Titan Insurgents

by Kate Rauner

  Drew's caution was reasonable. Titan was so cold, nothing could be alive. Fynn sighed. He'd tried once to catch a ghost in algae nets, but the pale glimmers slid right through. Not solid, whatever they were, and he wasn't going to learn more today.

  As he flew back to the colony, a yellow light blinked on close to Fynn's jawline.

  Lukas' voice came through the comm. "Fynn, are you out here?"

  "Yes, Lukas. I'll be at the dome in a minute."

  Lukas stood on the dock apron with a flier set upright, one glove on its handle. "You know the shuttle's about to dock, don't you? I'll help with refueling. What's all this stuff?" He waved at the buckets by the door.

  "You caught me. I'm going to send potatoes to the Herschel crew."

  Lukas shifted so their faceplates aligned. He was grinning. "Fine with me. I'm happy to help."

  Lukas looped a couple buckets over his arm. "I'm going to ask Evan to check out a funny cloud for me."

  "Funny as in, ha-ha?"

  "Funny as in, unexplained. The Herschel runs a mapping spectrometer continuously and posts its results on our cybernet. About an hour ago a new cloud formed near the equator to our east."

  "A rain storm?"

  "That's what's funny. It's not like the other clouds I've watched on the Herschel's feeds. There's a bright streak in both visible and infrared light." Lukas sounded happy as he snagged buckets, and they flew straight to the depot.

  Evan set down close by and taxied the ship into position. In a few minutes, they had his tanks full.

  "Evan, are you listening?" Fynn asked.

  "Yeah, I'm monitoring your suit comms. Thanks for the fill-up."

  "We're not done yet. I have a surprise for you. Buckets of potatoes and squash."

  "Zucchini squash? I bet it's just like on Earth. Once the vines start producing, you can't give the stuff away fast enough."

  "Hey, if you don't want it..."

  "I never said that. You want to open the passenger bay, I suppose."

  "As long as you're safely sealed up on the command deck."

  "Safe and snug. Go ahead and equalize pressure."

  Fynn spun the outer handle and braced a foot against the frame to drag it open. A fog of frozen humidity curled out the upper lip and frost formed inside on the floor.

  "Max wants you to get your share of freshies, but we can't advertise it."

  There was a smile in Evan's voice. "Good old Max."

  "When you get to the Herschel, remember that you can't breathe back here anymore. Don't let anyone open the hatch and get a lungful of cold nitrogen."

  "I'll have it warm and toasty by the time I dock. We'll just have to bleed the nitrogen out slowly. Now I'm doubly glad I brought you a surprise too."

  Evan wouldn't explain. He just told Fynn that he'd find out when he was back inside the domes. So Fynn and Lukas loaded in the buckets and sealed the hatch.

  "Hang on, Evan," Lukas said. "Can you fly low along the equator and tell me what that bright streak is? The one the Herschel's been imaging?"

  "From our spectrometer? I was planning to avoid it."

  "Just take a peek, will you? From a safe distance."

  "Okay. I'll stream the front camera to your helmet display."

  Lukas's helmet shifted to opaque orange. He'd changed the setting rapidly and, blind to the surface, flailed out one arm to grip Fynn for support.

  "We'll wait here," Fynn said, dragging him behind a storage container to shield them from Evan's engine wash. "So I don't have to carry you any farther."

  Fynn got a decent view by staring into Lukas' faceplate display. Orange ground fell away as the camera tipped up to the mottled brown sky. The peninsula's mountains, short but steep, disappeared into the uniform orange haze.

  Nothing changed for several minutes.

  Then swathes of dull color streamed across Lukas' faceplate. "Where's that bright streak?" he asked.

  The image disappeared in a blur of motion. Evan's voice cut in sharply. "Turbulence."

  "Evan!" Fynn snapped his jaws closed. The pilot didn't need him shouting distractions. Fynn's heart pounded out the seconds. Orange clouds stabilized, then flashed upward in a sheet, paused, and tilted again.

  Fynn closed his eyes. If the view made him queasy, what was happening to Evan?

  Lukas whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. The density didn't look different. Honest, Fynn. It just looked bright."

