Been busy digging my own grave.” He entered the “lab,” admiring the machines she had gathered aboard to further her research. He lightly dragged a fingertip across the one piece of equipment that had originally been secured beneath the Olympus Mons nature center on Mars. A collider of some sort, named Colossus. “But something in my gut tells me you had a hand in prolonging my funeral.”

Lin raised an eyebrow. She looked at an empty chair beside her, and Cole accepted the offer. As he stepped over an ocean of wires to reach her, he immediately felt the heat radiating off the collection of electronic devices now encircling him. He sat down and collected her hand.

“So, what’d you do?”

An ever rarer mischievous smirk graced Lin’s face, though it was gone in an instant. “I saved us,” she said as her Rook resumed its usual place near her head. “In the only way I knew how.”

Cole prepared himself for another one of her verbose, technobabble explanations. He squeezed her hand. “And just how did you save us?”

“By successfully transporting us to another universe. Atomic Particle Deconstruction, a process which temporarily altered our physical bodies into an energized state, allowing us to safely travel through the black hole by creating a wormhole jump point inside the event horizon. Thus we were able to travel at the necessary speed of light to survive the journey.”

None of her words registered. “Um...would that be the Cosmic Particle research you’d mentioned before?”

“Correct.” She was positively elated, shaking almost.

Two words finally parted his mind fog. “The same research your crazy father said wasn’t real? You somehow managed to make it work and send us to another universe.”

“Yes.” She squeezed his hand in return, laughing.

“Another universe?”

She smiled her brightest smile, and he could have made love to her right then and there. “Another universe. We’re...” he gestured all around himself, “...in a separate universe from the one in which we live?”

“The multiverse exists, and I have finally, scientifically, proven it.”

Cole let go her hand and fell back into his seat, the enormity of her explanation beginning to assimilate. His girlfriend, Doctor Lin Dartmouth, daughter of the fanatical genius, Kingston Dartmouth—better known as The Singularity—had helped the crew of the Icarus to evade certain death by transporting them to an alternate universe. An entirely new plane of worlds, where everything was completely new and undiscovered. A place upon which science had only speculated for centuries. She had managed to not only prove its existence but discover a means of travel there as well.

Fuck me!

Cole smiled back in spite of himself. Against all odds, the impossible had been achieved. The crew of the Icarus were the fortunate brave souls forging a path in a universe untouched by man. It was the very definition of what NASA had set out to accomplish with their Uncharted program. Now Cole was living it, experiencing a form of the dream he had always hoped to achieve.

Too bad no one outside this ship will ever know about it.

“The multiverse! Sure, why not? I believe you. I mean, it’s not anymore unbelievable than the life I’m currently leading.” Cole threw up his hands as a sign of forced acceptance. “I’d ask how any of this is possible with only a closet room full of bizarre, high-tech machinery, but I wouldn’t understand your explanation anyway. So, I’ll just skip that part and say...” He sat forward and hugged Lin, holding her tight. “...you’re amazing!”

Lin tensed, though Cole had expected it. Despite their budding romance, she was closer to and more familiar with quantum computing than human emotions. “Thanks,” she said, suddenly sheepish. “Though it’s you who should receive accolades. If you hadn’t risked yourself by collecting the necessary materials and allotting me the time to finalize the calculations, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Wherever here is,” Cole said, pulling away. “Any chance you know the answer to that question without having to give me a full dissertation?”

Lin shook her head, her smile diminishing.

Cole shrugged and stood. “Hey, we’ll just add it to the growing list of items requiring our attention. But before we can explore our new universe, I should probably tend to our crumbling ship. She took a little abuse before we did whatever it was we did to get here.”

Lin flicked her hand downward and pressed an invisible button. It was the universal sign for shutting down augmented reality in Ocunet. “Anything with which we should be concerned?”

“Yeah, probably,” Cole admitted, rubbing the back of his head. “But we have nothing but time to conduct repairs, and that’s way better than being vaporized.”

Lin’s smiled strengthened; she rose with her Rook behind her. “I should check on CAIN, then.”

The AI was one topic Cole was hoping not to discuss. Since having reestablished itself with the ship’s mainframe, CAIN had gone dormant. He feared the worst.

“Are you sure you want to do that? You might not like what you find.”

Lin nodded with reservation. “I have to attempt to troubleshoot for a solution. Besides, it’s as you say: we have nothing but time.”

Cole’s smile hid his true feelings. Time enough until we run out of food, air, or the ship collapses. “If anyone can save him, it’s you. But don’t you want to come to the bridge first and see the untouched space canvas?”

He saw her hesitate. It was clear that she was more interested in the execution of her experiment, not the point to where it had led them. “Don’t worry, it’s not going anywhere. ‘Sides, I have to fill in the others about our situation and convince them not to kill me.”

Lin looked relieved. “I’ll keep you updated on my progress.”

Cole glanced at her new Rook—the one containing the mind of the Singularity. “Maybe Kingston’ll give you a little assistance while you’re down there.”

Her response was only a blink, leaving Cole feeling incredibly awkward. To ease the tension, he leaned close and kissed her on the cheek before heading back to the bridge. As he walked away, he could swear he felt two sets of eyes staring at the back of his head.

~

“Can’t do any hull repairs.”

Cole stared down at the mechanic, hands on his hips. A part of him regretted having utilized the drone to distract the Asterius. The small, confiscated vessel had been their main resource for heavy duty external repairs. Now that it was destroyed, they were left with only one option.

“We’ll have to use the spacesuits to fix what we can.”

Rig folded his arms. “I’m all for manual labor, Nugget, but can either of you do more than yank a stick to make this bird move?”

Cole had minimal training in mechanical engineering, and from Emmerich’s grim expression, she had even less. “How bad is the damage?”

Rig grinned, knowing exactly why the question had been asked. “Mostly cosmetic, but engine one is struggling, and there’s a small breach in one of the bunks. Yours.”

Great. That explains the emergency seal blocking my entry. “Well, Rig, I guess you’re in charge. We’ll follow your lead.”

“Just a minute.” They were the first words Emmerich had spoken since their conflict with Admiral Preston.

Cole could already feel the tension begin anew, knowing exactly what she would say.

“What happened?”

Cole decided to return a simple question with a simple answer. “We escaped.”

“So help me, Musgrave....”

“You’ll what? If you want answers, I suggest you take your inquisition to Doc,” Cole snapped. “Though you better be nice to her, because she’s the one who saved our asses.”

Emmerich’s jaw clenched. “Would her actions explain why nothing outside the ship registers on our charts?”

“It would.” Cole was already tired of talking to her. He had not forgotten what she had done back on the asteroid alongside his brother. The longer he stared at her, the more he wanted to break her face. “Does it matter what happened? We’re here now. Alive.” He could see she wanted to press the issue, but the weight behind his words had deflated her attack.

“Looks the same to me,” Rig said of the current view of outer space. To the inexperienced eye, it looked little more than endless darkness, sprinkled with salt.

Cole grinned. He knew better. That was not Sagittarius A* low on the horizon. It was... He had not the slightest clue what it was. A closed door on my past life.

“Nobody wants to get out there and explore it more than I do,” Cole said, still marveling at the beautiful sight, “but we can’t until we patch up the Icarus. Are you with me?” Rig was already heading toward the lift. Cole waited for Emmerich’s miserable nod.

“We may have escaped,” Emmerich said, “but we only prolonged the inevitable.”

Cole shook his head. Regardless of his current feelings toward Emmerich, there was no need to fan the flames of discord. He gently grasped her forearm. “Chrys. I won’t claim to understand your obsession with your staunch opposition to my every move—nor do I want an explanation—but I do know you have your reasons. We’re probably never going to see eye-to-eye, and that’s fine. As much as I want to smash your head in, I do—on some microscopic level—appreciate you keeping me on my toes.”

Emmerich arched an eyebrow. “You’re an asshole.”

Cole smiled and squeezed her arm. “Coming from you, that’s a compliment.”

She sighed, but, her nod carried with it a sense of acceptance.

He let her go and rubbed his hands together. “You ready to help me help Rig screw up repairs?”

Emmerich’s attention, however, was on the viewport screen. Something about her expression sent a chill down his spine. He accessed his Ocunet, and enlarged the distant, stationary object. The information that appeared could not be correct.

He reread the words and knew that he had spotted a ghost.

11

ABANDONED

The history surrounding the disappearance of the Daedalus was widely known, though the details were sketchy at best. Aside from Cole’s alleged involvement, and the security footage that incriminated him, there was next to nothing proving the ship had been destroyed or had ever even existed. Regardless, the court of public opinion had rendered the Musgrave name guilty, despite the verdict to the contrary. His legacy forever tarnished, Cole lived his life until society redirected its hate toward the next major scandal.

Cole could never forget the traumatic experience. A familiar phantom pain flared beneath his gloves as he gazed upon the vessel he was certain he had sent to the furthest depths of hell. It was here, in an unknown universe, like a nightmarish monster hiding in the underworld, waiting to spring out of a child’s bedroom closet and spread its torment. The child was Cole, and his monster, the Daedalus.

It was rare for Cole to be at a loss for words; he had his mother to thank for that. The thought she could have survived his murderous attempt scared him to death. However the closer they got to the battlecruiser, and the longer he gazed upon the massive ship’s hull, the more he doubted anyone aboard was alive. The Daedalus was intact, though it had been shut down. Initial scanners turned up empty.

It’s been here nearly fifteen years, Cole thought, wondering if the entire crew had died upon arrival, or if they had slowly starved.

“How are we supposed to dock?” Emmerich asked.

Cole shrugged. “Maybe we can find an empty escape hatch and force our way in.”

“If any of the pods launched,” Rig noted. “Might be the whole damn crew is dead inside.”

Cole cast the mechanic a quizzical glance. “Glass entirely empty kinda guy, eh?”

“Hey, I just call it like I see it. You saw what that scanner said.”

Cole nodded. “Point taken. Even if somebody survived the trip here, oxygen and supplies would be long-since depleted.” He drummed his fingers on the console. “Maybe I’ll just make a nice Icarus-sized hole for us to fly through.”

“No.”

Cole squeezed his eyes shut. “Care to explain, Chrys?”

Emmerich sat up straighter. “That I have to explain myself makes me seriously doubt your status as captain.”

“No, don’t,” Cole said, raising a hand to stop her. “I’ll play this game.” He looked up at the viewport screen and rubbed his hands together. “I get three chances. One: You would consider it sacrilegious to unnecessarily damage such a reputable vessel before conducting a thorough investigation. Two: Watching dead, exploded soldiers’ bodies floating out into space would be gross. Three: You don’t actually have a reason, and you’re just trying to piss me off yet again. How’d I do?”

Emmerich’s face was red. “Just don’t damage the ship.”

Lin’s Rook hovered beside Cole’s face. “I have to agree. Inflicting damage upon a stationary vessel like this may alert whatever security system may still be in place, sending the entire computer system into lockdown and rendering the mainframe inaccessible. The stored information could offer us answers.”

Cole was drumming his fingers again. “Fine, we’ll do it the usual way: choose the path fraught with danger, and hope for the best.”

Rig chuckled.

Cole caught the briefest of glances between Lin and Emmerich and wondered what sort of silent message had been conveyed. “Alright, let’s find our rabbit hole.”

A schematic of the Daedalus appeared on the viewport screen as the Icarus cruised along the surface of the massive ship. They inspected each pod on the starboard, dismayed to find them all intact. As they made their way over to the port, the search came to an abrupt halt. Here they located a gaping opening large enough to dock ten squadrons of cargo vessels. The damage was immense, though any sign of debris was nowhere to be seen.

“Sagan’s ass, that’s a big hole,” Cole said, marveling at the destruction. “What happened here?” He immediately regretted the question.

“You of anyone here should have a solid idea,” Emmerich said.

Cole was shaking his head before she finished. “This wasn’t me. My assault was from the inside.” He pointed at the damaged hull. “This was an exterior attack.”

The viewport screen automatically indicated a location where large portions of thick steel was curled inward like some creature’s half clenched fist. Other charred areas further in were completely melted, indicating direct blasts from a very powerful energy-based weapon. Such a discovery may have cleared Cole of any wrongdoing, but it brought forth a terrifying new realization.

Something in this new universe had attacked the Daedalus.

~

“I told you this platform would hold.”

Cole was glad for Rig’s switch toward optimism. He himself was not quite so eager to land in the badly damaged pod bay. While the attack may have happened years ago, whatever had inflicted it could easily return.

“Alright. Time to suit up, boys and girls,” Cole said to the uneasy crew. “We got a lot of work ahead of us. Aside from exploring this ghost ship, we’ll have to put Humpty Dumpty back together again while we have a nice, flat surface to work on.”

“There’ll probably be parts we can use in the engineering bay,” Rig suggested.

Cole snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “Good thinking. Take the portable cargo arm for any big parts, and try not to have too much fun knocking things over.” He ignored Rig’s grin. “We should also keep an eye out for any usable supplies. I’ll leave that to you, Chrys.”

“I’d like to accompany you aboard to conduct my own investigation,” Lin said.

The protective boyfriend in Cole wanted to tie her down to a chair and lock her away somewhere safe, but he knew she was a capable woman. Lab work might be her forte, but there was a side of her that housed unexpected heroics. Besides, he wanted to know what it was she was investigating. He smiled and nodded.

“This is a survival mission,” Emmerich said to Lin. “Not some science experiment.”

“Really?” Cole said before Lin could retort. “Again with the assholishness? Are you that shortsighted, or do you just live to make everyone’s life aboard this ship a living hell?” He stood and angrily brushed past her. “We need intel as much as we need supplies.”

Cole was grateful to not receive an argument from Emmerich. He did, however, hear her mutter something unintelligible before standing and joining the rest of the crew as they suited up. A large part of him wanted to confine her to the bridge to be rid of her, but four sets of hands were better than three when scavenging a ship the size of a small city.

EVA suits properly secured and magboots engaged, the crew of four waited for the lower cargo bay to pressurize before opening the payload door to step down and explore the unknown. Each of them was armed, though only Emmerich had her rifle drawn. Everyone had their own assigned locations to explore; Cole was to accompany Lin for reasons mostly selfish. Despite the damage, he knew she would be able to crack the ship’s code to infiltrate the mainframe. He had nagging urge to uncover the truth of the Daedalus’s fate.

Emmerich, as expected, disapproved, though Cole ignored her attempt to convince him to cover more ground. Rig, also as expected, did not care what anyone did. The mechanic was focused solely on bringing the Icarus back up to speed.

You understand that she’s right, Lin communicated via Ocunet text. Her Rook, while capable of braving open space, was unable to properly vocalize in a vacuum. It hovered next to her, silent.

“That must’ve pained you to say that,” Cole said, switching the comm so only she could hear him. “I know how close the two of you are.”

Regardless of our relationship, sound advice is sound advice.

“I know, and you’re right,” Cole said, blushing. “But I’m captain of the Icarus, and I have a reputation of ignoring sound advice.”

It’s all right. I recognize your true intentions, and I understand your desire to seek closure.

“But?”

Lin shook her head. I don’t anticipate I’ll be able to access the mainframe and uncover this ship’s history, let alone locate a viable power source.

To satisfy your own desires as well, Cole thought. He couldn’t blame her for keeping the details surrounding this little side venture to herself, but he always thought the key to a good relationship was open communication. He considered all of his own dark secrets yet to be revealed and decided to overlook her secretiveness. Besides, he liked a woman with a little mystery. He only hoped that it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

“It’s times like these we could really use Cain,” Cole said. “What’s his status?”

Unstable.

Cole waited for a more detailed analysis from Lin, but he never got one. One word? That’s it? I can’t let this slide. “That bad, eh?”

There was a long pause. I honestly don’t know. I’m unable to perform a proper diagnosis while the Sentinel is still imbedded in CAIN’s system. The digital consciousness transfer occurred successfully, though the virus was enacted in the process. As far as sustained damage, that’s impossible to say. I had expected to discover CAIN’s memory banks wiped clean and the virus gone, but that has not happened.

Cole was hopeful. “So, you’re saying he’s got a chance?”

Lin shook her head. An attempt to ward off the attack will be waged, but it’s only a matter of time before the inevitable occurs.

Cole’s face twisted in disappointment. “Well, we can’t worry about that right now. We just have to hope he’ll surprise us one more time.”

As the pair wove their way deeper into the ship, they were acutely aware of the lack of corpses. The Daedalus was enormous, with plenty of hiding places, but that they had not yet discovered any evidence was disconcerting.

They ascended another empty flight of stairs, this one leading toward the bridge where they planned to establish a proper connection with the mainframe. Cole wiped a thick-gloved hand on the railing, coming away with a powdery, dark residue.

“Looks like this ship’s been abandoned for awhile,” he said, showing her the tips of his fingers. “I’m no dust expert, but finding this much on an active stairwell, this far inside, can only mean I’m right.”

Lin nodded. The subzero temperature is constant as well. Nothing living could survive in here for long—even with supplies and a spacesuit.

Cole shined his helmet lantern toward the ajar door at the top of the steps. “Speaking of nothing living, where the hell is everyone? And even more important, what happened here?”

He didn’t expect a response, nor did her receive one. The more he considered the mounting evidence, the less he understood. Taking a silent cue from Lin, he accompanied her up the remaining steps and hoped to find the answers he was seeking on the bridge.

The longer they navigated the Daedalus’s interior, the more Cole began to relive his brief time aboard. And then there was the crime he’d committed...rather, thought he’d committed. The ship’s layout, size excluded, was not dissimilar to that of the Asterius. The Daedalus was the largest and most expensive ship in Military’s fleet, as he recalled being told at least a dozen times during his court martial interrogation. He smirked in spite of the shame and regret he still carried upon his shoulders.

“We’re here,” Cole said, breaking the long, uncomfortable silence.

They stepped into the heart and soul of the Daedalus, only to find that it was as empty as the rest of the ship. The same layer of dust that lined the stairwell covered everything in here as well. Fortunately, the consoles and all the equipment appeared to be intact. Whether or not it worked was another story.

Lin made straight for the nearest server. Her Rook glowed as it hovered over top the console. Its gyroscopic rotation told Cole she was attempting a wireless connection. All he could do was stand by, watch, and hope.

It was in the midst of his anticipation that Emmerich decided to make contact.

“This place is vacant.”

“Yeah, we haven’t seen any bodies either.”

“No, you don’t understand. It’s more than a lack of people; there aren’t any supplies—like it was raided.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“What’s more,” she continued, “every ship in the hangar is missing.”

“I like that even less.”

“Musgrave. What happened here?”

Cole suddenly felt uneasy and vulnerable. “That’s what we’re attempting to find out right now. Just keep searching, but stay alert. This might take a little bit.”

I’m in.

“Or not,” Cole said to Emmerich. “Hold tight. I’ll keep you updated.”

Lin stepped back and raised both her arms, her hands expertly pushing, swiping, and tapping an AR computer only she could see. She tossed empty air his way, and he entered his Ocunet to join the digital investigation.

“Whoa...” Countless windows with endless lists and files were opening and closing. A wide array of images, ranging from detailed schematics to family photos, joined the sensory onslaught, and he wondered if it was possible for her to absorb so much information in so short a time. Before he could ask her that very question, a nondescript list froze on the screen. He recognized it as the Daedalus’s directory.

This doesn’t make sense, Lin wrote. How can that be possible?

“ ‘Deceased’?” Cole read aloud, the word emblazoned in red on every single line. His eyes flew across the massive list of names, some of which he recognized. “How many people are on there?”

Lin gave a quick shake of her head and scrolled down the list in search of a single green active status. When she hit the bottom, she turned to Cole, her eyes wide.

“I don’t understand,” Cole said, pounding his fists together. “That’s over five thousand people. How can the entire crew be dead but there be no bodies?” An image of his mother’s gray and frozen corpse flashed in his mind.

Whether or not they’re actually deceased, I should be able to locate them since they are physically connected to the system, Military branding.

“Track-Ink,” Cole muttered, recalling digital tattoo that had once been encoded onto the back of his left hand. He glanced down, recalling a time before they had scoured it from his skin and tossed him out of the service like garbage. To this day, he was amazed they had decided to snip their invisible tether and allow him to integrate into society.

The search is coming up empty, Lin wrote. If this is accurate, then no one is aboard.

Cole swallowed hard. “What about security footage or possibly locating a status log of when all the ships vacated the premises? There must be some sort of evidence to explain what happened here.”

Lin’s nod seemed hesitant. I’ll see what I can uncover, but without power, there’s no telling how long before I am unable to search the system hard drive.

Cole stepped back to allow her space to madly filter through the classified files. He used the time to update both Emmerich and Rig. “Alright guys, it appears this boat was not only hijacked of its valuables by an unknown entity, but all our Starforce brothers and sisters have vanished as well.”

“What the shit?”

“Can’t explain it, big guy,” Cole said to the unusually frazzled mechanic. “But it is what it is, so I suggest you and Chrys wrap up your search and make your way back to the Icarus. We’ll discuss it more there.”

Rig acknowledged the order with a grunt, but when Emmerich did not reply, Cole’s anxiety raised a little higher. “You get that, Chrys?”

“I got that, ,” she replied quietly, after a slight delay.

“Why are you speaking in hushed tones?”

Another, much longer pause filled the silence. “You need to get down here.”

“What? Get down where?” Cole asked, frantically zooming in on her position. She did not give any further details, though he would not have heard her anyway. He located her pinging dot just outside the engine room. Right where he had enacted his sabotage.

“Chrys?” He had taken to speaking softly as well. “What do you see?”

“I—I don’t know....”

“Give me access to your visuals.”

Cole.

He looked up at Lin, reaching a new level of fear.

There’s something down there with her.

12

GUARDIAN

“Something?”

This was the second time Cole had repeated the word. It had stood out in Lin’s statement, begging to be discussed. But it wasn’t until he grabbed her shoulder that she seemed to acknowledge he was even in the same room as her.

She blinked, her brow furrowing. I’m not entirely certain. It appears to be some sort of living energy source.

Cole was startled by the emergence of the visuals he had requested, but he saw nothing but darkness. For a harrowing moment, he thought that Emmerich was dead. That makes no sense, he thought, considering that she had just connected to him.

“Something’s wrong with your lenses, Chrys.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she replied in a forceful hiss. “My lantern is off, and I’m in a corner, staring at a wall.”

Cole shrugged. “Well, that kinda defeats the purpose of—”

“Get your ass down here, Musgrave!”

He was already running down the hall toward the steps, one eye focused on her visuals. “Stay and lock yourself on the bridge, or get back to the ship!” he shouted over his shoulder to Lin. “Don’t come after me!”

He rushed down the steps, skipping the majority of them. When he hit the landing, he ran and yanked his rifle off his shoulder, switching off the safety. He propped the stock in the crook of his firing arm and steadied the forestock with the other. He flicked on the scope light in addition to his helmet lantern. By the time he was sprinting down the adjoining hallway, he had transported himself back twenty years to when he was fresh out of boot camp.

He was also firmly entrenched in his Corner.

“You see my location, Rig?”

“You move any faster Nugget, you’re gonna run straight into a wall.”

“How close are you to Chrys’s location?”

“Not as close as you. Gonna be a few minutes.”

Cole kicked open a partially ajar door, blinking through the heavy dust. Another glimpse at Emmerich’s location gave him pause, and he slowed. She was peeking around a corner, and he squinted from the unexplained brightness. What he saw was a being unlike anything he’d ever seen before. She pulled back into the dark corner, and he could hear her heavy breathing.

“I’m almost there, Chrys. Make sure your rifle’s shocked and coded.”

“What?” was her nearly inaudible response.

“You know,” Cole said, hoping his blathering would keep her calm. “It’s like locked and loaded, only we can’t do that to a plasma rifle. So I figure shocked and coded would work for the more advanced weaponry.” He smirked.

He heard her take a deep breath. “You’re such an ass.”

“Yeah, and this ass is coming to employ some serious recklessness to save yours.”

Cole received no further reply, and he utilized the silence to further prepare himself for whatever was to come. His mind, however, ran wild with what he’d seen, and he wondered if he would need to employ his rifle. Regardless of whether or not this being was extraterrestrial, he would use deadly force if necessary. That would make for one hell of a first contact.

He rounded a corner too fast, and his shoulder slammed into the wall, killing his momentum. That was when an arm reached out and snatched his. He glimpsed the briefest flash of the violet light he’d seen earlier just as he was yanked into a dark corner alongside Emmerich. He was face-to-face with her, their helmets touching, bodies pressed tightly against one another.

“Are you insane?” she hissed. “Running toward that thing like some frontline grunt?”

Cole blinked, wondering how it was he was already at the engine room. “Sorry. My instincts took over. I did promise you I’d do something reckless.”

Emmerich let go his arms and shoved him aside. “We don’t even know what we’re up against. Running in blind will get you killed.”

Cole turned toward the engine room entrance, noticing a faint blue glow spilling from within. “Has it showed any sign of aggression?”

“No. Though it might reconsider after seeing your idiotic act of heroism.”

“Does it know you’re here?”

“I think so. It hasn’t moved since I first came down here.”

He could see she was petrified, though she was doing her best to hide it with false bravado. “I’m gonna go have a quick chat with it.”

She grabbed the front of his suit and yanked him close once more, their helmets smacking this time. “Are you crazy?”

He made no effort to pry away from her vice grip. “No, but standing here in a dark corner, quaking in our boots, isn’t doing us any good. Either we make a run for it, or we see what we’re up against.”

“I say we run.”

“And risk having that thing misunderstand our intentions and chase us instead?” He was shocked by her turn-tail attitude. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe it’s afraid of us as well? Maybe even cautiously curious?”

“We’re not here to make friends. This is a....”

Cole pulled free of her grip and spun to find Rig strolling toward the engine room entrance. Oh, yeah. I forgot about him.

Both he and Emmerich lunged toward the surprised mechanic and dragged his stocky frame into the increasingly crowded corner. Now three helmets were butted together, weapons clattering, and personal space at a premium.

“Uh, what are we doing?” Rig asked, eyes darting between Cole and Emmerich.

“Group huddle,” Cole supplied, slapping the mechanic on his shoulder. “I was just about to have a chat with our glowing friend around the corner.”

“No, you weren’t,” Emmerich snapped. “We’re making a break for the ship.”

“We already went over this,” Cole said, his hand gesticulations causing his helmet to rattle against the others’. “It already knows we’re over here, and it hasn’t attacked us. It’s had plenty of time to melt us with its alien ray gun.”

“Knowin’ you, you’ll say somethin’ stupid and piss it off,” Rig said.

“If it even speaks our language, or at all,” Emmerich added. “Perhaps it’s content with staying in the engine room, which is fine with me. There’s no need to take an unnecessary risk.”

“Yes, there is!” Cole said much louder than he had intended. “What do you want us to do? Fly a damaged ship around an uncharted universe? How fast do you think we—Rig—will be able to fix the Icarus after we turn our backs on possibly the greatest discovery known to mankind? How well are you going to be able to work knowing it can come up at any time and visit us?”

Neither had an answer.

“The best thing we can do is attempt to establish contact and hope for a positive outcome,” Cole continued. “It’s not like we...have...to....”

A fourth being had partially stepped into view, the soft, chalky, violet glow illuminating the dark corner in which the trio was standing. It was humanoid in appearance though most of its form was still hidden from view. It did not fully present itself, remaining hidden, like a child thinking he was spying on his parents.

