“My guns,” said Viekko, “I had ‘em surrendered when I boarded the shuttle on Earth. I’m gonna need them once we hit dirt.” Isra flashed him a glare and he added, “What? He asked if there was anythin’ else he could do.”
“Of course,” said Laban with his voice like engine grease, “All weapons confiscated before hibernation are stored in the armory. I’ll make sure they are delivered to our military depot on Titan. You may pick them up there, good enough?”
Viekko nodded.
“I have to admit,” said Isra suspiciously, “I did not expect you to be this helpful. You are aware if we find a lost civilization on Titan, the Ministry will force you to halt your hydrocarbon extraction operation?”
“Delay,” said Laban abruptly, “Temporarily. If you find something.”
Viekko folded his arms, “Whaddya mean ‘if’?”
Laban reached out to touch the holographic documents in front of him. The pages cycled to the left with every flick of his wrist, “Well your only real proof that there is anyone on Titan the fact that our orbital scans were too accurate.”
Isra pushed against the restraints that held her in her seat, “They are too accurate. Nobody can get that level of detail from orbit.”
Laban waved his hand and the document disappeared, “The Ministry can’t. I think you will find that, within the Corporation, all things are possible if they are profitable enough. But that’s not the point. I am willing to help you because I have nothing to hide. And if, by some miracle, you are correct and there is a civilization on Titan that has been lost to us then we will gladly cooperate to ensure their safety and prosperity. The Corporation is on Titan to make a profit but I would like to believe we are building something bigger than that. We are on the precipice of a new age. We must move forward as a civilization without repeating the mistakes of our past.”
He held out his hand toward Isra.
She shook it and said, “It does my heart good to hear you say that.”
“We are currently in a transfer orbit,” Laban said, releasing Isra’s hand. “We'll be firing the engines that will put us in a stable orbit above Titan very soon. It would be wise to find a safe place for you and your crew.”
“Thank you, I will do that,” said Isra unstrapping herself from the seat.
Viekko followed her as she pulled herself back into the hallway.
“There ain't no way he’s not up to something,” Viekko said after they were far enough away.
“I am aware,” said Isra. Her voice had a sub-zero quality to it.
“If he don’t got somethin’ rollin’ ‘round his noggin, he’da fought you on some of that. He just rolled over like a broke-dick dog.”
“I am aware.”
“So whatchu wanna do about it?” asked Viekko, losing his patience at Isra’s constant monotone.
“Nothing.”
“Nothin’?”
Isra grabbed a hand-hold that brought her to a quick stop and flipped around. “If we do anything to cause trouble now he can go the Ministry and rightfully claim that he cooperated fully to the best of his ability. He has got us right where he wants us.”
“Is there any chance that he was being truthful in there?”
Isra scowled, “The only time the Corporation is ever truthful is when they are sliding a knife between your ribs. But for now, play nice. When Laban makes his move, we react. But not before.”
Isra turned and pulled herself down the corridor.
The worst thing about the crew decks was the stench. It was the sweat and shit of five-hundred marines and engineers recirculated in the same confined space for over fourteen months. It even made the bare aluminum walls feel greasy as Laban floated through the crowd.
And there were people everywhere. Ever since he left the executive deck, Vince Laban felt crushed against the walls by the constant flow of humanity. And even though people took one look at his pressed black suit and gave him extra room, there was still something claustrophobic about the place.
In truth, he would never be found outside the executive decks, but Laban was a pragmatic man above all else. Isra Jicarrio seemed satisfied for the time being, but that was temporary. She would start to cause trouble soon enough and it would be best to have an agent in play.
Laban found the marine barracks just as a recorded message played through the speakers, “Orbital thrusters engaging in one minute. All personnel and cargo must be secured immediately. Repeat, orbital thrusters in one minute...”
Corporate soldiers in dark-blue uniforms and grey body armor scrambled to find a place to strap in as the recorded message continued.
Places to sit were filling up, but there were a group of seats around one marine in particular that were noticeably vacant. He had a large scar etched down the side of his face and short, blonde hair cut to exact Corporate standards. He sat alone sharpening a knife with a leather strap held between one hand and his foot. The blade looked long enough to run through two or three people if he put enough effort into it. And he looked like the type who would give it a try.
Laban pulled himself into a seat next to the soldier and buckled the seatbelt. “It is my understanding that weapons are not allowed aboard Corporation spacecraft.”
The man slid the blade up and examined the edge. “They made an exception for me. Because I’m such a nice guy. Can I help you, sir?”
Vince detected an air of sarcasm in the marine’s voice. Bordering on defiant. “Sergeant Carr, am I right?”
“You’d be right.” He ran the knife back down the strap and said, “And just what can I do for you?”
The speakers clicked on again, “forty-five seconds until orbital thrusters…”
“I have a problem. I am told that you have a gift for solving problems. Problems that need to be taken care of… discretely.”
The soldier continued to sharpen his knife. When it became clear that Carr had no intention to react, Laban continued, “You are aware that we have some… guests on this mission, Sergeant?”
