Titanborn

by Rhett C. Bruno

  I didn’t think she was—not with Zhaff listening to her—but I hadn’t expected her to try to kill us, either. There was enough bad blood between Venta and Pervenio to think they might actually make such a bold move if they thought they could get away with it, though. Plus, if she was wrong then we would’ve been completely out of viable leads. I never liked to consider that option while I was already knee-deep in an assignment.

  Zhaff nodded and we set off, still wearing the armor of Mazrah’s guards. Security officers watched us attentively, but they kept their distance thanks to the order Zhaff had circulated. I couldn’t blame them for remaining wary based on what I’d seen on the Ring so far.

  —

  With nobody to stand in our way we were able to reach the closed lobby of hangar 20 in no time. We stopped in front of it, at a screen that displayed the receptionist inside. It didn’t take long for me to recognize that it was the same view Mazrah had and that she’d somehow hacked into that camera instead of placing her own.

  “This is a private Venta Company hangar,” the receptionist said through an intercom. “What is your business?”

  “We’re here on behalf of Lady Mazrah,” I responded, as authoritatively as I could manage. “Care to make this quick?”

  She bent over, held her hand to her ear, and said something inaudible. A short moment later she looked back into the screen and said: “One moment.”

  A second later the entrance opened and Trevor appeared alongside another Venta guard. He held the pistol that matched my own, and the other wielded a top-of-the-line pulse-rifle, not like the shit they gave their Ringer allies. They wore full carbon-fiber suits of armor colored in the navy blue of Venta Co. No helmets.

  We approached them slowly, their eyes scrutinizing us. Our disguises could only get us so far considering that I wasn’t tall enough to fill mine out. I probably looked a little absurd with how clunky it fit. I did, however, make sure to approach from an angle so that Trevor wouldn’t notice my pistol.

  “I didn’t hear about that bitch sending anyone up,” Trevor said. “What does she want?” Whether Mazrah had helped with the bombing or not, there was no question she was involved enough with what was happening on Titan for a Venta Co collector to know who she was.

  “She wants to speak with the Doctor,” I said. “He’s causing her trouble.”

  “What Doctor?” Trevor scowled and made his pistol more visible. “Sorry, boys, but we’re under strict orders. Nobody gets in. We pay good money for this hangar, so tell her to come herself if she wants in.” He leaned in close and whispered, “If you two get caught sneaking up around here again you and that bitch are all dead.”

  I bit my tongue. It was usually advised that we try to avoid conflict with other powerful corporations. Trust me, it’s amazing how one little gunfight can turn into a decades-long grudge. As I thought about what to say next Zhaff must’ve seen an opening because he said: “I’m going to strike them, Malcolm.”

  He sprang into action and before they could raise their weapons he had torn them from their hands and had his pistol aimed at the side of Trevor’s head on an angle that would allow him to take both of them out with a single shot. They extended their hands in surrender. The guard looked scared, like he hadn’t seen much action in his life, but Trevor remained calm as a collector ought to. I knew beneath his stone façade his heart was racing.

  I drew my weapon and aimed it at the receptionist, getting her to raise her hands so she couldn’t alert anybody. “Up,” I said. “Away from the desk.” She listened. By the time she was standing she was in tears. Knowing who Zhaff really was, I quickly realized that anything he did came with the highest level of permission. I had no problem playing along.

  “You’re going to pay for this, Ringers,” Trevor growled.

  I ignored him. “I’m going to strike them now,” I said to Zhaff, trying my best to mimic his flat voice. “Really?”

  “You said to warn you first,” he replied.

  I smirked. “I suppose I asked for that.”

  “Hey!” Trevor raised his voice, clearly irritated that nobody was paying attention to him. It was going to make it all the sweeter when he found out who I was. “Do you know who you’re messing with?”

  “Now we do.” I lifted the visor of my helmet and stared Trevor straight in the eyes. His face was priceless. His jaw dropped, and the fear he’d been masking started to show. “How’s your arm?”

  “Graves? I knew there was something off about seeing a Ringer as short as you.”

