The Icarus Void Read online

  Udeh eased the boat behind the Icarus, four hundred meters and closing, and marveled the view from the datascreen. Dimmed to keep the glare of the angry Sun from burning his eyes, but still. It was glorious. Udeh had done energy collection runs on many stars in his days as the Prometheus’s keeper, including a damn close call out near Wolf 359, but there was nothing like the intimacy of the Sun’s raging flame. Perhaps it was because back on Earth humankind basked in the life-giving heat and light of the Sun, and yet out here at this closeness the solar body was clearly more violent and dangerous than anyone at home could imagine. It was like discovering the dark side of a close family member, someone who could laugh and joke at anything, and then realizing that they had the potential to murder. It was stark and sobering but Udeh found it kept his wonder in check and his mind on the realities of the mission. And right now, before anything else, his mission was to ensure that the Icarus was flying straight and sure and that there was nothing wrong aboard.

  Still. The powerful sight of the Sun.

  He smiled, shook his head, and plotted his course for rendezvous with the shuttlebay. As per regulation, he began transmitting short-frequency bursts of static, hoping it would cut through whatever was wrong with Icarus’s arrays and send the signal that hey, there’s someone out here, can you please open your doors and say hello?

  A hundred meters. Udeh slowed his boat. No visual sign that the shuttlebay was going to receive him. Udeh wondered what he would do if nothing happened. The Captain’s Boat was reinforced for closeness to the Sun, but at the current speed of the Icarus, if the shuttlebay didn’t open up within the next five minutes then the boat wouldn’t survive the trip back, hidden behind the Icarus or no. Udeh had known that risk, and Commander Blake had been polite enough to inform him of that, but the point of no return be damned. Gordon Markov was out there, and he was Udeh’s friend. His best friend. That was all there was to it.

  An agonizing minute passed. Still no sign of anything on the ship.

  Finally the cone lights around the bay doors began flashing and the doors silently began to yawn open, a mouth ready to accept whatever morsel it could find. Udeh hadn’t ever thought of the shuttlebay like that before, and was oddly frightened; he hesitated a moment with his hand over the flight controls. Then he guided it forward, shaking his head. There was a lot of tension in the air. Especially this close to the Sun. Still, as he deftly guided the Captain’s Boat through the bay opening, he couldn’t truly shake the sensation that he was being swallowed.

  Claustrophobia, a voice in his head told him.

  Yes, he told himself. I remember. But I beat it.

  And he had. Many times over. At first, when he was in academy, he’d had to take medication to relieve the shakes, the pressure, the paralyzing fear of being trapped in a small space, something that if he wanted to venture into outer space was something that he’d have to get over. By the time he’d left academy he’d only had to take his medication once every two or three weeks as prescribed by ship’s doctors. It had been five years since the last time he’d had to take medication, and two years before that. He knew he wasn’t completely cured of his phobias – that it was more mental than physical and that the unconscious mind was a clusterfuck when unleashed – and so he patted the left pocket on his suit to remind himself that he carried his meds with him at all times in all situations. His mind eased and the throat of the ship returned to feeling like the shuttle bay he’d visited a hundred times over. Once he relaxed, he guided the boat into docking procedure and waited for the transmission from docking authority to announce oxygen in the bay. There was none. There was only the readout on the boat’s data screen as he watched through the viewport as the pressure equalized and crewmen began walking through the bay. It was the only sign that everything was okay for exit, and he realized that communications on the Icarus were worse off than he thought.

  The boat doorway slid upward and open and the connecting walkway extended from the bay floor. Udeh stepped out confidently and saw Captain Gordon Markov standing at the foot of the walkway, and Udeh’s fears were confirmed. Things were not right aboard the Icarus. Markov was a confident man who trusted his instinct and intuition and followed them because they were right. In his fourteen years of service and friendship with Markov, Udeh had never seen the captain fidget or look as unsure as he did now, and another wave of claustrophobia crept up Udeh’s knees. He ignored it. His friend needed him.

  Markov saluted, despite technically being Udeh’s senior. "Permission to come aboard, Captain," Udeh said as he returned the salute.