Carr shook his head, “We are not to engage, hinder, molest or interact with Ministry personnel in any way without express permission from command. That would be you. Sir.”
“And, of course, I would never give an order contrary to the wishes of the Great Corporation. The CEO himself expressed his wish that no action will be taken against the Ministry or the Human Reconnection Project.”
“Well that saves us some time,” said Carr, returning his attention to his knife.
“I need someone to watch and report back to me. Someone to make sure that they are following the treaties between the Ministry and the Corporation.”
“Sir. You are in the wrong compartment, sir. Agents are farther up. You probably passed them on your way here.”
Laban smiled. “Agents require paperwork. I need some work done… off the books.”
“Fifteen seconds,” said the computerized voice, “All personnel…”
“Work like that is highly illegal, sir.”
“You will be compensated, of course.”
“Why, if I may ask, are you so eager to keep this off the books?”
“I was put in charge of this mission to ensure that the Corporation has control of the hydrocarbon fields of Titan and I intend to do that. The Corporation may be bound by the treaties with the Ministry, but I am not. I may be punished for my actions if they are ever found out, but it is a risk I can assume.”
“Kind of a human sacrifice thing? Suffer for the greater good?”
“Something like that.”
Carr sheathed the knife, “I want 600 million in Corporation Fiat. 300 million paid in full to an account in my wife’s name before we land on Titan. And I want to verify that she received it. The other 300 million is due on my return to Innovation.”
The voice started the countdown, “Ten, nine, eight…”
“That is a lot of money, but it can be arranged.”
“Then I b
elieve we have a deal.”
The countdown ended and the ship jolted forward as the nuclear engines fired all at once to slow the ship into a stable orbit around the moon.
CHAPTER THREE
History has a strange sense of the ironic.
In the beginning of the twenty-first century, global corporations emerged on the world stage as a power that rivaled the traditional nation-state. Their lust for money and power drove them to, at first, undermine and, later, utterly destroy the governments whose job it was to keep them in check. After the collapse of the great nations—the United States, China, the European Union, India, and the Russian Federation—there was only one entity that could possibly fill the power vacuum.
Hence, the global corporations were forced, over time, to unite and form The Corporation, a governing body to provide the oversight and regulation that they fought so hard to destroy. In essence, becoming exactly what they so despised.
-from The Fall: The Decline and Failure of 21st Century Civilization by Martin Raffe.
Titan was tidally locked to Saturn which meant that it stayed in the same spot above the horizon. Every day throughout Titan’s year the ringed planet remained perfectly still while the icy moons and stars drifted across the sky. During the seven-day-long night it bathed the moon in a soft glow that rivaled the light from the sun during the day. It cast deep shadows through the towering trees and rocky outcropping that dominated the skyline.
The moon was silent except for the wind through the trees and the muted sound of laughter and mayhem that came from a certain clearing. There, the remains of a massive tanker ship lay where it crashed nearly a millennium ago. It was almost part of the forest now; only small parts of steel and aluminum underneath the vines, ferns and trees gleamed in the soft glow. The flicker of firelight could be seen through the windows that were still open to the sky. There was a rare sense of warmth on a moon coming out of another frigid night.
A solitary man opened one of the hatches. He wrapped thick, heavy furs around his body as he stepped out onto the hard, frozen ground. It was cold, dreadfully cold. It stung any piece of exposed skin. The man spat and it snapped as it froze in mid-air. It was always the coldest in the long, final hours before the sun returned to warm the moon again.
He stopped walking and turned his gaze upward. Only Saturn, Rhea, two or three icy moons, and a few of the brightest stars could cut through the constant cloud cover of Titan. The rest of the sky was like a choking black sheet. The man reflected on the tales from ancient times; stories of men who jumped from far away stars and brought the people to Titan. Tonight, it felt like whoever brought them here covered the moon in clouds so they could never escape.
Well, it was official. On this night, after hours of argument in the Great Hall, the Elders finally made their decision and another generation of his people would grow up as slaves. Most would die but a few would come back, become old men and sell another generation into slavery. Titan was place where everything remained constant, even the sky dominated by the great ringed planet.
The man bowed his head and recited a prayer. It was the quiet sort meant to be heard only by the man and any deity that cared to listen. He spoke in the language of his people. A language that, legend said, was also a gift from the ancients who came before. “Great Kompanio. I still believe you care about all the people of Titan. I still believe you will come for us someday. Please, give me some sign. Show me that my faith is not misplaced. Let me know that I am doing the right thing.”
Saturn didn’t move nor did any of the icy moons or stars. Nothing ever changes on Titan.
Just as the man turned to go back to the warmth of the ship, a light filled the entire sky. Brighter than Saturn. Brighter than the sun during the day. It lit the entire horizon with a blinding flash. When the light dimmed and he could see again, there was a new star flying across the sky at amazing speed.
The flash was bright enough to draw more people from the ship. They gasped at the white point of light speeding toward the horizon. There were descriptions of stars like this in the ancient writings but nothing like it had been seen in a thousand years. The people knew what they were seeing even if they couldn’t put words to it.
