Titan Insurgents

by Kate Rauner

  "I don't know. If the pilots took a vote, Liam would win."

  "Of course, of course. Liam can be Pilot Cohort if you choose. But the station is more than a shuttle dock. It needs its own cohort structure under one commander. Why don't you take my adjuncts up with you to organize things and send Liam and the other pilots down to the domes for a vacation?"

  Evan glanced toward the airlock, and Maliah followed his gaze. The stevedores were rolling away from the door, their limbs folded into their central columns.

  "I'd like some time to think about it." That was an evasive response.

  "No time should be needed. Carpe Diem." Maliah touched her sleeve.

  Shun and Trina leaped from the purple unit and were on Evan in an instant. Maliah hadn't used the young adjuncts much since they'd moved out of the tower, and they'd been eager for this assignment.

  Maliah spun away from the pilot. She was about to own a shuttle, not as a patient, but as a conqueror. As Kin.

  The endless hum of ventilation masked Evan's struggles, and the cohorts were facing away, toward the airlock. They didn't see Evan, only Magnus bounding toward the hatch.

  Evan managed to waggle one forearm loose from the adjuncts' grasp. He waved his sleeve pad and shouted. "You won't get the Hera. I hit emergency recall."

  Scuffling sounded. A lot of feet must be moving to be heard from a distance. With a glance over her shoulder, Maliah swore. From behind the men's barracks, Kin dressed in wild colors flooded out.

  Maliah sprinted to the airlock and pushed through the cohorts in time to see Magnus pounding futilely on the shuttle's closed hatch. Fog leaked around the outer frame, and he bent double, coughing. Fynn dragged him out of the airlock and shoved the door closed.

  Magnus, that fool, had failed again.

  The cold draft billowed around Maliah's knees and then dissipated. While the cohorts stood in helpless confusion, she grabbed her brother's arm. "You planned this."

  He held his arms wide, ready to fight, matching her anger. "No way. This is your show. But I heard the docking clamps release. In all your conniving, have you forgotten the air outside will kill us?"

  She twisted his shoulders toward the barracks. "Have you thought about Evan? He's mine."

  Fynn shook loose and waved to his Mechanics, now surrounding the adjuncts. They were obviously shouting, but too far away to understand. In a confusion of gestures, Evan jumped, and the group ran toward the greenhouse tunnel. Kin shoved their way out of doors along the barracks row, but only a few were willing to break curfew, and they didn't know what was happening.

  Arms spread wide, Maliah howled as Evan and Fynn's Mechanics dodged and disappeared into the tunnel. A pair of trustees slowed as they ran toward the airlock, glanced around for guidance, and stopped well away from her.

  Greta threw her hands up with a howl of her own. "What's going on? There's no reason for this. Are you crazy? Everyone will get time on the station."

  "Not good enough. Not as your patient." Tanaka's words echoed in Maliah's head. To lead is to conquer. Obedience never questions. She spun toward Fynn. "Why were your people here?"

  Fynn planted fists on hips and glared back at her. "Because today's a milestone, an inflection point in your precious schedule. I knew you'd try something."

  Maliah imagined Tanaka standing at her shoulder, whispering words from his journal. There is no defeat when defeat is not admitted. Speak the vision to create reality. She would succeed, but it had to be the way Tanaka intended.

  Today hadn't happen. She pulled Magnus to his feet and spoke through clenched teeth. "The shuttle left exactly as I planned, and Evan is here for a visit. Understand? Tell all our trustees. Anyone who argues can spend the night locked in a prison bin." She turned her back to Fynn and strode across the empty playing field to the tower.

  ***

  Greta sat at her desk in the clinic in the small office that doubled as her private room. One hand balled into a fist, but she needed the other to type. She appreciated her secret link to Liam, but texting was a frustrating way to pursue a discussion.

  You can't refuse. All Kin need weeks onboard to recover from Titan's gravity. She tightened her fist. Her moment of relief, of believing she could implement her treatment plans, was lost with Maliah's foolish attack and Liam's foolish reaction.