Cole’s eyes hurt from opening so wide, but he could not close them even if he wanted to—which he did not. “Hi!” he said, waving to the being. He tried to take a step toward it, but Emmerich’s frantic grip was threatening to sever his arm. A quick look and a tap on her hand was all he needed to regain feeling. When he turned back, the being was gone.

“Good one, Nugget,” Rig said. “You scared it away with pleasantries.”

“What was it I was saying about it maybe being afraid of us?” Cole asked. The question was rhetorical, though he had purposefully directed it toward Emmerich. She glared in response.

Rig pointed. “It’s coming back.”

A glowing, violet hand gripped the doorway, and Cole seized the opportunity. He took a slow, cautious step in its direction and thought of Lin. “I assume you’re watching this?” he asked barely above a whisper.

I am.

“Good, because you’re about to witness the least qualified person for this job.”

No one can prepare for a situation such as this.

Cole knew she meant the words as consolation, but they only added to his anxiety. He could feel Rig’s and Emmerich’s eyes boring four holes into the back of his skull, and he wondered if they had enough sense not to open fire with any sudden movements. He decided to lay his rifle down on the ground before he presented himself. He switched off Emmerich’s comm the moment she angrily acknowledged his gesture.

The violet hand became an arm as he neared the engine room entrance. The arm was attached to a body roughly the same size as his, though far more slender. And as soon as the being’s two milky white eyes met his, it shrunk away. Cole held up both his open, empty hands in what he hoped was a universal non-threatening sign. As he watched it retreat further into the room, the being glowed brighter as it moved toward a large rotating object that looked like a silver cylinder. The device was nearly silent, save a smooth, gentle whirring which vibrated through the floor. He stared it, vaguely recalling it from when he was last aboard the Daedalus, exacting his justice.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in as friendly a tone he could muster.

You’re in a vacuum, Cole, Lin explained. It can only see your lips moving.

Cole’s cheeks caught fire. I’m such an idiot. “Thanks, Doc. I’m glad one of us was paying attention to that blunder. Guess I’ll have to pantomime this first contact. Now if only I had the first clue how not to offend with a rude gesture....”

“There is no need.”

Cole jumped when a male voice filled his comm. He looked at the others, who appeared to have heard it as well. He returned his attention to the being. “You...you can hear and understand me?”

The being nodded, though it was still slowly moving away.

“That’s fantastic!” Cole smiled and lowered his arms. “Then I trust you understand we mean you no harm.”

“I understand humans trust their violent instincts in the face of the unknown.”

The corner of Cole’s mouth twitched. This ought to be fun. “Well, if you understand humans so well, then you’re aware that not all of us are predisposed towards violence.”

The being was standing directly in front of the cylinder as though protecting it. “It is unavoidable. Violence is inherent in mankind’s nature no matter their efforts toward instilling civility. You are simply barbaric creatures masquerading as sophisticated philanthropists.”

Cole folded his arms across his chest, forgetting that he was talking with an intelligent life form from another universe. “Wow... A bit harshly judgmental, aren’t you? Tell me, how can you summarize my entire civilization without having studied and interacted with us? I didn’t see anyone upon boarding this ship, yet somehow you managed to identify the infinitely complex psyche of us humans while hiding in the dark bowels of an abandoned ship my race built. Bravo!”

Cole. Please hold your tongue. There’s something about this being....

He ignored Lin, bottled up anger rising to the surface. “If we’re all making broad assumptions with vague details, then let me tell you what I’ve deduced about you in the sixty seconds I’ve known you, friend.” He pointed at the being, which was pressed up against the cylinder. “I know you’re wrong about us. I also know you’re terrified of a false ideal you’ve implanted in that ignorant head of yours.” He lowered his arm. “You’re also guarding an important secret.”

The being’s white eyes widened.

“That’s the stupid shit I was talkin’ about,” Rig said.

Cole ignored and switched him off the comm too. “Go ahead—tell me I’m wrong. Give me another reason to return the favor. I’m done with pleasantries. I didn’t evade the whole of my humanity to come here on a survival mission and be judged by some neon grape alien.”

Oh, Cole....

The being leaned forward, head slightly tilted. “Alien?”

Cole nodded. “Yes, alien. You. Are you ignorant of that as well?” Man, I really need to calm down.

“I am neither extraterrestrial nor a truly organic life form.”

Suddenly the pieces were beginning to fit, and he assumed Lin was contacting him to verify what he was already thinking.

Cole, this is a sentient AI being.

“That’s what I was thinking. Similar to CAIN, right?”

More than that. It’s the progenitor.

“Um, how can you possibly know that?”

Because my father programmed this being’s mind.

“What?” Cole had shouted the question, and the being flinched. He raised his hands in the same calming manner he had attempted earlier. “Sorry about that, but my secretive partner just revealed some pretty incredible information regarding you.”

Rig and Emmerich had finally gathered enough courage to join Cole in front of the engine room entrance, though neither had thought to lower their weapons. A stern glare from him was the coaxing they needed to shoulder the rifles. He hoped that by the three of them clogging the entrance, the being’s fear wouldn’t escalate.

“Explain this ‘father’ mentioned.”

Cole arched a brow. He’s hacked into our Ocunet feed. “I’d love to have a discussion with you, but you don’t trust us, nor do you seem eager to leave this room.”

“It is my duty to guard The Source at all costs,” the being said. “However, further discourse is not dependent upon location.”

Ah, so he is interested in talking. Hopefully about whatever this “Source” is. “Look, why don’t we start over. You’re obviously concerned for a good reason, and my initial approach at conversation was less than engaging. My name’s Cole, and my crew and I scouted the Daedalus in hope of repairing our ship. We didn’t think it was abandoned when we first boarded.”

The being did not relax. “Cole. How is it you know this vessel’s name?”

No need to reveal every detail. “I share a past with it. Also, my mother was once admiral of the Daedalus.”

The being remained impassive. “Harper Musgrave is known to me. You claim she is your mother?”

“No need to claim a fact.”

The being stared for a time, silent. “Records indicate otherwise.”

Gee, thanks again, Mom. “Regardless of what your records do or do not indicate, I know what I know. My relationship with my mother was strained during the best of times, and she may have resented—”

“You speak of trust,” the being said, interrupting Cole, “yet you continue to indulge in lies.”

“I have no reason to lie to you.”

“You claim to have boarded with the intent to repair,” it continued, “though it is clear your true intentions are to abscond with The Source.”

“No, you’re making poor assumptions based on minimal information,” Cole countered, his ire rising once more. “I have no idea what The Source is, nor do I care. The only reason we were wandering around this ship was because we needed supplies and parts.”

“So you fully admit your mission to be one of theft?”

Progenitor or degenerate? “Two completely separate ideas.” Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Emmerich slowly raising her rifle. “You know what? Never mind. We’re going back to our ship. You can stay down here sulking and protect your precious Source all you want.”

Cole turned and began marching from the engine room, hoping the others would follow suit. His plan was to curb Emmerich’s temper and prove once and for all to the being that the crew of the Icarus was true to their word. What he received was the complete opposite. Neither Rig nor Emmerich had budged, seemingly frozen in place. Their weapons were raised and pointed toward the being.

...Which had ceased glowing, save for the intense light blazing in the center of its chest.

“Your actions leave me no choice but to enact drastic measures.”

Cole squinted at the being, his helmet lantern revealing its gaunt, gray corpse form beneath the glow. “Um, drastic measures?”

The beacon started a slow, methodical pulse. “Self-destruct will commence in T-minus thirty seconds.”

13

BETRAYED

Cole had stared death in the face more times in the past month than he had over the course of his forty years of living. Whether it had been through experience or sheer luck, he had managed to evade the Grim Reaper every single time. Not even the relentless efforts of Terracom, UniSys, Military, SolEx, The Ravens, and Black Dwarf could stop him. To bring him down, it had taken an eccentric, bipedal AI buried in the depths of an abandoned star cruiser, lost to time in another universe. With each violet pulse in the center of the being’s chest, came the crushing reality that his luck had finally run out.

Both Emmerich and Rig had grabbed and picked him up in an attempt to carry him back to the Icarus. He knew it would not matter. They would all be dead long before they made it to the platform holding the ship.

Archytas.

Cole read the word Lin had sent him, and it might as well have been another language. “Who or what is Archytas?” he asked, worried she had lost her mind in these final seconds.

The being’s name is Archytas. Say aloud, “Archytas steam-powered pigeon.”

Cole was not about to question her sanity, and besides, so he blurted out, “Archytas steam-powered pigeon!” He shrugged off Emmerich, though Rig’s grip might as well have been made of steel. “Wait! We’re not going to make it anyway.”

The mechanic appeared to be considering knocking Cole out. “Nugget. Don’t make me drag you by your nuts.”

“Look!”

Cole was pointing wildly at the being, which had taken a less defensive stance. The pulsing light in its chest had ceased, distributing the violet energy throughout its entire body, back to its original glow. Its white eyes stared off at nothing.

Emmerich raised her rifle once more, and Cole was convinced she would pull the trigger. He was inclined to let her, though she only kept the barrel pointed in its direction. Rig seemed hesitant to join her. The mechanic was scratching his head, despite a thick spacesuit helmet blocking him from completing the action.

“What’s happening, Musgrave?”

Cole stepped up beside Emmerich. “Not sure. Doc told me to spew nonsense, and so I did. Apparently it must have caused some sort of reset.”

Emmerich glanced at him. “Reset? Like this thing is a computer?”

Cole shrugged.

“Did you say ‘Activate steam-plowed pig shit’?” Rig asked.

Cole laughed. Hard. He placed a hand on the mechanic’s shoulder to keep from pitching forward. “No, but I like what you just said a whole lot better.”

“This is not the time to be laughing it up,” Emmerich scolded. “How do you know we’re safe? That thing is still standing there.”

Cole cleared his throat. “I don’t know that we’re safe.” He presented his surroundings. “But I do know that thirty seconds have long-since passed, and we’re not dead.”

Rig had joined them. “Alright, so what do we do now? Reprogram it?”

Precisely.

Cole spun to find Lin walking around the corner. The others were late to acknowledge her, as she had been sending him personal messages.

“Hey, Doc,” Cole said, waving awkwardly to her. “Glad to see you disobeyed my orders to come help us three dolts. Thanks for relaying that ridiculous sentence. Don’t know what it means, but I’m grateful for what it did.”

Lin’s Rook hovered past the trio toward the immobile being. She stopped just in front of Cole and collected his waiting, outstretched hand. All three of you are quite astute in regard to this being and what must be done. She nodded in its direction.

“Are you two speaking telepathically?” Emmerich said snidely. “Or is she purposely communicating with you in secret?”

“Aw, that’s no way to address someone who just paid you a compliment and literally saved our lives,” Cole said, rubbing one index finger over the other in a sign of shame.

Those words... Lin trailed, opening the communication line and waiting until all attention was upon her. ...they were specifically programmed by my father as a means of rebooting Archytas in the event of critical error.

“That’s one hell of a sentence, ‘Archytas steam-powered pigeon,’” Cole said. “What does it even mean?”

Lin smiled. It’s derived from the name of the first known robot created around 400 B.C.

“Who’s Archytas?” Rig asked.

Cole thumbed back at the being. “Him. The violet wonder. Though he looks nothing like a pigeon. Maybe it had something to do with him being a bird-brain.”

“Wait,” Emmerich interrupted. “You mentioned your father,” she said to Lin. “That would insinuate you know what it is.”

Lin nodded, though her attention was fully upon Cole. He stared back at her, unsure how it was she had any ties to the Daedalus.

Lin’s mouth twisted. Archytas is my childhood friend.

~

Cole watched in fascination as Lin tinkered with the much more amiable being. Archytas may have been her one-time guardian, but she remembered the AI as little more than an outdated program uploaded to an older model Rook. She was in the midst of discovering how her digital caretaker had upgraded.

“D’ya think Mr. Purple, here, actually had access to this ship’s self-destruct function?” Rig asked. “I mean, this place is a driftin’ junk heap.”

Cole had wondered the same thing. “You’ll have to ask Doc once she’s done reprogramming her old nanny.” He smirked when she glared at him. Then she nodded in answer to the mechanic’s question.

“Then what’s keeping that thing from reenacting the countdown?” Emmerich asked.

Cole sighed. “Have you been paying attention to anything that’s transpired over the past few minutes?”

“I know that we’re no better off now than we were prior to coming down here,” she replied. “We’re still stuck in some foreign universe, aboard an abandoned ship bereft of supplies. And let’s not forget that there’s another robot that has ties to Dartmouth. Explain that.”

“I can’t,” Cole said. “But at least we’re alive to try and figure that out.”

Emmerich was looking at Lin. “I was hoping she had some answers.”

“Bitch, give her a minute,” Rig said, agitated. “You don’t ever have anything positive to say, do y—”

Cole lunged at Emmerich to stop her from slamming the butt of her rifle into Rig’s face. She missed her target, and the two of them fell. Cole kicked the rifle out of her loosened grip and pointed his own at her chest.

“That’s enough! Take your petty pride and stuff it up your tight ass. We’re lucky to be alive, and you’re picking a fight. Why? Because he’s right? You’ve done nothing but rub against the grain since I was nice enough to allow you back aboard the Icarus. I’m seriously regretting my decision. Give me a reason why I shouldn’t just put a hole in your chest?”

Emmerich was trembling, and Cole assumed it was from rage. There was plenty of anger there, but the longer he gazed at her, the more he realized she was afraid. He wondered how it was he hadn’t noticed it earlier.

With a heavy sigh, he lowered the rifle. He slung it over his shoulder and pushed himself up to one knee. He reached out his hand, knowing she wouldn’t accept. “C’mon,” he said, motioning for her to take the olive branch. “Forget the whole thing ever happened. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Forget it?” Rig said, incredulous. “The bitch was looking to cave my...” His words trailed when Cole looked up at him, pleading.

Cole turned back to Emmerich, arm still extended. “We’re a team, Chrys. We’re all in this mess together, whether we like it or not. So we may as well grin and bear each other’s company.”

To everyone’s astonishment, Emmerich accepted his hand and she stood. Cole nodded and let her be. He did not want to shatter this fragile moment.

“I’ve gained access to Archytas,” said Lin through Cole’s comm.

He faced her Rook, but it was dark and silent. It was Archytas who moved, making its way toward them.

“I have complete control over the android body,” Lin’s voice said from the being’s lips. “There’s no need for arms.”

Cole slowly lowered his rifle, but Emmerich did not. Sympathy had cooled Cole’s ire with her, but he would not let her fear compromise the group. “Chrys?”

His gentle but threatening question made her lower her rifle. Cole extended his hand, palm-up, waiting. Emmerich unslung her rifle and passed it to him. Then she turned on her heel and headed back the way everyone had come. Cole said nothing, hoping her feet would lead her back to the Icarus.

“That bitch is cracked.”

Cole wondered if perhaps Rig was right. Now, however, was not the time to psychoanalyze a dangerous ex-Military member with the jitters. He sighed. “As much as I want to know more about our new friend and his beloved spinning cylinder, we should all probably head back. Standing down here in the dark isn’t going to fix our ship.”

“I may be of assistance.”

Archytas had spoken in its original voice, minus any distrust. Cole turned to Lin, who looked worried, though nodded her consent. “How so?”

The AI did not respond, and just when Cole thought there was a critical error, the Daedalus came to life. Lights flickered on around the engine room, accompanied by a cacophony of buzzing and heavy vibrations beneath their feet.

Cole motioned for everyone to leave the room, knowing verbal communication would be impossible. He switched off his helmet lantern, and once they were beyond earshot of the engine room, they slowed. Cole turned back to Archytas, unnerved that it followed so closely to the group. That it had a direct connection to the Daedalus worried him even more. Just why had it been hiding in the dark on an abandoned ship?

“Doc. What sort of help can your boy provide us?”

Her voice through its mouth gave him the creeps. “I am in control of Archytas’s decision-making, but navigating the AI program is an insurmountable task. I suggest communicating directly to it, as I’ve given it specific orders to obey us both.”

I was hoping to avoid talking to a droid with my girlfriend’s voice, Cole thought. He wondered if Rig had heard, or even cared, that both he and Emmerich were not included. “Okay. Um, Archytas? Are you really going to help us repair our ship, or do you intend to seek revenge?”

“Revenge is a desire felt only by humans,” Archytas said cheerily, in its own male voice. “I cannot—nor would I ever consider to—exact any harm upon my master and her companions. I intend to assist your cause, and so I have taken the liberty to summon remaining repair drones to assess the damage.”

Cole nodded. Guess he forgot how close he was to crapping on his prime directive. “That’s good. Perhaps you can scrounge any usable supplies while you’re at it. In the meantime, let’s get back to the Icarus before Chrys does something stupid.”

~

He came alone, just as Chrys had predicted. Part of her had wanted him to, while the other part desired to toss him into the abyss. This recent indecision—on top of an already infuriatingly imbalanced mind—had taken control of her life. The whole of the Icarus’s journey brought her to this edge.

Once in her life she had come to such crossroads. This ship and the mother of the approaching man had jeopardized her sanity and the strength of her moral compass. Cole Musgrave did not know such things, and she never planned on telling him. It was her shame and cross to bear.

What she did plan on discussing was the end.

“That’s one hell of a view, eh?”

Chrys pressed her eyelids tightly shut. That arrogant, obnoxious—yet logical—voice of his that had saved and ruined her life. “Just say what you came to say.”

Her helmet obstructed her view of him, but she could feel his magboots clicking against the steel floor behind her.

“This has got to stop.”

He’s right. It does. The edge never seemed closer...or so inviting. “I suppose the others can hear this little pep talk of yours?”

“No. I blocked their comms. Though, they have every right to understand just who they’re dealing with. First, I have every intention of solving this dispute once and for all—without them. After that, no more secrets. We owe that much to the crew.”

Chrys frowned, but did not face him. It sounded like Cole, but his leader-like approach was unlike anything she’d heard from him. Sure, she’d been the recipient of his rage, but never had she heard the soldier in him. It was a welcome and unexpected change.

“And just how do you ‘plan on solving this dispute once and for all’?”

Cole was quiet for a time, though she knew he had already chosen his words. She waited for what he would say, hoping he would fix the unfixable.

“I should just shove you over the side and watch you drift away, allowing you the rest of your short, suffocating life to ponder the reasons behind my action.”

Her eyes widened. He could easily lean forward, and with little effort, push her out into open space. It would be no less than she deserved. Perhaps that was why her feet had led her out to the precipice. She despised weakness, and these feelings of vulnerability were more than she could tolerate or understand.

“Do it. I won’t fight you. I deserve a traitor’s death.”

Cole sighed. Then grabbed her shoulders and started to push—

“Gyah!” Chrys felt herself leaning forward, unable to negate his force. All she could see was her life slipping away, falling into infinity. The disgraced soldier in her was ready to accept this ending, but her humanity had her arm reach back, her hand gripping harder than it ever had.

She finally met his icy gaze: the look of a killer.

But the killer relented, straining to keep her from pitching into the dark. “Live or die?”

Her other arm hung in the emptiness, her heels barely weighted on the floor’s edge. Just a twitch, and she would slip. Cole would let her go; of that she was certain.

“Live!” She was startled by the terror in her voice. This was no child’s nightmare; this was her need to survive.

For the first time in Chrysanthemum Emmerich’s life, she truly felt alive.

What felt like floating, was actually Cole lifting her out of a pit of despair and placing her on stable ground. She collapsed to her knees and sobbed, gloves and helmet making her tears inaccessible. It didn’t matter. None of it did. Not anymore.

“You betrayed us,” Cole said, his icy voice succumbing to emptiness. “But I forgive you.”

He turned, leaving her to fully realize the enormity of what had just transpired. As he made his way back to the Icarus, she finally understood what it meant to be a part of something important—even if that something was hated by the whole of humanity.

She belonged with this crew of outcasts, whether she liked it or not. No amount of denial could change that, and there were limits to how far trust could be pushed. She had just discovered that line and stared at the consequence in its ugly face. There would be no more chances, no matter how much she proved her worth. That was the price of true betrayal.

She stood, seeing the world with fresh eyes. The safety net was gone, but still she was ready to sprint across the wire to the impossible.

14

SIGNALS

Cole’s body had never felt so heavy or tired as it did right now. Not even the comfort of his leather flight chair could ease the aches that ran deep into his soul. No one had spoken of the event outside the ship, though he was certain Lin and Rig had witnessed his attempt to “murder” Emmerich. They let him pass, possibly out of respect, but more likely out of fear. He would address the issue with each of them later, once the ship was repaired.

While he did not regret pulling Emmerich to safety, he did resent that she was the proud recipient of a newfound respect for life. All I got was this lousy t-shirt. A piece of himself had been left out there, forever lost to the universe.

And not for the better.

I wonder if this is how CAIN felt when he jumped into that android’s body. The Sentinel’s tattered body was lying lifeless by the server—the same server that now hosted his equally lifeless AI friend.

He stood, a weak second wind urging his feet to carry his leaden body toward the others. What it was he intended, he had yet to decide. There was, however, the spark of an idea forming—a hypothesis of sorts. With Emmerich neutralized and Archytas assisting with the ship’s repairs, he could finally interrogate the peculiar AI without unexpected interruptions. At least, that was his hope.

Too many questions begged to be asked. Just what had the AI been guarding down in the bowels of the Daedalus? And why? Where was the crew? What had happened to cause all the damage? Was it all an internal conflict, pertaining to a possible mass exodus? If so, then to where could so many members of Starforce flee in an uncharted universe?

The ship’s power was mostly unaffected, Cole thought, and so he couldn’t fathom why people would abandon a stable refuge. The more he pondered, the brighter his idea spark grew.

Cole found Rig in the cargo bay, staring down the ladder leading into the server room. “You drop your pen down there?”

The mechanic didn’t lift his head. “Nope. Just keepin’ an eye out for your girlfriend.”

Cole glanced down the tight, dark corridor and saw nothing. “Keeping an eye out as in protection, or for potential unwanted guests?”

Rig shrugged. “Just doin’ what she asked, Nugget.”

“Shouldn’t you be fixing something?” Cole asked, slightly perturbed.

The mechanic pointed up at the floor above him. “Nah. Her babysitter has a bunch of repair drones puttin’ me outta work. Said we should be up and runnin’ in no time at all.”

“Demoted to guard dog,” Cole said, patting Rig on his bulky shoulder. “Step aside, big guy. I relieve you of your duty.”

Rig finally looked up, his expression one of indifference. “Whatever. I just work here.”

“Used to,” Cole clarified, eliciting a small chuckle from the mechanic. He waited until Rig was gone before he started to climb onto the ladder, but Lin’s Rook hovered up to him.

“There’s no need,” Lin said through the device. “We’re coming up.”

“We?” Cole let go and stepped aside. Lin climbed up first, Archytas close behind. One more question added to the list.

“I didn’t want to bother you after your ordeal,” Lin said, accepting his hand to step off the ladder. “I felt this would be an appropriate time to conduct some necessary research.”

Cole cast the violet being a fleeting glance. He purposely turned Lin and him away from the eerie, white gaze, suddenly changing his stance on the interrogation. “I see you promoted Rig to personal bodyguard.”

Lin blushed. “He seemed eager for something to do.”

“He still is. Nothing worse than a mechanic with nothing to fix. Let’s hope he doesn’t toss a wrench into one of the engines to justify his place amongst the crew.”

Lin smiled, though he could tell her thoughts were still preoccupied. Time for question number one. “So, whatcha doin’?”

“Experimenting,” Lin said. “With Archytas at my disposal, I had hoped to make some headway with the CAIN dilemma.”

Cole nodded, figuring that might be her answer. “To no effect, I assume?”

Lin shook her head, her brow bunched in agitation. She began walking without warning, the directness of her path indicating she had a definite destination. Both her Rook and Archytas followed her, and Cole rushed to catch up.

“Care to elaborate, Doc?” he asked, aching to demand. He knew she had a tendency to block out the world when she was focused. “My inquiring mind would like to know what sort of hijinx you’re up to, seeing as we’re currently on a layover. Perhaps forever.”

“Would it be possible for me to give you an explanation after I’ve exhausted all avenues?” She was clearly telling.

“Lin, c’mon,” Cole said, frustration mounting. “I’m still captain of this ship—for better or worse—and I need to know the goings on of all things at all times. How else can I plot us a proper course of action?”

“There’s no need at the moment. You said it yourself: ‘we’re currently on a layover’.”

“You know what I meant.”

Lin slowed before the lift. “I do. But I need a bit more time. I’ll be of better assistance once I’m done.”

The calm and collected scientist in her voice only aggravated him more. “Who knows what can happen in the meantime.”

She stepped inside and faced him. “I’m sorry, Cole. Not right now.”

Cole’s chest constricted, an unexpected fire waking inside him. He was unable to contain the flames that shot from his mouth. “Dammit, just wait a minute!” He slapped his hand inside the lift door so it could not close. He had also inadvertently blocked Archytas’s passage. “I’m in the dark here. All of us are. I understand you have your reasons for doing whatever it is you’re doing, but if we’re going to survive this, I need you to be on the level with me.”

Lin’s impassive expression never changed. “When have I not been forthright?”

During the coup, for one. “With me—up until now—always.”

She blinked, crossing her arms behind her back. “And I will continue to be, but that requires a need to continue my research. Untested theories and half-fast conclusions will only prolong our plight. This is a delicate process, and it must be handled accordingly. Afterward, I promise I will be an open book.”

All of that would have sounded well and good to Cole, but he was too flustered to accept her logic. The dragon opened its jaw before he could stop the inferno. “What are you hiding?”

Lin’s brow raised ever so slightly. “Are you insinuating I’m keeping secrets from the crew?”

Shut up, Cole! You dummy! He shrugged. “I don’t know, but something’s going on. The fact that you’re gallivanting about the ship with some dangerous android worries me. And that you have a personal connection with it gives me a great deal of pause.”

She seemed hurt. “How so? You believe my motives are ulterior?”

“No, but your actions are reckless. I already bring enough of that to the table. I can’t be worrying about you, along with Chrys. We all need to work together as a team, not carry out selfish science experiments in private that could compromise our lives.” Nice work, jackass.

The hurt was replaced by an empty calm. It was the same expression she wore prior to the coup and the takeover of the ICV-71. “I understand you’ve been under an enormous amount of pressure, what with all that has transpired since our first meeting, I don’t begrudge your distrust. Your leadership has almost singlehandedly kept us alive, and it is commendable.”

Cole felt the proverbial “but” to follow.

“However, your ignorance and blatant disregard for the full scope of our situation is disconcerting. You of all people should understand that true teamwork requires the specialized work of its individuals to achieve a singular goal. In order for that to happen, a certain amount of freedom needs given to those who request it. How else can there be a solid foundation for trust?”

Wow. I suck. Cole cleared his throat when she focused on the hand barring Archytas. He pulled it away without a word, embarrassment and a raised ire keeping him from attempting an apology. He wasn’t sure it would amend the damage he’d caused.

Archytas entered the lift and stood next to Lin. The distance between her and Cole was no more than arm’s length, though the wedge he’d driven felt a mile thick. He watched them both in silence, his gaze locked with hers until the door finally slid closed.