The man turned to the assembled crowd and screamed in their native tongue, “They have returned. They have returned! They have come to free us at last! I called for them and they have come! We must gather offerings. We meet at the landing place! Kompanio has returned! Returned to free us all!”
Inside one of the shuttle’s staging areas, Viekko struggled to pull on the shirt-piece of his EROS suit in a room with ten or fifteen other Corporate personnel. He privately wondered if someone purposely gave him a suit that was a size or two too small for him so the others could enjoy watching a man of Viekko’s size turn himself into a sausage.
The material was a strange sort: flexible in some places, stiff and pokey in others. The way it felt reminded Viekko of the plate-male armor used by some tribes on the Martian steppes. Except this suit was thin, lightweight, black, and had a slight shine to it. As he pulled the top half into place the whole thing adjusted. Bits of metal, wire, and fabric pulled and pinched him in some very awkward and, at times, very personal places.
Then there was Althea’s RX5 Medical Regulator. It was waiting for him in the supply locker having made its way to him from the medical bay through all sorts of Corporate channels. He clamped the device on his right shoulder and clenched his teeth while metal plates and probes spread out across his chest to his heart and to the middle of his spine on the other side.
Once he felt he was through the worst of the discomfort, he put the white khaki pants and a white jacket checking the inside pocket to make sure his stash of Triple-T was still there. He slipped a sleeve-shaped device on his forearm that covered it from wrist to elbow. He removed the earbud charging in a matchbox-sized compartment in the locker, placed it in his ear, and touched the screen on the inside of his forearm to activate it.
The same infuriating computerized woman’s voice sounded in his ear: “Welcome to the Body-Mod Consortium version 8 Environmental Reorientation and Operations Suit. Our goal is to make your work outside the confines of Earth gravity and atmosphere as safe and as comfortable as possible.”
That was the Corporation, thought Viekko, always trying to make everyone safe and comfortable. Like a big, suffocating blanket around all of society. He grabbed his hat and followed a few others out of staging area and into a hallway leading to the cargo bay.
“Your EROS suit is equipped with nano-actuators built into the polycarbonate weave that will help compensate for microgravity conditions. Oxide-based conductors use the suit’s motion and your own heat to keep your body at a comfortable temperature while working in harsh, extra-planetary environments.”
Lights flashed through the corridors and the same woman’s voice announced that the main bay doors were opening. Even though the hallways were choked with engineers, scientists and soldiers, he increased his pace through the crowd. He reached one of the airlocks leading to the cargo bay already packed full with people and, despite the protests of a few, crammed himself inside before the door slammed shut.
“Your EROS suit is also equipped with an interface pad attached to your arm. This provides an uplink to the Corporation satellite network for location and communication services. Welcome to Titan and have a safe and productive visit.”
The airlock door slid open and a flood of completely new, heavy, choking air filled his lungs. It was like sticking his face in a bag of noxious gases. At the same time there was something invigorating about it. There was much more oxygen here; Viekko could feel it in every cell of his body.
The cargo bay was a mass of carefully controlled chaos as a thousand different people tried to accomplish a thousand different tasks at the exact same time. Soldiers in formation marched double-time into the blinding light outside to secure the parameter. Teams of workers tried to keep spools of hose as large as a
tractor tire from rolling uncontrolled down the ramp. Closer to the open doors, he could make out a landscape of towering trees already being obscured by tall metal scaffolds, inflatable domed structures, and drilling rigs. Civilization had arrived on Titan and it was already making a mess of the place.
Viekko rammed his wide-brimmed hat in place and activated the communications application through the screen on his arm and selected Isra’s channel. There was a series of tones through his earpiece as the computer connected.
Isra’s voice came through, “Where are you, Viekko?”
Viekko looked around. “Cargo bay. Just gonna take a walk outside and see ‘bout getting my guns back.”
“We will meet at the weapons depot,” said Isra, ending the comm.
Viekko took his first steps onto the alien world. The ground was soft, granular, and his boots sank into it like wet sand on a beach when the waves came in. The landing zone was surrounded on three sides by a green-blue ocean that stretched beyond the horizon. Ahead, the land disappeared into a dense, green forest. The trees were so impossibly tall that the tops disappeared into the orange mist that covered the sky of Titan. From his position it looked like a solid green wall between Civilization and the rest of the planet. The sun, peeking through the perpetual clouds was just above the sea and, above it, the planet Saturn twice the size as the moon as viewed from Earth.
Even with the EROS suit, it was cold here. Not a harsh freeze, but an invigorating chill that encouraged a man to keep active to stay warm. Viekko buttoned up his jacket and went looking for the marine supply depot.
It turned out it wasn’t terribly hard to find. Just about every hard-faced, dull-eyed goon wearing Corporation Blue armor was headed in the same direction and soon he found a whole mess of them lined up single-file in front of a collection of crates where a few ranking officers were handing out standard-issue gear and weapons.
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