Titan's Son: (Children of Titan Book 2)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  We rounded another corner and soon approached an ornamental door clad with more fake wood. As we got closer, I actually started to wonder if it was the real thing. Considering most trees didn’t grow naturally anywhere in Sol, there was no material more expensive to build with. Even the majority Earth struggled to foster sizeable flora after the Meteorite.

  The officers held the door open for us. “Unload quickly,” one said. “Servers are already sending out the first course.”

  We rolled the cart into a sweltering room clad in shiny chrome. Stoves and other kitchen appliances were steaming. Voices of a dozen chefs and prep-men yammered in every direction. The latter were mostly Ringers, too overheated and invested in chopping ingredients to realize we were strangers. The Earthers wouldn’t notice we didn’t belong unless we wore blinking signs that said as much. Once again, I found sanitary masks to have a greater use than simply keeping germs out of my mouth. They were a scoundrel’s best friend.

  “Finally!” a stout Earther I assumed was the head chef exclaimed. He lumbered around an oven over to us, wearing a scowl and a ridiculously tall, white hat. “These people paid good money not to wait. Next time, you’ll be paying for it.”

  His thumbprint unlocked each container we’d transported. They opened with a refrain of hisses and steam, revealing more frozen slabs of meat in vacuum-sealed bags. Each one bore the emblem of Pervenio Corp alongside addresses of the industrial animal farms on Earth they’d come from.

  “Start unloading, Ringers!” the chef ordered.

  Rin held her tongue, and we got to work tossing the blocks of meat onto a counter manned by a Ringer prep-man, who transferred them into zap-defrosters. They were then passed along to cooks to be heated in tremendous industrial ovens. The security officers observing from the corner kept everyone focused. As far as kitchens go, it was extremely efficient.

  None of the slabs of meat were very heavy, but by the time we emptied every container, my arms burned with soreness. Sweat poured down my forehead. I was preparing to lean against the wall and take a break, when I heard a clank.

  One of the prep-men dropped a plate, and before he could apologize, the head chef backhanded him across the face. The Ringer flew into a counter, the edge of it slamming him in the gut and knocking the wind out of him. The entire kitchen went silent for a moment, but when the head chef turned his attention back to the food, everyone else promptly did the same.

  Rin’s hands balled into fists. Being trapped on a ship with only her own kind for years clearly had her unused to dealing with Earthers. I prepared myself for the worst, and then someone slapped a finished plate down on our rack. On it lay a steak, cooked to perfection and served beside the greenest spread of steamed vegetables I’d ever seen in my life. Then came another plate, and another, until the cart was full.

  “What’re you two standing around for? Tables are waiting!” the head chef yelled at us.

  I gave Rin a tug on her shirt to get her moving, and we rolled the rack toward a door on the other side of the kitchen. Another pair of Ringer staff appeared with an empty rack right behind us. Focusing on pushing was nearly impossible with the fantastic aromas wafting right in front of my nose. I wasn’t sure what smell was what, since I’d never experienced food like this, but it sure beat salt and molten metal. I immediately regretted having gotten a job on a gas harvester and not a luxury cruiser.

  “You see any terminals in there?” Rin asked.

  “None,” I said, though I hadn’t exactly been paying attention. The hubbub of an active kitchen was hard to ignore.

  We emerged into the ship’s galley. Or rather, dining room—it was much too grand and seated far too many people to be a galley. The gentle, harmonious melody of string-instruments emanated from live performers in one corner. One was taller than the musician herself, with a curving bow made from wood and more than a dozen filaments.

  Hundreds of Earthers sat at round tables with frilly tablecloths draped over the tops. The tall ceiling was coffered, and I had no doubt that the rich-colored wood it was made of had been cut from real trees. Sparkling chandeliers fell from it in equal intervals, dozens of crystal arms arcing away from their centers.

  The hallways of the cruiser paled in comparison. This was now the most ostentatious room I’d ever visited in my life by far, and the sight gave even Rin pause upon entry. Massive paintings on the pearly walls hung above a molded, wooden trim. At first, I thought they were prints, but the brushstrokes had texture. I didn’t even know people painted anymore. They were landscapes from ancient Earth, a place nobody would ever see after the Meteorite struck. Blue skies, green pastures—they’d all gone away soon after Trass fled.