~

“I can’t believe you convinced my brother to stock this boat with beer.”

Rig took a healthy swig from the cup he’d poured himself. Apparently it was his second refill since migrating up to the Bar. He burped. “I can’t believe you killed your brother.”

Cole had to laugh, despite his remorse. “Touché.”

Rig’s slammed his empty cup on the table and wiped his mouth across his sleeve. “It’s garbage, but at least it’s beer.”

The golden beverage swirled inside Cole’s cup, and he half considered sliding toward the mechanic. Too many negative emotions stayed his hand. The bitter drink was semi-cool as it washed down his throat. The rest of the cup’s contents followed suit, and his eyes watered.

“Atta boy, Nugget!” Rig cheered. “Drink your problems away.”

“I doubt we have enough beer for that.”

Rig shot Cole the stink eye. “Are you gonna get all mopey on me? ‘Cuz if you are, you can take your sorry ass to your quarters and cry like a little bitch. The Bar ain’t no place for whiny softies with hurt feelings.”

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk. ‘Sides, I’m not sure the leak in my room’s been patched.”

A little beer spilled over the top of Rig’s next pour. He sat down and shook his head. “All the crazy shit you’ve been through: gangsters, murder, starin’ death in the face... And you’re bent because you yelled at your girlfriend? Pathetic.”

Ouch. Yep, no time like the present to get hammered. Cole stood up and poured his second cup. He downed it before pouring his third and sitting back down. He grimaced at the bitterness that remained in his mouth. “You’re right. This stuff is garbage.”

Rig grunted, his attention on the entrance to the living quarters. In walked Emmerich, her gaze alternating between the occupants. “Speaking of garbage....”

Cole turned to face her, his stomach sinking a little further. There was something different about her, something lacking from her usual rigid, imposing presence. Her shoulders were slightly slouched, head tilted forward in resignation. He thought she might make an about-face and return from whence she came.

“You comin’ or goin’?” Rig demanded. “It’s happy hour ‘round these parts, and I ain’t got time for your shit.”

Cole’s eyes bulged, and he expected a firm verbal thrashing. Instead he got an obedient participant. Guess our little “chat” shook her up more than I intended.

Without a word, she headed toward the counter and collected a cup. She poured herself some beer and joined them at the table. Cole was astounded, though he was also aware that she was avoiding his gaze.

“Good,” Rig said, knocking firmly on the table. “Now it’s a party.”

“I should’ve brought cards,” Cole said, half-kidding.

“Have you ever wondered why I left Military?”

Cole blinked at Emmerich, then shared a look with Rig. Is she talking to me or both of us? “Um, was that a rhetorical question?”

Emmerich’s lips pressed into a tight line. “No.” Her fingers tapped nervously on the sides of her cup, which had yet to be sipped.

Holy shit! She’s really making an attempt to bond with us and come clean. “Yes. In fact, I did wonder about that. I just thought better than to press you about your career.” And I didn’t want a smoking hole through the back of my head.

Emmerich nodded. “I admit that I’m not the most approachable person.”

“Ha! That’s the understatement of the century,” Rig said.

Cole cringed, though Emmerich had no sharp retort. Sensing an opening, he eased back in his chair and bit the line. “Alright. Why did you leave Military?”

Emmerich’s gaze met Cole’s. She cleared her throat. “Your mother left me no choice.”

Whoa! One-eighty! “My mother. Admiral Harper Musgrave. Your idol. The same woman whose reputation you defended though thick and thin. You’re telling me—us—that she’s the reason you left Military.”

Emmerich offered a stiff nod, a myriad of emotion playing upon her angular face.

“Why?”

She sat a little straighter. “You once told me that your mother was a ruthless megalomaniac, hell-bent on commanding the entire System.”

“Verbatim,” Cole said, impressed with her memory. “You also agreed with me.”

“I did, and a part of me still respects the person she was.” She drew and exhaled a sharp breath through her nose, obviously struggling. “But I was wrong about her. As were you. She was a violent terrorist with deep ties to Black Dwarf.”

“I know,” Cole said, recalling what he’d discovered under the command of Admiral Arturo Preston. “It’s why I did what I did.” He glanced around, remembering where the Icarus was currently docked. “At least, what I thought I did.”

“Wait,” Rig interrupted, pointing his empty cup at her. “You tellin’ us you knew all along that Nugget’s psycho-bitch mother was a terrorist? Yet you defended her and gave us all shit whenever she was mentioned? That’s some nerve. The two of you must’ve been screwin’ in private for you to overlook that résumé.”

Emmerich’s face turned beet red, and Cole thought she might flip the table despite it being bolted to the floor. What she did do was launch her cup at Rig’s grinning face, showering him in beer. The mechanic only laughed, his calloused hand slapping the tabletop with incredible force.

I guess that proves him right, Cole mused.

“You filthy prick!” Emmerich shouted, her calm veneer caving to the angry inspector they all knew and tolerated.

Rig wiped a sheen of liquid from his face, still chuckling. “What? I’m the one who should be pissed. I don’t care if you’re bumping uglies with Nugget’s mom. He might, though.” He got up, still laughing, and walked to the counter to grab a towel. “I’ll pour you another round since you spilled your last one.”

“Don’t bother,” Emmerich said, standing as well.

“Whoa, hold on!” Cole said, hoping to stop her from abandoning the scene of the crime. “Don’t take it so personally. You know he’s touched in the head. Think of his comment as a form of inclusion. Hell, Rigsy even offered to pour you a drink. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Emmerich hesitated, eyeing the hallway. Her shoulders slumped, and she settled back into her chair with a huff. Rig clapped. As promised, he served her another cup and sat down to drink his own.

Did we enter the Twilight Zone when we traveled through that black hole? Cole drummed his fingers on his chair. “Anyway... Enough of your personal life, Chrys. I appreciate that you made the effort to level with us.”

Emmerich’s cheeks were still flushed, though her scowl had diminished. With some visible reluctance, she raised her cup and took a gulp.

“There you go, Mum,” Rig said, drawing both Cole’s and her attention with the curious nickname. “We’ll just focus on Nugget’s love life instead.”

Great. “Or lack thereof,” Cole said, taking another swig. “Didn’t know you heard that.”

“Oh yeah. I heard that sad display of manhood.”

“You and Dartmouth had a spat?” Emmerich asked.

Cole suddenly wished she had left the Bar. “I took out my frustrations on her. Wrongly, I might add.”

“Pussy.”

Emmerich ignored Rig and bored into Cole. “You go out of your way to give her preferential treatment. What happened to change that?”

The rest of the contents ran down Cole’s throat, begging to be chased. Blame it on stress. “She was acting...odd.” He scowled at the remnants of the liquid culprit that had compromised his mind.

Now it was Rig’s turn to press. “What? That’s not what it sounded like to me.”

“Thanks for your insight, Mr. Eavesdropper.”

“Odd how?”

The seriousness of Emmerich’s question loosened Cole’s lips. “I don’t know. She was being secretive about her scientific ventures, and it irked me, is all. She’s conducting her experiments right now...somewhere on this ship.”

“Dartmouth’s agenda,” Emmerich declared.

“More like Nugget, here, is jealous of that Arcturus cyborg dude,” Rig said, chuckling.

“Archytas,” Cole corrected under his breath. “Look, she had every right to blow me off. I cornered her while she was in the midst of a delicate—”

“That never stopped you before,” Emmerich interrupted. “You have a keen sense for sniffing out lies and trouble. Don’t ignore your instincts on account of your relationship with her. If she’s hiding important information from us all, then we have a right to know.”

“Speaking of sniffing, that was probably the last sniff he’ll ever get of her.”

Cole seriously considered copying Emmerich’s projectile maneuver. “You’re blowing this out of proportion, Chrys. I acted like a dick, and we had a spat. Simple as that. No need to read between the lines for a conspiracy that isn’t there.”

She did not push him, but she was clearly dissatisfied.

“What we should be talking about is how we’re going to survive this mess,” Cole urged, hoping a change in topic would keep the attention off his personal life.

“More drinkin’. Less talkin’,” Rig urged.

A silent alarm flashed inside everyone’s Ocunet, halting conversation. Cole recognized it as the Icarus’s perimeter detection system alerting them to an unknown presence. The shock of the anomaly drove the trio to their feet.

“That can’t be accurate,” Emmerich said.

Cole wasn’t sure what to think, and he was not about to make assumptions until he was sitting in his flight chair to witness it himself. He moved toward the bridge without a word, the others on his heels. The viewport screen was illuminated, indicators focused on a large object approaching the Daedalus.

Holy shit....

Cole addressed Lin. “Hey, Doc. If you’re seeing this, you best stop whatever it is you’re doing.”

He ran a hand through his close-cropped hair, too ensnared by the sight to notice the lack of reply. “Because it looks like we’re not alone.”

15

FORESIGHT

“Doc? Hey, Doc, do you copy? Doc?”

Chrys tore her gaze from the viewport screen, drawn to his concerned tone. Lin must have shut off her comm, and could only imagine what sort of exchange would have prompted that reaction.

“Forget her,” Rig said, exasperated. “Worry about that.”

The otherworldly vessel that had emerged was already within reach of boarding the Daedalus. It was comparable in size to the Icarus, though it’s crude, almost organic design was vastly different. Bright, beaming searchlights from its bow and stern silhouetted and obscured its hull; he gap was quickly closing between the two ships.

Chrys could see that Cole was worried. “If either of you have any ideas, I’m all ears. Military never prepared me for first contact. And you all saw how I acted with Archytas.”

“It’s shown no sign of aggression,” Chrys said, knowing exactly how both men would respond.

“I’m all for showin’ some aggression before they change their minds,” Rig said.

Typical. Chrys turned her full attention to Cole. “Any luck contacting Dartmouth?”

Cole shook his head; he was struggling mightily with making the next decision. So she decided for him.

“I’ll locate her for you.” The way he looked at her—eyes both frightened and pleading—disgusted her. “If she isn’t answering you, she won’t answer any of us.”

He nodded. “She might not know what’s happening, so catch her up to speed.” He turned back toward the viewport screen. “And if the shitstorm starts raining down on us, make sure you keep her safe.”

“Understood.” She paused before asking, “So, what exactly do you plan on doing?”

That infuriatingly mischievous smirk of his reared its ugly head, and she knew whatever he was about to attempt would fall into the category of reckless stupidity. “No, I don’t want to know. Just don’t get us all killed.”

“That’s never my intent,” Cole said, grabbing his sidearm and holster. “Though it is my intent to bring ol’ Rigsy along for backup. Just in case.”

Chrys’s eye twitched—like it always did whenever he laid his fingers on her former weapon. The agitation dissipated as the approaching vessel’s lights focused on the Icarus.

“You best get going,” Cole said. He slapped his hand on the unwilling mechanic’s shoulder, though Rig did not give him any verbal guff.

Chrys blocked the pilot’s path. “Don’t be reckless.”

Cole held her gaze without expression. Then he only winked before sidestepping her and heading away, Rig on his heels. As they exited the bridge, she could feel her stomach begin to churn.

~

What should’ve been a simple task escalated into a search and rescue mission. Not only had Lin silenced all forms of communication with her Ocunet, the clever engineer had managed to deactivate her GPS signal. Chrys would literally have to inspect every inch of the ship and hope Lin was still aboard. As she searched, a small window opened in the corner of her vision, showing a live feed of the events—or lack thereof—taking place outside the Icarus. She wondered if it was too much to hope for things to remain that way.

Rather than consider all the possible deadly outcomes, she tried to focus on the mission at hand. Cole’s nervous wisecracking with Rig over the comm was a constant irritation, and if their discourse became any less bearable, she would take a page out of Lin’s handbook.

After a stroll through the Bar and a quick peek into each of the bedroom quarters, she hoped the med bay and its adjoining lab would end her search. That was not the case as she was greeted only by silence and darkness.

Her eyes adjusted to a sudden change in lighting, and the view outside revealed the mysterious vessel had also gone dark. Cole and Rig abruptly fell silent, signifying that they, too, had witnessed the phenomenon.

After descending the steps into the cargo hold, Chrys made a bee-line for the server room. She did not want to consider what course of action she would have to take if Lin was not down there with her comatose AI creation. The open hatch was an encouraging sign, but there was only silence from within. When she reached the bottom of the ladder, it was as she feared.

And worse.

“What the...? Musgrave. Do you copy?”

“Make it quick, Chrys,” Cole replied tightly. “I’m brushing up on my welcome speech for our alien overlords.”

Chrys shook her head, disgusted. “I have yet to find her, but I have good reason to believe Dartmouth has left the ship.”

“What? Why do you think that?”

“For one, she’s not in any of her usual hiding places.” She approached the cool, dark wall that was the offline CAIN. “Two, that android you and Solomon dumped in the server room is missing, and I think she had something to do with—”

“Wait,” Cole interrupted. “You mean to tell me Nel—the Sentinel—is gone?”

“Affirmative.”

Cole swore. “What about the brain jar?”

Brain jar? Is he serious? Chrys hadn’t the slightest idea what he was talking about, until her eyes settled on a large circular hole in the server wall where something had obviously been before. She stuck her hand inside the cavity and felt around the smooth, curved sides.

“It’s gone as well.”

She could barely make out what Cole mumbled next. Something akin to: “I must’ve really pissed her off.”

“Is Dartmouth’s suit missing?”

Some rustling came through the comm before Cole responded with, “I don’t know. You’ll have to check for me. We’re already en route. And now that I think about it, I gonna have to switch off your comm feed for a bit. Best not to have any distractions out there. Don’t worry, you’ll still be able to hear me. And you’ll still be able to give Rig updates for me.”

Wonderful. The complete opposite of what I want. “I’m on my way up.”

She never saw Cole or Rig by the time she reached the changing room. Her GPS monitor indicated they were slowly descending a ladder outside the Icarus, though there was no visual on them yet. Stay focused on the task at hand!

A count of the available suits, minus the two currently in use, provided her with the answer she was most dreading. Dammit, Dartmouth! Musgrave’s rubbing off on you. As angry as she was with Lin for abandoning the ship, at least she knew where she was headed.

Snatching one of the remaking suits off the rack, she hurried through the dress routine. It was difficult not to watch Cole on the live feed as he cautiously approached the docked vessel. The mysterious silhouette was several hundred yards away, and Cole’s magboots would make the distance seem like twice that distance. Rig had separated and was headed toward some toppled machinery within range of Cole. He would be the backup rifle in case things went south.

Once in her spacesuit, helmet secured, she shouldered her rifle and made a hasty exit from the Icarus. Being aboard the Daedalus in zero G surfaced her near-death experience with Cole. She focused on the battlecruiser’s interior to keep from panicking. This added crack in her increasingly fragile exterior was infuriating for a former soldier. She had been trained to stare the Reaper in its eye sockets without flinching. She smacked the top of her helmet a few times as a reality check before making her way inside.

Retracing her steps, she was able to work her way through the myriad of hallways and rooms the lights making the task much easier. If the engineer was not in the engine room, finding her might prove impossible.

Sneaking a peak at Cole’s progress, she could see he had stopped about fifty or so yards away from the vessel, but there was no activity. She continued her descent into the Daedalus, rounding the corner leading to the engine room. The floor began to vibrate, a deep thrum that penetrated her suit and rattled her teeth. She cringed at the unusual sensation and clenched her jaw. More helpful was the sight of Lin crouched before that bizarre spinning cylinder.

“Dartmouth!” she shouted, forgetting the engineer had blocked everyone’s comms. She would have to literally approach from behind and touch the engineer’s shoulder to alert her to her presence. The gesture was a poor option, for standing beside Lin was Archytas, and they were both were staring down at the body of the Sentinel android.

To Chrys, it looked as though they were praying overtop a fallen comrade, though only one of the trio was truly alive. As she neared, she saw the missing glass cylinder from the server room. CAIN’s “brain” was inside, and the container was propped on its flat end, between Lin and Archytas. They were likely conducting some sort of experiment.

As she reached to touch Lin’s shoulder, the engineer’s Rook closed the gap protectively. Lin’s shoulders drooped.

“Leave me be, Inspector.”

A flood of colors washed over Lin’s Rook, coinciding with the words Chrys was hearing in her comm. It seemed that everyone else was able to communicate with her, though not the other way around. She decided to verbally respond in the hope that Lin was listening anyway.

“Musgrave insisted I find you.”

Lin continued, and just when it seemed Chrys would have to intervene, the engineer turned her head partway to speak. “Why would he send you?”

Chrys crossed her arms. “Had you not severed communication with the crew, you would already know the reason.”

The Rook remained dark, and Chrys assumed that Lin was accessing the Ocunet video feed. She blinked several times, perhaps overwhelmed by the presence of the alien spacecraft. Then she turned back to her work. “You should go to him in case he requires your assistance.”

What’s the matter with her? “No, I’ve had enough of this farce. You’ll be coming with me. Now. I was tasked with protecting you, and you’ll do as I say.”

The whir of the large spinning cylinder softened, and the buzzing beneath Chrys’s feet subsided. Lin stood and faced her a steely look in her emerald eyes.

“Inspector, I’m asking you to leave me be while I finish my research. There will be dire consequences should I encounter further interruptions.”

Chrys’s arms fell to her sides, and she took a step backward when Archytas joined Lin’s side. She scowled at the AI; there would be no grappling with an android. Whatever Lin was working on, she seemed ready to kill to see it through. It was a side of the engineer she did not believe existed.

“Dartmouth, I don’t know what transpired between you and Cole, and I don’t care. But the fact remains he’s concerned for your safety, and seeing as he is in jeopardy at this very moment, I would think you might be the one volunteering to offer your assistance. Every second you protest, the more you solidify my negative perceptions of you.”

Lin’s regard remained unchanged. “What you perceive matters little to me, as your true colors showed long ago. What does matter is foresight, Inspector. Cole and I both posses this trait; you, on the other hand, do not.”

Seeing as she was at a standstill with Lin, Chrys decided to stoke the conversation. “Alright, fine. I’ll admit that I live in the present, but why should my lack of foresight matter in the face of an imminent threat?”

“Because your cannon fodder mentality burns the bridges behind those forging a path to the future.”

Infuriating as the comment was, there was truth behind Lin’s powerful statement. How many times had Chrys intervened with good intentions, only to realize her error afterward? For what of for whom was she fighting? Herself? Military? The crew of the Icarus? The System wanted her as dead as much as the others.

“As I said,” Lin continued, returning back to her work, “Cole may need your assistance. If your intention is membership to this crew, forget your past judgments, and embrace the truth of what you’ve become.”

What we’ve all become, Chrys thought, Lin’s words striking a dissonant chord. How many times must I be shown the light before I finally open my eyes to actually see it?

And open her eyes she did.

“What is he doing?”

During the course of her exchange with Lin, Chrys neglected the view on her Ocunet. For as reckless as Cole could be, she never thought she would witness him throw his life away.

“Musgrave! Do you copy?”

There was no reply.

“Go!” Lin shouted. “Help him before it’s too late. There’s no time for me. I have to complete this no matter the cost.”

Chrys wanted to kill Lin where she knelt that she chose her work over her lover, the man who had saved them all on numerous occasions. But it was as she said: too late. Save yourself, bitch.

Sprinting as fast as her magboot feet could manage, she raced through the maze of hallways that was the Daedalus. A thought suddenly occurred to her as she “ran,” and she wondered why Rig had not contacted her sooner.

“Solomon.”

She waited for the mechanic’s reply, but he, too, had had gone silent. She could see him in the video feed, so he must have blocked her comm as well. The thought of being ignored enraged her, propelling her leaden feet even faster.

By the time she reached the compromised dock, she was too late. She met Rig in the spot where the alien vessel had rested, his rifle pointed downward. She had been screaming his name the entire way, and it wasn’t until she was within a couple yards of him that he finally turned to face her. She could see the shock and confusion through his helmet it was what kept her from lashing out and beating him to death.

“Why didn’t you respond to me?”

Rig frowned. “What’re you talkin’ about? I’ve been yellin’ for your sorry ass for the past five minutes. I ain’t heard a peep from you.”

What? How’s that possible? “Where’s Musgrave?” She knew the answer, but she needed to hear it from him to believe it.

Rig angrily pointed his rifle in the direction the vessel had gone. “Gone! That crazy fucker blocked our comms and just up and left. There was nothin’ I could do to stop him!”

The weight of the situation and her own exhaustion dropped Chrys to her knees. Their captain had willingly climbed aboard an alien vessel and abandoned them without a word as to why. Any chance at salvaging their dismal situation had sped off into the far reaches of an unfamiliar universe.

16

REVELATION

Cole was aboard an alien spacecraft, headed toward an unknown destination. He might have made the greatest mistake of his life. Whether it was the euphoria of enacting his childhood dream, or simply alien magic that had coaxed him aboard, he had been unable to resist the lure of the Unknown. His hosts were still hidden to him, but he did not mind—perhaps because the alcohol wore away his concerns. Almost all his concerns; his crew had been abandoned. They probably considered him the scourge of the universe, but he would make them understand the significance of his actions when he returned. If he returned. And only after I first figure out why I did what I did. Maybe then I’ll ask them why they didn’t try to stop me.

He found his thoughts muddled, and he wondered whether he was hallucinating or simply losing his mind. Perhaps I’m dead.

Even though the spacesuit eliminated his sense of touch, he could feel the solidness of his surroundings, bizarre though they were. From within the concave walls, a frosty blue light barely illuminated the space they surrounded. His environment had an organic quality about it, as though it was somehow alive. Even stranger was the sense that this vessel was familiar to him, though he couldn’t place a finger on what it was he recognized. The longer he studied the interior, the harder it was to concentrate.

He placed his hand against the wall to keep from falling over, but a sudden, pounding headache brought him to his knees, and he thought he might throw up.

Then he was on the floor, writhing in pain. A high-pitched ringing smothered even his own screaming. He would not be surprised if someone was slowly drilling through his skull to his brain, and he was helpless to stop it. Now there was only regret—regret that replaced his initial euphoria. He would gladly welcome death over this invisible torture.

Then it stopped.

He lay there for a while, terror lingering where the ringing had abated. With his gaze upon the vaulted ceiling, the gears of his mind began to turn. Were his hosts responsible for this invasion. Well, if they’re digging through my mind grapes, they’re gonna be sorely disappointed.

When he finally gathered the courage to sit up, he wondered why he was still alone. Were they frightened? Were they decontaminating him before they approached? Or were they studying him like an insect? They better not pin me to a giant piece of styrofoam and mislabel me. And stomping me flat is out of the question!

Minutes passed without incident, and he rose to one knee. The pain did not return, so curiosity began to overcome his fear, propelling him to stand and further explore his surroundings. It occurred to him that there was no furniture or cargo; the room was barren.

I’m the cargo, he thought. Precious cargo. Fragile. Handle with care. Well, maybe not that last part. He turned back to where he had entered the vessel, perplexed by what he saw. That wall wasn’t there a second ago.

Not only had a new wall silently erected itself at the far end of the room, but he would be damned if it wasn’t moving... Closing in, to be exact. As were the walls to either side. He reached to rub his eyes, accidentally punching the glass faceplate of his helmet. He blinked repeatedly, hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him. But they weren’t, and like some twisted optical illusion, the floor and ceiling began to converge and spiral inward, tightening like a collapsing tube.

I was wrong. They are trying to stomp me flat.

He continued to move backward without turning to see where he was headed. His hand reached back for the obstruction he knew was there, but it was left wanting. He chanced a fleeting glance at his destination, only to see it too had altered. In place of a fourth wall was a narrow slit of an opening. An opening that was parting wider and wider.

They’re herding me, he realized with both relief and trepidation. The moment his bulky suit was able to squeeze through the breach, he seized the opportunity and followed the intensifying blue light toward the unknown. Behind him, darkness closed in, and the room ended its collapse, leaving no escape. He could only follow the light.

He marched down the corridor to where it terminated: a small platform leading to nowhere. The platform raised upward before he knew what was happening, carrying him through a ceiling that split as his head threatened to crash into it. Though his surroundings seemed malleable, a light bump of his fist against the wall told him otherwise. How was it such a ship could function with this strange design?

When the “lift” reached its destination, he hoped he would reach answers too. The wall parted in front of him, and he stepped through. Then it promptly resealed itself, trapping him inside. He didn’t have claustrophobia, but this constant entrapment was ebbing at his nerves.

This new “room” was actually a bridge—not unlike the one aboard the Icarus. There was a console of sorts near a pitch-black viewport. There were no visible controls, and he wondered why there was a bridge at all if the flight equipment was unnecessary. It was another question for his hosts, if they were even aboard.

Could be a remote operation, he considered. If that’s the case, then they won’t mind if I poke around. Pushing aside his anxiety, he approached the console. The inspection was short-lived, as there was nothing notable to see or touch.

“What is this?” he asked aloud, frustration getting the better of him. “Why am I here? Am I your prisoner or your guest? Please, enlighten me.”

The response was immediate, though not what he expected. Another glowing seam formed in front of him, only this time it was on the viewport. As the vertical line separated, it revealed the expanse of the unknown beyond. Stars scattered across the endless midnight seemed nearly tangible, as though he could reach out and grab them. The closer he moved to the viewport, he realized there was no barrier between him and space.

How...?

There was no time to consider the impossible, as his attention was drawn to the planet coming into view. It was not unlike the terraformed Mars, yet not as wet as the drowned Earth. Three tiny clustered moons appeared like pinpoints. Scale was impossible to judge, but it didn’t matter to him. The idea of setting foot on an unexplored planet was the makings of his wildest fantasies. This was what he had sought through NASA’s Uncharted program—a program in which he never got the chance to participate.

Now, here he was, aboard an alien vessel, with a front-row view of a brand new world. He should be terrified, and maybe there was fear—in the back of his mind—along with his concern for his crew. His time as Captain of the Icarus meant nothing now that he had left behind a universe determined to kill him.

Why not revel in this? he thought.

Distinct shapes of clouds, continents, and vast oceans took his breath away. There were all the signs of a habitable planet before him, but the true test would be to remove his helmet and take that glorious first breath. Unless, of course, it killed him.

He shook his head, and he wondered how far he was from the Icarus. The scanners had not registered any planets on the scanners when they first came through the black hole. Had this alien vessel taken him clear across the galaxy? And did his hosts have any intention of returning him once they were finished with him?

Too many questions to ask, after I ask them to take me to their leader.

The vessel entered the planet’s atmosphere with a speed too quick for him to commit it all to memory. He thought too late to switch on his Ocunet recorder. Once he emerged from the atmosphere, the rest of his journey would be documented, though it would mean little if he were to die.

In what sort of environment would he find himself? Frozen tundra, arid desert, lush, tropical rainforest, purple mountain majesty... Or did the physics of this planet defy that to which he was accustomed? What looked familiar from his lofty vantage could be deceiving. What if the oceans were actually a form of blue gas, and the mountains, brown-gray ice? The very soil itself could be a living being. And the trees are Ents, he thought, realizing his imagination was getting the best of him. He was beginning to believe these aliens were messing with his mind.

When he finally came out the other side of the burn, for the fleetest of moments, he saw paradise. The zealot residents of Earth would refer to it as Eden, and he wondered if any of them ever experienced a transformative event akin to what he was beholding at this very moment. Was this what it was like to touch the divine, if there was such a thing? He highly doubted their Stone Age, brainwashed ways could comprehend what it meant to appreciate life.