  But the space station was bigger than her current patients' needs. It was the future. There'd be no colony without children born in space, born on the station and living there with parents until they were old enough to join a barracks unit. Maybe longer. Every baby would be an experiment. How would half-gravity effect their growth? When could a child tolerate time on Titan's surface? How extensive a stay? How often?

  Greta couldn't crush her fist any tighter, so she flexed it open and rubbed the damp palm on her red-striped sleeve. None of this was her fault, but it was her problem.

  Her own husband hadn't told her that he was secretly designing a colony. That still sent a flush of angry heat through her body, burning into the grief that ached in her joints. The people who'd planned the colony were dead. Or, for those back on Earth, beyond comms, so as good as dead.

  Greta bit a lip, thinking of the children they had with them in the domes. Very little research was available in the cybernet. She'd be happier if she could send them all to the station until their brains were completely developed. That meant until age twenty-five. She might be the medical cohort now, but did she really have any authority?

  She blinked at her pad. Liam had sent a reply.

  Don't want trouble onboard ship.

  The Herschel doesn't belong to you, she typed. It belongs to all Kin.

  Pilots upset. Won't shuttle down.

  It's a well-established route. Orpheus can pilot the shuttle.

  Safety. Must have a pilot when passengers onboard.

  Liam hadn't been reluctant to ignore rules in the past. Greta took a calming breath. You're a pilot. You can pick up the next group of patients if the others won't.

  In the pause, Greta imagined Liam's broad face creased in thought as his text appeared. Need more loads of water before then anyway.

  Maybe a different approach was called for. What are 4 pilots going to do on a station built for 400? We need a sensible solution. What if Evan is returned?

  That would change things.

  She relaxed against her chair back. Fynn could figure something out. I'll work on that.

  Good. I'll ride down with shuttle for next water load - make sure goes right. There was a pause. I don't want a fight. We're all Kin.

  She slid her flat pad into a pocket and left to find Fynn.

  The corridor at the tunnel exit looked the same as always, built of cargo containers stacked high enough to prevent anyone from seeing over and running a quarter way around the dome to the Gravitron. But more bins had been added at the gap where she entered the Mechanics dome, two rows she had to walk between for several paces. Extra warning of anyone's approach, she supposed.

  A full line of barracks, arranged in rainbow sequence, curved beyond a makeshift mess hall. Enough space for six dozen Kin plus unit leaders. Greta hadn't kept track of how many bunked in Fynn's dome, but if twenty percent or so were here, the Mechanics were no longer a few disgruntled individuals. They were becoming a movement.

  She passed a row of waist-high white plastic bins. Burbling distracted her from her mission, and she glanced in each one as she walked by. Algae ponds. Churned by aerators, thick mats pocked with bubbles floated on the surface, as healthy as the ponds in the greenhouse.

  She looked more carefully at cut down bins in front of the yellow barracks unit. Green leaves rose from a pungent sludge.

  Food and physical safety. That's what Fynn was after here. Greta thought of the hierarchy of human needs published in some journal a century ago and still included in textbooks. Food, shelter, and stability were essential. Titan was supposed to be their transcendent paradise, not a way to knock them down to grasping at such basics.

&n
bsp; She shuddered. She couldn't promise paradise, but a little bargaining could help them all.

  Several people rose from a ring of tables to greet her with smiles. Her insistence that medics remain neutral guaranteed a welcome. That and their work together on the Gravitron where Greta made sure to express her honest appreciation. A woman in lemon yellow coveralls hoisted herself up on to the lip of a nearby bin and waved toward the furnaces at the far end of the dome. Apparently, she was seen through the jumble of cargo, because presently Fynn's slender form emerged from behind a pallet of pipes.

  They sat together on a plastic bench. Mechanics hovered at a respectful distance, not intruding but clearly interested. When he heard what she wanted to talk about, Fynn called for someone to fetch Evan from the barracks and waved everyone closer.

  Greta took a deep breath and began. "Evan, if we can get you back to the Herschel, Liam says he'll resume shuttling Kin to the station. What do you think?"

  Evan rubbed his chubby face. "I don't know about taking more Kin up, but I sure would like to get back to the ship."

  "There's an easy way," Fynn said. "Suit up and board a shuttle at the fuel depot."

