“I’ll pass.”
Our arrival terminal was crammed with people from all walks of life. Tall and short, dirty and spotless. Some wore rags, others the poshest outfits imaginable, with heavy makeup in matching hues. Gareth would fit in fine as a homeless wretch.
Venta Co. security officers were everywhere, rifles out instead of shock batons. More patrolled a series of catwalks strung below the vaulted crystalline ceilings where images from more ads blinked. If I had to see one more about the new Pervenio Corp service bot coming to Pervenio Solnet retailers soon, I feared I might snap.
My legs were sore by the time we emerged into the station’s main concourse. Captain Barnes had our escorts fan out to maintain a wide perimeter. The front line pushed aside unarmed civilians with riot shields. If the people of Mars weren’t expecting us before—which I highly doubted—they were now. The pure white of our armor and flesh contrasted with everything. Hateful glares and insults beset us from every direction, some spoken, others held up on holo-signs. My hands squeezed into fists when I spotted one that read: SEND THE DIRTY SKELLIES BACK HOME.
Half of my people drew their firearms and shouted back. Not all of us were as accustomed to Earther swearing as Rin and me, who’d served on mixed-race gas harvesters.
“Weapons down!” I barked. My people instantly obeyed.
“Thank you, Mr. Trass,” Director Yashikawa said. “I do apologize. I can’t believe our citizens would behave this way.” He didn’t deserve a response.
We continued our long slog across the concourse toward a landing pad. It was like plowing through two meters of snow with nothing but a shovel. The Red Wing men locked shields to hold back a swelling wave of protestors. Countless instigators were arrested by patrolling officers for throwing debris at us and our corporate escorts. Drones hovering overhead recorded us, their footage duplicated on news feeds wrapping the mezzanine level. Half of them zoomed in solely on my face.
SELF-PROCLAIMED KING OF TITAN KALE TRASS LANDS ON MARS. FOR PEACE OR WAR? some of the tickers read. THE BUTCHER OF THE RING IS GREETED BY WARRANTED PROTEST, said another. Just a few of the myriad titles they’d given me. King was my personal favorite, especially since I never once actually used the term like they always said I had. As if our revolution was so surprising and unwarranted that the only title its leader could bear had to derive from antiquity.
We reached a landing platform where the rich could navigate the overcrowded city in private hovercars and stay high above the rabble. Public transit through the city’s Redline subway was out of the question for us. Again, the Red Wing officers gave a strong push to provide us passage. By then we were all covered in garbage, even Director Yashikawa, who seemed particularly disgusted. Men like him usually didn’t have to even toss their own trash, let alone wear it.
The platform protruded into the open air of New Beijing’s great dome, which extended high up and away from us and was jam-packed with glassy, ad-covered towers. We were about halfway up the skyline, looking out upon narrow streets below crammed with Earthers. All the plasticrete and metal surfaces bore a reddish tinge from being mined from Mars. Terraced gardens were everywhere, Earthborn plants literally dripping over the facades of buildings. The glass of the dome covering all of it was tinted blue, with its latticed structural members colored white like clouds, as if mimicking the sky of Earth.
A line of Red Wing airships waited above, engines humming. Protestors impeded their ability to land. Director Yashikawa leaned over to address Captain Barnes. “I want those things down immediately!” he demanded.
“You don’t get to boss me around, Yashikawa,” a stone-faced Captain Barnes replied.
Yashikawa drew a hand-terminal. “Do you want me to ask your board?”
The captain muttered something under his breath, then started issuing orders. One by one, his men shoved people out of the way, protestors and the wealthy alike, waiting for their rides. The three transport airships needed to land to carry all of us. Nothing bigger would be able to squeeze between the city’s tightly clustered towers, even toward their tops where they tapered.
“Repent, brothers!” someone shouted.
I spun and saw that the words had come from a withered, middle-aged Three Messiahs Preacher standing by the far railing, wearing a headscarf and with a long, scraggly beard. Layered robes and a white shawl with blue stripes covered his stout Earther body, and he held a hefty worn tome against his chest. His kind always had rosier skin than mine, but his cheeks were flushed so red they were like the surface of Mars. He appeared nauseated as well, even as he spouted his drivel.