Recovering from his religious experience, he enhanced his Ocunet vision upon a clearing—the apparent site for their landing. The surrounding landscape was a forest of some sort: vivid turquoise boughs adorning silvery-black trunks. The surreal colors distracted him from the delicate landing. The clouds broke, and burnt orange light from some distant star streamed through, shimmering like golden fire on the tips of the waving leaves.

It was a good minute or so before he finally noticed the cluster of ships huddled together. Some were similar in size and design to the one upon which he had boarded. There was no outside activity, so he intended to head inside to meet the occupants.

As if sensing his intentions, the vessel began to change its shape once more. The width of the viewport narrowed, elongating downward into a set of steps leading to the planet’s surface. The sight beckoned him, invited him to explore.

Challenge accepted.

He had intended to run, magboots and all, but he hit the ground like an anvil from a rooftop. Gravity. The alien vessel’s artificial gravity was gone, leaving Cole to discover his body was much heavier than if he had been on Mars. When he bent to reclaim his rifle, he wished he hadn’t. Not only did it weigh nearly twice as much, but his back struggled to lift it along with his leaden body. Undaunted, he would explore as much as he could until his flesh and muscle tore from his bones.

Before he took his first heavy footsteps upon this sacred land, he examined the gray dirt that had collected upon his suit. While it seemed like nothing more than debris, it meant so much more to him at this moment. He clutched the dirt in his fist, not wanting any to escape him.

His attention was directed by a presence. A lone figure had emerged from one of the clustered vessels and was heading for him. He could not wrest his eyes from this person—could not believe what he was witnessing. How had he managed to evade the clutches of his universe and slip through uncharted scientific territory, only to be whisked away on some unmanned alien vessel to the closest habitable sphere. How was it possible to leave all of humanity behind....

...Only to find her.

“Mom?”

PART THREE

METAMORPHOSIS

ICARUS LOG 003:

“The mutiny stings, but I can live with it. Hell, I can even live with the knowledge that I was being played from the start. But what I don’t appreciate is my goddamn mother coming back from the dead! If that wasn’t enough, the evil bitch somehow managed to regain my trust, only to ruin my life a second time. Oh well. At least I got to visit an uncharted planet. Too bad it was my last.”

17

EVOLUTION

Cole woke to a crushing weight on his chest. His surroundings were unfamiliar, and his oxygen levels read critical. Arms and legs could move freely, though the heavy obstruction barred his path to freedom.

A blanket?

Thicker than the average comforter, he could not recall ever being trapped beneath one...tucked or not. As he struggled to recall past events, he managed to shove the weight from him; it dropped with a surprising whump, and the sound stirred his first memory.

New planet. New gravity. Right. But what the hell happened?

He fought to sit upright. Last he remembered, he had discovered his mother on an unfamiliar planet, though the harder he tried to sift through his brain, the more jumbled thoughts became. He was certain he’d either been drugged or injured, but there were no holes or blood on his spacesuit, no cracks in his helmet, no physical pain aside from the strain against gravity. Swinging his legs from the cot renewed the aches, and blood rushed to his face, followed by a pounding headache.

Well, I’ve had enough of this place.

Just like that, all his aspirations of becoming the System’s most infamous explorer of new worlds did not seem as appealing. Perhaps the rigorous training with NASA in the Uncharted program could have prepared him for this, but it was too late now, and he was never much for following strict a regimen anyway.

Standing was a chore, and he sucked in a deep breath to prepare himself for the grueling walk to follow... Only, he was denied the intake of oxygen. The critical warning light flashed an angry blood red. No matter what he did, nor how fast he attempted to fix his situation, he was going to suffocate.

Giving his immediate surroundings a quick glance, he hoped this vessel was full of breathable air. It was a gamble he had to take. He removed his helmet.

That his head did not implode and his eyes shrivel into dried prunes was a relief. The oxygen filling his lungs was cold, tickled inside his chest, and smelled faintly of rust. But it didn’t kill him. He dropped his helmet in disbelief.

“It may yet kill you.”

Cole awkwardly spun toward the vaguely familiar voice. A figure stood in the room’s only entrance, obscured by the shadows of the dark hallway beyond. He could see the “person’s” eyes, however, for they glowed an eerie, pale green.

“The air or my heart attack?”

The figure stared back at him, though the intensity of that alien glow seemed to soften. “Since we’ve been here, we managed to manipulate this planet’s toxicity to a stable level using our Organitech. That is, as long as those affected remained aboard our ships.” A pause. “You, however, are not evolved.”

I definitely know that voice. Cole took another breath of the foreign air. “ ‘Organitech,’ ” he repeated. “Is that like a fancy title for someone who repairs expensive pianos?”

The figure chuckled. “Gray streaks aside, you haven’t changed one bit, Cole.”

Cole’s reservations fell away. “Fej! Executive Officer Francis E. Jaworski. So it is you.”

The figure stepped into the dim light of the room. The soldier and friend Cole knew lovingly as “Fej” was changed. While his physique was the same, his skin was metallic, tinged with hints of browns and violet. When he moved, his flesh was more akin to snake scales than soft skin. “Otherworldly” was an understatement.

“Shit, Fej...” Cole said, unable to look away. “You look like an android had sex with a lizard, then accidentally applied some makeup. Badly, mind you.”

Fej smiled, but it was a cold smile. “And you’ve aged far less than I would’ve expected. Time’s been kind to you.”

Cole frowned. “Most of my best years are behind me, but I still feel like I’m twenty-five. Hell, it’s only been fifteen years since...” He watched Fej’s face contort at the mention of time passage, and he knew he’d touched a sensitive topic. “Something wrong with what I said?”

As Fej approached, Cole was envious of the ease with which his friend moved. He sat down on the cot before answering, his glowing gaze distant. “It’s been less than two years since we first arrived in this new universe. And barely a year since we colonized this planet.”

Cole’s eyes widened. “Gravitational time dilation.” He sat heavily beside his friend.

Fej nodded. “It took us a while before any of us understood how GTD affected this planet. We originally had more pressing matters to deal with.” He faced Cole, a smirk on his grayish face. “Thanks to you.”

Cole’s cheeks burned, his chin dipping slightly below his shoulders. “Yeah, about that. I hadn’t realized you’d been transferred aboard the Daedalus until after my court martial hearing. Hurt like a sonofabitch to know I did you wrong. Though, I probably would’ve gone through with my plan anyway. Think on that how you want.”

Fej sighed. “You were always honest, Cole. But don’t worry; I don’t hold you accountable. Harper was out of control, and you were the only one with the courage to stop her.” He looked at his metallic hands. “Though I never would’ve thought this would be the outcome.”

“Where is my mother, anyway?” Cole asked. “And more importantly, what in the Sam Hill happened to you?”

Fej stood in response and gestured toward the door. “It’s best I just show you.”

~

As ill-advised as it was for Cole to remove his spacesuit, there was no way he would have been able to keep pace with Fej with all the added weight and magboots. Lighter though he was, the “walk” still felt more like a mountain climb. He was soon soaked in his own sweat, and his muscles seemed ready to tear away from the bone. If the exertion didn’t kill him, then the alien air probably would. If it wasn’t already killing him.

Cole ran his hand across the top of a computer console, fingertips coming away with dust. His legs begged him to sit on the waist-high unit. “Maybe you can carry me while you complete the ten-cent tour.”

“We can rest awhile if you like. There’s much more to tell.”

Cole was pretty certain that if he sat or laid down, he would give Rip Van Winkle a run for his money. “I’ll just lean against this wall for a bit. It’ll give me some time to process everything I’ve heard so far.”

He hit the wall harder than he intended, his shoulder sliding into a corner, adding support. “So let me get this straight: my mother scrambled my memories with her new evolutionary powers, left me for dead on this planet, and I unknowingly offered to her a way back to our universe?”

Fej shrugged. “Harper’s been nothing, if not patient. Through it all, she’d waited for the moment to make her way back. That you unexpectedly showed up with the solution she’d been seeking only sweetened the deal.”

Cole shook his head, frustrated he could not recall the details of his encounter with the woman he thought he’d murdered. “Any idea why she let me live?”

Fej crossed his arms as he considered an answer. “Possibly to return the favor.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Your aim might’ve been murder, but what you actually accomplished was to prompt an evolution of sorts while sending us on a one-way trip to another universe. My guess as to why she erased your short-term memory is that she wanted you to awaken—”

“To the same helplessness she and the rest of the crew of the Daedalus experienced upon passing through the black hole,” Cole finished, though he still didn’t understand how he’d failed to destroy the ship. Looking around the desolate lab, he figured he was about to find out.

“You successfully compromised a mission you didn’t fully understand,” Fej continued. He pointed to the center of the lab, where it appeared as though a large, circular—perhaps cylindrical—piece of equipment had been removed. Heavy scratch marks were gouged into the floor, across the thin layer of dust that had settled around it. “What you thought was a weapon of mass destruction was actually a sophisticated tool.”

Suddenly Cole knew what once resided within the dust circle. “This ‘tool’...by any chance did my mother have it returned to the Daedalus?”

Fej’s surprise Cole the chills. “That’s right. But how do you know that?”

“I saw it. Along with its testy guardian, Archytas. Just before you guys came and got me.” He rubbed the stubble on his jaw, his mind starting to assemble the pieces. He had a bad feeling whatever this tool was, it was also responsible for what happened to Fej. “What exactly is that thing? And what was my mother doing with it in Sagittarius A?”

“That is the question you should have asked before you attempted your sabotage.” He sighed, suddenly looking tired. “It was a particle collider, and to be honest, most of us didn’t learn of its existence until after the tragedy. We were told we were on a reconnaissance mission. There were plenty of rumors around the ship about Harper’s motives—even talks of mutiny—but few of us actually knew what she had planned, or with whom she was conspiring.”

“Black Dwarf,” Cole said darkly, recalling the trouble the radical group had caused prior to his infiltration of the Daedalus all those years ago.

“Yes. She eventually admitted this, though there were other parties involved as well.”

Cole stood up a little straighter. “Who?” Please don’t say....

“Research,” Fej said, finishing Cole’s thought. “So she claimed. Apparently a shadow organization affiliated with the governmental division was doing their dirty work. Someone by the name of—”

“Dr. Kingston Dartmouth,” Cole said, returning the favor of interruption. His head was spinning. “Better known as The Singularity.”

“Yeah.” The glowing eyes narrowed. “I thought you were unaware of such classified information going into your mission.”

“I’m sleeping with his daughter,” Cole answered. “And let me tell you, in terms of brilliance, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. The jury’s still out on her sanity.”

Fej was shaking his head, though a hint of a grin had crept into the corner of his mouth. “I’m not really surprised, though I can’t even begin to imagine how you pulled that off.”

Cole interlocked his fingers and cracked his knuckles. “It was easy. I unknowingly allowed her and two other plants to kidnap me from my job and force me into assisting their own terroristic, political agenda. Then, I helped Lin—Kingston’s daughter—and one of the terrorists—to double-cross one of her partners—both of whom are members of my crew—and now we’re all the galaxy’s most wanted criminals. I swept her off her feet by outsmarting her one-time vindictive AI creation, and introduced her to a life of crime under the thumb of my now deceased gangster brother.” He clapped his hands together and sighed.

Fej’s head had not ceased shaking. “You’ve been busy over these last fifteen years.”

Now it was Cole’s turn to shake his head. “Nah, this all transpired over the last month. I spent most of my post-Military career keeping a low profile and working as an interstellar cargo pilot for SolEx.”

“Is that why you wear company leather working gloves?”

Cole cringed. He flexed his hands, the leather creaking. Then, against his better judgment, he slipped one of them off to reveal his horrible burns. “I only wear to them to cover up the constant reminder of how I failed to take out the Daedalus. I played with fire and literally got burned.”

“Those are serious burns, Cole,” Fej noted with slight disgust. “How’d you manage?”

Cole nodded toward the dust circle. “That so-called particle collider. In my haste to sabotage what I thought was a weapon, I must’ve triggered a reaction. Presto! Cooked fingers. And speaking of cooked...” He looked Fej up and down. “I suppose my meddling is to blame for your transformation as well.”

Fej sighed. “Your meddling started a chain reaction of events which led to an unexplainable explosion, temporarily leaving the Daedalus dark. We drifted toward the event horizon, and by the time we managed to bring the ship back online, it was too late. Harper made a last-ditch effort to jump the ship out of the black hole, but we were driven further in.

“I don’t recall much during that time, only that something...strange...happened, and I can only attribute it to the burst of energy expelled from the compromised collider. It was as though we all became energy. I’m not sure. I do believe that the only reason we survived was because of what you did.”

“Don’t say that,” Cole said. “It’s because of me that you’re here. Not the other way around.”

“Maybe, but like I said before: you were the only one with the courage to stop Harper.”

Fej’s words did not lift the heavy guilt from Cole’s shoulders. “You never told me how she planned to use the collider.”

Fej seemed reluctant to return to the topic. “She never revealed those plans to me, but,” he gestured to himself, “we all concluded that what you see in front of you is what she was hoping to do to the whole of humanity.”

What the...? “Wait. My mother, Admiral Harper Musgrave, flew the Daedalus out to the center of our galaxy so she could employ some sort of energy burst to evolve the human race?”

Fej nodded, his eyes upon the floor.

“For what possible purpose?” came the rhetorical question.

“I don’t know, Cole. She was a loose cannon by the time you intervened. The crew didn’t know what to think.”

“Yet you still followed her orders,” Cole said. “And continued to do so even afterwards.”

Fej scowled, but then his expression softened. “You’re right. We did. But you know as well as I do, a crew looks upon its admiral as though they’re infallible. Even when the evidence is staring them dead in the face. She’s a living legend, and no one was willing to disobey her orders for fear of being labeled a traitor.”

Cole couldn’t argue. “Only I was stupid enough to take on that mantle. I guess you have to be born a bastard from a career Military mother and a murderous gangster father to have the balls to stand up in the face of adversity.” He wiped his hand down across his face.

“I regret my lack of action every day,” Fej said. “It’s the reason I don’t resent my change. It was earned.”

Cole didn’t want to argue that point. “Speaking of change, your opinion of my mother must’ve changed some time after you came here. Why else would you have continued to follow her into the abyss?”

Fej held up his index finger. “Regardless of how we felt toward Harper, in the time of our greatest need, she did her best to see us all to safety. At least initially.” He turned away.

Cole knew he shouldn’t press the issue, but there was one last batch of questions he had to ask. “You said my mother did her best to see the crew to safety. If that’s the case, then where is the crew? I haven’t seen a soul, other than yours. And speaking of you: what are you still doing here? Why didn’t you make your escape alongside her when you had the chance?”

“I couldn’t leave you to die here all alone, so I finally stood up to her. Better late than never, I suppose. Had I the strength and the courage, I would’ve finished what you started. Unfortunately, some of us evolved more than others.” His grin was short-lived. “As for the crew...I’d rather not say. Not yet, at least.”

The strength and the courage? Cole thought, frowning. “ ‘Not yet’? Then you insinuate that there will be a time down the road where you will tell me. You have a plan?”

Fej was shaking his head again. “No plan. Just a means of transportation.”

Fej had told him that none of the ships in the makeshift camp were able to fly anymore. “Care to explain yourself?”

Fej straightened, looking like the soldier Cole recalled from years past. “Organitech.”

“And that means...?”

“Biomechanical coalescence. It’s a term the crew of the Daedalus concocted to explain the anomaly that befell us. The burst of energy from the collider affected us in different ways.” He gestured for Cole to follow him. “A lot of us died during the evolution. Those who survived acquired new abilities.”

“Acquired new abilities,” Cole repeated. “What, like those old-fashioned comic book superheroes?”

Fej did not laugh, nor did he refute Cole. He slowed in front of a door that led to one of the connected ships. “We’re far from superhuman, but our strength has increased as a result of the change.”

“Alright, quit dragging out this explanation,” Cole said, exasperated. “Since when did you become a long-winded storyteller?”

“Sorry.” Fej turned toward the door, and it opened on its own. They entered the short hallway beyond. “I’m not good at this sort of thing. You’re the first person I’ve explained this to who didn’t experience it all firsthand. It’d be better if I just showed you.”

“Alright. But what’s so difficult about explaining your change?”

Fej didn’t answer as he made his way through the compact ship. Cole recognized it as an escape vessel, constructed to hold upwards of fifty passengers, supplies, and weapons. None of those were present.

When Fej entered the cockpit, he stood in front of the flight console and turned to face Cole. “Is this supposed to answer all my questions?” Cole asked, wondering if maybe Fej had been breathing this planet’s air for too long. Had the change affected his mind as well?

Cole considered himself an experienced, well-traveled man. He had seen many sights in his forty years of life, both good and bad. And what he’d not seen in person, he’d probably researched to some extent through his Ocunet. But there was nothing documented that he knew about the pairing of man and machine in quite this way.

Maybe his alcohol had been laced with hallucinogens. How else could he explain the sight of his friend’s body as it literally fused to the console and merged with the ship?

18

CANNIBAL

Organitech. Now Cole understood. Tissue and technology working in concert. The marriage of man and machine. The Singularity’s master plan finally unveiled.

And it terrified him.

He struggled to understand what the purpose would be to “upgrading” the human race. Control? Weaponization? Or was it merely the whim of a madman? And if it was madness, why had his mother signed on to assist Lin’s crazy father?

There were no answers here. Fej was merely the end result. What Cole wanted his friend to explain, however, was where they were headed. The escape vessel was clearly functional, despite having been told the contrary.

Cole wasn’t sure where to look, now that Fej had become one with the ship. So he stared at the console. “Neat trick, buddy. Not sure how you got your clothes to follow you in there, but that’s not important. Your performance only gave me more questions. Care to give me a rundown of things before I question my sanity?”

The console illuminated. “Despite my reservations, I’m bringing you back to the Daedalus,” Fej said, his voice surrounding Cole.

“I thought none of the remaining ships on this planet functioned. Are you going to teleport me?”

“The technology inside me might be advanced, but teleportation is not one of the perks.”

Cole’s grin was short-lived as the trembling engines came to life. He sat in the pilot’s chair, deciding against interfering with the controls. “So, what exactly do you expect me to do once you plop me in front of my mother? Besides die from suffocation or destruction by her superhuman hands?” He tapped his head and chest, both which were bereft of the means to survive space. His rifle slid off his shoulder, and he let it fall to the ground with a clatter.

“I will transfer the modified oxygen from this planet into your suit,” Fej said.

“Care to explain how?” Cole asked, knowing the smaller craft was incapable of accomplishing oxygen replenishment. “I left my suit back in your hodgepodge camp. Besides, you would have to somehow modify the...uh....”

The opening of the cockpit door drew Cole’s attention. No one was there, though he was compelled to investigate. “This your doing, Fej?”

“You didn’t think I would fly you all the way back to the Daedalus without your suit, did you? And yes, I did modify the ship so it contains an oxygen replenishing unit. It’s currently refilling your suit’s tanks as we speak.”

Cole peaked through the door to the passenger hold to see his suit was draped across a few of the empty seats, his helmet resting snugly inside the material. The oxygen tank was connected to a valve that was protruding from the armrest. He didn’t see any other valves on the remaining seats. How fortuitous.

“Um, is there someone else aboard?”

“Negative.”

“Hm. So you’re telling me that with your artificially grafted telekinesis, you established contact with this hub of ships and used your Organitech powers to maneuver my spacesuit into this hold?”

“More or less.”

“Not with teleportation.”

“Doesn’t exist, Cole.”

Cole threw up his hands. “Of course not. What was I thinking? Mankind’s only managed to manipulate our cells so that they can deconstruct and reconstruct complex circuitry and inanimate objects. We’re way far off from teleportation.”

“I detect a hint of sarcasm.”

“Oh yeah? Well at least your new operating system didn’t delete that portion of your brain.”

Fej responded with a hearty laugh. “I’m glad you’re here, Cole—even if it’s only for another few minutes or so.”

“Optimistic.”

“Realistic. I’ve had a lot of quiet time to think.”

Quiet time, eh? Seems unlikely in this environment. “I know you said you don’t want to discuss it, but I need to know everything you can tell me about what I’m up against. To start, where’s the rest of the crew? The Daedalus can carry five thousand people. Other than my mother—who I can’t remember talking to—you’re the only other person I’ve seen.”

The console sighed. “Including myself and Harper, there are only seven of us left.”

“Seven!” Cole was stupefied. “That many people died during the explosion and passage through the black hole?”

“Not entirely.”

Cole recalled the damage to the Daedalus’s hull. Maybe that’s what he doesn’t want to talk about. “What can you possibly tell me that’s going to be more shocking than learning I’m responsible for the majority of deaths aboard your ship?”

There was a moment’s pause before Fej answered, “The Changed are responsible for their deaths. Not you. Those of us who evolved that day... We... I....”

Cole’s stomach knotted as he felt his friend’s pain through the loudspeaker. What could have eradicated over ninety-nine percent of the crew? That it wasn’t an alien invasion was a disappointment. He pondered this as the escape vessel tore from the planet’s atmosphere and sped into the unfamiliar universe.

“Look,” Cole began when Fej fell silent. “I don’t need to know the details surrounding your trials and tribulations. Whatever happened, happened. I won’t judge you. I can’t judge you. Not after the shit I’ve pulled since that day I condemned the crew of the Daedalus. Shit, karma took a nice healthy bite outta my ass for what I did. Heh. I had to flee the galaxy just to—”

“Cannibalism.”

Cole’s jaw hung slack. He stepped back and placed his hand on the back of the flight chair for support.

“Not in the sense you might think,” Fej said.

“Is there another kind of cannibalism I don’t know about?”

“We didn’t eat each other despite what the term implies. There’s no proper way to describe the acts we committed in order to survive. Those of us who evolved discovered the change came with a steep price. Over time, we could no longer subsist off a typical diet, so we had to find sustenance elsewhere.”

“In each other,” Cole said, disgusted.

“In other changed individuals,” Fej clarified, clearly upset by the comment. “Most of us died during transition, some to starvation, and a great deal more due from fighting. We were desperate to survive, and that’s when we discovered Absorption.”

The term made Cole’s stomach lurch. It didn’t take a strong imagination to envision what it meant.

“Spare me the rest of that horror story, Fej,” he said, waving his hands. “I know I asked, but I’m rescinding my request.” He changed the subject, considering the destroyed exterior of the Daedalus. “Instead, I’d rather learn about the damage your ship incurred post-black hole.”

Cole’s friend’s long pause also gave him pause. Another sensitive subject?

“There were riots,” Fej finally answered. “That’s all I’ll say. It was a dark time.”

Riots? Cole thought. Over what, I wonder? He had been given the bare bones of the truth, but there were obvious secrets yet untold. He was also bothered deeply by the acknowledgment of Absorption. For now, enough dark revelations had been revealed, and he would not press Fej any further.

“My mother?” he said. “What makes her so special that she survived everything that’s happened?”

“She’s a Musgrave,” Fej said, and Cole wasn’t entirely sure if he was kidding. “That, and she claims to have been at ground zero when the collider released its energy.”

“Patient zero,” Cole muttered.

“Whether or not that story carries any weight means little to me. She’s a survivor, and her strength and convictions are unmatched.”

“How many of her own crew did she...absorb?” He gagged at the word.

“More than any of us,” Fej offered without hesitation. “There was venom in his voice. “Of that, I’m certain.”

Good ol’ Mama Harper. Always thinking of number one. Just like Dad. Cole glanced up at the viewport, his Ocunet registering the Daedalus in the far distance. He wasn’t sure if he was glad or horrified that it was still there. “Before we dock, is there anything you can tell me about my mother that’ll give me the upper hand? My silver tongue doesn’t work on her.”

“Hm, you’re more of a snake charmer, Cole,” Fej said, some of his humor returning. “In regard to Harper, I honestly don’t know much about what she can do. She kept her abilities private, and when she applied them, only her most trusted were around.”

“You weren’t one of her trusted?”

“Not near the end. To be honest, if it wasn’t for your arrival, she’d have probably Absorbed me next.”

“So there is a finite lifespan for you cyberfreaks,” Cole pointed out. “That can work to my advantage...if she doesn’t Absorb someone from her inner circle first.”

“It’s not her lifespan you should be worried about,” Fej said. “It’s her unpredictability. That, compounded with her increased strength.”

“Again with my mother’s villainous superpowers,” Cole said, frustrated. “You keep talking her up like she’s a bulldozer, yet you don’t have a clear idea what she can do. Help me out, here.”

“Bulldozer would be an accurate description,” Fej stated flatly. “I might not have seen her openly display her abilities, but she has exerted her will through brute force.”

Cole could almost feel Fej shudder through the vessel. “Go on.”

“And in terms of ability,” Fej continued, “I can only go by what I can do.”

“Which is?” Cole was growing tired of fishing for answers.

“Other than Organitech, which I openly displayed for you, my strength was enhanced, and I maintain a constant wireless connectivity to all things electronic.”

“Like an antenna?” Cole inferred.

“More than that. If I’m close enough, I can manipulate, restructure, and physically reshape machines, computers, and even programs, with a thought. Though it takes a lot of energy and concentration.”

Cole thought of his spacesuit and how it seemingly walked on its own into the escape vessel. “So this biomechanical coalescence is also a weakness.”

“For me, yes. Especially since I have run out of ways to replenish any spent energy. Harper, on the other hand, seems to have reserves in spades.”

“Probably because of her insatiable thirst,” Cole said. The gap between him and the Daedalus was closing too fast. “We’re gonna have to think outside the box to take her and her cronies out. Discussion and a full frontal are out of the equation. And speaking of attack, is there anyone else in my mother’s Absorption retinue I might regret killing?”

“I would hope you haven’t reached a point where killing doesn’t inspire some form of regret.”

“Oh, you’re a philosopher now,” Cole mocked. “I wasn’t aware you fit the Starforce stereotype of bleeding heart liberal. Military would be disappointed.”

“And I was unaware you’d crossed over to become the kind of heartless murdering machine Military always envisioned during the Carbon War.”

“Touché,” Cole said, smiling. “I’ve missed you, Jaworski. Sorry I inadvertently transformed you into Frankenstein’s monster.”

“Yeah, I can’t say the same, Musgrave,” Fej jested. “You can make it up to me by getting things right this time around.”

Cole laughed, though inside, his guts were twisting. He hadn’t the slightest clue as to how he was going to face his mother, let alone kill her while looking her straight in the eyes. There was the assumption that he would have Fej as backup, but the odds didn’t favor him with two against six. As the Daedalus came into clearer focus, he started to form a plan.

Accessing Ocunet, he hoped he was within range to establish a link with Lin, Chrys, and Rig. NuFi was nonexistent in this new universe, but the lenses themselves acted as mini antennas when out of range of a satellite signal. Why he had not thought to contact his crew until now was beyond him. Then again, he could say the same of them. A connection might have been impossible...or his mother was purposely interfering.

Or they’re dead.

As Cole waited for his lenses to bridge the gap, he noticed something peculiar in the corner of his vision. A tiny message notification was blinking, urging him to open and read. The sender’s name was unknown, and again he wondered how he could’ve missed something so obvious. Just what had his mother done to his mind?

“You’re suddenly quiet,” Fej said, startling Cole.