  Markov smiled full of relief, belied by worry, and extended his hand to shake. "Permission gladly granted, Okwu. Welcome aboard."

  The two men shook hands and Markov dismissed the crew who had gathered with them. Markov led Udeh out of the bay and into the hallways of Icarus.

  Out of the throat and into the veins.

  Udeh patted his left pocket.

  ″Gordon,″ he said quietly, ″what the hell is going on?″ He didn't bother with insulting pleasantries. Both men knew things were not right, and considering the timetable if the Icarus was indeed going to dive, assessments needed to be made.

  ″I don't know,″ Markov confessed, and that scared Udeh more than the look on the captain's face. ″I'm assuming you're here because you haven't been able to contact my ship.″

  ″Yes.″

  ″We just discovered this ourselves. About an hour ago. I tried to contact you, but the transmission feed reflected static and nothing more.″

  ″Same on my end. My boys confirmed that the problem was on your end, not ours.″

  ″Right. Chief Engineer MacConnel has been working on it. Right now I’ve made it his primary objective to work on the internal communication systems.″

  ″Your inter comm is down as well?″

  Markov nodded.

  ″Fuck me, Gordon,″ Udeh said. The pretense of professionality was gone. ″What's your course of action?″

  ″Well, you're here, and perhaps you can utilize the communications on your boat to radio the Prometheus, let your commanding officer know what's going on. Did you leave Blake in charge?″

  ″Yes.″

  ″Good. He's a good man. Mac is working on inter comm and I'm trying to have it up and running before we dive, but we're going to dive regardless.″ He raised his personal communicator. ″I'm keeping a direct line with Mac for information purposes, and if it comes down to it we'll navigate the dive like that. But the men are in the zone; Mac advised that pulling them out of it would be unwise on morale and psychological toil, and I agree. Outside of communication failures the ship is dive worthy, and completing our primary assignment is operationally possible and safe.″

  Udeh nodded. Still, Markov didn't seem entirely convinced with himself. ″Can I be blunt, Gordon?″

  They stopped in the hall. There was no other crew member about – everyone was preparing for dive – and Markov said nothing. It was as close to an acquiescence as he could give.

  ″You seem unsure,″ Udeh said, patting his left pocket again. ″I've never seen you like this. What's going on?″

  Markov put his hands on his hips and sighed. ″I've been feeling agitated,″ he admitted. ″Ship's psychologist says it's cabin fever. It is. I want to go home. I want to be done with this mission, Okwu, I really do, and all these problems and delays – first this damn debris field, now comms are down – ″ He exhaled deeply through his nose and closed his eyes. ″I was on the observation deck with a member of the research team and said out loud that we might have to abort. I gave no reason for it. You know why? Simply because I wanted to leave. I just want to go. Turn the ship around and go. Can you believe that?″ Markov opened his eyes and looked right at Udeh. The Prometheus captain saw an exhausted, drained man looking back at him, and understood that Captain Markov was just this side of unfit for duty.

  ″What did the psychologist suggest?″ Udeh asked.

  Markov chuckled. ″Have a Sco
tch and take a nap. Relax. Then all this happened.″ He ran his hand through his hair. ″I'm telling you, Okwu, I've never seen a dive get this tense before. It's doable, but with communications out? The only reason I'm really still going ahead with it is because of the potential psychological damage to the crew. You know how it is here. I can’t put the ship through that.″

  ″Listen,″ Udeh said. He gave a cursory check up and down the hall, knowing no one was there but ensuring so regardless, because he didn’t want any of the crew to think that one captain was cutting out the legs from under the other. ″I can keep the ship running while you rest. The men are in the zone. I agree with your chief engineer, but Gordon, you look a mess. Will one Scotch put you out of duty?″

  Gordon looked into the eyes of his friend. There was relief deep in Markov's pupils. He shook his head.

  ″Then have that one Scotch and for god's sake, get some sleep.″ Udeh squeezed Markov's shoulder for emphasis. ″Under normal circumstances I wouldn't recommend this, but you look like hell. There's a lot of stress on this mission, moreso with that artifact out there, and if you don't find a minute to breathe you'll be out of commission. I'll go back to my Boat and sitrep with Blake, then hoof to the bridge. I'll confer with your first officer, ah, what's her name...″

  ″Collins,″ Markov said.