  Fynn held his breath.

  "I'm okay." Evan's voice was calm, as if nothing unusual had happened.

  "What was that?"

  "Felt like I ran into a wall. Knocked me tail over teakettle, let me tell you. Woo. The engine temperatures dropped before I pulled up." Another pause. "Systems check out, but from now on, no more flights into funny clouds. You'll have to use whatever data Orpheus collects from orbit."

  Evan cut the camera feed, Lukas' faceplate cleared, and Fynn stared into his frightened eyes. The short flight to the furnace dome's dock gave them both time to calm down.

  Fynn collapsed onto a bench as the airlock compressors cycled. "My father was right. We need to prioritize research as soon as the dome's power systems are stable."

  "I'm sorry. I thought, based on analogies with Earth..." Lukas' voice trailed off. "I wish we had more resources. Once the space station is done, I can manufacture meteorological instruments."

  "You'll have to get in line with all the other equipment we need."

  They hung their suits and Fynn double-checked both backpacks were plugged into their chargers.

  The inner door swung open and a thin figure in green stepped over the hatch lip. "You sure took your time."

  "Drew!"

  Chap ter 9

  D rew chose the orange Mechanics barracks and flopped on a bed. No clothes or towels hung from the wall hooks behind it, which meant it was available. This was Olsen's unit, so he waved Fynn and Lukas to settle on the next bed and promised its owner wouldn't mind if they smoothed the sheets when they were done. Ben poked his head in through the doorway and they asked him to join them. Drew was a celebrity of sorts, someone who could tell them about the space station.

  "I follow all the posted reports about assembling the space station," Ben said. "But tell me the details, about the problems and fixes. I was a welder on the Herschel in space dock, and I miss working on metal."

  Drew was propped up with his hands behind his head but managed a shrug. "Orpheus does the work. Uses the shuttles like four big robots. The pilots hover around control consoles all day, but, just between us, I can't see why."

  He wriggled his butt into the thin, narrow mattress. "I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep for a change. There's no way to relax in zero-g because everything feels the same. You stayed at space port, so what's the secret to sleeping in one of those cocoons?"

  Ben chuckled. "Wear yourself out during your work shift."

  Drew wasn't busy enough on the Herschel for that. Not yet, anyway. He sighed. "I'd rather have gravity."

  "You wouldn't say that if you returned to full Earth gravity."

  "Okay. I'd rather have Titan's pitiful thirteen percent gravity."

  "Actually, closer to fourteen percent," Fynn said.

  "Thirteen's my lucky number." Drew wrinkled his long crooked nose, trying hard to be entertaining. When he was a kid, being the clown meant that he could laugh off a tormenter. After so many years, it was a habit.

  But with Ben, with any of the Mechanics, that kind of defense wasn't necessary. Drew took a deep, easy breath. Pulse steady, no pain in the chest, no tingle in the fingers. No numbness, aside from his left foot that never had recovered from stasis. He bent a knee to reach the brace under his pant leg and check the straps. He felt safe here, as safe as he was onboard the Herschel.

  "This is a great set-up," Drew said. "Fynn, why are you still huddling in that upturned bin when barracks are available?"

  Olsen looked suddenly serious. "Fynn is welcome in my unit." Lukas gave a me-too nod.

 
; Fynn's smile tightened but remained stuck to his face. "I just got used to the bin, I guess. Drew, what brings you down to the domes?"

  Drew yanked yellow bags from under the bed until he had a pile of five sitting next to him. "These are from the late, lamented cohorts. Three to return to their home units since those Kin are on the surface already. This one, from the medical cohort, is for your mother. And this one..."

  Drew grinned and opened the bag. "This is for you, Fynn. It's what you've been searching for." With a flourish, he slid out a long, narrow case, its memory cubes obvious through the clear plastic. "This contains programs for the decapods."

  Wide-eyed, Fynn snatched the case. "Are you sure?"

  "Tyra checked the directories before I came down."

  Fynn fumbled at a cargo pocket, extracted his flat pad, and snapped open the memory case. Each cube was mounted on a gang connector strip with a nubbin at one end that fit a port on the pad.