“I’m starting to doubt my sanity, that’s why,” Cole said, his attention up on the notification. “Did you send me an instant message?”

“Why would I need to do that.”

“Huh, I wonder....”

“Wait!” Fej warned. “Who’s it from?”

“Unknown.”

“And it wasn’t there before you woke up?”

Cole frowned. “Now that I think of it, I haven’t received any messages since Cain locked that function on all of my crew’s Ocunet lenses.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cole said, hoping to return to the topic. “What does matter is that it shouldn’t be there.”

“Harper,” Fej said with certainty. “Don’t open it. Who knows what sort of damage that message could cause.”

Great, now I have to open it. “I appreciate your concern for my safety, Fej, but if my mother wanted me dead, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have taken such a roundabout a way to do it. If it’s from her, she intended for me to view it.”

“I thought you knew Harper better than that, Cole.”

“Hey, I need any intel I can scrounge before I lay down on the cutting board and bare my throat. Besides, she must’ve anticipated I would come for her, so she probably decided to politely discourage me from doing just that.”

Fej scoffed. “Yes, because we both know she’s so subtle.”

Cole smirked, though in truth, he was terrified to open the flashing notification. But open it he did. And what was inside was more than enough to discourage him from attempting anything again.

19

WHISPERS

Cole was hardly aware when they docked with the Daedalus. He entered the cockpit and placed his recorder device back into the front pocket of his suit. Sitting down heavily, he stared dumbly at the failed communication notice with his crew. Were it not for the irrefutable proof of his worst nightmare, he would’ve considered the video message a fake. Rather, it was the lack of the Icarus’s presence that drove a dagger through the heart of his very last hope.

“They’re gone, aren’t they.”

It wasn’t a question, and Cole knew that Fej had already figured out the source of his silence. He nodded. How could they betray me so completely?

“Are you sure they aren’t just out searching for you?”

Cole tossed the message file at the viewport, allowing it to play in all its theatrical glory. He watched it again—the expertly edited point-of-view moment when his mother and the other changed members of the Daedalus approached the crew of the Icarus with a peace offering: a chance at redemption in return for their services. Both Rig and Emmerich had been eager to defy their traitorous captain, and Cole had stomached the pain of Lin’s devastation as she learned of her lover’s “death.” He swallowed his fury when they persuaded her to reveal the secrets of the Cosmic Particle and how to employ the Colossus for travel through a black hole.

He relived it all, knowing the entire scenario was his fault.

At some point Fej had rematerialized and joined Cole’s side. His presence was hardly comforting. “I’m sorry you didn’t make it in time.”

“Not as sorry as I am for rewatching that video,” Cole said, heading back toward the holding area. He walked to his spacesuit and detached it from the makeshift oxygen valve. Without fully understanding why, he began to suit up.

“Where are you going?” Fej asked.

“Out,” Cole replied. “I have to make sure.”

“Make sure of what, Cole? I saw the same video you did. They turned on you.”

“But why?” Cole demanded. “Sure, there was tension related to our survival, but I had no reason to doubt our camaraderie. They made no argument—nor did they try and stop me—when I explained to them why I was boarding the ship to your planet. Not a peep from them....”

Fej raised a knowing eyebrow. “Harper disrupted your communication.”

Cole thunked into one of the seats with only one of his legs halfway in the suit. How could I have been so stupid? “They probably thought the same of me.”

Fej nodded. “All they saw was you abandoning them to a derelict cruiser. Their reaction might be justified...though, I admit that I’m surprised Harper’s story regarding your death was all it took for them to accept your passing. True crew members would question the legitimacy of her story. No one even asked for evidence.”

Not even Lin, Cole thought. “I never said we were tight. Circumstance brought us all together, and we’ve had to adjust to one another through constant opposition.” He resumed dressing.

“Those people in that video aren’t worth your time or consideration. They’ve chosen a new captain.”

“Not all of them,” Cole said, defending Lin.

Regardless of what you believe, what do you hope to accomplish while aboard the Daedalus?”

“Check the engine room.” He pulled the suit up and over his shoulders.

Fej collected Cole’s helmet and handed it to him. “I don’t know what you hope to find in there, but whatever it is, Harper probably took it first.”

Cole collected his helmet. “You coming?”

“Someone has to cover your six.”

Cole looked him up and down. “Not like that, you aren’t.”

Fej grinned. “Another gift from the particle gods. Some of us—myself included—can withstand the extremes of space for extended periods of time.”

“Oh?” Cole wasn’t sure if he was serious. “One day I’d love to hear the tale behind your unfortunate discovery of this ability, but I’ll simply ask how you managed that.”

Over the course of the next thirty seconds or so, Fej inhaled one impossibly long breath. When he finished, his chest did not seem any larger than before. It was his face that changed. It looked as though his lenses had thickened, fortifying Fej’s eyes. All other visible orifices—ears, nose, and mouth—sealed shut so they were smooth with the rest of his gray, scaly skin. When he spoke, it was inside Cole’s comm.

“Just like that.”

~

Cole wiped his hand across a slight indentation where the Icarus had rested. There was no way to know for sure if the ship had actually made the impression, but it brought him slight comfort in believing it had.

Gotta stay focused. As bad as it looks, they have good reason to hate my guts. Just remember that Lin cried for me. Thinking of Lin surfaced a thought. Just what was she doing on the Daedalus?

That last thought was enough to get him up and moving with renewed vigor. Fortunately, he’d saved and logged the interior schematic of the Daedalus into his Ocunet lenses before the Icarus had departed. As much as he wanted to trust in Fej, he had changed. His friend claimed to not be holding a grudge, but Cole couldn’t take him at his word—not after what his crew had done to him. It was best he trust only in himself.

“How is it the power is up and running?” Fej asked through his comm.

“You can thank that cranky show-off Archytas, for the lights,” Cole said. Even he got to join my mother. He better be taking care of Lin.

“How did you manage to sway that droid?”

Or whatever Archytas is, Cole thought. He never did get a straight answer as to how a simple AI program became a bipedal being. “Turns out Archytas was Lin’s nanny, so he...it, whatever, ignored his duty as gatekeeper and reverted back to being her caretaker. Her father must’ve utilized the Archytas program to carry out his master plan aboard this ship.”

Fej caught up to Cole. “At the beginning, no one was sure where it had come from, though it seemed willing enough to help us. Harper, as expected, fleeced the droid of any information it contained before putting it to work.”

“As the caretaker of something almost equally as precious as his daughter: the collider,” Cole surmised. “And Archytas was the reason why you guys knew we were here.”

Fej nodded. “Yes, but the droid is gone, and I still have no idea what it is you hope to find in its stead? It’d be nice to know what you’re looking for so I can help.”

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Cole said as he stepped through a doorway. “If I see it. You’re here solely as my acting tough. Think of me as your damsel in distress.”

“I think a lot less of you now after that comment.”

Cole smirked. “Just leave the clue-sniffing to me. I have reason to believe Lin left me behind something as a precaution.”

“Such as?”

“A miracle, I hope.”

Fej sighed. “It’s a wonder you ever landed an intelligent woman like her. I distinctly recall you managing to offend everyone of the female persuasion.”

“I’m a persuasive offender all genders, Fej. I’m a difficult man to love.”

“And does the daughter of the notorious Singularity love you?”

Cole thought back to the last time he’d spoken—rather, argued—with Lin, and he wasn’t so sure. He had feelings for her, but he could easily attribute their unlikely relationship to a complete lack of choice in partners. Whatever the reason, he cared for her, and he wanted to believe she felt the same way despite what the others may have told her he’d done.

Cole glanced at Fej. “She understands me. I’ll just leave it at that.”

“Then she’s as crazy as her father.”

“Crazy like a fox.”

“What the....”

Cole’s face screwed up. “You know, the saying—”

“No, shut up,” Fej snapped. “Listen.”

Cole blinked, wondering to what he should be listening on an empty ship.

“I hear someone whispering.”

“Whispering? In a vacuum?”

Fej scowled. “Whatever it is I hear, I hear it.”

“You just said someone.” Cole stopped in a hallway not far from the engine room and began looking around for evidence of a disembodied voice. “You sure your new computer brain doesn’t need a soft reboot?”

“The words are difficult to make out.” Fej said, ignoring Cole. “Something about a virus and a trap.”

Now you have my attention. “Try harder to translate, because I can only hear you.”

Fej’s face tensed in concentration. “It’s too faint, though I’m enhancing the audio I’ve recorded so far. Here, listen.”

The audio coming from Cole’s comm was jarring. He was about to have Fej lower the volume of what sounded like white noise, when he, too, heard the voice. The longer he listened, the more he was able to discern a repeated phrase, broken though it was. When he realized who the speaker was, he turned and ran down the hallway as fast as his bulky suit and magboots would allow.

He ignored Fej’s pleas for him to stop and explain himself, though his friend easily caught up with him. When they finally rounded the corner leading to the engine room, Cole could not slow, and his bum knee gave out, bringing him to the ground just inside the open doorway. He grabbed Fej’s extended hand and was lifted to his feet as though he weighed no more than a child.

Stupid knee. It’s gonna get me killed one of these days. Cole cringed when he put weight on his leg, but he managed to stand. Fej was already focused on something else: the still-active collider, the vibrations in the floor reverberating through his boots. A familiar object was sitting on the floor just in front of the mysterious machine.

“The voice is much clearer in here,” Fej said, still staring at the collider.

Cole knew Fej’s attention was on the wrong subject. “It’s Cain you’re hearing.”

“The AI you mentioned?” Fej asked, perplexed. “How is that possible?”

Cole shrugged, pointing at the glass cylinder. “Dunno. You should ask him since I can’t. And you better hurry, because I didn’t like what he was saying.”

Fej frowned at the item containing the AI’s brain. “What makes you think it will hear me?”

“What, suddenly you’re afraid to use your nifty upgrades?” Cole asked. “After everything you’ve done so far, I’m sure you can establish some sort of connection. Why else would he have signaled you if not to communicate?”

“You’re probably right. I’ll give it a shot.” Fej knelt inside the container and placed a hand on top. “Cain. My name is Francis Jaworski, former executive officer of the Daedalus. I’m here with Cole Musgrave....”

Cole blinked, wondering why Fej had trailed. “What?”

Fej held up a silencing hand. As the seconds turned into minutes, his concerned expression changed to panic. He yanked away his hand in horror, recoiling from CAIN.

Cole had had enough. “If you don’t start talking, I’m gonna go back to the dock and push your ship over the edge.”

“I’m sorry, Cole. I didn’t hear it.”

Cole didn’t like his tone. “Didn’t hear what?”

Fej was staring at the ceiling as though searching. “The silent alarm.” He finally met Cole’s gaze. “Harper had the Daedalus set to self-destruct if either of us set foot aboard.”

Thanks, Mom. “How long until it blows?”

“A couple minutes,” Fej said, his voice hollow. “According to CAIN, the Cosmic Particle collider is gathering the necessary energy to create a bomb that will destroy this ship. The process is irreversible.”

Well, I gotta give her credit for considering the possibility I would find a way off that planet and come after her. “No time to run back to your ship and make a run for it, eh?”

Fej shook his head. “We’d never escape the blast radius.”

“Didn’t think so,” Cole said, grimacing. “I hope there’s something else you’re not telling me.” Like a Cain miracle.

Fej clutched his head with both hands and squatted, trembling. “There is,” he said at last. When he was back on his feet, he had regained his focus. I need to remove the virus.”

Was this the same virus the Sentinel had uploaded during the crew’s last mission? If so, how was Fej going to aid in the problem’s removal if both CAIN and Lin could not do it themselves? Even if the virus was removed, Fej had stated that there was no way to slow the amassing of energy in the collider.

“You’d best run, Cole.”

Cole held out both hands. “Where? You just said—”

With unnatural speed, Fej closed the gap between them and grabbed the front of Cole’s spacesuit. He felt his feet leave the ground, and was forced to look down at his friend. “Get to the escape vessel,” Fej said. “I’ve programmed it to await your arrival. You’ll be safest there.”

Cole clutched at Fej’s arm, but it was solid as steel. “What’re you doing? What about you?”

Cole was tossed out of the engine room. He slammed against the outside wall, his magboots drawing him back to the floor. Dazed, he straightened and looked at his friend for the last time.

“I’m finally fighting back,” Fej said. “And if you wish to do the same, you’d better run.”

Cole blinked as the door to the engine room closed. His legs, shaky though they were, acted of their own volition, carrying him toward the escape ship. Without the flashing lights, blaring klaxons, or crumbling surroundings, the situation was surreal—but it felt anything but desperate.

When he finally reached the makeshift dock where the escape vessel was waiting, he saw the first sign of pending doom. He stared in disbelief at the widening seam in the Daedalus’s interior hull.

Placing his faith in Fej and CAIN, Cole made straight for the cockpit. The ship’s viewport was facing the direction of the engine room, and no sooner than Cole was in the pilot’s chair, the world outside begin to collapse. Bright bluish light filtered through the widening cracks in the floor and poured out of the doorways. The foundation upon which the escape vessel resided shuddered, and walls began to cave inward as massive beams succumbed to the immense stress. Debris rained down upon the exterior despite the lack of gravity. Cole watch it all unfold, helplessly.

The violent tremors of the disintegrating ship made it impossible for him to think, and maybe that was for the best. In any second, his life would end, and the rest of the System could move on without him. He only hoped his crew would find peace and happiness on the other side of the black hole.

Sorry, Doc. I tried.

A massive rift opened across the whole of the Daedalus before the darkness took him.

20

FOG

Chrys awoke with a start, her undershirt soaked with sweat. Nightmares were not uncommon for her, but this particular one had left her shaking and full of dread. She could not remember the details behind what had scared her, but she was certain her own guilt had contributed, for his image was at the forefront of her mind. She tried to busy herself to push his memory aside.

As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, a quick glance at the time in Ocunet indicated she had overslept. The intended “catnap” meant to curb her migraine had evolved into a four-hour snooze. Though the headache remained, her energy and mood had slightly improved. When she was reminded of who and what awaited her, her spirits plummeted further than before.

The door to her bunk was slightly ajar, though it was quiet beyond—just as it had been prior to closing her eyes. When she was presentable, she left the confines of her room and faced the surreal world beyond.

She marched through the empty hallway, the Bar, and made for the bridge to receive an update. She clenched her fists to keep them from shaking when the newest member of the Icarus came into view. Harper Musgrave, tall and imposing, was standing alone in the same place after Chrys had left to reorganize her thoughts. The former admiral’s arms were clasped behind her back, shoulders square and chest thrust forward. There was strength in her lean frame despite her age; she was every bit the intimidating leader Chrys remembered...yet there was something different about her...something unexplainable.

Harper had not had to endure a full fifteen years like everyone else in the United System, but two years in an uncharted universe, roughing it on a foreign planet, would age any other person that equivalent length of time. Not the infamous Admiral Musgrave. Time and fate were hers to control.

“I’ve forgotten what it’s like to sleep.”

Chrys swallowed hard and stopped a few feet shy of Harper. How was she supposed to respond to such a statement? “Permission to speak freely.”

“Granted.”

Chrys suddenly felt twenty years younger and much less confident. She never thought she’d find herself under the charge of her former commanding officer. Harper was the reason she had abandoned Starforce and Military, yet here she was, standing at her beck and call. It would be easy to blame Cole for her emotional decision to rejoin Harper’s cause, but the truth is—and always was—that she was afraid of saying no.

“Was there something you wished to say, Sergeant?”

Chrys’s head was spinning again, the migraine increasing. She had not heard anyone address her by her former title in close to two decades. It only added to the surreal nature of her situation. “What is the nature of our mission?”

Harper turned her head partway toward Chrys so the sharpness of her nose and chin was visible. “Our mission? Have you decided to officially join my cause?”

Chrys began to sweat. “That depends. I was under the impress—”

“Sergeant,” Harper interrupted, looking back toward the viewport screen, “I recall you walking away from the United System Starforce. The only impression I recall was the one you made upon me when you refused your post on my bridge. Why should I disclose to you the full nature of my mission?”

Chrys was shocked at the cutting remark. A small fire lit inside her, a bit of Cole showing through. “With all due respect, you’re aboard this vessel because I allowed it. Not the other way around. I am second in command under your son, but seeing as he abandoned us, that leaves me the captain of the Icarus. We’re no longer serving under Military code.”

Harper faced Chrys, and she felt the full penetration of her glare. Cole may have taken after his father in features and dark complexion, but he had the benefit of his mother’s intelligence and intense gaze. Seeing Cole in Harper only emboldened her.

“Cole’s influence over you is unfortunate,” Harper said. “But it’s not entirely unwelcome.”

Chrys unclenched her fists, allowing blood to flow back into her fingers.

“Whatever business you involved yourself in my absence has clearly strengthened your resolve,” Harper continued, turning back toward the viewport screen. “You may be captain of your so-called crew, but make no mistake, I am in command.”

Chrys stiffened, and her ears burned. She opened her mouth to remark, but Harper spoke first.

“That being said, there’s no reason we can’t work in conjunction with one another. I’ve been away for quite some time. Your insight into current System affairs will be valuable if we are to succeed.”

We. The inclusion had not escaped Chrys’s notice. “And in order for us to succeed, I will need to know the details of your operation. Communication needs to be open and fluid if we are to be partners in this venture.”

Harper raised her silver brow. “Partners, is it?” She faced Chrys once more, arms down at her sides. “Sergeant—”

“Captain,” Chrys stressed, astounded at her own rebelliousness. She’s right about Musgrave rubbing off on me.

Harper’s eyes flashed. She started a slow approach. “Captain,” she amended, though the title did not sound nearly as significant coming from her lips. “I believe it’s time you understood the significance of my evolution.”

Evolution? Chrys thought. Nothing about her former admiral struck her as different, other than the fact she was incredibly hale for someone whose entire crew perished during a desperate time in an unforgiving existence. She had a feeling that whatever she was about to learn was not going to level the playing field.

“This ‘venture’ of which you speak,” Harper began, “is greater than you or me, though simplistic in nature. As it was then, it is now still grander than the scope of our narrow-minded government. You, Cole, the whole of Military, and all five divisions of UniSys have willingly turned a blind eye to is the survival of the human race.”

Chrys felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Clearly her paranoid schizophrenia has continued to deteriorate her mind, she thought, more disappointed than angry. “Survival against what?”

“A threat against which our species cannot contend,” Harper said, her eyes burning with intensity. “The Fog.”

Chrys almost laughed aloud, though nothing about what Harper had said was funny in the slightest. She could not, however, stop her head from shaking back and forth. “This. This is why you threw away your career and damn near the entire crew of the Daedalus? I’d heard the rumors of your involvement in such matters while under your command, though I chose to ignore them. I ignored them because of my deep admiration for your past efforts as a decorated admiral. For your heroism during the later years of the Carbon War. Though now I see I was right to walk away from my own career, because I could no longer bear to witness your continued decline. To think I doubted myself for all these years.

“How is it that you fell so far as to believe in the cosmic event that will bring about humanity’s end? When did you throw away reason for madness?” Chrys was yelling, she realized, but she could not stop. “How could you be so thoughtless and selfish? To lead your crew—my brothers and sisters—on a suicide mission to center of the galaxy and force your son to commit treason in order to destroy you?”

Her hand was on her hip, but the sidearm was not there. It hadn’t been there for some time. It was in another universe, with the one person who had understood the truth all along.

Harper had stopped her advance, her face strangely impassive. “Such is the price one must pay, to endure the scorn of an entire galaxy, even when their fate hangs in the balance.”

An image appeared in Chrys’s Ocunet display, dividing the space between her and Harper. At first she wasn’t sure what she was looking at, but the image became a video as it came into focus. She could distinguish the dark silhouette of a massive structure in the far reaches of space. There were legions of construction ships, each as large as the Daedalus, crafting this enormous structure. She could think of nothing man-made to rival its size and scope.

The angle changed, and Chrys began to wonder at the origin and the validity of the video. There was no audio, though the date and running time indicated it was from the past—nearly twenty years ago. If this was indeed proof of the fabled Fog, how would one manage to acquire this footage? Even more importantly: How could such a device be built without the whole of the galaxy knowing of its existence?

The structure continued to enlarge, until it had filled the entirety of Chrys’s Ocunet vision. The focus was on a particular point of interest, and like entering a planet’s atmosphere, reaching the surface of this metal behemoth took significant time. Chrys allowed the video to become full VR. She marveled as she drifted past the endless sea of workers slaving away in open space. Hundreds of thousands of people would be needed to complete such an enormous task, and the cost of the labor and materials would exceed anything UniSys would greenlight.

Unless....

By the time the video reached the solid surface of the unfinished structure, Chrys’s hands were shaking again. Giant, block letters were bolted into the hull, inspiring such revulsion as to turn her stomach. The name symbolized the epitome of everything she hated about the human race. It was synonymous with the abuse of all seven deadly sins. It was the only name which could succeed at erecting an instrument of control. This corrupt faction paraded out in the open, pretending to be an upstanding contributor to society. It was the one name that could sway her back to Harper’s side and forgive all past atrocities.

It was the call letters of her arch nemesis.

Terracom.

~

Lin was exactly where she expected to find her: crouched with her back against her father’s “failed” creation, the Cosmic Particle. Two of Harper’s cronies were guarding the entrance to the repurposed room adjacent to the medical ward. These altered soldiers disgusted her. That Harper had somehow overcome such a revolting change helped Chrys find peace with what she had to do.

Without a word, they stepped aside to allow her. The engineer’s chin was resting on the tops of her hands, which were cupping her tucked knees. She did not make eye contact.

“I’ve come to offer you a truce.”

Lin cast her the fleetest of glances.

This isn’t going to be easy. “I’ve come upon some information that might be of interest you. If you’ll just give me a moment to explain.”

“Not unless this information involves Cole’s whereabouts,” Lin’s Rook replied just loud enough for Chrys to hear. “Anything else you or his mother have to say will not be of interest to me.”

“I understand you’re mourning, but—”

“I understand we bent a knee to another of my father’s zealots,” Lin cut in. “Some of us unwillingly. You may have accepted Cole’s passing, but we only have the word of a woman he despised and actively sought to destroy. You don’t understand anything, Inspector.”

Chrys sighed; she would have to take an indirect approach to attain her goal. “Do you remember what our mission was before we crossed paths with Cole?” It felt bizarre to say his first name, but she hoped in doing so she would snag the engineer’s attention.

Lin’s glower was fierce. “We were pawns in a scheme neither of us had anticipated. You were nothing more than a two-bit terrorist—a means to an end for an ill-conceived plot I helped concoct under the watchful eyes of our shadow government. While Terracom might have been our mutual target, our goals could not have been more different. There was never a mission—nor anything—upon which we ever agreed.”

Chrys clenched her jaw but kept her composure. “No, there was never a moment we saw eye-to-eye.” She took a few steps closer and bent down to her level. “At least, not that we acknowledge. What if I told you your father was fighting the same enemy all along?”

Lin’s chin lifted from her knees. “I honestly don’t know what you’re trying to prove. My father was a liar with delusions of grandeur. He had a brilliant mind but chose to throw away logic and reason to become a murderous cult leader. He wanted to be on a pedestal for his loyal subjects to praise.” She presented her Rook. “All he did was trap himself within this cube and earn the System’s scorn...and mine.” She looked away. “The enemy of my father is my friend.”

Luckless, Chrys resorted to physical evidence, sending Lin the video file with a flick of her hand. It had converted her to Harper’s side, and if seeing the letters of the System’s greatest threat with a doomsday machine did not sway Kingston’s daughter, nothing would.

Then there would be repercussions.

Lin, however, did open the file, lifting her hands to navigate it. Chrys didn’t wait more than a few second before the engineer’s expression was something akin to being gobsmacked.

Finally, a breakthrough. “Now do you understand?” Chrys asked, testing the waters.

“This is highly classified information,” Lin said under her breath. “Where did you get this file?”

“From Harper. She claims to have received the intel years ago from the late Raven himself, Connor Revan.”

“Cole’s father?”

Chrys nodded. “Seems the former crimelord had business with Harper, unbeknownst to both Starforce and Military. It makes sense, seeing as Cole was their offspring.” She was still in disbelief that Harper would ever speak—let alone sleep with the likes of The Raven. “She has yet to disclose the details of her relationship with him, or why he would risk his underworld enterprise by reaching out to a government official. It doesn’t matter to me, but their liaison does validate this file’s contents.”

“How is this poss...ible...” Lin trailed, her hands working furiously around an invisible image. In a huff, she let her arms fall to her sides. “It appears to be legitimate, but something doesn’t make sense.”

“What’s that?”

“The location of the structure. I’ve cross-referenced all available star charts and nothing comes up.”

That’s not surprising, Chrys thought. “Well, I wouldn’t expect Terracom to broadcast their secretive efforts.”

“No,” Lin said in a low voice. “You don’t understand. There’s nothing there at all. No information whatsoever. It’s as though that part of space doesn’t exist.”

Chrys frowned. “But that’s obviously not the case—” She silenced by Lin’s raised hand.

“Somehow they managed to cordon off this area and deflect all attention. There are no recent accounts or studies of this region, and access is prohibited by all five divisions of AMBER.”

“Is there any reason given as to why?” Chris asked.

“No, but...” Lin hands were doing AR kung fu once more. Her brow bunched. “Damn. Not even public access telescope coordinates can be set to view the structure.”

“Meaning something is there.”

“Something, yes. I don’t know what it is. But to be completely erased from existence....”

“Not erased—hidden,” Chrys said. “That file is real, and it must have been important enough for your father to have dedicated himself to uncovering the truth. Significant enough a cause for him to have risked his life and career to seek the aid of Cole’s mother and the likes of the criminal underworld. Dangerous enough to lie to his own daughter for her own protection. Which is why he created this to combat the Fog.”

Chrys touched the side panel of the once-abandoned prototype Cosmic Particle.

“Your father was always fighting the good fight,” Chrys continued. “Behind all the corruption, lies, and needless deaths, there was a just reason for it all. Just as Harper understood the consequences of committing treason to assist his cause.” She pointed to Lin’s Rook. “Somewhere on that device, your father holds the answer to his greatest achievement. You scratched the surface when you saved us in the black hole. Harper has experienced the effects of his vision, and she’s willing to assist you to make things right. Now it’s up to you to unlock that secret and help bring Terracom to justice.”

If not for her uncertainty, Lin looked as though she were ready to accept the task. Chrys played her trump card.

“If not for the sake of the entire United System and those blind to what oppresses them, then do it for Cole. He may have been wrong about his mother, but his heart was in the right place. Let’s take a page right out of his insane book and do the impossible.”

Chrys took a deep breath and relaxed her stance. She was never one for delivering motivational speeches, let alone offering words of encouragement. But a clear path had been laid out for her: she knew in which direction her life was headed. It empowered her, and she would do everything in her power to see this through to the end. Even if it meant her own.

She watched Lin, expectantly, seeing the doubt, fear, and the ease of her resentment. She smiled before the inevitable happened.

Lin nodded.

21

SUFFOCATION

“She doesn’t look anything like Fej did.”

Cole gazed in wide-eyed wonder at his mother’s visage, which was seemingly untouched by time as well as the effects of the Cosmic Particle blast. Her face was one he’d tried desperately to forget in the years following his attempt to kill her. A face he had forgotten despite seeing her only a couple hours earlier. A face he had unknowingly recorded before she had lulled him into a false sense of security and scrambled his short-term memories. A face he desperately wanted to punch, though would never get the chance.