  "But shuttles rely on a dock's airlock. I'd have to open the back hatch and flood the cargo bay with Titan's atmosphere."

  "No problem. Wear the suit until you reach the Herschel. There's plenty of power in a backpack for the trip. And the command cabin's sealed, right? So a pilot would be safe. Or let Orpheus bring the shuttle down if you're worried."

  "No, you're right. The pilot would be safe." Evan's round cheeks flushed pink. "I've never been in a suit, never been on the surface. Only inside the Hera. I know you go out all the time, but I'm not sure."

  Greta expected Fynn to downplay Evan's fear, but instead he nodded thoughtfully. "How about this. Suppose the Council agrees that Greta keeps control of the passenger lists to ensure there's never more than one or two trustees on each run?"

  Evan frowned. "The Council was at the dock and that didn't stop the adjuncts from jumping me."

  "But we hadn't made a formal decision," Greta said.

  "I don't see how it helps. Why'd Maliah want the pilots down in the domes and her adjuncts running the station?"

  Greta frowned. "Is that what she told you?"

  "Yes, and when I didn't agree, her adjuncts grabbed me."

  "I can honestly say, from a medical perspective, that the pilots need to stay onboard the station. You've all been in zero-g for months and should be spending as much time as possible in the ring. I don't see how Maliah and Magnus can argue against me in a council session."

  "Even if they do," Fynn said, "I'll vote with you. So will Brigit, I bet, and Emily." He ran a hand though his tousled hair. "I don't know about Max. He'll want to support us, but all the trustees are on his crew, so challenging Maliah may be too much for him."

  "Liam will obviously agree," Greta said. "That constitutes a majority. But perhaps I can reinforce our position. I've had dozens of Kin ask me when they can visit the station. Anyone I designate to shuttle up won't let a trustee take their berth."

  Evan leaned forward, elbows on knees, and stared at his clasped hands. "What's happening to us? I was so excited when I started pilot training. We would finally have a world of our own, away from foul influences on Earth, and everything would be different. We'd finally become what Nature intended. If only Tanaka was still alive."

  Fynn stiffened abruptly. He and Greta knew Tanaka was behind Yash's death - her husband and Fynn's father. That was their secret, shared only with Maliah. And Magnus. Greta's own muscles tightened but she kept her face neutral.

  Evan had viewed camera feeds from the domes. Along with the other pilots, he must have seen Kin locked into trash bins for nibbling a spinach leaf or for ducking out of sight for a quick kiss. Seen friendly barracks exercises weirdly morphed into exhausting marathons. But people remember what they want. He seemed about to agree, so this was no time to argue.

  Fynn sensed it too. He whipped out his flat pad and swiped several times. "The dream isn't dead. Look - we're here." He held the pad in Evan's line of sight to display the schedule. "The station is spinning. That's a key survival milestone. And the first group of Kin are onboard. You can keep us moving on... Tanaka's schedule."

  It must have hurt Fynn to give Tanaka credit, but he was being practical. If Tanaka was an inspiration, Maliah shouldn't be the only one to use him.

  Evan nodded with a grim look of determination. Now all Greta had to do was talk to Maliah. It was smarter to avoid surprising her in front of the Council.

  ***

  Maliah escorted the Council of Cohorts to the balcony and watched them descend before returning to the tower room. Magnus waited for her there.

  His gray eyes narrowed. "I assume you aren't planning to turn permanent control of the passenger shuttle over to your mother."

  Maliah was cold as stone inside. "After your failures, you aren't entitled to explanations from me."

  Rather than defend himself, Magnus tilted his head in a short bow. "I should have realized that Kin, even insurgent Kin, are more astute than mongrels were on Earth. But I offer whatever poor insights I still possess."

  "I've consulted with Doctor Tanaka..." She glanced at his desk and quickly back. "With Tanaka's journal. My brother is correct on one point. The key to the colony lies on Titan. On the surface. These domes are necessary to our earthly bodies, but our fate lies beyond such a limited concern. Kin must be conquerors, not petitioners to a medical cohort."

  With that phrase, she pushed her mother away. Greta had weakened her by hanging on to a cottage home for years after she'd joined barracks. The barracks were home. Kin was family.