  “Yet you still opened up. Like it’s your first day on the job.”

  “Let me guess. That’s your pet partner?”

  I took a brief pause from watching the receptionist to grab Trevor by the chest, yank him forward, and punch him across the jaw. It felt good to release all the frustration of having to see Mazrah again on someone who deserved it. I caught him before he fell and shoved him right back into position next to Zhaff’s pistol.

  “He prefers Zhaff,” I said.

  “C’mon, Graves…” Trevor moaned as he rubbed a cut on his lip. “Even you’re not this stupid. Gonna start a war just because I called you both a few names?”

  “No, but over what you’re hiding back there I might. Why don’t you let us in and we’ll keep this civilized.”

  “We’re not hiding anything.”

  “Lying,” Zhaff stated. He pressed the barrel of his pistol against Trevor’s head so hard it threaded his hair.

  “You shouldn’t lie to my friend here,” I advised. “Open the hangar or he’ll shoot you both down like the Venta scum you are.”

  “Sorry, Graves, no can do,” Trevor said. “Best walk away now.”

  I stepped forward so that our noses were close to touching and glowered into his eyes. “Last chance, Cross. Open the hangar or you’ll upset him.”

  “When our bosses hear about this they’ll have you and your pet sweeping floors until he’s as old as you are.”

  I decided to take a page out of Zhaff’s book. I shot Trevor in the shoulder of the same arm I’d injured earlier, then returned to aiming at the receptionist. It was in the meat, but he fell over, screaming.

  “Are you fucking crazy!” Trevor howled. “I’ll have you both spaced!”

  “Open it,” I said to the other guard who was staring as Trevor squirmed in pain. He was definitely rattled.

  “Answer him,” Zhaff ordered. He stepped around Trevor and took aim directly at the guard’s head.

  The guard took a deep breath before he glanced down at Trevor. “I’m not dying for them,” he muttered. “There are Ringers inside. They paid a ton for safe transport. I don’t know or care what they’ve got, but I’ll let you in if you tell that one not to shoot.”

  I nodded in Zhaff’s direction and he grabbed the guard by the collar and dragged him toward the hangar entrance’s control panel. “Enter the code,” Zhaff said to him.

  “Fucking coward…” Trevor whispered through clenched teeth.

  I knelt next to him.

  “You…you have him handling everything for you now, old man?” he asked, struggling to put on his usual grin. He was in too much pain. His armor softened the blow enough for his arm not to fall off, but a pulse-pistol round from that close meant it went clear through him.

  “Impressive, isn’t he?” I remarked.

  He tried to sit up, but failed. “You might as well kill me, Malcolm…because you signed a death warrant.”

  “I’m disappointed in you. Aiding terrorists? You should know better than that.”

  “I…have my…orders.”

  “So do I.” The pain had him breathing heavily and ready to pass out. I leaned in close so he could hear me. “I’ll see you soon, Cross. And for Earth’s sake would you buy a new pistol already?”

  Before he could respond I cracked him in the head with the butt of my gun, knocking him unconscious. “Get him help,” I barked to the receptionist. “Now!” I shot her computer, causing it to burst int
o sparks so that it’d be useless to her. She ran frantically out of the lobby. As good as it felt to put him in his place, we were collectors. It wasn’t my job to kill for free.

  I got up and looked over at the hangar entrance. Zhaff had punched the guard across the face, incapacitating him as well. The heavy gate was unlocked and it slowly rose into the ceiling. I hurried over to him.

  “You ready?” I asked.

  “Ready,” he replied.

  Once the gate was open enough for us to fit, we edged into the hangar side by side, pulse-pistols raised. A small ship was parked in the center, and standing around the lowered cargo bay ramp were at least four armed Children of Titan combatants in concealing white armor. The same orange circle we had seen in the attack on the Piccolo was imprinted on their chests. Three storage containers stood upright among them, stamped with the Pervenio logo.

  They quickly hand-signed something to one another before opening fire on us with the same model of outmoded Venta Co rifles as earlier. Zhaff and I dove behind the steely base of a decontamination chamber right before a spray of bullets riddled us with holes.

