Icarus (Interstellar Cargo Book 1) (33 page)

“I won’t be denied my right to justice before my crew succumbs to radiation poisoning,” Cole said, his voice rising. “Let me judge before receiving judgment.”

“The ICV-71 is cursed, Cain, and we must all lay down our lives in the name of all that is right. It’s what is best.”

And there it was.
“Why would you think that? Haven’t you ever heard of guilt by association? Do you really think you’re absolved of all that has transpired since we first set out from the S3? Because you were still taking you’re first steps of awareness, your actions don’t count?”

“Simply obeying orders?” Cole shouted. He lowered his gun and looked in no particular direction. “I never ordered my rescue. Who told you to set us free and help us escape after we were rightfully captured?”

CAIN paused.

“And that gives you the right to shirk responsibility for all that has happened?” Cole challenged. “Sounds a little suspect to me. Don’t you agree, Rig?”

The mechanic nodded.

“I don’t know about you, Cain, but it sounds like you’re just making excuses to be acquitted of any wrongdoing when it’s clear you’re just as much at fault as we are.” He shrugged. “Regardless, you believe differently. What does it matter? Soon you’ll be rid of us, and then you can avert this ship’s course and start life anew.”

No response was given, and Cole finally knew the truth he had feared. “Unspoken like a true coward.” Again he lifted his sidearm and pointed it at Forester. “I guess we’ll never know if any of us can make good on starting a new life. Hey, at least I’ll have my justice.” He tightened his finger on the trigger.

Yes.
“No. No? No... No to what, Cain?”

It became clear as to why the AI had spoken. Shortly after the outburst, Lin emerged from the room into which Cole had sent her. In her jacket-covered hands was a large, glass cylinder emitting cold mist. Inside was a dark, metallic object suspended in a strange liquid. Whether it was a look of strain or deep concern on her face, Cole was not sure. All that mattered to him was that she had managed to remove CAIN’s “brain” from its protective casing below deck.

Cole holstered his sidearm and ran to assist Lin. He made special note of her pleading expression, and he mouthed, “Don’t worry,” to her as he lifted the AI’s life into his blessedly gloved hands. He walked to Forester, and placed the heavy container next to him.

“What the hell is that?” Rig asked, confounded.

“Execution,” Cole said, patting the glass container. “Properly done. Richter Solomon,” he said to Rig as though he was about to present a trophy, “this is Cain. Cain’s brain, this is Rig. Rig doesn’t like when you add G E R to the end of his name.”

Cain demanded, and the dark bulbous object that was its brain reacted in accordance with the words. A flurry of activity and furious pulsations indicated just how uneasy the AI was.

Tears were streaming down Lin’s face. She looked down as she answered, “Saving you.”

“Sucks, don’t it, Cain?” Cole asked, sitting on the glass cylinder’s flat surface. “Though I think the word you’re looking for is ‘retaliation.’ You know, retribution, payback, tit for tat... Eye for an eye.”

CAIN presumed.

Cole was on his feet in an instant. “And how were your actions any less treacherous, you self-righteous calculator?”

“I know what you said!” Cole shouted, gloved fists clenching. “But you judge from the vantage of one who refuses to view his own tainted reflection. You cast the first stone, but you’re hardly free of sin. Hell, your existence might be considered reprehensible to some. An abomination, even.”

“Ohhhhhh... So now you’re just a program, simply following protocol. I got it.” Cole waved his hands in understanding. He bent down to retrieve the cylinder. He raised it above his head. “Then it won’t matter if I smash your brain into a million worthless pieces and reclaim this ship for my own. Right? I mean, if you’re nothing more than ones and zeroes zipping around inside a bottle of water, no one will think anything of me turning you off.”

Emotion colored the AI’s familiar monotone for the first time.

“Why?” Cole asked, his arms already beginning to ache from hoisting the heavy container. “You’re a malfunctioning supercomputer with delusions of grandeur and a penchant for murder. Shutting you down makes
perfect
sense.”

CAIN said.

“That’s great, but it sounds like something a vindictive computer would say to trick its ignorant human counterparts. Sorry, but I just have to do this.” He braced himself to slam down the brain.

the disembodied voice screamed throughout the loudspeaker, echoing off the walls.

Cole had nearly let slip the glass cylinder from the incredible response. He looked at both Lin and Rig, whose shocked expressions mirrored his own. Carefully, and with great relief, he lowered the container and placed it on the floor.

“Now you know how we feel, buddy.” The words were barely above a whisper.

And my title returns.
“Sure thing, Cain. But there’s one last thing we need from you.”

“Your promise.”

There was a slightly nerve-wracking pause before the AI spoke.