  Earthers glowered at the food on our rack as if we weren’t there. They appeared famished. Judging by the width of their stomachs, they didn’t know what real hunger was.

  I nodded to Rin, and she returned the gesture. We rolled the food forward and began serving plates to each patron. They cracked their stubby fingers and licked their lips, prepared for a delicious meal. Forks clanked, knives sawed, and all I could focus on were the sounds of teeth chomping on thick slices of meat. Earthers slurped down drinks fashioned with genuine alcohol, poured by additional Ringer staff. They laughed and reveled, celebrating the mere fact that they existed.

  At first, I wanted to grab a plate and devour the food, but the more we served, the more I just wanted to shove it down their throats. To watch them choke on portions so excessive they could’ve fed an entire level of the Lowers for days.

  Armed security officers posted all around the room made doing any of that impossible. They weren’t watching out for patrons getting too drunk and disorderly—they were keeping an eye on us servers to make sure we didn’t attempt to sneak some of the good food.

  “Hey, Ringer!” a guest shouted to Rin after we attended his table. “I thought I told the kitchen I wanted it well-done.” It was the same man I’d seen yelling down at the beach. He was so fat, his jowls bounced as he talked, and he hadn’t even bothered to change into formal clothes or button his shirt. He raised the piece of meat stuck on his fork for us to see.

  Rin froze.

  “Are you deaf?” he continued.

  “Sorry, I don’t know what that means,” she replied, with an edge to her tone that made me nervous.

  The Earther cackled, bits of food spewing out of his mouth. The others seated at his table covered their mouths to hide their laughter. “Well, how about you get me someone who does. Or better yet, take this bleeding shit back and get me a new one!” His fork clanged against the plate, and then he shoved it toward us.

  Rin remained silent. I could see her fingers twitching. Three years on a gas harvester, far from civilization and Earther verbal abuse, and she was probably ready to explode.

  “There a problem over here?” a security officer asked, arriving seemingly out of nowhere. His hand rested securely on the handle of his shock-baton.

  “Yeah,” the fat Earther growled. “This one won’t take my plate back. I didn’t order it like this.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, jumping forward. “I’ve got it.”

  I hurried over to take the plate, and as I did, I noticed a rectangular lump in the man’s pocket. My heart started racing like it always did when I reached the object of a job. I positioned my back so that the officer’s view was obstructed. With my left hand, I picked up the plate, purposefully allowing the loose fork to fall to the floor to distract the Earther. As I bent over to retrieve it, my right hand slipped into the pocket of his fancy tunic. His chubby leg made it a tight fit, even for my fingers, but it also likely mitigated some of his sensation.

  “Sorry about the mistake, sir,” I said, feigning all the pleasantries of a proper servant.

  He snorted and folded his arms on top of his belly. “Fix it.” His breath reeked of alcohol, a fact I hoped would keep him from noticing anything was missing until we were long gone.

  When I returned to the cart, plate in hand, his h
and-terminal was stuffed securely into the waistband of my pants beneath my shirt. The officer moved along, and I nudged Rin to remind her to focus so we could finish our mission.

  We emptied the racks, and then returned to the kitchen. We didn’t get far before our cart was topped off with additional plates, each of them bearing a triangular slice of something white and creamy. I’m not sure what it was, but the fragrance was so sweet it was nauseating.

  “I don’t know if I can handle another round,” Rin grumbled.

  “You’ll be fine.” I gained her attention and flicked open my shirt to show her the hand-terminal. “Now let’s go feed some Earthers.”

  We pushed the rack back out, and I felt her pat me on the back in approval as we passed through the door. All my life, I’d worked jobs for fences, mostly on my own. Sometimes I’d be partnered up with another thief, but we were always out only for ourselves. Typically, we didn’t converse much more than signing each other from across a room. Even on the Piccolo, I didn’t scrub canisters to make anyone else satisfied, only my wallet.

  I knew I shouldn’t—not after the crimes I’d seen Rin and her crew commit—but right that moment, it felt good to be a part of a team. Part of something beyond the pursuit of credits.

  TWENTY

  The meal didn’t last long before the Earthers were shepherded away to be restrained for zero-g. Rin, the rest of the Ringer staff, and I were tasked to help clean the kitchen. Out of the generosity of his heart, the head chef left behind meals for us—the same lumpy goop I was fed on the Piccolo. I was glad to eat anything other than a ration bar, but Rin wasn’t nearly as enthused and skipped the meal entirely.