  “Stand down, fugitives!” Zhaff shouted as he popped up to fire off a few shots of his own. I tried to do the same, but was immediately forced back into cover. We were in a stalemate like that for about a minute, and being that it was a private hangar, there was no Darien security near enough to hear the scuffle through the colony block’s dense metal walls.

  Zhaff’s eye-lens aimed at me and he motioned with his hand that he was going to try to make an approach.

  “I’ll cover you,” I whispered, though it was probably closer to a shout so that he could hear me over the gunfire.

  We went to make our move and an explosion shook the floor. I yanked Zhaff back and popped up to see a smoking gash in the outer plating of Darien, exposing us to the exterior. Freezing air whipped in and I could feel its bite even through my suit. Alarms wailed, red emergency lights flashed, and the entrance to the hangar sealed shut with a snap-hiss. If Pervenio security wasn’t aware of the disturbances earlier, they were then.

  That was when the combatants raised their arms, revealing orange, carbon-fiber wings extending between their arms and sides. They were promptly pulled through the breach, and soared out across the sky of Titan until the haze of a violent storm rendered them invisible.

  “Winged suits,” Zhaff identified.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I shouted. “I thought those things were myths the locals told to scare new immigrants.” It was said that because of the low gravity and dense atmosphere of Titan, Ringers had learned how to craft suits allowing them to roam the skies as easily as birds do on Earth before they were outlawed shortly after the arrival of my people.

  “There are no such things as myths.”

  Zhaff sprang up and sprinted toward the opening. I got up to follow him, closing my visor as I did so my nose didn’t freeze off. “What the hell are you doing?” I questioned, grabbing his shoulder before he leapt blindly through the opening.

  “I have a read on their position. If we don’t follow we’ll lose them. There is no time to deliberate.”

  “We’ll freeze out there!”

  “We are wearing similar suits,” he replied. “They are capable of handling Titan’s harsh environment and contain a suitable auxiliary oxygen supply in case of emergency.”

  “Are you sure?” I checked the seal beneath my helmet nervously. The rickety joints, especially in mine since it was so loose, had me worried that I wouldn’t last more than a minute outside.

  “Yes.”

  I took a deep breath. It’s safe to say that I would’ve never trusted it without his nod of approval, but up to that point he seemed to be very sure of things before he said them. And he never lied. “Ready when you are then,” I muttered.

  We sidled out to the edge, where even through my helmet I could hear the wind howl. The ground wasn’t that far below us, but beyond that the visibility conditions were too poor due to a looming storm to see anything. Zhaff hopped off without hesitation and skated down the slick, angled surface of Darien’s enclosure.

  “I’m getting too old for this,” I whispered to myself.

  I shrugged, swallowed my pride, and tried to emulate him. I can’t say I made it look as smooth but my feet landed safely against the gentle slope of the translucent roof encasing Darien’s hydro-farms. A layer of swirling sand made it impossible to see the green beneath.

  Chapter 19

  I followed Zhaff as he jogged headfirst into the storm. They were a common occurrence on Titan, much as they were on the planet it orbited. I couldn’t see more than ten meters in front of me with all of the sand being whipped about, and I couldn’t put on my spotters through my visor. I had to rely completely on Zhaff’s eye-lens to keep a reading on the smugglers, and his word that our suits would hold up.

  “You’re sure about these things?” I asked him again. We didn’t have a com-link; I had to essentially yell so that my voice would project over the storm through my helmet’s built-in speaker.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  My entire suit bounced with every step, and I found it unsettling that I could hear the wind so clearly through it. I could even see my own breath against my visor because it grew so cold inside the helmet. It was well below freezing, though that was admittedly better than the two hundred Celsius or so below it was beyond it.

  After ten more minutes of slogging through the murk, the storm dissipated and Zhaff stopped. I moved next to him and gazed forward.

