Icarus (Interstellar Cargo Book 1) (2 page)

Forester gave no reply. It was obvious to Cole that he, too, was enjoying the spoils of NuFi and its endless wonders and pitfalls.
He’s probably conspiring onto whose head he needs to step in order to reach his next lofty position.
Cole purposely popped a single knuckle and pretended not to notice Forester’s glare.
Oh, this launch is going to be great.

The lift mercifully reached its destination and glided to a halt before a massive bay door. It was immaculate white and sterile, as was most everything inside the S3. Hospitals could only dream of being so clean.

A quick hiss of unseen hydraulics, and the bay doors parted to reveal a long tunnel to Hangar Zero. Forester slid through the opening and was across the threshold before the doors were completely separated. Cole lazily followed suit, releasing pressure in several more joints at a safe distance. This was new territory for him, and the absence of thrumming accelerator cores and clamoring of infinite packages loading were absent here. It was strangely quiet and altogether unnerving for a place where ships were born.

Cole’s first footsteps across the polished floor clicked as though he were wearing tap shoes. He could only imagine how much money was wasted on buffing them into mirrors in a room dedicated to experimental spacecraft. Explosions, charring, and chemical leakage were common here. He shook his head and caught up to his zealous “co-pilot” at the end of the tunnel and expected to see the afterlife. Instead he was greeted with a much more impressive site. The tunnel opened out into a domed research facility large enough to easily contain an entire Dreadnought class warship. He supposed it would have to, though the S3’s sheer size never ceased to amaze him.

Cole kept his head on a swivel as he admired this top secret location. People in company lab coats and jumpsuits milled about on multiple levels, gesticulating like stilted mimes as they undoubtedly discussed schematics through shared NuFi. It was difficult to say if anyone was actually doing anything, or just putting on a show to impress their equally distracted superiors. No one paid him any heed as he continued his stroll toward the prototype ICV. He would’ve snapped a photo of the area to show his buddies down on the lower hangars, but his Ocunet and NuFi access were denied. He had not seen any notification of such a privacy invasion.
Getting crafty, SolEx. Next you’ll be capable of digital inception.
That was a terrifying thought.

At the center of the confusion was a solitary object, gleaming beneath the onslaught of lights which showcased it for all involved with the project. This particular “object” was none other than the ICV-71, the sole reason for his promotion. Sleek and equally polished as the floors upon which she rested, the ICV-71 was an impressive work of art and technology. Though the ship was dwarfed by the sheer enormity of the hangar, there was no denying his new craft’s scale. The vessel was a vast improvement over SolEx’s other bulky transports; she was streamlined in all the right places, and inconspicuous because of the dual engines placement to hide the massive cargo hold. It was no mistake that this ship was built to look more like a fighter than a freighter. Interstellar delivery was a dangerous career.

Send out the former Military guy with a penchant for recklessness,
Cole thought as he closed in on his prize.
Not that it matters,
he considered, recalling from his research that he would essentially be a glorified backup pilot as this new model ICV was purportedly almost completely automated.
We’ll see about that,
he thought, fully aware that he was about to board a prototype which was most certainly plagued with glitches. There was a reason they sought out a veteran Starforce pilot to oversee the ship safely on its initial journey.

His brow furrowed as he came within fifty yards of the vessel.
Blank canvas!
Sure enough, there was a distinct lack of corporate decals applied to her hull, and Cole was instantly suspicious. What sort of test flight was this where company property was without its illustrious logo?

“Impressive, isn’t it? Forester asked, his gaze upon the ship.

Cole nodded as he stepped up beside the suit. “Yep. Never thought I’d see anything without the company brand obviously displayed and larger than life.” He smirked. “Maybe it’s on the chassis...” He feigned bending down to glimpse beneath before glancing up to regard Forester’s raised eyebrow.

“Not an accident.”

Cole stood up straight, intrigued by Forester’s comment. “Purposely left off?”

“Purposely hidden,” came the cryptic response. Forester turned away before Cole could press him for any more information.

“The ICV-71!” came the booming voice of a man from behind. Cole spun to take in the view of a group of suits and lab coats marching their way toward him and Forester. He caught a glimpse of a cute engineer near the front of the pack. “Our newest F-Class cargo vessel!”

