The Icarus Void

  The Icarus Void

  by CK Burch

  The Icarus Void

  Copyright: CK Burch

  Published: December 11, 2011

  Publisher: CK Burch

  The right of CK Burch to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  The Icarus Void

  CHAPTER I.

  CHAPTER II.

  CHAPTER III.

  CHAPTER IV.

  CHAPTER V.

  CHAPTER VI.

  CHAPTER VII.

  CHAPTER VIII.

  CHAPTER IX.

  CHAPTER X.

  CHAPTER XI.

  CHAPTER XII.

  CHAPTER XIII.

  CHAPTER XIV.

  CHAPTER XV.

  CHAPTER XVI.

  CHAPTER XVII.

  Author's Note.

  For my father.

  CHAPTER I.

  It was a problem that the crew of the IRC Icarus had not been expecting to face: a large field of debris, hovering at approximately one hundred miles above the surface of the Sun. It wasn't that the debris existed in the first place – new chromospheric science allowed for corona-plunging vessels like Icarus to survive that kind of closeness and even further depth – but that the largest bit of the debris seemed like an alien artifact. As the field hung suspended in orbit over the Sun, the smaller bits of debris were steadily dissolving from the heat of the star. But the object that held everyone's attention was not; in fact, it didn't seem to be affected by the heat of the Sun at all. This did not rest well with Captain Gordon Markov, whose primary orders were to dive inside the Sun to maximum safe levels and collect as much data on the Sun as they could. Assisting them was the Icarus's sister ship, the Prometheus, commanded by Captain Okwudili Udeh. Prometheus was a solar energy collector, equipped with conductors which converted hydrogen nuclei riding solar wind through the chromosphere into raw energy for storage and transport. Prometheus was there to collect energy and to assist Markov's crew in any way possible. The Icarus had been equipped with the latest in star-diving tech and shielding, and was something of a flagship in the science division, but orbital solar archaeology was far out of the league of any of the scientists aboard. They were going to have to create a new research division back on Earth just to handle this one.

  Markov was standing on the observation deck of the Icarus, along with chromosphere specialist Doctor Stephen Straub. They were looking at a thirty times magnification of the debris. All around them computers gathered information on the surrounding systems, flashing and whirring with visual data, but it was the primary viewer that held their attention. The viewscreen, which was large and wide like a theater display, was manipulated so the two men could view the texture of the objects while cutting out the damaging brightness of the Sun. At this range they would have been fried instantly. Thank god for vid displays. Markov and Straub both stood with their arms crossed, unconsciously mimicking each other, a pair of contrasts: Markov was older and paler in the bright light, in his sixties, his build thick and muscled from years of military work. He scratched at his thick mustache as they looked at the screen. Markov was clad in the standard crew jumpsuit, navy blue and decorated with identification tags, rank and division badges. Straub was thirty years younger and wearing a white science jumpsuit, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his ebony skin a glimmering sheen in the Sun. He had his hands on his hips as he tried to absorb what he was looking at, his slight frame more suited to his academic nature. Neither one was prepared in the slightest for any of the information that they were seeing on the vid.

  ″Jesus, it's hollow,″ Straub said. ″Imagine what the temp must be like inside that thing.″

  ″If the material readout is correct, the exterior of that object is just below the exterior temp of Icarus herself, and we're nowhere near as close to the Sun," Markov said. He pointed his index finger at the object, made a motion, and a box zoomed further on the large speartip-shaped thing that pirouetted in the vacuum like a listless dancer. All across the black surface – which gleamed with the polished finish of marble – angular fishnet grooves prowled over it. Straub thought that it looked like a tire tread from the early 21st century. Fucking cars, man. Hard to believe anything ever only traveled on the ground.

  Markov waved his hand and the zoom-box moved to the side, flashing information, and the captain made a gun with his index and thumb and fired. This generated a series of numbers that scrolled in three-dee hardlight on the Sun: surface temp, convection data, distance, time to next projected sunspot. That they could predict these things still amazed Straub. Research and development of field analyzing had come a long way since his days at university; fuck, since even joining the sciences in the United States Deep Space Exploration program. There were a lot of rumblings right now about solar exploration, on the possibilities of extracting new energy sources from the Sun and other celestial bodies, and the lovely flagship-in-name-only Icarus was at the forefront of it all. This was Straub's first foray to the Sun itself. Good old Sol. Straub had last been on a milk run to Alpha Centauri and made some big strides towards the collection and extraction of cosmic particles, a real sci-fi term that most solar scientists hated but Straub adored. He got put on this mission to test the Icarus's depth shielding and see what they could get from the data at that range. Magnetic wind fluctuations, isotopic resonances, convective field harmonics. Straub had heard of the test run and had salivated at thought, but he hadn't had to sign up for it; the project lead, Doctor Catherine Tybalt, had requested him personally. At the time he'd felt like he'd died and gone to Heaven. That was before the debris field. Before they'd discovered that the object surrounded by it was possibly alien in design. Now he felt like a little kid in the biggest candy shop in the world. He felt like Indiana Jones in space.

  ″We may have to abort,″ Markov said.

