Director Sodervall was right. Things were worse here, but I had a feeling Zhaff and I were about to find out just how much.
SEVENTEEN
When the doors of the Darien central lift slid open, it felt like we’d been transported to a completely different world. The lower wards of most colony blocks on Titan had been around since before the Earthers had made contact with Saturn, yet remained untouched. Pervenio Corp was considerably less interested in keeping the nether regions of their Titan settlements shiny and presentable.
While the upper ward was bright and airy, down here, the network of squat tunnels branching off from the cavernous node surrounding the lift made it feel like a labyrinth. The shit beneath the sheen. Much of the walls were exposed to rock and covered in pipes and ducts, and the portions that were lined by panels of serrated metal were rusting. Luckily, the lights on the ceilings were dim enough to make that difficult to notice. The walls were dotted with circular hatches for small, cave-like apartments the locals called hollows.
The change in the air, too, was tangible. The lower wards on Titan were kept around freezing, just how Ringers liked it. I immediately regretted not bringing my duster. Also, in contrast with the fresh air above, the wards reeked of salt from water treatment plants and soldered metal from factories. They were sprinkled all throughout the lowers, at the end of every tunnel—everything Pervenio profited from but preferred to keep buried. Noisy air recyclers too old for their own good didn’t help.
As Zhaff and I walked, it was easy to notice how the tides had shifted. Pervenio security teams were sparse, all of them posted within guarded booths positioned at the decon-chambers surrounding the lift that we were forced to pass through. Lanky Ringers were everywhere with their alabaster skin and sanitary masks. It wasn’t as crowded with them as the upper ward was with Earthers, but Darien sank deep into Titan, and the lower ward had many levels. Last I read, roughly three million people lived within Titan’s numerous colony blocks, and three-quarters of them were Ringers with ancestry dating back to the first settlers. They may have been weaker physically, had fewer weapons, and been focused on trying to buy their sick relatives medicine, but I understood Luxarn’s fear of letting a faction of dissidents spark their animosity. Being stronger doesn’t count for much when you have three angry rebels jumping on your back.
Beggars roamed freely. It was hard to tell who was starving and who wasn’t since Ringers were all so bony compared to me. I wagered on most of them. Any job an Earther wanted, they got first choice, which left a large portion of lower ward residents without legitimate employment.
Pale, strung-out salt sniffers observed everything from the deep shadows of tunnels, their gazes locked on me instead of Zhaff. Some of them were snorting foundry salts; most had a crazed look in their eyes, as if they were waiting for an excuse to kill something. They didn’t bother us, but as we continued on, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that another, more menacing group watched from out of sight.
In fact, everyone kept their distance. On Mars, it was hard to walk anywhere in the seedy sections of the cities without being hounded by streetwalkers. Doing whatever it took to survive wasn’t frowned upon among offworlders as it was back on Earth. But on Titan, sex workers had become a scourge; the lowest of the low. They’d helped spread disease more than anything else after the Great Reunion. Now Ringers were aggressive in their pursuit of finding someone they believed to be a life partner. Once they did, they’d remain fiercely loyal for the rest of their days. It was their way of trying to stay safe, the way clan-families were ours, which made my and Rylah’s fling a rare occurrence.
“Watch it, mud stompers!” a young boy yelled as he bumped into Zhaff.
I grabbed him by the wrist on his way by. I squeezed so that his fist came open, and in it, I saw Zhaff’s false ID. Long fingers made Ringers excellent pickpockets. That was one thing I remembered about Titan that clearly hadn’t changed.
“Let go!” the kid shouted.
I tore the ID out of his palm and shoved him along. “Watch your pockets, Zhaff,” I said.
He nodded.
We were in a place no amount of training could prepare one for. I suppose that was what Luxarn realized when he decided Zhaff needed a partner.
The kid earned us even more attention. Faces peered out through cracked-open hatches of hollows, and masks covering everything but their eyes made them appear especially unwelcoming. I’d have felt much safer with my pistol.