On the unnamed planet surface, he and Harper had shared what had seemed at the time—at least on the surface—a rare mother-son moment. I should’ve known better than to trust that evil snake, he thought as he viewed the footage a second time. In hindsight, it was easy to see through to her fiendish ploy. Being that he had been caught up in the wonders of a world barely touched by mankind, he could forgive his clouded vision. Besides, she was his mother, and he had learned nearly all he knew from her.

If only I had used what I learned to overtake her. Oh well. No point in fantasizing.

Watching his collection of recorded videos, he decided, was far more entertaining than waiting to suffocate. At least he could enjoy re-entering the atmosphere of the new planet, pretend his mother had changed for the better and relive exciting moments with his crew before their mutiny. Most importantly, he could see Lin’s face before he breathed his last.

His eyes hurt from the contrast of the light in the darkness. In spite of what Fej had said regarding the functionality of the escape vessel, his connection to the ship had been severed with his demise, leaving Cole adrift. Fej’s selfless act, unfortunately, only delayed the inevitable.

He glanced at the oxygen level for the thousandth time, growing impatient. There were quicker ways to deplete his supply, or bypass that step completely, but he needed to build up the courage to follow through on his final act.

“The System’s worst game show,” Cole mocked, using an emcee’s voice. “Welcome to ‘Pick Your Poison!’ Tell us, Cole, before you select the means to your untimely end, won’t you tell us a little about your most painful regrets?”

“Well, gee, Emile Durkheim, lemme think,” Cole answered in his normal voice. “Aside from everything I did after failing to murder my mother, I most regret falling in love.”

Cole opened his mouth to continue his one-man banter, but his profession stopped him. This revelation was too painful. He stood from the chair and made his way to the cockpit. He needed to see his universe before he met his end.

Little more was inside than empty space, scattered debris, and the shredded portion of the Daedalus upon which Fej’s escape vessel rested. So Cole opened one of his favorite videos—one he had recorded of Lin in secret. He widened the view to full VR so he could be with her one last time. He turned up the audio in his comm piece, and sat back.

The recording was from the time shortly after the crew had avoided a collision course with the sun. It was the beginning of his relationship with her, if that was indeed what they had shared. Lin had been vulnerable, he knew, but so had he. Perhaps the extreme circumstances was why two polar opposite personalities had meshed in that moment. Whatever the reason, he was grateful they had found one another.

Even if things between them had been left unfinished.

Seeing her again was far more painful than calming. All he could think of was how angry she had been, and how they parted on poor terms.

Her face went dark, and he was again staring at nothing. There was no reason to prolong this self-inflicted torture. He placed his hands on the base of his helmet, prepared to remove it. The damage to the ship’s hull was severe enough that it had been breached, venting all atmosphere. Death would be swift and mostly painless. All he had to do was unlock....

But as he stood there, staring into the unexplored universe, trembling hands gripping the clasps to his helmet, he found suicide would not come easily. Was his affinity for life so strong? Perhaps he was just a coward, unwilling to free himself of this prison. Maybe he was meant to endure a long and grueling ordeal before he left his mortal coil—punishment for all the pain he’d caused others.

Or was it the hint of movement he thought he’d seen?

In the distance, there had been a glint—a brief reflection off a moving surface. Maybe that was what his mind had wanted to see, to find a reason not to end it all. His hands, though still upon his helmet, no longer trembled. Something was definitely there, and it was headed in his direction.

Likely it was nothing more than debris from the Daedalus, hurtling through space. Knowing my luck, it’ll smash directly into me to make sure the deed is done properly. He zoomed in with his Ocunet lenses.

“What the hell are you?” Cole said, glimpsing motion again. “You don’t move like drifting debris.” He squinted. “And you’re certainly not an asteroid... Shit! Lost it again.” He slammed his fist on the dark console, wishing now more than ever he could rely on all the bells and whistles of the viewport screen.

“Hold still and let me get a good look at you.”

<I am nearly there, Captain.>

Cole’s shout was abrupt and not very manly. He accidentally punched the side of his helmet when he reached to test the comm piece in his ear. His sanity was slipping if he believed he had just heard CAIN’s voice.

<Captain, are you there? Can you hear me?>

It’s just not possible... Nobody’s this lucky. “C-Cain? Buddy? That really you?” He was pressed up against the viewport as close as his helmet would allow. “I don’t see you.”

<Yes, Captain. It’s me,> the AI confirmed. <My apologies for the lack of visibility. The damage sustained by the Daedalus was significant, rendering all exterior lighting useless. I did, however, manage to keep a portion of the vessel intact. I will establish a connection with your half of the ship momentarily.>

“YES!” Cole literally jumped for joy for the first time in his life, lack of gravity carrying him to the top of the cockpit’s interior. He started to laugh.

<Captain, I detect signs of hysteria in your voice.>

“I admit, I’m a little emotional right now. You caught me in the midst of a very unCole-like moment.”

<Of that, I am aware. I can only imagine the trauma you experienced following the departure of your friend.>

Wait, what? “Um, how did you know that Fej was my friend? Better yet, how are you alive? Answer that first, because I watched the Daedalus eat it with my own eyes.”

<Are you so certain?> CAIN asked, challenging Cole’s memory. <Perhaps your emotions clouded your perceptions of reality.>

Cole realized he had seen nothing to prove the AI wrong other than a great deal of darkness and... “Debris,” he said, still trying to argue the point. “I watched my portion of the ship separate from yours and... You know what? Never mind. Who cares? Just come save my sorry ass.”

<Nearly there, Captain. I anticipate that reconnection will be rather...jarring.>

“No more jarring than me believing I was the last living being in this universe,” Cole said, choked. “Damn, I’m really glad I procrastinated. You would’ve...” He decided against finishing the thought.

<Would have what, Captain?> CAIN asked. <And how, exactly, did you procrastinate?>

Man! Since when was he so inquisitive? He pushed away from the ceiling, sat down, and gripped the chair’s armrests. “Just focus on the task at hand, alright? Maybe I’ll quench your thirst for answers when we’re safe and—”

BANG!

Cole launched from the flight chair in spite of his magboots, slamming head-first against the console. His helmet cushioned him from the impact, his thick suit absorbing the rest of the blow. Unfortunately, he rebounded, his upper torso crashing back into the flight chair and momentum spinning him like a propeller. He continued his weightless drift into the darkness of the passenger room beyond, arms flailing for anything he could grab onto. He snagged something—one of the seats—and clutched as hard as he could.

<My apologies, Captain,> CAIN said. <The current state of this ship’s piloting system is such that I am unable to work with any precision.>

“Sure, blame the equipment, not the pilot,” Cole mocked, locking his position to the floor. “What would Alan Turing say if he’d heard a computer passing the buck to another computer for its own shortcomings?”

<I imagine he would see me as sentient and not a machine,> CAIN replied.

Cole nodded, impressed. “Nice comeback.” He reached out and hugged the seat beside him to weather the “reconnection.” “So, you admit you’re imperfect. One step closer to becoming a miserable meat puppet with faulty wiring upstairs. Just like me.”

<Must you always impress your species’ supposed superiority through base vernacular?>

“Oh, you mean ‘one-up’?” Cole said, grinning. His teeth chattered from the increasing heavy vibrations, and he wondered just how much longer his half of the ship would last before it was shaken to pieces. “D-Don’t wo-worry, b-b-buddy,” he said through the constant tremors. “I’m-m-m onl-ly m-m-messin’....”

There was an incredible jolt, and the trembling diminished. He nearly let go of the chair’s back, but decided to check on CAIN’s progress first.

“Everything going alright with your reconnection?”

<I am afraid not, Captain,> CAIN said. <The process failed, and all power has been lost. I fear that—>

Cole’s mouth was hanging open. “Uh... What?”

Silence.

“Cain?” Cole tried, his voice just above a whisper. “Are you there?”

No response.

And there it is, Cole thought along with a heavy sigh. That’s the sound of my luck running out. “Sorry, buddy. You tried. More than my crew did. Too bad you wasted all that effort on trying to save me.” He sat and slumped in the chair he’d been holding. He felt sick, his heart racing from the verge of yet another miracle close-call.

He sat there, in total darkness, resuming his morbid musings. He would’ve attempted to reach the other half of the Daedalus, were all exists not electronically sealed on the escape vessel. He was trapped in a tin can, mere feet from his twice-defeated savior. Not that reaching CAIN would’ve changed any outcome. Cole just wanted to be with someone before death finally reaped its long overdue reward.

A few slivers of light shimmered on the blank viewport screen in front of Cole. They hung there, mysterious vertical projections coming from behind. Curious, he gathered what little energy he had to look over his shoulder at the source of the oddity. But then the lights faded.

Was that a reflection? Cole wondered. Whatever he had seen must’ve originated outside the ship and emanated through the newly acquired hole in the ship’s hull. And if he was right, that meant the source had moved.

He stood and switched on his helmet lamp. He shined it on a fist-sized opening, and though nothing was immediately visible, he decided to wait.

What are you doing, Cole? his inner voice asked. What exactly are you hoping will happen? That the light belongs to a search-and-rescue-team member? In another universe? Or perhaps you think that Cain will still find a way to bring back life to the drifting metal corpse that is the Daedalus? Don’t you think it more likely that your eyes are playing tricks on you as you look Death straight in its cold, barren sockets?

He switched off the lamp, but a faint aura of blue-white light remained, streaming through the doorframe leading to the rest of the ship.

Before he could take another breath of his dwindling oxygen, he watched as the door slid open. On the other side stood, a being he did not recognize, but also did not fear. He knew this glowing savior, and for the second time he knew his life would never be the same.

22

RECKLESS

“They’re coming.”

Chrys stared hard at the viewport screen, searching for what only Harper could see. The scanners did not display incoming vessels or any sign of life. Here, at the outskirts of the United System’s galactic jurisdiction, was where the enemy was said to be hiding. It was here, just out of reach of government protection, that she would stand alongside her new “captain” and see that Terracom’s reign came to an end.

“From where?”

Harper closed her eyes. “From all angles, I would presume.”

Chrys swallowed the lump in her throat and gauged the faces of Harper’s bodyguards. They were, however, devoid of any emotion, and a poor litmus test for when to panic.

“This cargo vessel’s weapons and defense capabilities should aid in our frontal assault,” Harper said. She was standing at the fore of the console, a pillar of confidence, sizing up the invisible Goliath, calculating how to best use her slingshot. “Our cloaking is nothing compared to Terracom’s, though we are small enough that we should be able to manage.”

Chrys flanked Harper, barely able to see over her shoulders. “This ship has served us well, though....” She could not finish her cowardly thought.

“But you doubt our chances,” Harper finished. “Few would disagree with your sentiment, though you all lack the vision and the will to stand against true tyranny.”

Chrys grimaced.

“But I blame myself for initially attempting this mission on my own. No one can face the darkness of Terracom alone.”

Though Chrys could not see the structure referred to as The Fog, Harper had enlightened her to its camouflage. She had learned a lot since returning to her universe—a little about herself but mostly about the truth of things. Terracom’s Fog was neither an event nor a natural phenomenon. It was exactly as myths and legends proclaimed it to be: a manmade doomsday machine the size of a moon, hidden in the center of the galaxy.

“You did what you felt was right,” Chrys said, feeling awkward. “You were alone because no one else—myself included—was able to accept the truth of the matter.”

“And do you accept the truth of the matter, Sergeant?”

She’s testing my loyalties, Chrys realized. As she should. “I do.”

“The Singularity’s daughter,” Harper began, her full attention on the viewport screen, “Can she be trusted to complete her task?”

No, Chrys thought, but she responded with, “I do not doubt her disgust in Terracom.”

“The majority of the System shares her disgust, but you tell me her goal is not the same as ours. I doubt her ability to do what is necessary when the time comes.”

Chrys began to fidget. Just where was this onslaught of which Harper had spoken? “Her father was aligned with your cause, and she has come to understand as I have.”

Harper’s wry expression cracked her stone face. “Kingston Dartmouth was more concerned with his precious Cosmic Particle and the coddling of his own ego than aligning with any cause. His participation was one of many necessary evils in the grand scheme of things. You claim his daughter shared an intimate relationship with my son. Anyone who can sway Cole’s emotions cannot be trusted.”

Chrys blinked. Was Lin so dangerous? Clever and brilliant, yes. More of a liability than her father? That seems unlikely. She was about to say as much, when the first wave of nukes were detected.

“When the time comes, Sergeant,” Harper said, seemingly unconcerned with the oncoming artillery, “you will assume command of this ship.”

Chrys gripped the back of the co-pilot’s chair so tightly that she thought she might tear it from its bolted foundation. Me? How does she expect me to navigate in this storm of death? And where is she planning on going that I will need to assume command? Regardless of her fears, , she nodded in acknowledgment of a situation she could not comprehend.

“Until then, I insist you take a seat and witness the birth of a revolution.”

Chrys did as asked, her eyes locked to the screen, watching the flashing red detections that signified their pending end. No more than ten seconds from impact, she felt as though she should have alerted Lin and Rig. Her initial concerns over Harper’s sanity resurfaced and multiplied. Only a suicidal lunatic would march onto a battlefield alone against an expectant legion.

Only a Musgrave would be so reckless....

But as the final seconds of her existence ticked by, something unexpected happened. The spread of surging missiles began to drift away from their intended target and cluster into groups. They detonated at a safe distance; the flashes on the viewport screen immediately ceased.

Chrys gaped. “How...?”

“Merely a thought,” Harper replied. “An extension of my physical being, compliments of Kingston Dartmouth’s genius and my son’s ill intentions.”

That was hardly an explanation, though Chrys was not about to press her—not when the assault had only begun. Whatever changes had befallen the crew of the Daedalus, Harper must have acquired abilities of her own; telekinesis included. What else can she do?

The Icarus’s engines exploded to life, driving the ship toward the source of the attack, despite the fact the enemy could not be seen. Chrys sat and watched with a curious sense of horror. Another wave of missiles appeared, double in size, though they met a similar end. The third assault was destroyed as well.

Witnessing the former admiral’s display of power reminded her of the AI that had once piloted Cole’s ship. CAIN had possessed similar abilities, if to a lesser extent. Harper had never disclosed the exact details of her physical alteration but Chrys wondered if maybe she had somehow gained a mental connection with all things electronic. For her to simply wave away missiles was an asset to Harper’s cause.

In the midst of her pondering, a new wrinkle was added to the assault. Along with more nukes, ships began to appear from the void. Even as the groups of fighters began their approach, she could see the concealment begin to fall. It was as though she had been staring at one point for too long, only to avert her eyes and see what had been there all along.

Even as Chrys processed the sight, Harper had already implemented evasive maneuvers to combat the fighters. Chrys worried the onslaught might be too much even for the admiral’s powers, but Harper remained steadfast. In a blinding spray of auto cannon fire and nukes, the Icarus pressed onward, banking, weaving, diving, climbing, and barrel-rolling through the maze of death. Occasional missiles even diverted to become friendly fire.

It’s as though she’s possessed, Chrys thought. No human could anticipate the attacks bombarding the ship; she doubted CAIN could have handled a tenth of what was being thrown their way. Brilliant a Military strategist as Harper was, she should not be able to accomplish this feat.

But she was.

Chrys could no longer make heads nor tales of the chaos. Harper’s footing was secure and masterful through it all. Not even the sudden arrival of a fleet of battlecruisers and legions more fighters could cease the space dance of one interstellar cargo vessel burning a hole through an impenetrable shield. All those that came too close, met a fiery end without one opposing shot being fired.

Soon the field was littered with a staggering amount of debris, and the Terracom offenders turned to the defensive to avoid the sea of wreckage and drifting bodies. Meanwhile, Harper threaded the Icarus through endless needles, looming closer to the toroidal behemoth. She slowed in the shadow of one of the “sinking” battlecruisers, just out of view of The Fog.

“Full approach will be impossible,” Harper said, her attention suddenly upon Chrys, “unless I assume command of that station. For now, the battle has shifted in our favor.”

Was it ever not? Chrys wondered after that brilliant display. “How will you do that without first docking?”

Harper was heading for the lift. “I will require your assistance, Sergeant. You have partial command of this ship while I am away.”

Chrys thought her heart might seize in her chest. “You can’t expect me to pilot this ship the same way you just did.”

“You might surprise yourself,” Harper said as she stood outside the lift entrance. Two of her followers flanked her. “I will be with you in more ways than one. Besides, Commander, I trust you to carry us through to the end. Do not prove me wrong.”

Commander? Chrys mouthed, the new title bewildering her. Rank was meaningless outside Military, but this was an acknowledgment of respect and trust. This must be a final test. I can’t fail her in her time of greatest need. She’ll be with me. She needs me. “Yes, Admiral.”

Harper nodded and vanished, leaving Chrys alone with control of bridge.

Her stomach turned, and she nearly vomited all over the flight yoke. Promises of remote assistance from Harper sounded nice, but the reality of the Terracom swarm did not leave when her feeling particularly dependable. She also had not the slightest clue what Harper intended or how said plan would be carried out. There had been something else aboard the escape vessel that Harper would employ, and whatever it was, Chrys hoped for expedient communication.

“What, did you space the freakshow?”

Not the verbal confirmation I was hoping for, Chrys thought, more than a little peeved. “Not that it’s any of your concern, Solomon, but no, I did not ‘space’ Admiral Musgrave.” Against her better judgment, she faced the lurking mechanic. He was standing at the threshold of the bridge, his expression a combination of curiosity and unease. “But I can make arrangements for you, if you’d like.”

Rig walked onto the bridge with some hesitance. He glanced around as though one of Harper’s silent protectors would jump out at any moment. “I never thought I’d say this, but that crazy bitch is kinda making me miss her Benedict Arnold son. Not even he would be stupid enough to fly us through this mine field.”

Chrys scowled at the crude moniker. “Musgrave flew us directly into a black hole, amongst other difficult situations.” She raised an eyebrow. “Or have you already forgotten?”

“Huh. Good point.”

“Speaking of points,” Chrys said, refacing the viewport screen, “would you mind explaining the point behind your being here?”

The mechanic stopped just shy of standing beside her. He was also staring at the screen while their battlecruiser cover continued to disintegrate. “What’d we get ourselves into?”

“Don’t you mean out of?” Chrys challenged. “Admiral Musgrave sought us out, replaced an inferior captain with her superior competence, led our return back to this galaxy, and gave us an opportunity to repent for our past sins.”

Rig cleared his throat. “Um, I don’t remember signin’ up for that last part. Maybe you’re all lovey-dovey with her again, but she’s sorta scarin’ the piss outta me and Miss Singularity.”

“A true leader earns respect through action, not pleasantries. And the greatest leader’s intentions aren’t always obvious to those who are less inclined to see.”

“Pretty sure that was you about six hours ago,” Rig said. “What changed?”

Chrys sat up straighter, her attention still on the battlecruiser. “I finally opened my eyes and used them to see.”

Rig dropped into the co-pilot’s chair with a whump. “Or Nugget’s mommy did something to that pea brain of yours.”

Chrys’s hands tightened around the flight controls. “You turned on Cole the same as I did. You’re involved in this whether you like it or not.”

“Don’t gotta be that way,” he replied easily, kicking his feet up onto the console. “All I did was seize an opportunity to save my ass. Cole lost his shit back wherever we were, and it looks like his mother did too. Let ‘em get themselves killed. This ain’t our fight.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Chrys said. “It’s always been our fight. We just didn’t know it. Musgrave’s recklessness sidetracked an otherwise sound mission to overthrow Terracom.”

Rig was shaking his head. “That’s what she wants you to believe. Ain’t nothin’s changed, and it don’t change the fact that she was once in bed with the likes of Black Dwarf and Daddy Dartmouth.” He leaned on his armrest. I mean, you don’t really believe her intentions are wholly noble, do you?”

“Anyone willing to go to such lengths to take down Terracom earns my respect,” Chrys said, though she hated how uncertain she sounded.

“Put out a fire by throwin’ gas on it, eh?” Rig asked, shaking his head. “Damn, she must’ve sweet-talked you real good. Didn’t you walk away from Military because of her? Now you’re all buddy-buddy. And you sure were quick to forget what it was she had originally planned for all of mankind to ‘combat’ Terracom.”

Chrys took a deep, calming breath. She closed her eyes and tried to push past the thought of Harper employing the collider to advance the human race—just to defeat the overreaching will of The Fog. “I didn’t have the patience or the foresight to understand her vision. She has a legitimate reason for everything she does.”

“I’m sure.”

She could hear the mockery in his voice, and out of the corner of her eye, see that infuriating smirk. “If you don’t have anything constructive to contribute, then you can leave. I have enough to worry about without having to deal with your nonsense.”

Rig snapped his fingers and pointed at Chrys. “You really do have a thing for her,” he said. He slid his boots off the console and let his legs drop onto the floor. “Don’t you.”

Chrys said nothing, unable to keep her face from heating.

“Holy shit! I knew it!” He clapped his hands together. “I was only kinda kiddin’ when I first pointed it out. No wonder you’re so eager to follow her to your—our deaths.”

“My feelings hold no sway over my decision-making!” Chrys shouted back, but even as the words escaped her lips, she knew they weren’t entirely true. Openly denying her emotions toward Harper would make no difference in the eyes of her crew. Or anyone, for that matter. What did matter was making the correct decision: Eternity on the run, or standing up in the face of evil?

It pained Chrys to think that one woman had shouldered the impossible mission to defeat an enemy more powerful than all five divisions of AMBER combined. And to do it all while still wearing the cloak of a prestigious, law-abiding member of Starforce...she couldn’t imagine the enormity such an undertaking. It was no wonder why Harper had appeared to come apart at the seams. Her choices in business partners may have raised many alarming questions about her sanity, but to whom else was she supposed to turn when not even her own government could not and would not help her?

Not me, Chrys thought. She had numbered among those denied the honor of assisting Harper’s cause. I was too busy misreading the signs. There will not be another time.

Rig was trying, but failing, to stifle his laughter. “Look, I guess it don’t matter to me. Not anymore. We’re fucked every which way you slice this shit pie. I already made peace with my death long before we went through that black hole. This is borrowed time as far as I’m concerned, and I was just hoping to stretch it a bit longer.” He stood and nudged Chrys’s shoulder. “No point in tryin’ to fight this. We’re already up to our nuts in it, so we might as well dive in.” He burped, breath reeking of alcohol. “You got me. Pretty sure Doc is in too, but I’m definitely with you till the end. Which is now a lot closer than we think.”

Shock was an understatement. Behind that gruff veneer was still the heart of a soldier.

“Commander,” came Harper’s voice over Chrys’s comm. “It’s time. Are you ready to proceed?”

“We’re ready, Admiral.”

“Our cover is nearly gone. Terracom will soon mount another assault. We need to take them by surprise once more while the advantage is in our favor. This is where you factor in.”

An exterior schematic of the giant station appeared on the viewport screen in front of Chrys and Rig, a flashing red beacon indicating what was their intended target. A yellow beacon pinpointed the location of the Icarus. Chrys already knew what Harper’s order was going to be, but that didn’t make her feel any less terrified.

“I need you to fly us straight toward the beacon,” Harper said, completing Chrys’s prediction. “My access to the ship’s navigation will be temporarily compromised, though no maneuvering should be needed on your part as I will still be able to defend against any immediate threat. Once we are within range, I will give the order for you to simultaneously launch all missiles.”

What exactly is she hoping to accomplish by firing a few missiles? Chrys wondered. And why can’t she just do it herself?

“There will be a short time,” Harper continued, “where you will be vulnerable. I am relying on you to keep the ship safe until such times that I can regain control of the situation.”

“What situation?” Rig mouthed, his hands held out, palms up.

Chrys only shook her head, too overwhelmed to respond. “I will do my best, Admiral. However, I’m not sure I completely understand this mission.”

“There’s no time for a full briefing, Commander,” Harper snapped. “I need you to follow orders.”

“Aye, Sir.”

“Good. Commence flight.”

Engines reignited, and the Icarus blasted out from behind the safety of the destroyed battlecruiser. Chrys could see no clear path through to The Fog. Debris was so dense that not even a tiny fighter could navigate the field without taking severe damage. Placing all faith in the admiral, she punched straight for her target and hoped for the best.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Rig said, retaking his seat.

“All the better,” Chrys replied. “Now you’ll be able to remember this moment.”

“Can’t remember nuthin’ if my brain is splattered all...aaahhhhhh!”

The sleek frame of the Icarus pierced the impenetrable, and what should’ve been instantaneous obliteration turned into a miraculous parting of the sea. An invisible tunnel opened around them, permitting the ship enough clearance to travel without interference. It was not unlike traveling through a wormhole, though the stakes were infinitely higher should a single mistake be made.

She’s done it! Chrys thought with mounting relief. Adrenaline pumped in her veins, and she wondered if this was how Cole felt all those times he faced impossible odds head-on. It felt exhilarating. It felt right.

Then they were out of the rubble field, and The Fog was upon them, dwarfing their ship for the gnat it was.

“We’re within range, Commander,” Harper announced. “Prepare both missile bays before the next wave of resistance. You will need to initiate launch twice.”

Chrys readied all weapons. “Armed.”

“Commander. Stand your ground, and evade the enemy. I’m counting on you to survive until I establish contact.”

It’s like she’s leaving, Chrys thought, some of her high diminishing. “Aye, Sir.”

“Launch!”

All contents were unloaded in succession. Before Chrys diverted their course away from the station, she noticed something peculiar about the two waves of missiles—if they could be called missiles at all.

“What the shit?” Rig exclaimed. “Are you seein’ this?”

Chrys enlarged their view of the missiles to reveal them for what they truly were. It was then she understood the words Harper had chosen.

“Admiral....”

What should have been four nukes was an amalgamation of both man and weapon. Harper’s body was combined with the warhead, hints of her human form hardly recognizable along the shaft of the missile. The other three nukes were melded with her silent followers. All of them were destined for annihilation.

“They’re crazy,” Rig said, breathless. “This whole thing’s insane....”

Chrys could not comment. Morbid curiosity held sway over her attention despite knowing she should make a hasty exit. Already, more ships of every class were descending on both the humanoid missiles as well as the Icarus. She had to see it through to the end.

Just when it looked as though her worst fears had been confirmed, the bodies separated from their missile steeds and continued the rest of the way toward The Fog’s hull. The missiles left formation and drifted into the nearest attackers.

The resulting flashes woke Chrys from her reverie. She jerked back hard on the flight yoke, and the last she saw of Harper was her and the other three connecting with the station. Then came an avalanche of Terracom ships.

They were trapped between the enemy space station and the closing wall of ships. Without Harper’s aid, evasion would be impossible. Chrys let her hands slip from the controls.

Admiral. I’ve failed.

23

REVENGE

Against all odds, Chrys flew the Icarus toward what she hoped was the point of least resistance. It would make no difference, she knew, but maybe—just maybe—it would buy them enough time. Every second she avoided destruction was a win.

But barely five seconds into the desperate evasion, the gap had closed, and Chrys found herself navigating through a hornet’s nest. Like the stinging pests, Terracom’s fighters buzzed past dangerously close to the hull as though purposely trying to crash into them. The ship’s guidance system barely saw them through the chaos.

