by Kate Rauner
Titan Insurgents
Kate Rauner
Copyright Kate Rauner 2019
License Notes
Welcome
Start Reading
Table of Contents
Epigraph
Previously in Titan Book 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
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Copyright and License Notes
Epigraph
“Any kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and a house divided against itself will fall.” Luke 11:17, New International
Previously in Titan Book 1
F ynn learned the Kin's secret when he was shoved into a stasis pod. His father's cult was hijacking a spaceship, and he wasn't returning to his American university. He was joining them to colonize Saturn's moon, Titan.
His father was the colony's Chief Engineer, and Fynn's older sister Maliah ran their cyber systems. As members of the secret pirate team, they were among the few who'd designed the colony.
Their leader, Doctor Tanaka, deceived the mission's financial backers, people outside the cult that he scorned as mongrels. Over four hundred Kin left Earth to build a new world, cut off from their old home forever.
Fynn and his mother were among the first Kin awakened from stasis. The team set up the colony's habitat domes on Titan's surface while a small crew in orbit shuttled down cargo and prepared to reconfigure the ship into a rotating space station.
But calamities threatened their survival. Most of their leaders, the cohorts, died in their stasis pods. More deaths followed on the surface, including Fynn's father, who was killed in an improbable accident.
Someone had to be blamed, and the Kin broke into hostile factions. Tasked with operating the colony's failure-plagued power plant, Fynn and his crew were hounded out of the Village dome's barracks.
Their leader's death, blamed on stasis sickness rather than his bizarre behavior, fueled the growing rifts.
Perhaps the dangers of this frozen moon will bring them together in the end. Or perhaps not.
Chap ter 1
C lunk. The Gravitron's brake released and the machine's motor revved to spin the passenger ring. Vibrations tickled Fynn's back as he lay in one of the forty-five, coffin-sized slots. The huge wheel spun faster and pressure increased against his feet, flattening them against the outer rim. Weight crushed his legs and he grabbed side-handles to distribute the increasing force across all four limbs. That helped until his arms began to tremble under the strain.
After months in Titan's low gravity, his muscles had atrophied, and he could barely tell up from down. Sessions in the Gravitron would strengthen his body and correct other effects of low gravity, like a wacky immune system, irregular heart rhythms, and fluid imbalances that swelled his brain. Things that would eventually kill all Kin on Titan's surface without treatment.
A voice spoke through his ear gel. "You're now experiencing one-third of Earth's gravitational force." That was his mother. Greta was the colony's senior doctor now, after the death of the medical cohort. One of so many deaths.
"This angular velocity is a bit high for immediate comfort," she said. "Though most people should adapt after several treatments. How are you feeling?"
If he couldn't withstand the treatments, life would be miserable and short. Fynn answered through tightly clamped jaws. "Fine."
That would be true if he was only dizzy, but the sour taste in his mouth threatened worse. He envisioned vomit pinwheeling away to splatter his crew who gathered around the Gravitron's rim to watch this first run.
Sweat streaked Fynn's face as chills shook his body. He gripped the slot's side rungs till his knuckles ached, pressed his head firmly into the cushioned support, and closed his eyes. The tangy plastic smell oozing from the habitat dome wasn't helping his gut, but nausea was better than slow death from a deteriorating metabolism. He focused on that.
"Excellent," Greta said. "I'll reduce the spin rate slowly."
Pressure eased throughout his body, but Fynn kept a tight grip until the brake clunked into place.
He rolled to his stomach, dropped through the open frame, over the side of the slot to the floor, and nearly collapsed. Rica leaped to catch him. "You look green."
She couldn't mean it literally. Fynn was what Kin called an Indus Valley Archetype. At times like this, he was especially pleased with his coffee-colored skin.
He looked nothing like his mother. She was a pale Viking, as the Kin called her, and her genes made him only a shade lighter than his father. But his father was dead and dwelling on memories didn't solve today's problems. Better to concentrate on the task his father left for him. To get the domes' equipment running smoothly.
Fynn smiled weakly at Rica's eager expression. She was keen to try the Gravitron herself, but below tawny curls, her pale face would surely shade to green.
"Wobbly is all," he said. "It's more intense than I expected."
The rest of his crew bounded over, clamoring.
"You look awful."
"What was it like?"
"Did you try to do pull-ups?"
"Forget pull-ups. Could you stand the whole time?"
"What next?"
The core crew pressed closest, five in addition to Rica, and all familiar from growing up together in the barracks school on Earth. A few new volunteers surrounded them, some old enough to be Fynn's parents. They'd worked with Fynn, of course, assembling the Gravitron, but he hadn't stopped to count them before. Crowded together, their numbers surprised him.
Chatter faded as they stared at him, excited, but waiting. For what? For him, their crew leader, to make assignments. Queasy or not, he had a job to do. "Split into pairs and look for damage. Examine the hub, rim, and every arm of the machine. At torqued connections, look for cracks around the bolt holes, and test the cables' tension."