“The Three Messiahs warn us of trespassing in the heavens!” he continued. “I beg you all, come home with me, lest we invite God’s judgment once again.”
“Would someone shut that nut up?” Director Yashikawa snapped. A few Red Wing officers tried to reach him, but a throng of civilians had quickly amassed in front of him.
“Every second you remain here reaching beyond the world meant for us is a sin!” The preacher paused to cover his mouth and cough, then went on. “And now you invite the demons from Titan closer to God’s Earth. When our world was purged of sinners, the children of Trass fled His judgment. They are beyond salvation. All who harbor them shall feel the fist of Heaven!”
“Shut him up!” the director shouted.
Watching the officers push their way toward him was laughable. If there was one good thing about our presence on Mars, apparently, it was that it drew the fanatical Church of the Three Messiahs folk that Earther news feeds always complained about all the way to Mars to protest. It was our gracious host’s turn to be derided.
I turned to see how Captain Barnes was progressing on emptying the platform, and out of the corner of my vision, I spotted something that made my heart stop. Lying prone on top of the nearest airship was a Pervenio Cogent agent. Rylah knew about them and had even fended one off back on Titan before helping us infiltrate Pervenio Station.
A skintight uniform with some sort of active camouflage reflected this Cogent’s surroundings so no sharpshooters or drones would spot him, but the lens over his eye that glinted yellow was clearly visible. He had his pulse pistol raised and was lining up a shot—at me.
I froze. The crazed preacher had drawn Rin just far enough away that there’d be no chance of her jumping in front of me to block the first shot. Death had come for me, with all of Sol watching. Another opportunity for Luxarn Pervenio to show the kind of man he really was while he hid.
I’m not sure how much time passed in that moment. A second or two, maybe less, but I closed my eyes, and for the first time in months, my tumultuous thoughts slowed down. I pictured Cora’s beautiful face. I imagined myself free of war, like ashes on the winds of Titan alongside Cora for eternity.
At peace…
An explosion rang out. My instincts returned, and I grabbed Aria to shield her unarmored body just before we were launched across the platform. I rolled off her, ears ringing, vision filled with smoke and blurred figures. My body was numb, but I scrambled to my knees to try and make sense of the bedlam.
The airships banked noisily to the side to escape the blast. People screamed and moaned. Limbs of civilians thrashed from a pile around the preacher. Shreds of his robes and embers danced above his feet, which was all that remained of him.
Aria coughed beneath me, completely safe, thanks to my embrace. Rin wasn’t as lucky. She lay a few feet away, unconscious but breathing. The few Titanborn nearest the preacher were far worse, though the crowd and the line of Red Wing officers surrounding him had fortunately shielded most of my people from the brunt of the blast.
I disregarded all of it. Instead, I anxiously scanned the landing pad for the Cogent. I couldn’t die yet. I couldn’t join Cora’s remains in the sky because her body had been lost to the vacuum. Thanks to Pervenio Corp, Luxarn Pervenio and his corporation had taken everything from me, but he wouldn’t get my life. Anybody but him.
The shimmer of the Cogent’s
eye lens through the haze was impossible to miss. The blast forced him to topple off the airship, and he struggled to gather his bearings. I sprang up and drove my weary legs forward until I was running.
He got one shot off from a few meters away. It glanced off my shoulder plating but wasn’t enough to slow me. I grabbed him by the jaw and, with my powered armor and reignited rage augmenting my muscles, snapped his neck like a twig.
Eight
Malcolm
“Haglin.” Somebody shook my shoulders. “Haglin, wake up.” Another shake came, promptly followed by a slap across my face. That got my eyes open.
A young woman’s face hovered over me, silhouetted by a bright viewscreen overhead. All I could distinguish was the long, curly hair cascading down over her shoulders. “Aria?” I said softly. I reached out, brushed a lock of her hair, and then cupped my palm around her cheek.
“Lǎo wán gù!”