  Based on the few times I’d been beyond the major settlements on Mars, I found the worlds quite similar in appearance. The biggest difference was that even when it wasn’t stormy, the sky of Titan was blotted by a rusty haze so thick that the location of the sun was impossible to determine. It made things not only dim, but also frigid enough to freeze your bones in half a minute. Pervenio researchers claimed the terraforming efforts, which used cryo-volcanic eruptions across the surface to pump the atmosphere with oxygen, had warmed average surface temperatures by a few degrees and even left trace amounts of the element permanently in the air. True or not, I wasn’t about to test it.

  Once we escaped the hydro-farms’ roof, the fine-grained, ruddy sand that made up most of the region extended beyond my range of vision in every direction, with thousands of smooth, frozen rocks scattered across the flat landscape. Now that I could see them it made it difficult for me to walk in a straight line, even in my weighted suit. They didn’t seem to bother Zhaff.

  In the distance rose a lonely white plateau beyond which the visibility remained extremely poor. The earlier storm had passed but there was another brewing. Bolts of lightning flashing throughout the dark clouds above them were enough to tell me that this one was going to be far worse. I didn’t want to be caught in it.

  “They went in there,” Zhaff said. “The Darien quarantine block.”

  He pointed toward the plateau. It didn’t look special, but a tram line ran across the surface of Titan between Darien and it, entering an illuminated cave carved into its side. Within it lay the quarantine zone. Zhaff and I shifted our path to stick to the shadows of its tram lines’ towering stilts.

  “Looks like we’re on our own then. No way would Pervenio risk the blowback of publically sending Earther reinforcements into a quarantine zone. That’s probably exactly what the Children of Titan want them to do.”

  “You are correct,” Zhaff replied. “I will inform the director of the situation.” He took out his hand-terminal and typed into it.

  “Fifty years,” I said while I waited. “You’d think they’d have cleaned them out by now.”

  “The increase in immigration has helped keep sickness a constant threat to locals. All it takes is one missed germ during decontamination to infect an entire block.”

  I remembered how sick the Ringer on Earth had looked. How he was coughing up blood before he took his own life. I’d never actually been to a quarantine z
one, but I couldn’t imagine a more depressing place in all of Sol. They were among the only places on Titan where the Ringers were granted some level of control, minus the legions of Pervenio security guards who monitored the entrances off the tram lines. Whatever this Doctor and his crew were up to, there were few better places in the Ring for them to hide.

  All Ringers who showed signs of sickness were sent to quarantine, buried like ancient lepers within a mountain. It didn’t matter what the diseases were, either. Most of them had no labels, or did once but no longer affected Earthers and saw their names lost in the annals of pre-Meteorite Earth. All I knew for sure was that getting the proper medicines from any of the sanctioned USF corporations with a stake in the Ring was as difficult as it was expensive. They were almost exclusively produced on Earth by Pervenio Corp and shipped all the way across Sol.

  “Consider me lucky for not being born in this wasteland,” I decided. “How’d they get in? The entrance to that place can only be accessed through the tram line, I thought.”

  “Their signatures disappeared beneath it,” Zhaff answered.

  “Well, however they did it, I have a feeling that the Drayton woman who escaped got out the same way. We’ll find it.”

  “We have to.” Zhaff stored his hand-terminal and scanned the horizon. “The quarantine block is approximately three point eight kilometers away. We must quicken our pace in order to ensure we retain a safe amount of oxygen.”

  He’d conveniently left that part out earlier. I cut down on how deep my breaths were, and we ran. He was decidedly faster, but I was able to keep close enough behind. Fear of suffocating had my adrenaline pumping and my legs churning despite how sore they were getting. If I was going to go, I’d prefer it to be in a hail of bullets or while I was drunk and fast asleep.

  As we got nearer, the quarantine zone’s plateau filled my vision from end to end, obstructing the subtle glow of the rusty sky. There wasn’t even a single translucency to interrupt the uniformity of the rock.

  I was busy studying the tunnel entrance located many meters above where we were when Zhaff suddenly stopped. A noisy tram raced by overhead, breaking the alien silence of Titan’s surface that had prevailed after the first storm passed.