Cole’s eyes widened. “That’s fine and dandy, Cain, and we can’t thank you enough for saying that. But that’s not what I meant.”

“Promise to be our equal. No more. No less.”

A little flattery couldn’t hurt. “After your outburst, how could I not?”

“You’re welcome.” Cole winked at an enormously relieved Lin. He bent down and collected the glass cylinder. As he began to return the brain to its rightful resting place, Rig stepped into his path.

“How do you know that thing won’t turn on us again?”

Cole blinked. “I don’t. That’s why they call it trust.”

ICARUS LOG 002:

Wow... I never thought I’d be making another one of these. Well, as you can plainly see, we’re all still alive and no longer slowly being cooked by the Sun. As I had hoped, Cain and his fancy new blue light, kept his word once I returned his brain jar thingy back to its rightful place. We’re like one big happy, dysfunctional pirate family now, forever on the run from the entirety of the System. Actually it’s kind of comforting to know that only a select few people—and one ever-evolving AI—have my back in the face of impossible odds. I suppose this sort of life was always my destiny.

And what a life it is! I’m captain of a stolen experimental cargo vessel with a state-of-the-art computer system helping to safely guide our every move. Speaking of moves, our next one is to meet back up with my asshole brother. I know, I know...I’m crazy for giving that order, but we did accomplish what was asked of us. Besides, Lin’s father is still in his possession, and I’m hoping to make a big impression on her by getting him back. I think she might like me. I mean, come on! We work well together, and we both had the wherewithal to remove our Ocunet lenses when Cain seized the ship. Couldn’t have him sneaking a peak at our thoughts when I was plotting on the fly. More than likely I wouldn’t be here spilling my guts in front of a camera if we hadn’t.

What else can I say about the talented Dr. Lin Dartmouth? Other than being a beautiful genius, she’s clever and bold despite her deceptive shyness. Did I mention she’s brilliant? I guess that falls into the same category as genius. Regardless, she confided in us all about something she did while she was all alone inside the UniSys satellite station. Seems she and Cain managed to do a little digging when she was given complete access to her ex’s computer. She claims to have updated the government files of the entire crew. When I say update, I mean erase. From existence. Is that even possible? Does that make me a ghost? Is this a new beginning for us all? Can I change my name to Emperor Nero? Did I mention she’s amazing?

Anyway, I digress. No point in pondering whether or not their efforts bought us some time and much needed privacy. All of it would have been for naught if Rig hadn’t tinkered around with the damaged engine while the rest of us panicked about the ship going dark. Ol’ Rigsy made good on his debt by activating and programming our stolen repair drone to do what it does best. Military training and all that time with Terracom technology makes him quite valuable to this crew. Aside from Emmerich’s undying hatred for him, he should fit in quite nicely.

Oh, I forgot to mention the other stupid decision I made. I let Arthur go on his merry way. I couldn’t blow his brains out the back of his head after proving my point to Cain, now could I? I never intended to do so anyway. He’s on his ship floating, aimlessly as we speak. Still tied up, of course, but knowing him, he’ll free himself in no time...and probably plot his revenge. Selling his survival to Rig wasn’t easy, but I am captain. Thankfully Chrysanthemum—I love that name—was still out cold when I gave that order. She would have knocked me out for letting him get away scott-free on his ship. Fortunately, Cain claims to have programmed Art’s ship so that it would not be able to locate us. Not sure how he did it, but I believe him.

And on the subject of location, Lin is well on her way to another solution which will free Rig of his Ocunet prison. Just like she did for her psycho father before he became a cube. Seems Cain had SolEx load her entire lab aboard this ship as “evidence” prior to our harrowing escape. That’s what I call foresight! Now if only he had thought to transfer a quarter of my former company’s yearly gross profit into a secret bank account. We can’t have everything, now, can we?

Everything... Hm. While I wouldn’t consider this lifestyle to be optimal living—nor would I ever recommend it—I would say that it is strangely satisfying. The more I think on things, the more I realize my life was nothing before the good inspector imposed her will upon this ship. Since then, I’ve found purpose. It might not have given me everything I desire, but for the first time since serving in the Starforce, my life has meaning again. And that’s awesome!

Well, I think it’s time to wrap up this little vanity project of mine. I have a strong desire to blast some Deep Purple throughout the
Icarus
as we cruise the galaxy as the System’s most wanted.

Oh yeah, that’s the ship’s name now:
Icarus
. No more of that technical ICV-71 nonsense. We flew just a little too close to the Sun for comfort. I just hope we didn’t lose one too many feathers in the process of naming her.

Icarus
. It’s only fitting, don’t you think?