  Fynn stared at the pad for a moment and grinned. "Looks like you're right. I need to get Rica to check, but this could solve all our problems."

  He buffeted Drew's shoulder.

  "Shucks, guys," Drew said with another nose-wrinkling smile. "All I want in return is to see some rain. Lukas, you're the weather bunny. Can you arrange that? A rain shower and some ghost lights too, if you please."

  "I don't know about the ghosts or the rain. I don't have much data to go on yet, but now that there's a unit of kids in the Village, their teacher will be looking for a project. I'm going to suggest meteorology. I think I'll sneak into the Village and talk to them at breakfast tomorrow."

  "Don't forget to change your coveralls to True Blue," Fynn said with a frown.

  "Don't worry. Twelve kids and their teacher fill a barracks unit, so they have no room for trustees to worm their way in and spread lies."

  ***

  Fynn hovered his flier, ready to dive in if Rica needed rescue as she approached an apparently inert decapod. Lukas and Drew landed close by but well out of the bot's reach if it began moving.

  Rica crept in between two crab-legs, their joints hinged upward so the bot's platform rested on the ground. "Let me know if the arms move."

  "Will do." Fynn drifted around to watch all four arms. The bot remained still as a statue, its arms telescoped closed and folded into grooves in its central column.

  "I've got the panel open," Rica said. "There's a connection port available and this strip fits the space perfectly. I'm sure this is what we're supposed to do. Plug's a little stiff." She grunted. "Got it."

  She kicked off from the bot, leaving the panel open as she floated backward and stuck her landing like a gymnast.

  Sensors on the bot's central column protruded, one arm rotated outward, and it closed the open panel.

  "It should be receiving comms on a suit channel," Rica said. "Decapod One, wave hello."

  The bot's tool wrist rotated back and forth. She pulled a flat pad from her pocket, and after an endless examination spun to face Fynn with a thumbs-up. Fynn landed and was the first to thump her shoulder. Lukas and Drew hopped over to join them.

  "I wish we had a handful of extra cubes," Rica said. "There must be some in the tower. Then I could install a set in the second bot as a backup. But there is an inter-bot comm link, so this should work for both of them."

  "If the new programs are running, shouldn't they scurry to the depot?" Lukas asked.

  "Apparently not. We filled the fuel tanks manually yesterday, so, maybe they know that. I'm not sure what their first task will be." Rica consulted her pad again. "They're running startup diagnostics. But they're smart enough now to accept voice programming. Fynn, what should we tell them to do?"

  Fynn already had an important task in mind. "Decapods, after you complete your diagnostics, check dome tie-downs. Do that task daily from now on. Archive full-spectrum images of each anchor, compare images over the life of the colony, and alert us to any changes."

  "You're fighting the last war," Drew said. "You solved that problem."

  "And it's going to stay solved."

  "They don't walk very fast," Rica said. "Four anchors per dome, four domes, and two bots. I'd guess each inspection will take an hour. Before they start, I want to view the diagnostics and check their maintenance status."

  Fynn bounced on his toes. They could finally control the decapods. He bopped Drew in the chest.

  "Ow. What's that for?"

  "That, buddy, is a thank you for finding the memory cubes."

  "Remind me not to do you another favor. I thought I was gonna get to see a rain shower as a reward. Lukas, when's it gonna rain?"

  "The Herschel's imagers showed a bank of clouds coming our way this morning, though sometimes clouds dissipate before reaching the colony. There's a lot of metrological data I don't have, but we should see our first shower soon. Based on my observations to date..."

  Fynn didn't listen to the rest of Lukas' weather report. He brimmed with energy, and it wasn't just gravity treatments bringing back his muscle tone. Optimism bubbled through him. "I'm getting right outta your way, Rica. And, Lukas, will you stay here in case she needs help? Drew deserves a reward, and since it's not raining, I'll take him to Spiral Bay."

  A problem had been solved, not simply accommodated. Fynn sprang straight up, a chest-high leap, and spun in midair.

  Rica caught one of Fynn's boots and tossed him higher. He spread his arms like a bird and drifted to the ground, laughing.