Still, people kept their distance. Nobody tried to stop us, or ask what we were doing, or hold us up and take everything we had. I weirdly would’ve felt more comfortable if they had. Everyone just continued watching us with hateful stares, as if we were marching toward some sort of unsanctified ritual. As a collector, I was used to being treated with caution, even fear, but I wasn’t used to being regarded with unbridled disdain.
“Remember to let me do the talking,” I said to Zhaff when we arrived at the entrance to the Foundry. Two drunks stood to its side, glares piercing us like blades. They didn’t say a word.
The Foundry was on the far side of level B5’s central node, down a set of stairs above which its name was written in cool-colored neon lights. That was where Rylah had been holed up when I’d last dealt with her, so I hoped it was where she would be based on her message. We made our way down the set of stairs and into a broad tunnel wrapped in bands of pulsing blue light.
“And for heaven’s sake, try to act natural,” I said, taking notice of Zhaff’s perfect, upright posture. I slapped him on his upper back to coax him into walking like a real person. It didn’t work for long.
Two towering Ringer bouncers stood at the Foundry’s entry. Both were armed with batons, though I found them far from threatening despite how far they had to look down to meet my gaze. Being born on Earth, I could crack their ribs in a single punch if I wanted to.
“IDs,” requested the gruffer of two. He held out his palm. I did as requested and signaled Zhaff to do the same. The bouncer looked over our identifications, and when he was satisfied, he put on a wry grin and glanced toward his partner.
“One hundred credits to get in, for each of you,” he snickered. His voice was muffled by a sanitary mask.
“You’ve got to be joking,” I protested, trying to act the part of a harvester after a hard month’s work. That was who our faux IDs said we were, after all.
The bouncer tapped his baton a few times. “You must be new around here, mud stomper. Now it’s one fifty.”
“You can’t—” I sighed and turned to Zhaff. “Pay the man already, then. I need a drink.”
Zhaff recognized my act. He handed over his credit chit for the bouncer to swipe. The other one came around behind us and patted us down. Zhaff’s fists tightened as he confiscated our personal hand-terminals, but I sneaked him a shake of the head. I had a feeling he would’ve killed both of them in a heartbeat if I hadn’t and brought the entirety of the lower ward upon us.
“Fancy hand-terminals,” the more vocal bouncer admired. Mine was nothing too special, but better than most Ringers could afford. “Sorry, can’t bring these inside. USF orders.” He grinned as he tucked Zhaff’s device into his belt and handed mine to his partner. “Have fun, Earther.”
I let it go, resolving to come back for it later after we met with Rylah. They wouldn’t be able to access our secured information unless they cut off our thumbs anyway.
“It’s been a while, but I think I remember where she is,” I whispered to Zhaff as we traversed a low tunnel carved into the deep bedrock of Titan and emerged into the Foundry. I was rarely ever sober in the club when I used to visit Rylah, so I had to think hard.
Colorful beams of light flashed throughout the mostly dim space, each one distorted by the layer of steam hanging over the floor. The electronic music was deafening. The Ringers had few, if any, real instruments when they arrived on Titan, so the music they cared for was entirely digitized. If there was a melody, I couldn’t find it. All the swea
ty Ringers, on the other hand, appeared to be on enough foundry salts to find a song in anything. Alcohol was also limited when they first arrived, so drugs were common on the Ring, made mostly from factory residue. That was fine with me. It helped us stay unnoticed.
I tried to gather my bearings amid the crazed dancers bumping into me. The Foundry was a reprogrammed factory, consisting of a network of gaping caverns. Vibrant, pulsating lights refracted through clouds of mist that spilled out through exhaust vents once meant for safety. Bars were built into stacks of machinery, colorful bottles filled with sythahol feeding through reallocated pumps to work the taps. Dancers in skintight plastic outfits lined machine belts that cranked along through the swelling crowds of Ringers. They may as well have been naked, but Ringers were always careful about being touched.