“Is that...?”

“Our Chief Executive Officer?” Forester finished as though one of the most revered company owners in all the System was not heading in their direction.

“
The
Frederich Caliber,” Cole said, and realized that quite possibly the entire C-Suite and several prospective clients were in-tow behind the surprisingly short, balding man. “Fifteen trillion net worth.”

Forester chuckled exactly how Cole expected a corporate stiff would chuckle. “According to last year’s fiscal numbers.”

“Sorry I didn’t make it my business to discover the exact depth of one man’s black hole-sized pockets.” Cole rolled his eyes and considered just what he would do if good old Fred accidentally deposited a mere one billion dollars into his savings account. He wondered if NASA would reconsider him for Uncharted.

Then the company black tie affair was upon him, and Cole’s anxiety returned. He unconsciously began creaking his gloves, and Forester promptly cast him the stink-eye. Cole ignored him and wondered into what he had gotten himself.
Am I chartering a first-class soiree to the dark side of the Moon?
He truly hoped so.

“...with a state-of-the-art Dark Matter Processor, and fusion reactor engines concealing the cargo hold...” Caliber continued with his deconstruction of the ICV-71 specs to his entourage. Cole paid him little heed. He had already boned up on the ship’s impressive capabilities. What drew his full attention was the young engineer, her attention solely on, well, nothing.

She’s surfing the digital star ocean!
Cole realized with surprise. He was dying to know what she was researching in the midst of such an important occasion. One of her jet black locks came loose from where her hair was tied haphazardly into a bun. She fussed with the renegade strands before discovering him gawking. Her deep green eyes narrowed before she returned to her NuFi vacation.

“...is our seasoned captain, Cole Musgrave, our brave test pilot.”

Cole wrenched his attention away from the engineer and discovered he had a very affluent audience staring expectantly at him. The sun felt much closer than it normally did at that moment. His gloves creaked behind his back in the awkward silence, and he nodded, for it was all he could manage.

A quick wink and a smile from Caliber, and the sales pitch resumed. Cole relaxed and met Forester’s gaze of approval at keeping quiet and composed. He crossed his eyes and double-creaked his gloves in response. Forester’s smile dropped, and Cole turned back to the commercial, victorious.

The dog and pony show continued for several more minutes, and Cole thought he recognized a silver lapel pin on a middle-aged woman wearing a sleek, black business dress and gravity-defying stilettos. Triangular in shape, its design was similar to that of recycling arrows, only they were orbiting around a non-descript planet.
Terracom,
Cole thought with some trepidation. “Harvesting New Worlds,” he murmured, then swallowed hard.

Forester cast him a knowing glance but did not reprimand him for making a sound. He, too, seemed to exude the slightest bit of anxiety at the sight of the terraforming juggernaut’s presence.

After the group finished their brief inspection of the ship’s interior, Caliber broke away from the pack and stepped up beside Cole and Forester to offer some parting remarks and seal the deal. Cole wrinkled his nose at the CEO’s acrid cologne, though was pleased to see he was taller than him. Even more pleasing was the sight of the cute engineer making her way toward the trio.

Interesting
.

Sensing Cole’s penetrating gaze, she gave him a wide berth and stood next to an indifferent Forester. He clenched his gloved hands in response.

“Dr. Lin Dartmouth is the Senior Engineer over this project,” Caliber began, “and she will be joining captain Musgrave and Operations Director Forester on the ICV’s maiden voyage. Her expertise in cryorganics, nanobiotechnology, and artificial intelligence is unparalleled.” He turned to smile at Lin, whose flawless face remained impassive. “She will be implementing the C.A.I.N. software which will usher a new era of automated delivery.”

And eventually phase me out,
Cole thought with no shortage of disdain.

Caliber leaned close to Lin and whispered something imperceptible in her ear. She nodded and raised her hands to reveal a formfitting pair translucent haptic gloves. She gazed off into her Ocunet world and gave a few deft flicks and swipes of her fingers to a computer screen only she could access or see. When she finished and glanced up, a transformation had begun to take place behind her.