  “What now?” I asked her, lifting my last spoonful to my lips while I scrubbed down a counter with the other hand.

  “We wait.” She glared at the security officers by the exit. They would notice if I pulled out an expensive hand-terminal. The rest of the Ringers were too busy and overheated to notice that we were strangers, however. Once again, I found sanitary masks to have a greater use than simply keeping germs out of my mouth. They were a scoundrel’s best friend.

  “What about Hayes and Gareth?” I asked.

  “Worry about us.”

  I nodded. Her confidence was infectious. I kneeled and scrubbed the grime out of the inside of an oven. Some got on my glove, and I considered licking it off just to get a taste of real steak. Then I recalled my mom’s lessons about washing my gloves as often as I could to avoid germs and did that instead.

  “All right, Ringers!” one of the officers shouted. “We’re breaking atmosphere soon. Finish up and head to holding.”

  After the kitchen was cleaned, Rin and I stuck to the back of the pack as we traversed the ship. I was nervous that beyond the commotion of the kitchen, someone might realize we were impostors, but Rin seemed calm as ever. A few members of the Ringer staff complained about their sore arms during the walk, but that was it—almost complete silence. I wondered if we would’ve been noticed on the Piccolo under similar circumstances. It seemed impossible we wouldn’t have been, but Culver’s incessant yelling had a way of making me want to avoid everyone around me. Of having me keep my head down.

  The holding cabin was somewhere toward the stern of the cruiser, on a level beneath the cargo hold where the rumble of the ship’s engines made it difficult to perceive anything. Unlike the rest of the vessel, the room had a military feel. Rows of bolted-down seats lined the walls. They were fitted with heavy-duty restraints. Officers in the entrance let us sit wherever we liked, so we selected the farthest positions.

  I watched the jaded faces of more Ringer staff trickling in once we were seated. Lucky for us, the flow stopped shortly after, and we were left without anybody sitting next to us. It seemed the crew wasn’t large enough to fill every seat; perhaps the shortage of willing workers that had plagued the Piccolo was widespread.

  “Sorry we’re late,” someone at the entrance said to the officers outside. They allowed two more Ringers in staff uniforms into the room, then sealed the door and left.

  It took me a second to recognize the newcomers as Hayes and Gareth, since their faces were half-covered by sanitary masks and I’d never seen them outside of helmets. They scurried over and took a seat on either side of us.

  “I was worried you two wouldn’t show up,” Rin said.

  “Yeah, well, if Gareth didn’t take his sweet-ass time,” Hayes answered.

  Gareth signed something discreetly to Rin. I couldn’t see what it was, but she smirked.

  Hayes rolled his eyes, then whispered, “We spread everything throughout the cargo hold, so it should take security hours to comb through it all.” He stretched out his legs, his knees cracking. “I’ll miss the suit… and my gun.”

  “You get used to it,” I said.

  All three of them regarded me with blank expressions but said nothing.

  Restraints suddenly lowered over our shoulders. My body was forced back against my seat, where an automated g-stim injection jabbed the side of my neck. The cruiser then started shaking violently as its nuclear-thermal engines powered it through Saturn’s atmosphere. An incredible pressure built up in the center of my chest and behind my eyes, which would’ve been unbearable even with the g-stim if I hadn’t been getting so accustomed to it. My short stay on the Sunfire had bolstered my endurance.

  “Ascension has initiated,” the calm voice of the captain announced. “Please remain in your seats until our arrival at Pervenio Station. Approximate flight time is five hours and thirty-six minutes.”

  “So, you two get in contact?” Hayes asked us through gritted teeth.

  Rin tapped me on the leg. “Kale, the terminal,” she said.

  Everyone else in the cabin was too busy dealing with the forces of acceleration to pay us any attention, so I reached into the folds of my uniform and pulled the device out. I couldn’t extend my hand much due to the restraints, but my long fingers again helped me out. Rin took it from me and held it between our legs.

  “You sure you can do this?” Hayes asked.

  “I contacted that brother of yours after we went missing, didn’t I?” she said.

  His cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and he leaned back without another word. Rin’s thumb shifted across the touch screen of the device, rifling through commands. She didn’t operate it with the natural grace that Cora did when she sat at a command console, but she knew what she was doing.