Beyond all that, a series of raised suites with broad, tinted translucencies faced the club on the far side. Once observation rooms for the factory, they were presently used as private suites for some of the Foundry’s more distinguished guests.
“That’s it,” I said, pointing to one of the farthest suites. Zhaff nodded.
We traversed a sea of carousing that would’ve put New London to shame. I’ll say that about the Ringers. The ones who are healthy enough to move sure make the most out of their nights. All the ways I imagined their ancestors used to stay warm during the early days of settling Titan had become completely ingrained in their culture, until we ruined carefree sex for them at least. A younger version of myself would’ve found it difficult not to join them.
A single sentry stood at the bottom of the staircase leading up to Rylah’s suite. This one was a step up from the bouncers. He wore a white suit of composite armor with a tinted helmet that made his face difficult to see. It had no pale-orange circle inscribed on the chest plate, but he had no business wielding the automatic pulse-rifle he held. It appeared to be the same type as the one the Ringer on the Piccolo had.
Seeing it left no question in my mind that we were in the middle of something larger than a smuggling job. Luxarn was right to worry.
I pulled Zhaff over to the nearest bar and ordered a shot of some flavor of blue-colored sythahol. Most Ringers couldn’t afford the real shit, so that was the best I could get. The bartender charged me another hundred credits and didn’t say another word. While we waited, I leaned over the counter so I could talk to Zhaff inconspicuously, but with the sentry still in view.
“You should not be drinking while we—” Zhaff said before I cut him off.
“I’m trying to blend in,” I said. “Check out the guard.”
“He is wearing a similar model of armor as the Children of Titan combatant from the harvester, minus the orange circle,” Zhaff determined.
“Same weapon too,” I added.
“Agreed.”
“Somehow, I don’t think my girl is selling much information to people like us anymore.”
“I can incapacitate him.” Zhaff’s eye shifted from side to side, planning a route of attack. It was nice to get an idea of his train of thought from that, as opposed to when he was wearing his eye-lens.
“Not yet. Rylah and I go back. She invited us to talk, so we’ll talk first. But stay on your toes.”
“Why would I stay on my toes?” Zhaff questioned.
“Never mind. Let’s go.” The bartender slammed down my drink, and I tossed it back before I could look down and see the spit that was probably floating in the center. It was unduly sweet, but it did the job. I got up and strode toward the sentry with a bounce in my step.
“Back the other way, Earthers,” he said through helmet coms that made his voice sound deeper. He made no attempt to hide his contempt.
“We’re not looking for any trouble,” I responded coolly. “Just information.”
“Lady Rylah is done talking to your kind. Back the other way or I’ll paint the walls with your brains.” He lifted his gun and aimed it at my head.
I raised my hands. “Charming. Tell her it’s Malcolm Graves. We spoke earlier about a potential deal.”
The guard lowered his rifle and raised his hand to a switch on the side of his helmet. After a brief moment of silence, he responded, “Come with me.”
He stepped to the side so we could go first. Zhaff didn’t need to say anything to confirm what we were both thinking: It was too easy.
We moved into the suite where two more heavily armed guards in white searched us. It was a fairly open hollow, with bare rock walls as if we were within an asteroid colony. The far side was entirely covered in a curved array of screens, similar to the surveillance center in New London except more extensive. A few of them displayed images of the club, but the others displayed views of every colony block on Titan, from both the outside and inside. Rylah stood in front of them.
“Ry, it’s a…” I froze when she turned around. I’d forgotten how stunning she was. Her limbs were long and shapely, and her slender face may have been pale, but she had warm, rosy cheeks. If she was born on the Ring, then she couldn’t have been more than second-generation. “Pleasure.”
She got up and sauntered toward us, her violet dress hugging her lithe figure. I was expecting a hug at least, considering how we’d left things. Instead, she stopped a few paces away.