Again, my face was slapped, and the sting snapped my vision into focus. Wai hopped backward, her expression filled with disgust. I shook my head. A screen behind her advertised the new Pervenio service bot. TIRED OF BEING ALONE? it asked. THE PERVENIO SERVICE BOT IS THE FIRST MOBILE ROBOTIC HELPER WITH ADAPTIVE INTELLIGENCE TO LEARN WHAT YOU NEED BEFORE YOU NEED IT. PRE-ORDER YOUR MODEL TODAY. All I could focus on was the damn red-helix logo following me everywhere.
“Oh… Sorry, Wai,” I said.
She fixed her hair and her shirt. I wasn’t used to seeing her outside of her dancer’s garb. A crummy parka covered her down to her knees, stained with grime and who knows what else from the sewers. I was glad I was too hungover to catch a whiff of it.
“Good dream, eh?” she asked. “Who’s Aria? Some old fling from your secret life?”
My initial chuckle transitioned to a groan quickly. My head rang like someone had shoved a bell in my skull and kept bashing it. “Something like that,” I groaned. “What time is it?”
“Time to get you cleaned up before Yan Ning has a heart attack.”
She extended a hand. I took it and went to sit up, but pain wrenched my side and caused me to wince. I reached for a cluster of sore ribs, realizing that my knuckles were scraped and bloody. Had I been in a brawl? That’s right; those uppity collectors who had the nerve not to recognize me.
I rolled over and realized we were in the garbage alley behind the Twilight Sun. I recognized it by the neon sign at the corner with half the letters unlit. My pants were soaking wet, and as much as I wanted to tell myself it was just beer, I knew the answer before I smelled it. I’d pissed myself. The sensation in my damaged lower body was strained enough while I was sober. Being loaded up as much as I was had apparently caused my bladder to lose control.
What a picture I must have painted. Former veteran collector for Pervenio Corp, and apparent confidant of Luxarn Pervenio himself, waking up in an alley covered in my own piss and blood.
Wai knelt and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “C’mon, lǎo tóuzi. Let’s get you up.” She strained her weak offworlder muscles to help me, and eventually, I mustered the energy to beg my artificial leg to provide one final push. My other leg shook as I leaned against the wall and spit out whatever wretched taste the night had left in my mouth. My lip stung from a fresh cut.
“Your shower is already warmed up for you,” she said. “C’mon, I’ll help you.”
“I can do it myself.”
“Like hell you can.” She wrapped her arm even further around me and guided me toward the rusty stairs leading up to my apartment. I’d never felt so hungover in my entire life. Every liver-spotted part of me wanted to fall off and be done with it. Find a new body to latch on to.
The stairs were brutal. I could tell my weight was crushing Wai, even though she did her best not to show it. At the top, we both had to lean on the railing to catch our breath.
“Why are you helping me, girl?” I panted.
“I have no idea.” She shrugged then grinned impishly. “Because I like you, lǎo tóuzi. You’re the first friend I’ve made up here who wasn’t my boss or just there for a show.”
“Friend.” I sighed. I glanced over at her, unable to force myself to return a smile. I liked her too. She was strong, even if she didn’t realize it. Anyone who grew up in the sewers and still managed to emerge with a shred of charm ought to be. She was better than the life she had at the Twilight Sun. A dancer for now, sure, but once her looks faded, the streets would call to her.
She deserved better than that. Better than me for a friend. Of the last two people I’d let get close to me, one was in a coma he’d never wake from by my hand, and the other was a daughter I’d chased so far away she joined up with terrorists.
Wai opened my door and went to help me again, but I brushed her off me, purposely throwing my Earther strength into the motion so she’d stagger.
“I can take it from here, dammit!” I growled.
“Cào!” she yelped. “Fine, lǎo tóuzi, I won’t touch you.”
She hurried in and flopped onto the patchwork of fabrics I had for a couch. I followed her inside, slowly. The place was a dump. Tarnished finishes, furniture all beaten to death. Most of the tiles on the floor were cracked or missing. It was my first permanent home since growing up in a clan-family back on Earth, and it was all I had to show for a lifetime of hard labor. There wasn’t even a single picture on the wall or memento on a table, like I’d materialized out of nowhere.