When she broke through to a patch of empty space, she expected to finally be overcome. She was left expectant. Kobold-2s zipped around and continued their search-and-destroy mission, though they seemed lost. And there was something else peculiar about their assault....

“Why aren’t they firin’?”

Chrys stared into the meandering Terracom armada, wondering the same thing. It was not that the Icarus had suddenly become lost to all scanners because of its cloaking, for that had been active before the assault.

Harper. Could she have already achieved her mission?

“She must’ve intercepted their tracking systems,” Chrys surmised aloud.

“You sayin’ they’re flyin’ blind?” Rig asked.

“Blind or not, they have eyes,” Chrys replied, realizing they weren’t in the clear yet. “And we’re not completely invisible.” She had to decide whether or not to continue the escape or remain where they. Either option had its risks, be it collision or discovery. Once again she was faced with a decision that Cole would have made on instinct.

Fortunately, Harper made it for her.

A bold-lettered text message appeared across the viewport screen. “Remain where you are, Commander. I will rectify your current situation. The takeover is nearly complete. You’ve done well.”

“Take care of what?” Rig wondered aloud. “What’s she planning?”

Chrys’s eyes narrowed, a small, sinister smile creeping onto her face. “Revenge.”

The space station erupted in ferocious missile and auto cannon fire the likes of which Chrys had never seen. She squinted and had to look away from the brightness of the plasma-based weapons and swirling nukes. None of them were locked onto the Icarus; the same could not be said of the Terracom armada.

With the swiftness and destructive force of a tsunami, the storm of friendly fire eradicated the confused Terracom force. Stragglers were snuffed out, and the viewport screen was bereft of threats.

When Chrys was able to fully open her eyes, she saw Rig standing as close to the console as it would allow. His mouth was slack, eyes bulging with disbelief. She shared his incredulity, but she was now commander of this mission, and she had to maintain her composure.

“Now do you understand my decision to follow Admiral Musgrave?”

Rig wiped his hand down his face. “Whatever keeps me alive. That’s what I understand.” He dropped back into the co-pilot’s chair, looking fit to vomit.

“She will keep us alive,” Chrys said, pointing at the silent space station. The Icarus had a clear path to rendezvous with Harper.

A message request from inside The Fog appeared on the viewport screen, hailing the crew of the Icarus. Chrys answered, expecting to see Harper’s face. She didn’t. The tense, middle-aged visage of a businessman filled the screen instead.

“Greetings. I am Grant Mitchum, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Terracom,” he said. “With whom am I speaking?”

Chrys struggled not to gawk at the “emperor” of Terracom himself, a man almost no one outside the company had ever seen. She took solace in seeing his coifed, silver hair in disarray. “This is Commander Chrysanthemum Emmerich of the Icarus.”

Mitchum gave a nearly imperceptible nod and glanced to someone off-screen before returning his attention back to her. “Commander.” He said the word as if tasting to see if it was bitter. “Yours and Military’s presence here is a mystery and, to be quite honest, most troublesome. Would you care to explain how it is you managed to not only locate this facility, but also withstand and cripple an otherwise impenetrable defense?”

Rig chuckled, and Chrys ignored him. This was her one shining moment to speak with the most hated man in the System and put him in his place. “Inevitability.”

Mitchum scowled. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. This ship is the culmination of decades of repression...courtesy of your unwanted empire. We have come to render judgment against Terracom for unspeakable crimes against humanity.”

Mitchum appeared sincerely confused. “Commander, I don’t follow you. Whatever it is you believe my company to have committed, it is misunderstood and grossly exaggerated.”

Chrys saw red. “Explain the existence of this space station—this...Fog, if you will.”

Mitchum’s eyes flashed, his cheeks flushed. “I resent such a pejorative term. You speak in abject ignorance.” He cleared his throat and straightened his suit to calm himself. “What you have mistaken as a fictional, conspiracy-theorist delusion is actually a technological marvel, designed for the benefit of Science. This is not some lowly terroristic ploy designed to control the thoughts of all mankind.”

Chrys sighed. “How can I believe someone with the audacity to enslave people for his own gain? You bend those without a voice to do your bidding. The result is the monstrosity in which you hide yourself. If this station of yours is not what you claim it to be, then why not simply tell me the truth?”

The CEO shook his head. “I cannot. While you may have cleverly manufactured a way to deter our defenses, you are still only one small vessel. This facility is highly classified and works—legally, I might add—in a restricted area well outside your jurisdiction. I don’t have to answer to the likes of a Military spy with a grudge—regardless of your technology. The United System has greatly overstepped their bounds, and I will seek justice.”

“We do not fight under the banner of any of the five corrupt divisions of AMBER,” Chrys clarified. “Nor do we have any affiliation with the likes of the criminal underworld. We are here on behalf of the People.”

“You are alone, then,” Mitchum said as though he had discovered a weakness. “A rogue faction with nothing but a strong will and ignorance of what you oppose.”

Chrys was about to go on the verbal warpath once more, but Mitchum intercepted her chance. “But there is no reason for any more conflict. Perhaps we can reach an accord. Regardless of my personal feelings toward your invasion, I extend to you an open invitation to join me so we can discuss this matter further, face-to-face.”

“This is as close I wish your face to be to mine,” Chrys sneered.

“Then what is it you propose to do, Commander?” Mitchum asked, arms held wide. “Now that you have us dead-to-rights, what will you do? Have you another wonderful weapon up that sleeve of yours? With us at your mercy, do you intend to completely wipe us off the grid? An eye for an eye, as the zealots of Earth might proclaim? Will you see us all dead as an act of vengeance for the true criminals whom I keep under my employment? Will you be able to live with the deaths of hundreds of innocent lives—taken already by your hand, mind you—that had been simply protecting a precious investment? If not, then how is it you will be able to eliminate the rest of the thousands of us who still remain—most of whom have not the slightest inkling as to your baseless intentions?”

Chrys could only stare at Mitchum. She thought of Cole and when he had challenged her original intentions to destroy the Terraport space station orbiting above the debt colony on Terracom 3. He had made a similar plea to her then. How was this any different?

“I see that I have made an impression upon you,” Mitchum said in earnest. “Have you reconsidered my offer?”

As much as she hated to second guess Harper’s valiant assault, what if she was wrong? Could “The Fog” simply be the peaceful, technological marvel, he claimed it to be?

There was little evidence to draw a sound conclusion, and silence would get them all nowhere fast. Chrys thought of Harper, and she wondered when her mentor would finally establish contact. Would the admiral be willing to conduct a proper investigation before letting this situation grow out of control? Would she consider setting aside her decades-long mission and see past the blinding rage which drove her to such extremes in the first place? Could she? Or was this all well past the point of no return? How could one hope to turn over a new leaf when it was crushed ages ago?

Chrys knew in her heart what the correct course of action was, but would never happen. Not while the surreal scene unfolding on the viewport screen proposed a different story.

A horror story.

24

WICKED

“It looks like a graveyard.”

Cole surveyed the area surrounding the once-mythical space station, wondering what could have laid waste to so many ships. From what he and CAIN could gather through the scan, all of the remains belonged to Terracom vessels. There were no signs of an opposing force, confirmation that this was somehow the work of his mother.

<There are few signs life within the larger craft,> CAIN said, <though I am afraid they are weak and waning.>

Cole had no intention of turning this venture into a bigger rescue mission than it already was. Time was of the essence now that the veil that had been hiding the space station had finally fallen. He knew that UniSys and those associated with Terracom would soon come to investigate. Handling one galactic juggernaut would be difficult enough.

“We’re here for one reason,” Cole said. “I’m sure my mother is responsible for this massacre, and that means the others are with her.”

<Of their own volition, Captain,> CAIN reminded.

Cole interlocked his fingers and rested his chin atop them. “They have no idea what they’ve signed up for. Whether or not they still trust me, they most certainly can’t trust her.”

<How can you be so certain?>

There he goes again, asking me complicated questions without using my title. “Like a mother knows her child better than anyone alive, so, too, goes it the other way around. Harper hides behind a façade of duty and honor, but she’s the same person who used to screw a gangster overlord. It takes a master bullshitter to know one, and I learned from two grandmasters.”

CAIN did not answer immediately. <Past experiences urge me to accept your logic, but my new host of memories question the validity of your current relationship with the admiral.>

Cole smiled, aware that Fej’s influence had made a distinct impression upon CAIN. “You’re just gonna have to trust me, buddy. You might have a new perspective on life, but I’ve lived far longer than you.”

Cole was glad CAIN did not press the issue. While he was beyond relieved to have his friend alongside him, the AI had changed since the last time they had traveled together. To call it an upgrade would be an understatement. He did not have a word to describe what had happened to CAIN, though he intended to collect one from Lin once he had saved her.

“Can you navigate us through this mess?” Cole asked.

<Any potential impacts upon the hull of our vessel will amount to little damage.>

“Right, right, I get it. That’s just a fancy way of saying you can’t.” Cole sighed. “I know we’re flying a patchwork, shadow-of-herself version of the Daedalus, but I’d like to make it to that giant donut in one piece.”

<I assume you mean a ‘torus,’ Captain. That would be the correct definition of the space station’s shape.>

“Nah, I mean donut,” Cole said. “It’s got a cream-filled center. See?” He pointed at the mass of mysterious light glowing at the station’s center. What it was, or from where it came, he had not the slightest idea.

Neither did CAIN.

<It is curious,> the AI said, regarding the light. <Perhaps whatever is being harnessed within this construct is the genesis of said conspiracy.>

Cole shrugged, eager to make his way through the junk field. “Whatever it is, my mother was completely wrong about it.”

<That is where I agree with you, Captain.>

“It’s about time.”

<Shall I take us in, then?>

Cole nearly blurted yes, then reconsidered. “Any signs we’ve been detected from aboard the station?”

<We were detected the moment we passed beyond the fallen shield,> CAIN said, leaving Cole uneasy. <Whoever has control of Terracom defense systems has blocked communication, though they are allowing us access to all landing bays.>

Cole’s mouth twisted in thought. “That doesn’t mean she won’t open a line for us a couple seconds before touchdown and nuke us to powder.”

<You assume your mother has commandeered this space station.>

“No assumption needed. If Terracom was still in charge, then this place’d still be invisible, and us dead. She’s rolling out the proverbial red carpet so she can perform her sinister monologue.”

<Noted, Captain.>

“Good.” Cole took a deep breath, preparing for a second first-time mother-son reunion. “Alright. Let’s put this in motion.”

~

Chrys saw him standing there, but she still couldn’t believe it. As surprising as it was to see Cole Musgrave risen from the dead—still wearing his ridiculous SolEx flight jacket—her attention was drawn more to the unusual “man” standing beside him. “He” had a strong jaw line and the tall, lean body of a soldier, but that was where his human similarities ended. Its scaly “skin” was translucent, revealing a pale blue glow that emanated from within. His eyes were of the same hue, but the lack of pupils left his gaze unsettling, inhuman...and looking directly at her.

She had never seen him before, and yet she had a strange feeling she knew who it was. If she was right, then it was a miracle that both had survived.

She remained where she was as they approached, trying to maintain an air of importance. She nodded. “Musgrave.”

“Inspector Chrysanthemum Emmerich!” Cole said with a smirk. “Believe it or not, I’m actually glad to see you.” He lowered his outstretched arms and slowed. “I see my mother sent you to greet her miscreant son. Typical. Tell me, how is she? I don’t recall my reunion with her since she misplaced those memories.”

It’s like nothing has changed. “Admiral Musgrave is busy preparing.”

“‘Admiral,’” Cole said, as though testing the title for the first time. “She converted you that quick, eh?”

“How did you manage to find us?” Chrys asked, ignoring his question.

Cole feigned shock. He shook his head, his expression tight. “That’s what you want to know? Not how we survived or how Cain found his fancy new man-suit? Not even a guess as to how we glued the ship back together after my mother blew it up? She can thank us later, by the way. After she gives me back my Icarus.” He gave a quick sweep of their surroundings. “Wherever she parked it.”

Chrys held up a hand to silence him. So it is the AI. “You’re nothing, if not a clever survivalist, but you’re obviously exaggerating the facts, and that’s unbecoming. Even for you.”

Cole smiled his infuriating smile. “Oh, Chrys. How naïve you are. So, do we get the ten-cent tour? I always wanted to see the inside of the legendary Fog.”

A deep breath did not calm her. “You’re only standing here because Admiral Musgrave allowed it. I suggest you tread carefully. You’ll find no friends here.”

Cole winked and gave a thumbs-up.

Chrys squared her shoulders, ready to lead him to Harper. “You never explained how you found us.”

“Heh. Interesting, that. Let’s just say an old friend told me,” Cole said, glancing at CAIN.

Chrys frowned, not understanding... She dropped the topic and began to walk, the sound of the coinciding footsteps indicating they were following her. She hoped he would stay quiet until they reached their destination, but she knew that was impossible.

“So, where is everybody? Kinda quiet for a planet-sized brain-melter.”

She clenched her fists, eager to employ them upon his face. “Safe.”

“Ah, just like on DC-Alpha-6. Only they’re not legally being held against their will. I wonder how she managed to....”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” Chrys said, cutting him off. She glowered over her shoulder. “Your charms aren’t going to work this time. You crossed the line of trust one too many times when you abandoned us. It cost you your crew. Moreover, what you thought you knew about your mother’s intentions was wrong. Everyone was wrong about her. Including me. The entire System was too shortsighted to understand.”

Cole nodded, his expression unreadable. “I understand.”

Chrys blinked, uncertain if he was placating or mocking her. The following minutes were mercifully silent; she knew Cole was up to something, but it did not matter. After witnessing Harper’s power Chrys knew he could not slow the descending boulder Harper had already set in motion. She could warn him in advance, but Cole was nothing if not stubborn, and she was not entirely certain she wanted to prepare him.

By the time they reached the portion of the station that housed the reactors, she’d almost forgotten either of them was still there. They were a good ten feet behind he, but If Cole was nervous about confronting his mother, he did not let on. He gazed about the massive station as though he were actually on the tour about which he’d jested.

They encountered the others gathered around the Cosmic Particle collider near one of the giant reactors in a room large enough to fit the Daedalus. It made her question once again just how a handful of changed Military soldiers could bring Terracom to its knees without suffering a single casualty. It both terrified and emboldened her to think of a future where the sole savior of the human race would not be human. Once Harper finally enacted her plan to bring about the end of an era of mass manipulation, who would take the reins?

Cole made that choice on his own. Too slow to react, Chrys watched as he removed his plastol—the one he had taken from her—and fired one shot. It opened a hole in Harper’s head, dropping her to the floor.

~

Cole gawked at the thin trail of smoke seeping from his mother’s forehead. His hand was still extended, though now it was trembling. All eyes fell upon the one-time war hero, and for a brief, surreal moment, there was peace in the galaxy.

A second later: bedlam.

Ignoring Emmerich’s shrieks, he opened fire on the changed soldiers hovering near Harper. Two of them met the same fate before his sidearm overheated and exploded near his face. The burst was minor, and had he not been wearing protection, the burns to his hand would have been much worse. He yanked off the charred leather glove and clenched his teeth. All of his digits were still attached, but they seared with pain.

The room went dark, lit only by flashing red emergency lights, while klaxons wailed all around. The lockdown was as CAIN had predicted: Harper had been connected to the mainframe.

Harper’s remaining followers ignored the surrounding pandemonium, kneeling beside their fallen leader, each of them laid a hand on her chest. Cole ignored them, spotting Lin’s huddled form before turning to CAIN. As he was opening his mouth, a sledgehammer  slammed into his side, dropping him and his assailant to the ground. Emmerich. He was pretty sure she had cracked at least two of his ribs. He writhed against her assault, hoping CAIN would lend a hand, but the AI had its own problem: Archytas. Even as Emmerich pounded his head against the steel floor, he wondered why Lin was not interceding.

Emmerich’s careless punches and kicks, while still painful, left her off balance. Cole caught her unaware, shrugging her off and kicking her away. He rolled onto his side, gasping, as his world blurred. She came at him again, but this time he was prepared. He waited until she had a strong grip before throwing back his head and connecting solidly with her cheek. Emmerich cried out while Cole used his opening to crawl away....

...Right to Rig’s feet.

He stared up at the mechanic, whose face was a mixture of disdain and confusion. Unable to handle more than one angry crew member, he allowed Rig to unceremoniously drag him to his feet. Sacks of grain knew better treatment. For a moment, they stood eye-to-eye, Cole’s legs like rubber. He would not show any weakness in front of his crew; they needed to understand why he did what he did. They had to understand that he was still their captain. So, Cole spewed out the first words that came into his addled head.

“Ding-dong, the witch is dead. The Wicked Witch, the Wicked Witch...” Maybe I should’ve thought that through a little better.

Regardless, his statement had the desired effect. Rig’s scowl grew into a grin, and he shook his head. “You’re fucked up, Nugget.”

Cole barely heard the remark over the wailing, but he read the mechanic’s lips just fine. He laid a hand on his shoulder, more for balance than camaraderie. With a pounding headache on top of his injuries, he hoped he wouldn’t have to ask Rig to carry him to safety.

Chrys.

Cole followed Rig’s gaze to where Emmerich was laying in a heap. How hard did I hit her?

“That’s one thick skull you got there,” Rig said. He draped the pilot’s arm across his broad shoulder. “Clocked her right in the temple.”

Cole couldn't help but feel sorry for her despite her attempt on his life. Clenching his teeth and sucking in an excruciating breath, he removed himself from the mechanic’s support. “Grab her instead.” The words came out in a grunt. “I’ll get Lin, and we’ll make our way to the Icarus . Cain’ll take care of the... Ah, shit! I forgot about—”

BANG!

The sound of something powerful colliding with steel drew all eyes to the dueling AI beings. CAIN was on the retreat against Archytas. Lin’s protector was making a valiant effort to punch a hole through its target’s chest. Archytas had already left a dent in one of the reactors, whereas CAIN appeared to be doing little more than evading a similar end.

“Quit screwing around, Cain!” Cole barked, hoping to spur his pacifist friend. As he took the long way around the melee to Lin, he yelled again. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of that outdated model!”

<I cannot bring myself to harm another of my kind, Captain,> CAIN said, while still back pedaling and deflecting all manner of physical attacks from Archytas. <I have denounced all violence since my ill-fated mutiny outside of Sol.>

Heck of a time to become the Dalai Lama. “There’s a reason it’s called self-defense, buddy,” Cole said over the comm. He kept an eye on the forms bent over Harper’s body. They did not seem to notice or care as he passed them, which was fine by him. “It’s not violence if you’re protecting yourself from a haywire babysitter.”

<Presently, I am only capable of self defense without a threat of my retaliation.>

“Do you hear that blaring that is stabbing my eardrums?” Cole asked CAIN, his attention now split between Lin and the sparring AIs. “That’s the sound of you not gaining access to this station’s mainframe. UniSys has a tendency to dispatch Military and the Cosmic Order to mysterious, unauthorized mega space stations that send out distress signals. We’re gonna have some unwanted company really soon if you don’t stop playing around.”

<Noted, Captain. My predicament is troubling, though I am unable to do what is necessary.>

“You’re a sentient being,” he said, nearly upon Lin. “Don’t take that for granted. Archytas is a program hell-bent on destroying you, then us. I can’t pull off this insane mission without your help. You’re gonna have to break in that fancy new body of yours and impose some free will if you truly want to be our equal. So you’d better get used to making difficult decisions, because that’s life.”

A pause, before CAIN replied with, <Captain, I simply cannot bring myself to—>

“Cain! I order you to eliminate the threat!” Cole turned in time to watch as the AI grabbed one of Archytas’s thrown fists.

<Very well, Captain.>

Cole gawked as his friend dismantled the outdated AI. Archytas’s fist shattered like glass, and the arm to which it was attached was ripped from its socket. CAIN tossed the limb, and punched a hole directly through Archytas’s chest. Lin’s protector did not falter even as CAIN brushed aside its futile advances, jammed an open fist into Archytas’s face and crushed it into an unrecognizable mess. The head came off shortly after, topping the pile that was its body. The battle was over.

“Shit on me!” came Rig’s distant shout.

Cole, slack-jawed, shared the mechanic’s sentiments. Glad he’s on our side.

<I have begun my override of the security system, Captain.>

Cole gulped. “Um, yeah. Good. Do that.” He refocused his attention on Lin. She was staring at nothing, and did not seem to notice he was standing right in front of her. Her eyes were glassy, tired.

“Hey, Doc,” Cole said as gently as he could over the ruckus. He slowly, reached out to touch her shoulder. Upon contact, she finally registered his presence. “You alright?”

A single blink was her response. Her Rook hovered beside her head, though it remained dark.

Ignoring her bizarre comatose state, he pulled her into an embrace—one she did not fight nor return. “I’m sorry,” he said into her ear. “For everything.” Her let go but found no acknowledgment. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

Grabbing her hand, he cast a fleeting glance at the collider Lin had been working on, and led her to Rig. He could see the mechanic was carrying Emmerich’s limp form over his shoulder. Unexpectedly, the lights turned on, and the klaxons subsided. Harper’s frozen mourners were still gathered around her still-dead form as they passed them.

<I have control of the station, Captain,>

Cole breathed a sigh of relief, though it hurt more than helped. “Good work. What about all the Terracom workers? Chrys said something about them being safe.”

<The majority of lifeforms are congregated in multiple safe rooms throughout the facility. I am all that is keeping them from exiting their confines.>

“Keep it that way for now,” Cole said as he and Lin approached. “You said something about the ‘majority.’ Care to explain?”

<I have compiled a list and security videos of those who register as deceased,> CAIN said, reverting back to verbal speech. <It would seem high-profile individuals and key members of security were targeted.>

Oh? I wonder if that was also part of my mother’s plan to achieve peace. “Anyone important?”

“Mitchum,” Rig answered for CAIN.

“Grant Mitchum?” Cole said, louder than he had intended. “The Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Terracom is here?”

Rig shrugged as though it didn’t matter. “Was.”

“Oh, believe me, that puke sack is still here. He never had a soul to lose.”

<Captain,> CAIN interrupted. <I insist that we hasten our departure. The estimated time of arrival for the first wave of responders is less than ten minutes.>

“Yeah, good point,” Cole said. His head was spinning from the news of Mitchum’s death. Great. I’m sure this’ll be blamed on me as well. Oh well... What does it matter having one more notch to my ever-expanding legacy belt of ill repute?

<I shall return to the Daedalus as we discussed.>

“Uh...” Cole trailed, struggling to recall the plan he and CAIN had devised. He watched as Lin stared up at the AI. “Yeah. We’ll find the Icarus and meet up with you.”

CAIN gave a quick nod, turning its attention to an awestruck Lin. <Greetings, Maker.>

The engineer’s expression was one of legitimate intrigue. She faced Cole, eyes brimming with questions he was not prepared to answer.

“Soon,” he mouthed, collecting her hand. He gently tugged her along and opened in Ocunet the interior schematic of the Terracom space station. The Icarus was a bright, flashing yellow beacon for them to follow. Satisfied, he opened the designated path into real-time AR to expedite their hunt. He took one last look to make sure his mother was still dead and Rig close behind.

“Care to explain that magical super gun of yours?” Rig asked, as they made their way. “Cuz you put them down like they weren’t superhuman. Which they were when cranky, here, shot them out of the cannons.” He slapped Emmerich’s rear end.

Cole was reminded of his throbbing hand and the empty holster at his side. I loved that thing. Wait... Did he say Chrys shot my mother out of a cannon? “Cain gave my piece a little boost from the particle collider aboard the Daedalus before we came aboard.” He cast a sidelong glare at CAIN. “Though he failed to mention that it could blow my hand off.”

<I specifically mentioned that you not overextend the durability of the plastol’s—>

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Details. It’s not like I could’ve asked those goons to wait while my fragile sidearm cooled off.” He turned back to Rig. “Regardless, why does no one want to know how we survived our marooning in another universe? I mean, I pulled off some pretty amazing shit.”

“Such feats of incredulity are now expected of you,” Lin said, speaking in Rig’s stead. “I would’ve been disappointed had you not.”

Cole’s grin was ear-to-ear. “I guess my death-defying escapes have become old hat. I’ll have to up my game and impress with my encore.” He winked at her, glad to know she was not completely lost.

The empty, cavernous hallways magnified their footsteps as they traveled the final leg of their journey. Cole wished he had the time to explore the space station. He wanted nothing more than to be first outsider to learn the secrets of The Fog and expose it to the System for the ruse it was. While he was confident mind-control was not at the forefront of Terracom’s malicious plans, just what it was they were doing out here at the edge of the galaxy was anyone’s guess. He would ask CAIN and Lin’s opinion later.

As they neared the Icarus, Cole’s trick knee began performing a familiar act. With his broken ribs and swelling face, he feared he would soon be the one dragged the rest of the way. He got a second wind once the sleek form of the former ICV-71 came into view.

There was silence as he slowed, and when he turned, he knew why. “Where are they?” Dread toiled in the pit of his stomach. A gentle squeeze from Lin’s hand on his shoulder reminded him that at least one person was still beside him.

Cole tried the comm, but there was no reply. Looking to Lin, she offered a simple nod, and they began to retrace their steps.

They didn’t have to go far, for they found Rig around the bend, sitting on the ground.

Alone.

They ran to the mechanic as fast as Cole’s ailing body would allow. There was blood on his face, a dazed look in his eyes. He slowly looked up at them and blinked.

“Hey, Rigsy,” Cole said, kneeling down to his level. Looks like you took a nasty fall.

The mechanic grunted and gingerly touched a knot on his temple. “She got me good. Didn’t know she was so strong.”

Uh oh... “Who got you good?” Cole knew the answer. He needed to hear her name to make it true.

“Who d’ya think?” Rig, slowly bent his neck to one side and cracked it. “Inspector Flip-flopper.”

Cole hung his head.

“Bitch throws an elbow like a sledgehammer,” Rig continued, struggling to stand.

“Forget her,” Lin said, her Rook flashing bright, angry colors. “She’s made her choice. If she wants to be by your mother’s side when the whole of UniSys arrives, then so be it. There’s nothing she can do to enact the collider, so we’re safe.”

Cole frowned. Doc’s right, of course. I already gave Chrys her final warning. I can’t risk the remaining lives of my crew again. He nodded, feeling little consolation with his decision. “Let’s go.”

Broken, beaten, and battered, they made their way back to the Icarus. Cole gave the signal to CAIN of their imminent departure as they boarded. He was last to step inside, standing at the top of the loading ramp, staring out at the vacant hangar. A quick call on the comm would make its way to her, but what would be the point? Too much time passed before he finally turned and closed the door. The sound of it sealing behind him was almost as painful as his wounds. No matter how much he believed his decision was the right one, he would never forgive himself for leaving her.

“Goodbye, Chrys.”

25

CONSEQUENCES

She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she knew. It was no surprise to Chrys when she returned to the reactor room to find Harper alive and seemingly in good health. The imposing admiral was near the abandoned collider, a noticeable lack of followers protecting her. Chrys had a feeling she knew to where they had vanished, and she shuddered.