As they scurried away, Rica shook her head. Her hair bounced in a tawny halo. Cut short on Earth instead of corralled into traditional braids, her curls had grown a hand's length since arriving at Titan but still defied collection into a ponytail. "The crew wants to know who takes the next spin."
"They can volunteer with Mom."
"They want to hear from you."
Her words tore Fynn's attention away from her silky curls and flashing eyes. His thinned muscles tightened. Rica was always pushing him to be more than a crew leader. Much as he enjoyed their time together, she could be annoying.
"Equipment's my expertise, not babysitting." He extended his left arm and tapped the pad embedded in the sleeve for emphasis. "I have to study maintenance videos, because I wasn't part of the secret team that turned the Herschel into a colony ship. Not like you."
She blinked at the rebuke and Fynn's anger faltered. "Sorry. I know it's not your fault. But my father..."
Another mistake. Fresh grief threatened to strangle his voice, so Fynn hurried on, not wanti
ng to choke into silence. "My father sent me to university to learn classical thermodynamics. He relied on me to implement his plans. If I'd done a better job, everything would be fine."
Rica scoffed. "Everything?"
He dropped his gaze to the textured gray floor. "The electrical power would be fine, anyway. If the Stirling converters were all operating, if we hadn't lost the reactor..." Fynn sounded pathetic, even to himself.
Rica folded her arms across her chest. Exaggerated tapping of a foot bounced her up onto her toes. She wasn't going to indulge him, and Fynn was glad again for his dark skin as shame warmed his face.
She somehow caught the change and relented. "Sure, without technology we'd be dead in a single breath, but people are still more important than equipment. We need each other to survive."
"I'm not good with people. I don't know what to say."
Not like my father.
Fynn squared his shoulders, determined to end the conversation. "I'm going to concentrate on equipment. Grab a torque wrench, and let's get at it."
***
Greta's son led the crew that assembled the Gravitron, so she was proud that Fynn volunteered for its first test run. That showed confidence in their work.
She checked the biometric data gathered from Fynn's centrifugal treatment and stepped from behind the operator's safety shield to observe his reactions. Surrounded by his crew, Fynn would doubtless hide any ill effects. He leaned on Rica, but was smiling. He'd come through in fine condition.
She'd kept the treatment mild at one-third the force of Earth's gravity, and, at Fynn's insistence, had only run the Gravitron for thirty minutes. He wanted to perform an inspection before releasing the machine for full operations. Thorough, like his father.
Thirty minutes gave her enough data to draw preliminary conclusions. Treatments were bound to cause dizziness and nausea at first, but most Kin would adapt as she sneaked the duration up to an hour at half-gravity, administered twice a week.
Low gravity had been her biggest concern all these months as equipment problems delayed the habitat's completion. Now she could treat the effects. If she was lucky, the Gravitron might also ease lingering stasis sickness. Episodes of numbness and headaches plagued Kin after the long journey to Titan with their metabolisms suspended near death. No nation had approved the stasis process for use on humans, and documentation from the rogue lab that developed the pods offered nothing on treating after-effects.
Leaving Fynn's crew to their inspection, three brisk leaps took Greta to the lumpy repair in the floor. As she hopped over the seam, she glanced up to follow the thick, mangled line of discolored plastic that carved its way to the top of the sky-blue dome.
The Herschel's crew had hacked the dome apart to extract it from a badly designed transport container. Despite Tanaka's insistence that reality would conform to his dictates, it was the only way. While the subsequent repair job held, and the dome's many layers successfully insulated them against Titan's profound cold, it left an ugly scar to trip over.
Stress levels remained high among her patients, and Greta didn't appreciate a constant reminder of their problems establishing the colony. Maybe Fynn could smooth the awkward joint.
She entered the tunnel, a long sleeve that lined the thick walls with a passageway to the next dome. Straight ahead and half-way across the dome sat a methane-fired power plant. With the loss of their nuclear reactor, the touchy units were the only source of power on Titan's surface.
The next dome was more pleasant, its air fragrant with plants instead of plasticizers. Hydroponic racks rose to the ceiling, and rosy grow-lights twinkled through swaying leaves. Kin worked above her in deep green foliage, using slender brushes to pollinate flowers on squash vines that floated in the ventilation currents. More workers hunkered over pumps along the central aisle. Work was the best antidote for malaise.
Greta entered the Village, the residential dome, and walked past the open mess hall and barracks where a recycling crew tended wastewater systems.
A tower stood at the dome's center, four floors of deep cobalt wall panels rising to the top of the flattened, sky-blue curve. She climbed the Earth-built stairs using both hands on the rails to assist her weakened leg muscles.