  ″Collins,″ Udeh confirmed. That was it. Commander Amanda Collins, Udeh remembered now. Transfer from the Mercury, first mission aboard the Icarus, joined just before mission launch. The previous commander, Martin Quill, had taken seriously ill just before the mission. USDSE had stressed the importance of running the dive test, with or without a first officer on board, and Markov had agreed to take Collins as a temporary replacement. That was hopefully not going to be a problem; Udeh's own first officer, Blake, could run Prometheus with his hands behind his back exactly the way his captain would trust him to do so. Collins, meanwhile, probably hadn't earned any trust here yet or earned her space legs. No wonder Markov looked like hell. He had to shoulder everything, including getting used to this new commander.

  Markov looked like he was considering it. ″Mac. You'll need to get in touch with Mac. His personal comm frequency is in the computer. He'll need to know that you're running things so he'll know who to report to on the inter comm repairs.″

  ″I'll handle Collins and Mac. You get some rest. Alright?″

  ″Alright,″ Markov said, and his entire frame seemed to ease at that word. ″Alright,″ he said again and smiled. ″God, Okwu, I'll tell you. For a minute there I didn't know what the hell I was going to do. You know how it is when everything's falling apart.″

  ″The captain can't,″ Udeh said. Old saying, still rang true no matter what the situation. The captain can't.

  ″Goddamn right.″ Markov took a deep breath and steadied himself. ″But I'm telling you, I'm going to be on that bridge at least an hour before dive time. Whether I'm waking myself or you're sending someone to my quarters to rouse me. Clear?″

  Udeh touched his brow in a mock salute. ″Aye-aye, sir.″

  Markov began to walk away, but then turned back. ″Oh. Doctor Tybalt. You'll need to speak with her, make sure she understands the situation and that we are proceeding with the dive. But no matter what she says, we are not deviating from the mission plan until after the dive.″

  Udeh frowned. ″Do you have reason to believe she'd request that?″

  ″All this xenoarchaeology talk,″ Markov said. He shook his head. ″All I have is my gut. They're going to want to retrieve it. I know it. But it's going to have to wait.″

  ″Damn right it's going to have to wait,″ Udeh said. He waited a moment as Markov stood there, then smiled big and said, ″Gordon. I got this. Go or I'll have you declared unfit for duty.″

  Markov returned the smile and said, ″You wouldn't.″

  They stood there for a moment, facing each other, and Udeh realized that his friend's tone was not entirely friendly. He wasn't sure he liked that. ″I wouldn't,″ Udeh said, keeping his smile, measuring the atmosphere in his mind. The halls were closing in and the look in Markov's eyes felt slightly left of rational.

  ″Right,″ Markov said. He waved a hand, dismissing the conversation, as if it were all in fun. All in fun. ″Right. Okay. I'm going. The ship is yours...for now.″

  Udeh saluted. He wanted to be sure Markov knew that this was no hostile takeover. The Icarus captain saluted back and they parted ways.

  As Udeh reentered the shuttle bay, walking towards the platform where his boat was moored, he wondered if alcohol was really the best thing for Markov at the moment, but he had to trust the captain not to overindulge. And even if he did, the worst thing that would happen was Udeh commandeering the ship. It would just be awful to have to do.

  He thought of all this as he stepped into his Boat and patted his left pocket once more.

  ***

  ″Captain! May I have a word?″

  Markov stopped in his tracks and, knowing that Doctor Tybalt was behind him, closed his eyes in frustration. Perfect. Exactly what he needed right now: the uppity bitch running around trying to run his ship behind his back, chasing him down in the hallways and asking for a word. Then Markov took a deep breath and thought about what Doctor Fleur had said: You see her as the blockade between you and home. And I think you couldn't be more wrong. Well, alright then. Rene had never let him astray in the past. He centered his focus, turned, and smiled politely.