  Straub looked at the captain. Markov had a wicked sense of humor when the doors were closed and the female members of the crew were on the other side (regardless of USDSE protocol standards, there was a difference between male and female crew) but there was no trace of that humor now. Stark, total sincerity. It was almost a declaration. Straub turned back to the viewscreen and considered the possibilities for aborting: that the debris field was made of a substance that became unstable and possibly volatile as it continued to dissolve, that it interfered with ship functions or data readouts (at this proximity, it seemed unlikely, but they were still four thousand meters away and anything could happen), that the debris field was hiding something else that wasn't being registered on any of the ship's sensors yet. There were a thousand possibilities perhaps, all of them speculative. There was nothing to go on for aborting the mission aside from the captain's intuition, which was something that Markov was known for. Knowing when to move in and when the back the hell out. Straub searched the captain's face for any sign of facetiousness; there was none.

  ″Captain, I think that would be a mistake.″

  Markov looked at him. Markov hadn't so much as given Straub a sarcastic frown the past three weeks. Now his face was hard-set.

  Straub caught himself. ″With all due respect. Sir.″

  The captain nodded his head and turned back to the viewscreen. ″Is there anyone on board you think would have some sort of working knowledge of alien artifacts?″

  After a moment's consideration, Straub replied with, ″Kerrick. She was on the subspace mission to Ph
obos.″ A trace signal bounce had caught what appeared to be an ancient tomb on the Mars moon, and Doctor Sydney Kerrick had been among the crew for that particular find. One of the first extraterrestrial archaeological finds in USDSE history.

  ″I thought of that. But did she interact with or inspect the discovery?″ Markov kept his gaze on the readouts but his left eyebrow rose as if to accent the question mark on the end of his query. And it was a weighted question mark.

  Straub knew the answer. ″No, sir,″ he said. No one on that mission had. But on the whole of Icarus, Kerrick was as close to an archaeologist they had. ″She did take a study in xenoarchaeology over the course of her last run. Highest marks. She's spoken about it at length.″

  ″To you.″

  ″Yes, sir.″

  ″You two spend a lot of time together.″

  ″Sir?″

  ″It's not like anyone isn't aware,″ the captain said, and thank god he smiled at the end of that statement. ″Scientists get horny too, Straub.″

  Straub blushed. ″We were just going over theoretical data.″

  ″Come to any conclusions?″

  ″A few.″ Now Straub smiled back at the ship's captain and the tension eased. ″My recommendation still stands regardless of my relation to Kerrick. She's brilliant and this is something that she, out of everyone else on board, is the most qualified to look at. Sir.″

  ″On board Icarus, you mean,″ Markov corrected. ″There's still Prometheus.″

  Now Straub raised an eyebrow. ″But Prometheus doesn't have the shielding to get this close. She'll be fried just trying to get close enough. Assuming of course you're thinking of investigating the object.″

  ″Assuming.″ Markov stared at the observation window with intensity, his wide features hidden in the shadow of his brow. ″For now, let's keep this conversation between us, Straub. Our primary mission is to test Icarus's shielding, and that's how it's going to remain until I've a chance to sit-rep with Captain Udeh.″

  ″Yes, sir,″ Straub said.

  ***

  ″The bad news,″ Straub said to Kerrick, ″is that the captain knows we're fucking.″

  Kerrick sat up in bed. They were in her quarters, which had unofficially become their quarters over the course of the last three weeks. Straub spent most of his time with Kerrick, whether reclining, intimating, or researching; sometimes all three. Sometimes he thought about this and wondered whether or not he would find solace in the walls of his residence on Icarus on his own. Not with Sarah's picture haunting his desk. A picture he couldn't put away or hide. Not with a clean conscience.

  As Kerrick sat up, the thin bedsheet slid down, revealing her breasts. Her white, freckled skin was smooth and the fullness of her chest was startling no matter how many times he saw her naked. Kerrick's auburn hair was pulled back behind her neck and it swept around and fell just over her right shoulder, enticingly hovering over her collar. Straub felt urges call to him, but that could wait. There were other things running through his mind.

  ″Fucking?″ she asked, raising an eyebrow. She made a play at annoyance but the smile curving at her cheeks belied more. ″So is that all we're doing now?″

  He smiled and tucked a knuckle under her chin and gently lifted her lips to his own. ″When you're associates on a space mission, it's not the relationship that will cloud one's judgment, it's the sex. Besides, it was what he mentioned, not how I described it.″

  ″How'd I come up?″

  ″That's the good news. Or the potential good news. Captain Markov seems to be seriously considering investigating the debris field and I brought your name into the conversation. Unless there's someone on board Prometheus who's more qualified in xenoarchaeology, you're the top contender.″

  At this, Kerrick sat up and brought her knees up to her chest. Her arms crossed over her knees below her nose, and the deep strain of thought in her hazel eyes made her look like a little girl trying not to excite herself over a birthday. Straub looked between her thighs, to the black form-fitting underwear that just covered her: the light from the overhead lamp outlined the shape of her vagina in white reflection. She was no little girl.