“Now I believe you owe me a story about who you really are,” Wai said.
I leaned on the armrest right next to her, panting. “Trust me, girl. It’s a sad tale. You don’t want to hear it.”
“You know I love a tearjerker.”
“Not this one.”
“Oh, qǐng, lǎo tóuzi!” She clasped my bloody knuckles. “I’ve known you long enough, Mr. Shénmi. Mysterious man. I won’t tell a soul.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do than pester an old man?”
She put on a wicked grin. “Not a thing. At least tell me how you got that gāo kējì leg.”
She leaned forward and started brushing the dirt off the pants leg on my artificial side. She didn’t care that it was stained with urine, as if she were my live-in nurse. In fact, she didn’t seem to care about anything. She treated my tiny piece-of-crap apartment like it was a palace. Like it was better than anything she could ever get outside the sewers. Help her, Malcolm, my brain told me. Drive her far away from this place and from you.
I pushed her hand away. “Do you really want to know who I am?” I asked. “I was a corporate collector, for too long. Made a living hunting down sewer rats like you who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”
She winced. She recovered quickly, but I could tell my words hit her where it counted. “All right, lǎo tóuzi,” she said. “I’m sorry I asked.”
“No, you’re not. Girls like you, they just can’t help it. See a broken-down man like me and see just how far they can put him over without putting out.”
Her pretty face contorted even more this time. “I… that’s not true. You told me to stay here any time I wanted.”
“Yeah. You think I did that just so that I could have the joy of you helping me up the stairs every night?”
She stood and skirted around me to get to my coffee table. She picked up a half-drunk glass of murky water from a night earlier and held it out for me. “I don’t know what kind of poison yàowù you took last night, but maybe you should take a nap. You’re acting loopy.”
I smacked the glass into the wall. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me! I don’t need the help of some two-bit sewer bitch who can barely dance!”
Her lower lip quivered. Tears started to well in the corners of her eyes. I didn’t back down. I couldn’t. The worst hangover I’d had in years helped my tone seem genuine. She attempted to respond, but I didn’t give her the opportunity.
“Now, unless you’re going to come in and help me shower, I don’t understand why you’re still here,” I said. “Or di
d you think I was kind to you for another reason? Friends… down here, all you’re worth is a dying man covered in piss, gir—”
A powerful slap across my face stopped me mid-word. She meant it, and despite her weak offworlder muscles, she made it sting. Tears rolled from her eyes, and she glowered at me for a few seconds before hurrying toward the exit without a word. I watched her the whole way.
She stopped for a moment in the opening, as if waiting for an apology. A sudden onset of nausea ensured I didn’t do anything stupid like that. I liked her too much to let her waste her life clinging to a crummy gig all because she viewed the bouncer like a father she never had down in the sewers. She was better off driven far away.
She slammed the door. I leaned over the armrest and vomited the contents of a night I’d never remember all over my floor.
I was a half hour late for the Twilight Sun’s opening. About the time I usually strolled in, and nobody seemed to care, but on the day Kale Trass was coming to Mars, Yan Ning pretended he did. He laid into me loud enough for all the kitchen and server staff to hear. I nodded without really listening, instead staring at the barren stage. Wai hadn’t come in. She hadn’t messaged sick or about an emergency either. I was glad. Maybe my little outburst was the final push she needed to seek out something better than the dump where I’d decided to hang up my gun.
“Haglin, are you listening to me?” Yan Ning shoved a fat, hairy finger into my chest, and he was an Earther, so I felt it.
“Yep,” I lied.
“Good. And no drinking on the job today. I mean it.”
“Sure thing, boss.” I surveyed the room. A few patrons sat at the bar, eyes glued to the viewscreens. One couple sat at a corner booth eating what passed for lunch in the place. “I wouldn’t want to scare off all of the customers.”
Yan Ning’s cheeks flushed a hot shade of red. “Just get to work. The Ringers are arriving soon, and people are coming from all over Mars. And where the hell is Wai!”
Titan's Rise: (Children of Titan Book 3) Page 11