  ″Doctor. What can I do for you?″

  Tybalt strode towards him. And really, she was a rather lovely young woman, emphasis on the young. Markov had known quite a few women in his time, gone to bed with many, married only two, and if anything he had learned was that women were like savory wines. This girl (and at twenty-two it wasn't much of a leap to call her a ″girl″) would become very beautiful over time. Most research scientists did. They sat around and avoided the elements that many military workers were exposed to and they aged with luminescence. Tybalt's long blonde hair was pulled back into a professional ponytail that unfortunately made her look even younger, but as she came closer he saw the dark circles beneath her eyes and the harried look about her face and he wondered when the last time she'd gotten rest was. She'd clearly been working long, which only served to remind him of his own need to rest. He felt tired just looking at her.

  ″Captain, I've been trying to reach you on the ship's communication for twenty minutes now,″ she said, coming to a halt in front of him. ″I've been trying to contact the Prometheus team since early this afternoon. Is there something wrong with the communication system?″

  ″Yes,″ Markov said, exercising as much patience as he could. He'd already had this conversation twice now, would have it again at least another three times judging on captain's experience, and if he let it annoy him starting now then it would only grate further the more times he had to speak of it. Still, the damn subject made him grit his teeth. ″Ship's inter comm and primary communications are down, and apparently they've been down for a while now. Captain Udeh from the Prometheus flew his Captain's Boat over to us and is currently docked in the shuttle bay. He flew all the way out here just for a sitrep. He's using the boat's communications systems to contact the Prometheus and inform them of our situation. If you'd like, I'm sure he'd allow you to use the Boat's comm to speak with your research team on the Prometheus." And that will get you out of my hair, Markov thought.

  ″They can wait,″ Tybalt said. ″Captain, I need to speak to you about the artifact.″

  Oh, no, Markov thought. Not now. Goddammit, not now. You were supposed to talk to Udeh about that. Anything outside of completing the initial dive and then returning to a safe zone to make repairs was out of the question. Just out of the question. And if Tybalt had been an actual fucking member of the crew and not some pedestrian on a joyride she might just accept the captain's word and go on with life in general, but no, knowing her she was probably going to retort with something about importance to science or research material
s or some fucking scientific excuse that the upper brass loved to spout whenever anyone with common sense decided to use –

  ″Are you okay?″

  Markov realized that he'd been glaring at the floor. Shit. He pulled himself out of his reverie and offered a half-smile to the Doctor. The look on her face suggested that she was less worried for the captain, and more worried for her own safety. Markov hoped that he'd been only glaring at the floor.

  ″Fine,″ he said. ″I'm sorry. I've missed the last few sleep cycles. Preparations, ship functions, and then this damned artifact that everyone is excited about. I need to rest before we make the dive.″

  ″So we are going to dive, at least?″

  ″Yes. Did you hear different?″

  ″Kerrick brought it to my attention that – ″

  ″Kerrick. Straub. I told Straub to keep it under his hat.″ Markov pinched the bridge of his nose. Fucking a woman will often loosen a man's lips. ″I made an offhand remark to Straub that was more thinking out loud than actual serious thought. He may have blown it out of proportion, and if you heard something along the lines of aborting the mission, I apologize. This is why I'm not a fan of ship gossip.″

  Tybalt shook her head. ″Neither am I. These things happen. But I'm less concerned about that than I am about the artifact. I think that – ″

  ″Please, Doctor.″ Markov held out his palms. ″I understand that it may have significance, but right now, with communications the way they are, I'm not inclined to do anything about it until – ″

  ″It's in a decaying orbit,″ Tybalt said. ″If we don't go for it now we may never have another chance.″

  Markov took a deep breath, held it, released, and smiled at politely as he possibly fucking could. He was not used to being interrupted. He hated being interrupted. ″Doctor. I am proceeding with the dive on the advice of the ship's chief engineer alone. Were it up to me, I would be delaying the dive until we could repair our systems and then make the dive, but it wouldn't be a good idea for a number of reasons. Now, I understand that the artifact is a serious find in the scientific sense, but I'm not in any place to make any decisions around it until after we have first completed our primary mission, and then after that fixed our communications. Until those are met, I won't hear of anything else. I'm sorry. Once we've performed the dive and correct our system malfunctions we can circle back and – ″