“Malcolm, it’s lovely to see you again,” she said, smiling widely. Zhaff was unfazed. He studied her the way he would anyone else, and as he did, I noticed him turn his body ever so slightly to reposition himself. Something was wrong.
“I told you I’d come back,” I replied, keeping up appearances and returning the smile.
She rolled her eyes. “It took you long enough. How’s that daughter of yours?”
“I couldn’t tell you. We don’t talk much these days. I’m working with someone else now.”
“I can see that. Another lucky partner. I’ve been watching you two since you arrived at the Ring. I’m glad you decided to turn to me for help. Sorry about the guards, handsome. These are dangerous times.”
“Yet you’re still as beautiful as ever. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Always the flatterer.”
“Some things never change.” I flashed her a knowing grin. “So, like I said, I’m hoping you might be able to tell us something of value about the device we recovered. For old times’ sake.”
“It’ll cost you.”
As soon as the words left her violet-colored lips, Zhaff kicked me hard in the hip and sent me sprawling. A gunshot rang out, the bullet grazing my sleeve before speeding harmlessly into the ground. I rolled over to see Zhaff sweep the legs out from one of the guards and disarm him. Another was only able to get off a few inaccurate shots before Zhaff was on him too. The Cogent’s hands moved so fast that my eyes couldn’t keep up. He rendered both of them unconscious in short order.
I snapped out of my stupor as quickly as I could to strike the third guard from behind while he was taking aim. Titan’s low g made me strong enough in comparison to send him flying. I pounced on him and punched through his visor, knocking him out and bloodying my fist.
Rylah bolted for her screens but didn’t get far before Zhaff kicked one of the rifles up into his hands and shot her in the calf. No hesitation. He sprinted over to her as she squealed.
“Zhaff, calm down!” I shouted. I ran to pull him off.
“It is only a flesh wound,” he informed me. He shrugged me off and knelt beside her. “Lock the entrance.”
“Dammit, Zhaff! You’ve got to warn me next time you’re about to do something like that.”
“She was going to have us killed.”
“I swear I wasn’t!” she moaned, writhing in pain.
“She’s lying.”
“You’re sure?” I asked. Without his eye-lens, I wasn’t sure how good Zhaff was at reading faces, but he seemed as certain as ever.
“They… they did it!” Rylah claimed. Pain seeped into her voice. She had to force each word out. “The Children of Titan have been holding me hostage. I had no choice
.”
Zhaff leaned in to get a closer look at her face. “You are not a hostage,” he said.
The absolute certainty in his words made Rylah’s eyes widen. An information broker of her caliber wouldn’t have been in the dark when it came to the Cogent Initiative like most people were. Dread gripped her as she realized what he was.
“I was!” she said. “I swear!”
I took a deep breath before I finally decided to walk over and lock the room’s entrance. This wasn’t how I’d intended things to go when I messaged her. There was no unusual commotion outside in the club signaling that someone had heard us. The gunshots must’ve blended in with the music’s heavy beat.
“Mal…” she pleaded as I turned back toward her, attempting to wield her most seductive smile at me to rekindle old feelings. Her discomfort just made her look foolish.
“What are they paying you to work with them?” I asked as I approached her, struggling to keep my temper at bay. After all we’d been through, she’d tried to have me killed. It took every ounce of my being to stay focused on the job.
“I’m not.”
“Lying,” Zhaff said. He pressed a single finger down on her wound. She howled.
“Not officially!” she gasped. “They paid me to help with surveillance and dissemination. I’m just following the credits, same as you.”
Zhaff removed his finger and turned to me. “She is happy to aid them. This is not the first time.”
“I’m happy to earn credits helping my own people!” she said. “But I’m not one of them.”
That answered my question of where she’d really been born. Her job must have been lucrative enough for her to purchase all the proper immunizations to stay clean, considering we’d shared a bed and she’d avoided the q-zones.
Titanborn: (Children of Titan Book 1) Page 19