Cole stared over his shoulder in awe. “Huh,” was all he could manage. The ICV-71’s outer hull no longer showcased its familiar polished chrome finish. In a blink, the ship’s exterior had altered as though a team of detailers had stopped time and repainted it with the company logo and colors. It was an illusion of some sort, but the effect was so convincing that Cole doubted his eyes.

“Nearly undetectable stealth and a cloaking system Military could only wish for,” Caliber said with sincere pride. “Multiple preset hull designs...” he gestured to the current design, “...as well as a mimetic learning engine designed to manipulate any current environment for near invisibility.”

Another flick of Lin’s wrist, and the ship vanished.

Cole’s jaw fell. Cloaking was nothing new with certain interstellar spacecraft, though the technology had never truly evolved past poorly replicating basic landscapes on stationary objects and military fatigues. Both could easily be spotted from alternate vantages or movement.
This
, however, was something else entirely. The cloaking system was somehow able to calculate accurate—though not entirely perfect—representations of its surroundings from all angles. Curved areas, recesses, landing gear, glass, everything mimicked convincingly. Unless you were actively searching for the ship, it could easily be overlooked.

Too impressed to care if he was causing a scene, Cole stepped away to explore the “invisible” ship—walking around it, touching it. Cole blinked repeatedly and rubbed his eyes. Staring at the ship made him slightly dizzy. “You said something about stealth.” The words had tumbled out before he could stop them. He turned and shrugged toward a scowling Forester.

Caliber arched one eyebrow and his trillion unicred smile widened. “Indeed. The ICV-71’s hull can absorb all manner of detection and allow it to harmlessly pass through and give it the perception of,” he nodded toward the ship, “invisibility.”

That’ll piss off the pirates,
Cole thought, wondering how SolEx acquired such an invaluable feature. If the stealth proved to be legitimate, along with the cloaking, the ICV-71 would be a ghost haunting the stars. He loved it.

“Let it be known!” Caliber boomed, grabbing everyone’s attention. “On this date, Friday, March 15
^th
, 2216, the next phase of interstellar logistics is born.” He glanced at Cole, Lin, and Forester in turn, and indicated they move closer.

Photo op,
Cole thought as a technician moved to the front of the trillionaires club and raised his hand to draw everyone’s attention to the camera drone hovering beside him. Cole grunted when the rancid cologne stabbed his sinuses from close proximity to Caliber. Smiling was now an impossibility.

“The Milky Way in a Day!” came Caliber’s infamous motto.

A quick flash forever etched Cole into the annals of SolEx logistical history. Hands were vigorously shaken, leather gloves and all, and the forced pleasantries reached a climax. Caliber had already rejoined his equals by the time Cole had finished furiously rubbing his nose. Forester sighed, but it was apparent from his watery eyes that he too had suffered the same nasal affront.

“Good luck to you all,” Caliber said to the trio standing before the ICV-71. “We look forward to rendezvousing with you at Terracom 3’s exoplanet in the Kepler-452b system.”

“Maybe they can hop a ride in the cargo hold with us and save the company on fuel,” Cole said to no one in particular after the suit stampede was out of earshot. “It’s the SolEx way, you know.” He nudged the air by Forester’s elbow.” Let’s go see if there are any spare fold-out chairs in a closet on board.”

“
He
was the ultimate selection?”

Cole’s eyes brightened at being described as “ultimate”, and he turned toward the source of the dulcet tones of a disgusted Lin Dartmouth.
Sexy. Even if she already hates me.

“Crude behavior aside, his impeccable attendance, company dedication, and Starforce service is quite impressive,” Forester said tightly.

Cole paused a few paces away from the loading ramp. “I didn’t catch a positive adjective to describe my time in the military.” He grinned and gestured with an exaggerated flourish for his passengers to board the ICV-71.

Lin blinked several times before turning to Forester, who simply shook his head and strode forward. The late twenty-something Operations Director stopped beside Cole and clasped his hands behind his back. “Shall we go and meet your replacement?”

Cole glanced up the ramp, and thumbed in the ship’s direction. “Someone already aboard?”