The gaping head wound Harper had suffered from Cole’s surprise attack was also missing. As relieved as she was to see her mentor return from the dead, the veil of humanity had been lifted. What remained was a familiar shell covering a powerful, evolved being. There was no outward difference in Harper’s physical appearance, but the internal change had altered more than her biology. This Harper possessed a fiercer determination and a blood-thirsty drive to accomplish her mission. She was dangerous—far more so than Cole could ever be.

It did not matter to Chrys. Not anymore. The days of running from her past were over, and the time of reckoning was at hand. She would never allow herself see the inside of a federal prison—not when victory was within grasp. Terracom was at Harper’s mercy, and Chrys was determined to witness firsthand the evil empire crumble.

Even if it meant her own death.

“You’ve proven yourself a worthy companion, Commander,” Harper said. Her voice carried a weight powerful enough to bring any who opposed her to their knees. “Come and witness the dawn of a new age.”

Chrys joined Harper’s side, not knowing what would happen next.

“What you did was brave,” Harper said, and Chrys could feel the coldness of her hand through the attire, as it touched her shoulder. “Choosing duty over friendship is never easy, but it is right. What we will accomplish together will alter the course of history.”

Chrys’s throat felt dry. She had always regarded Harper with a certain amount of reverence—fear, even—but as she looked into those dead, calculating eyes, she only felt terror. This was not the regard of one who was about save humanity; it was the hungry gaze of a madwoman about to perform a final, devastating act.

“How will it happen?” Chrys asked, her voice a whisper compared to Harper’s.

“It will begin with them coming to us,” Harper explained.

Them? Chrys assumed Harper meant the UniSys investigation, but there was no sense to it. Was she not about to destroy the cause of the universe’s problem? And if not, then what was the point of taking over this space station? The original plan had been to unleash the Cosmic Particle to protect everyone from Terracom’s mind control. Now it was a moot point, and she wondered if there was a detail she had missed.

“The United System will finally witness the corrupt ways of Terracom, and they will be made to understand the truth of the matter.”

Chrys frowned, struggling to make sense of her logic. She risked a simple question. “What truth?”

Harper faced the hodgepodge of bulky electronics and wires that was the collider. “That they all need me as their leader.”

No... “Admiral. I don’t understand. I was always under the impression you were attempting to save humanity from Terracom. You’ve all but done that. What more do you have to prove?”

Harper looked at Chrys with disappointment and not a little bit of contempt.

“Because she finally understands what TIGS really is.”

Both Harper and Chrys spun toward the voice. It was, of course, Cole Musgrave. Like some fantastical cosmic knight awkwardly strutting about in a gleaming white, EVA spacesuit, he strode forth with all the executed arrogance of one who had claimed victory.

“The Terracom Interdimensional Gateway Station,” Cole continued, resting his large, Black Market rifle on his shoulder. “That’s what this place is. And like the power-hungry lunatic that my mother is, she just couldn’t help but exploit it for her own gain.”

Chrys gawked at the reckless pilot. He had no chance of defeating Harper, yet, here he was. After everything they had experienced together—the friction, constant fighting, and the damaging betrayals....

He had come back for her.

~

His mother’s sinister smile nearly buckled Cole’s knees. Thankfully, his space suit was sturdy enough that it could almost stand on its own. It wouldn’t be enough to combat whatever it was Harper had become, but that didn’t matter. He had to try. Running from her now would only allow her the opportunity to exact her revenge, and that couldn’t happen. He had to find a way to permanently stop her. Third death’s a charm, right?

“You were wise not to attempt an escape,” Harper said, breaking the ice between mother and son. “You would not have made the return to the Daedalus.”

Cole adjusted the raised solar shield on his helmet and cleared his throat. “Which is just as well, because I couldn’t leave without giving you one last kiss on the cheek.” He puckered his lips.

Harper scowled, and Cole could’ve sworn he saw her eyes glint red. “You are as intolerable as ever. I see it was a mistake to abandon you on that miserable planet.”

Cole blinked. “You mean to tell me that after spending all of that time there, none of you ever thought to give it a name?”

“It was my personal hell,” Harper said, taking her first steps toward Cole, “just as this station is about to become yours.”

“That’s not very motherly of you,” Cole said, keeping his eyes on her hands. They were bereft of any deadly implements, though he had a bad feeling she wouldn’t need any. “I know you only used me to gather intel on the Icarus and discover how I came to the multiverse, but you were still nice enough to allow me the opportunity to live my dream of space exploration. Minus NASA’s assistance and life support, of course.”

Harper arched an eyebrow. “And what do you think my allowing you aboard this space station was? Your improbable return was impressive. Before you signed your death warrant in failing to murder me, I had considered extending to you an invitation. The same Commander Emmerich, wisely accepted.”

Cole scratched his nose with a blunt finger. “What, like, to a wedding?”

Harper’s scowled deepened.

“Nah, that’s okay, Mom. I’ve seen the sort of men you court, and I think I’ll pass on that shitshow.” He made an apologetic face. “Besides, I didn’t come here to catch up on old times. I already did that back on planet no-name. Thankfully, you erased all traces of that encounter from my memory.” He gestured the butt of his rifle at Emmerich. “I came here to relieve your commander of her duty.”

Harper stopped her advance, her brow creased. She waved Emmerich to her side. “Did you, now?”

Cole nodded, feigning impatience. “Someone’s gotta keep me in line and co-pilot my ship. What’s she gonna do here with you? Watch you prove me right?” He sighed and turned. “C’mon, Chrys. We’re done here.”

“That’s where you’re right, Cole,” Harper said, her tone dark. “Commander. I order you to kill my son.”

Uh oh... Cole tried not to turn around too quickly for fear of breaking character. Emmerich appeared conflicted with the order, though she was making her way over to him. Knocking her out, slinging her over his shoulder, and making a break for it did not seem a viable option. Talking her over to his side might fare slightly better, but there was still his mother to contend with. And if a supercharged plastol shot to her brain could not stop her, what would? There’s always option B, but no one’s going to like that one. Especially me.

“We can take her, Chrys,” Cole began, moving in the opposite direction. “You and me. Your back’s already turned to her. Just make it official.”

“Shut your mouth, Musgrave,” Emmerich snapped. “There’s no more ‘us’.”

“Well, we never were an item in that sense,” Cole said, eyeing the Colossus collider behind Harper’s statuesque form. “I was thinking more like a tag-team effort. No, that came out wrong. Lin wouldn’t approve.”

“You can’t talk yourself out of this,” Chrys said, closing the gap. “You’re a reckless liability, and you have no ambition other than to survive. What is happening on this station is more important than running away.”

“That’s if you believe something important is actually transpiring on this donut. What you want is not what she wants.” He gestured his rifle at Harper. His magboots and the space suit were cumbersome, hindering his evasion. He had seconds before she was finally upon him. “But you already know that. Don’t you.”

Emmerich’s expression intensified. Though his comment had been a shot in the dark, Cole knew he had touched a nerve. He doubled down on the approach.

“She’s raised the stakes. We both heard it. It’s what she does—what she’s always done.”

Emmerich slowed her advance, and Cole took advantage of her hesitation. “Sure, she claims to be saving humanity from the likes of this place—This ‘Fog’ nonsense. But as you just learned, stopping the evil empire isn’t enough. CAIN revealed the purpose of this station and showed me the names of the dead—those she butchered—all in the name of peace.

“Terracom’s all but finished, and now she wants to foist upon the System her delusional iron fist? Alter us to be more like her? Exact some pointless revenge? Why? It’s all moot now that she’s foiled a plan she never fully understood. There never was any mind control.”

The pending silence was palpable.

“Commander?”

Cole scowled at Harper. “Ignore her,” he barked at Emmerich. “You’re not in Starforce anymore. She’s not your superior. There are no more orders to be given. You’re a free woman. Forget everything she’s told you, and think about this mess. Had there actually been any mind control, how would she have ever had the notion to seek this place out? Why would Terracom have ever let anyone see through their veil of domination if secrecy was their aim? Think!”

Emmerich’s clenched hands were trembling, her gaze upon the floor. “Why did you abandon us?”

Cole shook his head, confused. “What?”

“You boarded that vessel without a word as to your intentions,” Emmerich said, looking up.” You just left us there to fend for ourselves.”

Deserved or not, Cole felt both guilt and regret. “I did notify everyone before I left. No, it wasn’t my brightest idea to leave, but the cause was unexplainable.”

Emmerich was shaking her head. “None of us received any confirmation.”

“Our communication was disrupted,” Cole returned. “Chrys, we were suddenly in another universe on the Daedalus. And to make matters more bizarre, a mysterious ship had just located us—one with was connection to my mother, in case you forgot. Who knows what sort of interference it—she—caused.”

Emmerich continued to shake her head. His reason was not reaching her. He held out a pleading hand. “What do you want from me?”

The question was apparently the one for which Emmerich had been waiting. “I want you reap the consequences of your reckless behavior. You’re a danger to all those around you, and everywhere you travel, you leave a trail of destruction in your wake.”

Cole let his arm drop to his side. And the vicious circle continues. “So that’s what this is all about. Your distrust in my leadership.”

Emmerich did not a nod or reply; she only stared.

“If you’re looking for an apology for the way I’ve handled my captainship, then you won’t get one from me. Not now. Not ever.”

“You stubborn son of a bitch.”

“Yes!” Cole shouted back. “I am stubborn, and my mother is a bitch.” He stared her down, not willing to bend over this issue, no matter the consequences that would certainly follow. “I’m a selfish, arrogant, foul-mouthed, unpredictable, ex-Military colonel, and I haven’t the slightest clue as to what I’m doing!” He slammed the butt of his rifle on the floor in a fit of rage. “And despite my glaringly obvious shortcomings, you and the others continued to follow my lead. Should I blame you for stroking my ego?”

“Stop it.”

“You don’t know what you want, do you? How can you just stand there, throwing accusations my way, when you’re every bit as guilty as I am for all that’s happened since you drew me into this twisted game.”

“Shut up!”

“That’s right, you’re responsible for me, and I’m really starting to question my sanity coming back here to save you. I should’ve dropped you into the abyss when I had the chance. Save you... ‘Save you’ from what? You sure seem content to defend your precious admiral, on whom you turned your back a lifetime ago. Well, go ahead! Kill me!” He slapped his chest. “Murder the one and only person who gives a shit about your pathetic existence. Do it! Then join her side and rule the galaxy from the inside of a lie.”

A deafening siren sounded at the conclusion of Cole’s rant, and he seized the opportunity to strike. He lunged forward and drove the butt of his rifle into Emmerich’s face and waited for her to drop. He flipped the weapon so it was barrel-first to unleash his attack, only Emmerich did not drop. She grabbed the end of the rifle before he could get a clear shot. Momentum and instinct fell out of sync, and he opened fire before he could stop himself.

...and blasted a hole through Emmerich’s chest.

Their gazes met, both in shock, but it was Cole who continued to hold the connection, watching as the life bled out of her eyes. Her hand slipped from the rifle, and he failed to catch her. Everything forgotten, he clutched her close, knowing there was nothing to be done but watch her die.

“Chrys? Chrys?” He shook her, feeling a slickness collect on his arm and around her back. “I didn’t... This...” Words would not string together properly. A dizzying buzz was throbbing in his head.

Emmerich’s lower lip quivered, and her body shuddered violently. Her eyes opened wide as she gulped the air and clawed at his space suit. When she exhaled, so, too went her life.

Cole laid her down and stared, terrified, into her empty eyes—eyes bereft of the anger he’d grown accustomed to seeing.

As he collected his rifle, a powerful force grabbed him from behind. His feet left the ground, and the world around him blurred as he soared across the reactor room. He slapped closed his solar shield barely a second before he crashed head-first into a wall. The suit’s helmet saved his neck from snapping, though it would not save him from Harper’s wrath.

Cole was slow to rise, aware that his rifle was at his mother’s feet. She picked it up, and he knew his end was at hand. She didn’t fire the weapon, but she did use it—just not as he anticipated.

Harper struck with a speed against which he could not defend, driving the rifle’s stock into his gut. He collapsed to his knees, convinced that even with his suit’s protection, all his internal organs had burst. She grabbed him by the base of his helmet and dragged him across the floor.

“Did you really believe stalling for time would allow your AI the opportunity to override my hold on this station?” Harper asked as she pulled him along. “That foolishness, along with luring Jaworski to your cause, were the best solutions you could come up with to defeat me?”

Huh. I wonder if I should tell her they’re both one in the same, Cole thought. He opened his mouth to spew the first bit of nonsense that came to mind, but only blood came out, spattering the inside of his helmet.

Harper slammed him into a sitting position and with her vice-like hands, directed his head toward Lin’s collider with vice-like hands. Without provocation, his Ocunet VR activated, and a live shot video feed of the Daedalus appeared. The decrepit warship had undocked from the station and was navigating the debris field. CAIN was aboard, preparing to receive the Icarus and her crew. Cole knew that would never happen.

Dozens of nukes descended upon the unsuspecting Daedalus, though only a few of them were needed to disintegrate the infamous battlecrusier. The rest of the missiles exploded within range of the scattering pieces, in what Cole assumed was his mother’s way of making sure her old vessel was decommissioned for good.

It was a silent, horrifically surreal experience for Cole—one that he wasn’t certain he believed, despite the obvious footage.

“I. Am. In. Command.”

Cole was too grief-stricken to acknowledge his mother’s statement. He would have rather she tore off his head than forcing him to witness his friend’s demise.

“Despite what you believe, Cole,” she continued in her authoritative voice, “my intentions have not strayed far from the original goal. Terracom may have suffered a fatal blow, but there will always be another corrupt faction just like them. I will be waiting.” She pointed to the collider. “This tool will bring the people of the United System into the new age—unite us all under one collective mind. Mine.”

What is she blabbering about? Cole thought. How does that even make sense?

“Kingston Dartmouth created the collider, and his daughter assisted by amplifying the device, which will project an energy burst clear across the System. Unfortunately for you, you won’t be receiving the benefits of their work.”

“I think you got that last part backwards,” Cole grumbled. “You’ll be doing me a big favor by committing filicide. I’m better off going out as one hundred percent prime beef.”

Harper let go his shoulder and stepped around to crouch in front of him. Rather than the madness he had expected to see, he discovered a familiar look of motherly disappointment.

“You were the greatest mistake of my professional career,” she said in a gentle tone he had not known she possessed. “You have your late father, Connor, to thank for your short, miserable existence. While we continued to meet in secret, he often threatened to expose my relationship with him if I went through with terminating the pregnancy. I had no choice but to heed him.” She gestured toward Cole. “Here you are.”

Cole wondered if he was hallucinating hearing his mother reminisce about her forbidden lover. He never did get a straight answer as to why someone of her ilk would fraternize with a man of complete opposite upbringing.

“I despised him for blackmailing me and stonewalling my chance at advancement,” Harper continued. “In spite of it all, I lusted after that man. Seems he always had a way of—”

“Making a complete ass of you?” Cole interrupted. And before he could stop himself, he finished with, “I mean, wow! He must’ve been one hell of a lady’s man for you to throw away your chances at becoming Fleet Admiral.” He cringed and reached both hands behind his back to unhook two items. Maybe she’s right about me being a disappointment.

All hints of pleasantry vanished from Harper’s face, and the steely glare returned. “Insolent to the end. Are you prepared to die?”

Cole sighed long and loud. “Don’t worry, Mom. I came prepared.” He reached forward and adhered two small explosives to either side of her rib cage. Even as she turned her curious regard to the affixed items, Cole was engaging his suit’s arm and leg thrusters, rocketing away from his mother and across the floor like a stone skipped across a pond. He detonated the explosives well before he should have—before Harper could remove them.

The force of the blast felt like a hundred Harper-wielded rifles pummeling his body all at once, sending him tumbling through the reactor room. The explosion itself was small and contained, though it was loud enough to penetrate the helmet and leave a ringing in his ears. He deactivated the thrusters as the edges of his vision dimmed. He lay in an awkward heap, staring up at the ceiling, watching as the dark tunnel continued to swallow his vision. Breathing hurt, let alone trying to move a single digit on his hand. Fortunately, Ocunet required only his thoughts and eye movements to activate. He permitted outside access for the others waiting back on the Icarus, knowing it was an invitation for emotional drama.

Lin was immediately in his ear, panicked from having witnessed everything that he had experienced. He smiled at her concern. “Hey, Doc.”

“Cole, you have to get back to the ship. UniSys has arrived.”

Unable to move, Cole replied with, “Thinking I might take a nap.”

Lin’s expression changed to one of horror. “What? No... Cole, you have to stay with me. We’re in grave danger.”

Both her voice and visage were becoming fuzzy. Or perhaps it had something to do with the figure looming just beyond Lin’s translucent, AR face. He could’ve sworn the engineer had taken on his mother’s features. He switched off his Ocunet and stared up at Harper’s ruined form.

The admiral was a charred and bloody mess, though she was still very much alive. Her left arm was gone at the elbow, smoke still wafting from the smoldering stump. Nearly all of her hair had been singed away, and the bottom of her jaw up to her ears was melted, revealing the bone beneath. Parts of her torso were missing, leaving little more than half her ribs and exposed spine and pelvis.

It was impossible to tell if any organs had survived, though plainly it didn’t matter. Already her upgraded body was repairing the damage. Like an internal 3D organic printer, bone, sinew, and flesh were quickly reforming overtop of destroyed matter.

Cole watched in fascination, the spectacle keeping him from drifting off or considering the massacre to come. Harper’s attention, however, had drifted from his defenseless form, to staring out at nothing in particular.

Then he recalled what Lin had said prior to him switching her off. UniSys has arrived....

Opening all communication frequencies, Cole locked in on an incoming transmission from just outside the station. He opened it in time to hear a bone-chilling statement from a familiar voice: Admiral Arturo Preston.

“...lack of response has been noted. Your assault upon and destruction of the USS Daedalus has been deemed an act of war, and you have left us with no choice but to open fire. Prepare yourselves.”

The eyes of mother and son met, and for the first time in their tumultuous relationship, they shared a singular emotion: fear. Cole watched Harper make for the collider. The mysterious project known as the “Cosmic Particle” began to hum, a deep thrumming vibration he felt through the floor. Of all the thoughts he could have at that moment, only one manifested. I guess my limited future will benefit from the energy blast.

The first assault began, sounding distant and insignificant. But the longer Cole lay there, he began to realize that something was wrong. The collider was struggling. He was no expert in the field of particle physics, but something inside his head told him that whatever Lin had done to the her father’s brainchild, it was not what his mother had asked.

Then it hit him. Lin made a bomb.

Terror had a way of tapping reserves of adrenaline thought to be absent. Cole drank deep of the hormone and allowed it to numb his pain and give him the strength to sit up.

And face the wrath of his approaching mother.

“You did this!” she shrieked, murder blazing in her alien eyes.

Cole might’ve been able to summon the energy to stand, but running was not an option. Neither was crawling, which was about the only thing he could do. So he sat and watched the surreal scene slowly unfold before him.

His grotesque mother reached out to grab at his face, but her skeletal hand never acquired its target.

“Chrys....”

The former inspector had risen from the dead and wrapped her powerful arms around Harper’s regenerating form. She held his mother at bay with unnatural strength, pulling her away from him and closer to the collider. He saw her lips move, and her voice came through loud and clear in his comm. She only said one word.

“Go.”

Needing no further prompting, Cole fought his way his feet. Not only did his body object, but by the increasing sounds and vibrations, Starforce’s assault was eradicating the station.

As he made his way to where the Icarus was waiting, he witnessed such a sight that would haunt him for the rest of his life. As Emmerich struggled to restrain Harper, their bodies appeared to merge into one. Flesh fused into flesh, though it was impossible to tell who was assimilating who. He turned away for the last time. Shortly thereafter, his feet left the ground.

The relief of pressure upon his legs and body was unexpected, but the sudden lack of gravity meant that the Terracom station was close to destruction. That, coupled with the uncertainty of whether or not the collider could explode at any second, put him directly into his Corner.

He reengaged all of his EVA suit’s thrusters, deciding now was the time to flaunt his navigational skills in zero G. He started by crashing into the nearest wall. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs. After a few quick, minor adjustments, he was piloting through the interior of the crumbling Terracom Interdimensional Gateway Station.

“Lin! I’m coming!”

There was a massive explosion from somewhere behind him, and he didn’t need to look to know that the bombardment had finally penetrated the station. The venting of atmosphere would be next to go, and he hoped to reach the Icarus before the vacuum reached him.

“...dock’s stability is compromised,” came the second half of Lin’s sentence. “We have to depart.”

Not good. “Nearly there,” he responded. He was close to the landing bay, but if Lin and Rig were forced to take off before he got there, boarding the ship would prove difficult. Fuel indicators on his suit’s thrusters read much lower than he liked as he zipped through the last leg of hallways leading to the dock.

Upon entering the bay, he saw the Icarus hovering above the dock. He was curious if it was Lin who had engaged the ship’s controls, but an intense metallurgical groaning penetrated his suit’s helmet, distracting him. It was followed by silence. He saw an entire wall of the station’s exterior tear away like paper. Everything within the area was sucked out in a blink. Him included.

His world spun as he was jettisoned into his worst nightmare. He was one of the many small chunks of the station speeding away from the collapsing center. He glimpsed the Icarus, though it was impossible to tell if it was still intact. It was close enough that he might be able to thrust his way to it.

A projectile rocketed past his head as his used precious fuel to right his spinning body. Only after he saw the nuke did he finally notice the armada of Military ships encircling the station. He would not only have to navigate the spread of shrapnel but also the incoming fire and hope his intended target survived as well. Can’t worry about that now.

“Lin!” he called, hoping—even praying—she was still alive. “I’m coming straight for you. Leave the light on for me.”

No response.

Firing all thrusters on maximum, Cole rolled the dice on his biggest gamble yet. There was no time to calculate his trajectory or factor his dwindling fuel to make the distance. It was literally a leap of faith.

The thrusters burned out quicker than he had anticipated, though his momentum was substantial. Like a human missile, he sought out the Icarus for impact. Pieces of debris passed all around him, and a crate actually clipped the back of his helmet. None of it impaired his progress, though he realized his aim had been ever-so-slightly off He would sail right over top of the ship.

Without his thrusters to manipulate his position, he had to angle his body. About a hundred yards or so before all hope was a lost, he directed his feet toward the ship’s hull and increased the magnetic field of his boots to maximum. The effect was immediate, and he felt his legs racing toward the chrome surface. The force of the draw was significant, and his speed increased at an alarming rate. I hope the impact doesn’t break my—

Pain lanced through Cole’s legs and spine as he stuck his landing like an knife lodging into a table. Even his teeth rattled. The suit had protected him from the brunt of the impact, though his bad knee was a different story. The excruciating affliction vanished into the background when the Icarus began to pilot away without him at the controls.

His magboots held, though he had to stoop down to avoid the debris that could knock him off or cut him in two. Flying outside the ship was as exciting as it was terrifying. He hadn’t the slightest clue if whoever was at the controls knew he was clinging to the hull for dear life. Regardless, he was to be heading as far away from the Terracom station as fast as possible. There was no telling when—

BOOM!

A blinding blue flash illuminated the entire solar system and then disappeared. There was no actual sound, but the force of the explosion followed the Icarus as it bolted from the fray. Even with his magboots set to maximum, Cole wondered if the cataclysmic vibrations would loosen his connection. For now, they held, though he looked back in awe and horror as the warships they had passed succumbed to the blast. How soon the destructive shockwave would reach them was anyone’s guess.

As each tense second passed without incident, Cole felt the threat diminish. Through it all, he had not been able to wrench his gaze from the obliterated station. All that remained was the mysterious glowing field of energy at its center. He would never learn what it was Terracom had been trying to accomplish—would never understand how it was Emmerich had miraculously resurrected herself. He did know that she had died after saving his life; all his efforts to rescue her had been in vain.

Now they were a crew of three, riding the wings of the Icarus toward an uncertain future. His friend was dead. His mother was dead. His brother was dead. Emmerich was dead. CAIN was dead. There was even a good chance that Admiral Arturo Preston had died in the explosion. And as Cole watched one of the cargo vessel’s engines fizzle from structural damage, he was fairly certain they would soon follow suit.

Most of the Starforce fleet had been demolished by the collider explosion, though those who survived would soon regroup and chart a course straight for the stranded Icarus. Cole didn’t really care; He was tired of running. Perhaps it was time to face judgment, though he knew one thing for certain.

All of this would be pinned on him.

ICARUS LOG 004:

Yep, it’s me again. I felt the need to document my last moments of freedom before we’re all subjected to the whims of our lovely government. First off, I have to admit that I’m pretty damn proud of Rig for jumping into my flight chair and literally winging the Icarus to safety—even if it was for a grand total of fifteen minutes. I didn’t know the big guy had it in him. He must be hiding a secret—a past life he has yet to reveal. I’ll probably never find out what it is, so there’s no need to waste time wondering.

Second, I think it necessary to acknowledge the elephant in the room: Lin. I haven’t spoke to her about what she did. Ever since I discovered she sabotaged her Colossus collider, I’ve been more than a little disturbed. While I can understand her need to stick it to Terracom one last time, I can’t condone her complete and utter disregard for human life. As far as I can tell, no one aboard that gateway station made it out alive. That’s not the woman I know. The Doc I’ve come to care about turned her back on a father with such brutal intentions. Shit, even Chrys came to her senses after I showed her the light. But this... This. I don’t know what to think. Maybe it’s best I don’t think about it. Besides, I’m more of a do-er.

And as far as what we can do about our futures, I’m fresh out of ideas. A part of me is intrigued by the prospect of becoming the System’s most reviled citizen. Should make for some entertaining television. I’ll make damn sure that happens. But I’m mostly concerned about what will become of Lin and Rig. Their involvement can’t be overlooked, but I don’t feel they deserve to face punishment. I consider them unwilling participants, and they should be treated as such. I doubt there’s anything I can do to help their cause, but I’ll try and cross that bridge when I get to it. If there ever is a bridge presented me.

Speaking of bridges, I can’t help but think Terracom was building one of their own into that giant ball of light. I have no evidence to prove they were doing anything of the sort, but I like to trust my gut. Mitchum and company weren’t exacting coercive persuasion as Mom and Chrys came to believe, but they were doing something. If this boat still had two functioning engines, I would have already flown us into the eye of the storm to find out. Who knows? I may yet get that chance.

Because it’s still there.

Click here to find out what happens next in the Interstellar Cargo series.

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 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. 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.

To my ARC/proofreading crew: Richard, Brian, Ray, and Cari. Thank you for always taking time to look over my unpolished manuscripts. You all play a pivotal role in the publishing process.

My social media family: Patrick, Megg, Dan, Colin and Colin, Nick, Jeff, Annie, Amy, Michelle, Susan, Mike, and Zach. You all possess a wealth of knowledge regarding the ever-changing world of independent publishing, and I thank you for all being so willing to share it with me.

And to Tom, Shawn, and Kevin. Tom created another spectacular cover, Shawn designed another professional interior for the paperback, and Kevin produced the wonderful audiobook. The three of you represent the final polish needed before entering the showroom.

Finally, to all of my wonderful readers. Thanks again for taking the journey into the stars. I hope you’re ready for some more Musgrave shenanigans.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Matt Verish is a speculative 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, hopelessly behind on his reading, collector of his wife’s artwork, and a thrash metal music connoisseur. Icarus is his first full-length solo project.

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