  ***

  The flight included a lot of detours as Fynn and Drew slalomed along the coast.

  "I haven't seen you this happy since before we were kidnapped," Drew said as Fynn executed a pinwheel spin high overhead.

  Fynn panted out a reply. "Haven't... had a... better day." He didn't waste breath on Drew's claim of being kidnapped. True, neither of them knew about the secret plan to colonize Titan. No one had asked them to volunteer. But they were Kin, children of a barracks unit, raised to follow their leadership.

  His father was gone, but Fynn would prove himself worthy. If he could get a couple more lucky breaks, like Drew finding those cubes, he'd solve their technology problems. The colony would be safe and secure, and then they could build a paradise. Fynn frowned at the word. That was Tanaka's word, but also his father's promise.

  Drew cut the power to his flier and drifted down at an angle. "Hey, look. Wind's blowing me sideways. I don't remember any breeze at all the last time I went flying. Maybe we will see rain."

  They landed at the little bay and searched the edges of the dark sand to find a few spirals.

  "I think we depleted this beach," Fynn said. "We should explore more of the shoreline."

  Drew leaned back on locked knees to gaze straight up. "The sky's dark. Let's not get too far from home."

  "We can hike up the channel into these hills a little ways. Can't get lost that way." The flight hadn't drained Fynn's energy. He wanted to move and hopped to the top of the beach where a channel cut through the first ridge.

  After twisting to see that Drew followed him, Fynn wedged a glove between the rocks and hoisted himself into the narrow channel. Black sand pooled at the base and feathered up the cracks. But these weren't rocks, not like on Earth. Columns of orange ice as thick as his wrist clustered in dense, tilted sheets. Each spear was a separate crystal.

  In a few dozen steps, he reached a smooth floor of sand, a little canyon where the head-high ice rocks were too far apart to touch both sides at once with outstretched arms.

  Drew's panting sounded through comms. He bent over, gloved hands pressed against his knees.

  With one leap, Fynn wobbled on top of the crystalline wall. "Mom's Gravitron treatments must be working. Hey, I see rain above us, I think." Brown streaks in the sky looked like shafts of rain over the lake, but dissipated before they touched the ground. They darkened, and the fuzzy sheet spread wider.

  Fynn held his breath, suppressing the rebreather flow for a moment so he could listen. Something pattered on his hel
met. He held out his hands. Drops striking the gloves evaporated instantly, but the ice at his feet grew shiny. "It's raining."

  Drew spun on the loose sand and headed to the shore. Fynn leaped down, landing in a superhero style crouch, and followed. He clambered up the rocks at the beach again to look over Drew's head.

  Drops pocked the lake with dense fields of tiny, churning craters. The surface brightened despite the dark sky, gradually adding a glow as methane roiled in the storm. Something jostled Fynn. A gust of wind.

  The suit's heating system warmed Fynn's helmet, and the air was only twenty degrees or so below the boiling point of methane to begin with, so no trickles streaked his faceplate.

  Pale flecks rose and merged into a fog that hovered calmly above the rain-roiled lake. The glow looked less like knee-deep fog as they got closer. More like a bubble of bluish film surrounding a clear, hollow core. The ghost slid to the sand with a gentle undulation.

  Drew yelped and scrambled backward. He slipped in the sand and the ghost overlapped his boots. He howled.

  Fynn grabbed Drew's backpack strap and pulled. Thrashing in the sand, they scuttled across the beach until Fynn's back hit the ice ridge. The glow didn't follow. It slid along the shore, partly floating on the lake.

  Gasping, Fynn dropped to his knees and ran hands over Drew's boots. There were no tears or stains, and the tops were still sealed. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He sat up and gripped his legs.

  "What did you scream for?"

  "I was startled, is all. It didn't have time."

  "Time for what?"

  Drew forced a laugh. "I don't know. Time to eat me?"

  Fynn rocked back on his heels and planted fists against his hips. "Why would it eat you?"

  "Yeah, it doesn't know I'm inside here. Maybe it wants to eat the suit. Like swallowing a giant vitamin pill. Metallic compounds are rare, so if it needs to produce biological catalysts, it can't pass up a free meal, except... Hey."