Icarus (Interstellar Cargo Book 1)
Read Icarus (Interstellar Cargo Book 1) Online
Authors: Matt Verish
Tags: #firefly, #Adventure, #space exploration, #action, #Space Opera, #dark matter, #icarus, #artificial intelligence
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 and Cari Dubiel
Cover design by
Tom Edwards Concepts
eBook layout by Matt Verish
Author photo by Stefanie Verish
First published: 04/01/2016
ALSO AVAILABLE
Interstellar Cargo Series
Icarus
Daedalus
Lazarus
I
carus
was born in the middle of a tornado. Not a literal tornado, of course, but it certainly felt like my wife and I had been assaulted by one. I named it: 2015. The year I was thoroughly tested. I’m not looking for any sympathy—and I sure as hell know that plenty of other people are facing struggles far more devastating than what we encountered—but for the sake of this foreword, I felt it necessary to give a little back story to my novel’s creation.
When it rains, it pours. Never have truer words been written. Or were they spoken? Who cares? I only know it’s a proverb. Calamity visited the Verish household early in 2015 and set up camp for close to six months. After a quiet beginning to the year, February rolled around and got stuck in our shower drain. A simple snaking of the pipes to clean it out, right? Nope. $900 later, a hole in the basement wall, and a stench only a sewer can appreciate, the problem was solved...for the most part. Grumble, grumble...
No big deal! That’s what homeownership is all about. Upkeep. So, two months later, and feeling the need to flex its destructive muscle, Calamity threw us an uppercut. On the first of April—yes, April Fool’s Day—I received a phone call from my wife as I was driving home. In a panic, she explained to me that our entire basement ceiling had collapsed from a major leak in the main floor bathroom. Several inches of water had collected already, and the level was still rising. Needless to say, I thought she was pulling a prank on me.
She wasn’t.
Involving the insurance company is a nightmare. Involving an incompetent insurance company is a recipe for gray hair. During our quest to replace the ceiling tiles, carpeting, laminate flooring, and just straight-up dry our house, things got even more interesting. Murphy’s Law.
I don’t remember the order, just the list of appliances that died on us over a two month period. Bathroom sink, toilet, drier, microwave, oven... All of these bit the dust on us as our house was in utter disrepair from the flood. I’m not kidding. Our little world was literally collapsing all around us, and we never had a chance to recover from one incident to the next. Eventually it all got fixed, replaced, or settled. It took until summer, but who’s counting the months? Or the dollars, for that matter?
You’re probably wondering what this all has to do with me writing a science fiction novel. Trust me, there’s a point. Before I get to that point, let me tell you about the major decision we made in the midst of our turmoil. House is falling apart, money is tighter than a rubber band wrapped around your finger too many times, and we decide to get a second dog. Why not? Who needs to refill their coffers? Take a month to enjoy not encountering any new problems? Pshaw! We need an eight week old Sheltie with zero training. That’s how we roll.
So, after six months of absolute hell, and a wonderful—and insane—new addition to the puppy family, our world finally began to settle into some semblance of hectic normalcy. My wife and I even resumed co-writing our epic fantasy series together. We were so relieved to have survived such a trying time in our marriage, and I’m confident it made us stronger as a couple. It definitely taught me to be a lot handier around the house.
This life test was what finally helped me to tackle a solo writing project. As proud of the writing/creating I do with my wife, I always wanted to strike out on my own. I never had the drive, but I’ve always had the ambition. I had yet to actually complete a novel all by myself. Writing
Icarus
in the wake of tragedy seemed right. I set a goal to write the entire story in five months by completing 500 words a day. Every day.
I did it.
I guess in some twisted way, I’m glad our house was nearly swallowed whole by the earth. I would’ve rather found my center without the trial-by-fire, but beggars can’t be choosers. I’m thrilled to have accomplished my goal in the face of adversity. As I write this foreword, I’m pleased to announce that I’m already writing book two of the
Interstellar Cargo
series. No, my car didn’t self-destruct, nor did a shark chew off my leg. I just sat down and started writing
Daedalus
.
In your
face
, Calamity!
-
Matt Verish
March, 4th 2016
“J
ust remember what old Jack Burton does when the earth quakes, the poison arrows fall from the sky, and the pillars of Heaven shake. Yeah, Jack Burton just looks that big old storm right in the eye and says ‘Give me your best shot. I can take it.’ ”
-Jack Burton
PART ONE
TEST FLIGHT
I
CARUS LOG 001:
“So, we’re on a collision course with the sun. I never thought I’d say that out loud... Our ship has mysteriously lost all power, and it’s only a matter of time before we use up all of our oxygen. I’d like to say we’re all hoping to be rescued, but the truth is, those actually looking for us want us dead. It’s a hell of a situation.”
ICV-71
T
hirteen years of kissing corporate ass, and it’s finally paying off.
Cole Musgrave stepped onto the lift and ascended toward the ICV platform. Today would be one for the history books. At least in the eyes of the company men and women for whom Cole worked, it was an historic event. SolEx had chosen him over everyone else to lead their experimental Interstellar Cargo Vessel on its maiden voyage into the stars. Thirteen back-breaking years as a driven, overworked company boot-licker might have permanently stained his nose an unflattering brown, but his “dedication” had also paved the way to his coveted position as a test pilot. It was the closest to interstellar travel he would ever get. Even if it meant doing it on a delivery schedule.
The soft hum of the lift did little to calm Cole’s nerves, and he could feel his palms sweating inside his pristine faux leather gloves. The familiar block lettering of his company, SolEx, on the backs of his gloves stared up at him, and he clenched his fists, creasing the unblemished exterior. He knew all too well he would be tossing these in the trash before the week’s end.
He glanced over at the suit standing next to him—his big-wig traveling compatriot for the journey. The perfectly pressed slacks, jacket and tie—complete with the company colors and logo—made Cole grin.
Arthur T. Forester
, he mused, recalling an image he had once seen online.
That’s not a company approved uniform, Art. Guess you won’t be helping me heft any 200 pound crates today. Not with those pencil-pusher muscles.
With a thought, an entire biography appeared before his eyes and Cole scanned the data—dictated by the company, of course—on his high-profile companion.
Damn, he’s way younger than me!
he thought as he glossed over the man’s—the
kid’s
—impressive education.
Barely out of college and he’s climbing the corporate ladder quicker than a politician. He must have some massive college debt to pay off.
“I’d very much appreciate it if you would stop that incessant creaking.”
The profile dropped from Cole’s vision, and he forced his hands to stop clenching. He blinked and smiled politely at his superior. “Sorry. Old habit. Just anxious to get underway.”