  In a few minutes, she breached Solnet through the cruiser’s long-range navigation systems. In one more, she sliced into the black parts of the vast network, where the fences I’d worked with operated amongst people with far more reprehensible cravings. She entered a contact number—a clutter of numbers and characters that it must’ve taken her weeks to memorize—then typed a message.

  ‘CHANGE OF PLANS. CAN YOU TALK? —R’

  Since we were departing Saturn and Rylah was on Titan, there was a natural delay. It took about two minutes for a reply to come through. Letters arrived, scrambled and nonsensical at first before they each flickered and changed individually to reveal words. The Children of Titan were clearly extremely careful when it came to communications.

  ‘ONLY LIKE THIS. I’M UNDER WATCH. THEY TRACED THE TERMINAL BACK TO ME AND BROUGHT IT HERE,’ answered a contact I assumed to be her sister Rylah.

  ‘IT’S NOT ON THE STATION?’ Rin asked.

  Rylah said, ’IT WASN’T. IT’S BACK ON ITS WAY NOW FOR ANALYSIS. THEY SENT TWO COLLECTORS AFTER ME, ONE A COGENT. I GOT THEM TO BELIEVE I WAS COERCED... SOMEHOW. THEY’RE BEING HANDLED.’

  Rin said, ’GOOD. AS SOON AS THEY PLUG THE TERMINAL IN ON THE STATION FOR STUDY I NEED YOU TO SLICE INTO THE SECURITY NETWORK AND HELP US REACH THE DETENTION BLOCK.’

  ‘DETENTION?” Rylah typed. “WHAT HAPPENED TO WIPING THE MEDICAL RECORDS? I CAN’T DO BOTH.’

  ‘LIKE I SAID, CHANGE OF PLANS. WE HAVE OUR TRASS. THE TIME HAS COME. CAN YOU DO IT?’

  ‘NOT SURE. THE OFFICERS WITH ME MAY BE STUPID,
BUT THEY AREN’T BLIND. THEY’LL SEE MY SCREENS MONITORING THE STATION,’ Rylah said.

  ‘THEN GET RID OF THEM.’

  ‘WAIT.’

  The conversation went silent for one minute, then another. By the third, the Ring Skipper had broken through Saturn’s atmosphere, and the ship stopped shaking. Restraints continued to hold me down, but my body became weightless. It was a welcome relief.

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Rin grumbled. “C’mon, Rylah.” She tapped the device to make sure it was still working.

  Much of the Ringer crew had conked out from the stress of breaking Saturn’s gravity well, but a few of them eyed the device. Though none of them said anything, it made me nervous. On the Piccolo, no Ringer would ever rat out one of their own for doing something wrong, and I could only hope that extended to every crew.

  “Here,” Rin said. A new message came through from Rylah, one letter at a time.

  ‘SOMETHING IS HAPPENING DOWN HERE. EVERY MEMBER OF THE TEAM WATCHING ME JUST LEFT IN A HURRY EXCEPT ONE. SEEMED URGENT. PERVENIO OFFICERS THROUGHOUT DARIEN ARE MOBILIZING.’

  ‘WHAT IS IT?’ Rin asked.

  ‘THE COLLECTORS LOCATED OUR BASE BENEATH THE Q-ZONE BEFORE WE GOT RID OF THEM, BUT SECURITY OFFICERS ARE GATHERING OUTSIDE OF THE MAIN Q-ZONE TRAM ON DARIEN LIKE THEY DON’T KNOW EXACTLY WHERE IT IS.

  I noticed a shade of panic cross Rin’s face. ‘THE DOCTOR?’ she asked.

  ‘ESCAPED, SOMEHOW. HER PATIENTS ARE BEING EVACUATED THROUGH THE TUNNEL NETWORK. WHEN AND IF PERVENIO GETS THERE, ALL THEY’LL FIND IS ROCK.’

  Rin breathed a sigh of relief. “Katrina will be fine, then,” she whispered to me. Though I didn’t know enough about what was going on to realize I should’ve been worried, I found her assurance oddly comforting.

  ‘WHAT’S YOUR STATUS?’ Rin asked.

  ‘I’LL HAVE MY WATCHER TAKEN CARE OF IMMEDIATELY,’ Rylah answered.