  "You led me on a timid path, a safe path, by using the airlock. That was your mistake."

  Magnus bowed lower.

  Maliah walked to the pile of surface suits in the corner. "I'll disable one of these beacons, so no one can track you to the fuel depot. Fynn thinks that it's under his control with those decapod robots. You'll seize a shuttle there. I'll send messages to rally the Kin who are already on the space station. They'll join you when you arrive. Then, you are to hold the Herschel's dock until my opponents are subdued, using whatever means are necessary. Remember that no individual is irreplaceable."

  Magnus rubbed his narrow jawline and nodded. "The Herschel is our high ground, so it's the place we must plant your flag. Any Kin unsure of who to follow will fall into ranks once the ship is under your control."

  "Do you want any of the adjuncts to go with you?"

  Magnus pale gray eyes turned to flint. "Let me prove myself. I'll go alone."

  Chap ter 17

  D rew hovered over the snaky-armed robots like a nervous nanny. In half-Earth gravity, they operated like cranes, each suspended from a channel in the lab ceiling by one arm as they maneuvered the cryochamber into place next to a liquid nitrogen generator. Drew had a batch of nitrogen ready to recharge the chamber and preserve its precious load of microbes, but he'd need a constant supply. He checked the equipment again. All the microfilters looked clean and the system's molecular sieve remained light blue. He should be able to manufacture several batches before running a regeneration cycle. The fancy bugs were safe.

  Drew hummed to himself as he worked. The N2 generator was standard lab equipment that he'd used hundreds of times in university. He leaned against a workbench, a smooth black slab topping cabinets of shallow drawers. Phenolic resin for the countertop, as he'd find in any lab on Earth, but probably not real wood underneath. Saving weight must have been a priority, even for a massive ship like the Herschel.

  Drew rubbed the counter with one hand, enjoying the familiar feel. More Kin would be assigned to the station's labs - biology, printing, and medical. Once they shuttled up, they'd live onboard permanently. Lab rats like himself, those were people he ought to get along with well. Maybe the space station would be a lot like university.

  Orpheus spoke in Drew's ear. "The bots have complete
d their task."

  "Great." Drew made shooing motions as they brachiated out the door. Not that they needed to be sent to their next task since it was programmed through the AI, but it made him feel more in-charge.

  A ton of slick-sided containers sat on the benches, waiting for gentle human hands to unpack fragile contents, but he took a moment to celebrate.

  It was hard to celebrate alone. Drew pulled out his flat pad and opened the private text link. Fynn, you around? Can you chat?

  Fynn replied on a suit-to-ship voice channel. "That you vibrating my flat pad, Drew? It's inside my coverall pocket. I'm in a surface suit."

  Drew opened the transmission. "How's the weather today?"

  "Prefect for flying." Fynn sounded pleased with himself. "Take a look through my helmet cam."

  Drew gazed at the usual muddy orange sky. Then he caught a flash of movement, a yellowish reflection off a shiny life support pack. More than one. People overhead, standing upright on fliers.

  "Watch this," Fynn said.

  A figure swan-dived from a flier, and their arms kept expanding and expanding. Wings. They flapped awkwardly a few times and then settled into a glide.

  "Not bad for a first try," Fynn said. "That's one of the kids' school clubs. Aeronautics. They've been assembling wings in the furnace dome. With Ben's help, they're learning to use the welding rig for plastics."

  Drew watched the figure slowly spiral down, flap a few more times, and glide again. "They're allowed to work with you in the lepers' dome?"

  Fynn chuckled. "The teachers haven't been awake for long. They haven't absorbed the trustees' paranoia about Mechanics. We have empty pallets, loads of plastic sheets for materials, and patch kits. The kids act like they're at summer camp and we're their favorite counsellors. I've gotta help collect the wings when they land. What's up?"

  Usually, he and Fynn commiserated. Drew hadn't expected anything to be going well in the domes, not with Evan squirreled away in the Mechanics barracks. He cleared his throat and spoke into his pad. "I'm setting up my lab. You gotta get up here. Gravity is civilized. Food stays on your plate and tea stays in your cup."