  ″I can't think of anyone on Prometheus's crew that would have the credentials,″ she said at last. She shook her head. ″No, no one. That just leaves me.″ Her eyes connected with Straub, all business. The scientist had taken over. ″What do you think the chances are that Markov will take action to investigate it?″

  ″I don't know,″ Straub said. ″His initial reaction was that we might have to abort the entire mission.″

  ″That's insane!″

  ″I know. But I don't think that he's going to that. This is important. At the very least, I think we're going to go ahead with max dive and data collection. Best case scenario is that we get to poke at some alien artifacts as well.″

  ″Do you really think it's alien?″

  ″Have you been to the observation deck to see it?″

  ″No.″

  ″It's glorious. Better than that. There's markings all over it. Nothing resembling pictographs or ideograms, though.″ He paused a moment. ″Are those the right words?″

  She giggled. ″Yes. You've been paying attention.″

  He smiled, proud of himself. He knew that she was more intelligent – far more intelligent, good god – and he never made an internal point to compete with her, but he enjoyed his private victories in keeping up with her likings. ″There's criss-crossing marks across the surface of it, nothing distinct, but clearly carvings. They look like tire treads to me. It's nothing Terrestrial, that's for sure.″

  Her eyes wandered again in thought. ″My god. This could be a mission for the books.″

  ″I know.″

  ″I mean, this could be huge. Maybe a spacecraft that had broken up too close to the sun. God, I hope Markov goes for it.″

  ″He will. He's only got a few more missions left in his system, I think. He's implied that this might even be his last one. We've been talking at length – ″

  ″When you're not here?″

  ″Yeah. And he misses Earth. He misses his home too much. He's done enough for his country he says sometimes, that he's ready to settle down and go visit Russia, see where his ancestry comes from. Too much exploring the cosmos, not enough exploring what really matters. Stuff like that.″ Straub reached out and touched Kerrick's hand. ″What I'm saying, Syd, is that Markov might go for it to go out with a bang. The captain of the Icarus runs his ship through the first experimental full-depth shielding run and collects data on a xenoarcheological find in the same mission. That's a hell of a medal. That's some serious honor right there.″

  ″Military men,″ she snorted. ″Honor and medals.″

  Straub smirked. ″Scientists. Discoveries and shit named after them. Whatever.″

  She elbowed him. ″Point. Still, I'm not going to get my hopes up yet. After all, we're here for a very important mission.″

  ″That's right.″

  ″Have you looked over any of the new data figures concerning the dive? What we should expect in the chromosphere's lower altitudes?″

  ″Right now I'm thinking about your lower altitudes.″

  ″Stephen.″

  He leaned over her, brushed his forearm briefly across her nipple. It was hard. ″I'm curious what the internal temperature of your core is like right now. I may have to do a sounding.″

  ″Stephen!″ She half-attempted to push him away, but she was smiling and giggling again. Like a little girl. One who was all woman. She fell backward on the bed and her hair splayed outward, a splash of brown color against the black pillow.

  Straub took off his shirt. ″That's it. I'm going to have to make a dive of my own, see what the max depth is.″

  He lowered himself to the floor, slid her panties down over her hips, and as he cupped her ass with his hands he lowered his tongue to her and tasted her sweetness. It reminded him of Sarah.

  ***

  CHAPTER II.

 
The crew complement of Icarus was primarily made of military men and women, as the ship was run through them. There were some science officers that lived on the ship as well, but they rotated in and out and were never on board for extended lengths of time. The current ratio of military to scientist was 4:1, as Doctor Tybalt's team comprised only a small portion of the crew itself. This did not keep Catherine Tybalt from ordering whomever she chose about and around, much to Markov's chagrin.

  He hated her. He hated having her aboard and her goddamned research team. Markov had captained the Icarus through more than eighty-five solar dives during his ten years on board the ship, and each one had gone fine, better than fine, they had gone in a defining manner as to set new standards through the entire USDSE. And yet here was this stuffy bitch, not just stuffy but young, only twenty-two, a fucking prodigy General Stoltz had said. Running about the ship as if this were the Icarus's virgin run, all up and down the decks, from medical to sciences. Tybalt ran around like she was the goddamned captain herself. Markov hated her, but mostly he hated how old she made him feel.

  It was inadvertent. And how else could it be? Tybalt didn't ever say anything outright, always kept herself as reserved and short as possible, but still the way she moved was a wonder. Even as a young officer, back when going to Jupiter was considered deep space, he'd never had such energy. It was impressive at the best of times, and at the worst of times it was like a child scratching nails on chalkboard while banging pots and pans. She could be everywhere and nowhere at once; she came and disappeared, she reappeared with ghostly quality to vanish again. Over and over she checked up on the status of the ship, of the readings from the Sun, and now this artifact (if it could even be called that) had grabbed her attention and her absolute insistence that it be investigated had finally bent Markov to near the breaking point. He was sixty-five. Should have retired last year, but this was his last mission and he wanted to oversee it completely, not have his own orders be ignored for the most part by some stuck-up bitch who thought that she was smarter than every goddamn motherfucking officer and scientist on board.