Greta refused to enter the top floor winded and paused on the balcony. Nearly half of the dome's gray floor was empty below her, the playing field where Kin exercised and held rallies. Rows of orange banners, each bearing an ancient symbol, fluttered along the ceiling between suspended ventilation fans. On the far wall, the arched airlock to the dome's dock was sealed closed, and from this angle the recycling crew was hidden behind barracks units arrayed in a spectrum from red to violet. Chromotherapy to ward off depression on their drab, sepia world.
Greta took a deep breath, rapped on the door, and entered without waiting for a response. The lounge at one end was unoccupied. Good, she wanted to talk to her daughter alone. At the other end, behind an ostentatiously molded desk, sat Maliah.
Their deceased leader had designed the room with tapestries hung on synthetic paneling colored to imitate walnut. Images of elegant Indus Valley pottery perched on several holographic plinths, and scattered floor clothes mimicked oriental rugs. It felt gloomy.
Set in front of the far wall, the desk seemed lonely, and Maliah looked younger than her thirty years.
When they both smiled, it was as if Greta gazed at a saffron-tinted mirror. Maliah was a gilded version of her own, youthful self, having picked up enough color from her father's genes to have golden hair and amber eyes.
"Hi, Mom."
"How are you feeling? Any periods of breathlessness?"
"Why would I be breathless?"
"In the Martian colonies, a developing fetus sits higher in the womb and presses on a mother’s diaphragm. It's a gravity effect that can only be worse on Titan."
She didn't mention her other fears. Gravity affected the entire gestational process. If only Maliah had waited until the space station was completed, the first Titan child could have developed in safety.
"Oh, gee, Mom. Get off it." No longer twenty-something, Maliah could still sound like a kid.
Greta ached for those simpler times. As a medic in their earthly compound, she'd retained use of a cottage after her children moved into the barracks, so Maliah and Fynn had stayed with her during school breaks. Her husband, too, whenever his schedule allowed.
Yash. He'd promised to be with her every day on Titan. Her throat tightened and she balled up a fist, the cut of fingernails into a palm clearing her thoughts. She wouldn't be weepy in front of Maliah or anyone else. She mourned Yash in private.
Around her daughter, Greta needed to be alert. Since seizing leadership of the domes, her moods shifted without warning. Maliah was smiling now, but that could change.
Greta didn't intend to argue when there was good news to share. "I've completed the first centrifugal run for gravity simulation, and it's a success. I want to schedule everyone for a series of treatments."
"How soon?"
"I don't recommend taking the first treatment on a full stomach, so I'll start a group tomorrow before breakfast. Including you. Assuming Fynn's post-run inspection goes well."
Maliah's smile froze. "Fynn. I thought I could trust my own brother. First Dad betrayed Doctor Tanaka and now Fynn betrays me."
Greta stiffened. "Your father dedicated his life to this colony. His modifications to the schedule were necessary and not a betrayal. As for Fynn, he's doing a good job keeping the power plant together."
"He studied at that mongrel college Dad sent him to, so there's no excuse for trouble with the furnaces. It's a subtle threat. He's leading Kin away from the Village by challenging my authority."
"He's running the furnaces manually because the control systems weren't designed for space." Secrecy on Earth meant their contractors seldom knew where the equipment they provided was going. That caused a lot of grief.
Greta bit her lip, reminding herself not to argue, but couldn't
resist one more comment. "Fynn doesn't encourage people to move out of the Village dome."
"Why else would anyone leave the barracks?"
Greta didn't point out that quarrelsome barracks mates had evicted Fynn and many of his crew, since that was something Maliah must realize. "Tensions in the Village can be overwhelming. People spying on each other, accusations of stealing food or shirking work." She tipped her head toward the empty lounge where the adjuncts often loitered. "Your staff makes it worse by playing favorites."
Maliah's expression hardened. "My trustees deserve our thanks. They discover who's loyal and who needs correction. You can help. Tell me what Fynn is up to."
Greta sighed. "Kin must trust me and the other medics, no matter which dome they sleep in. We stay neutral so patients can confide in us."
Maliah tapped her sleeve pad and ordered whichever adjunct was below on the tower's second floor to bring up tea. She waved toward the lounge in a gesture so reminiscent of Tanaka that Greta shivered. "Yes, build trust now. I can use that later."
Greta would not build trust only to betray it, but she let the misinterpretation stand. She wanted a pleasant chat with her daughter. Since Maliah refused examinations, it was the only way to learn how her pregnancy was progressing.
Chap ter 2
A fter completing the Gravitron inspection, Fynn led the crew through the tunnel. Their power plant sat at the opposite end of the dome near an airlock leading out to a lake of liquid methane on Titan's amazingly cold surface. Fynn glanced that way, always anxious about the system's status, but couldn't spot the furnaces through a jumble of bins and pallets scattered across the floor.
He'd used the stevedore robots to shove their extra cargo in here, including loads intended to expand the colony in the future. A shiny bot rested on its wheeled base nearby. Its jointed limbs were neatly folded into grooves on its central column. Sensors slack, apparently inert, it waited for commands.