Hot Day on Titan

by Bonnie Milani

  Hot Day on Titan

  Bonnie Milani

  Hot Day on Titan

  Copyright © 2017 Bonnie Milani

  All rights reserved. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in

  any manner whatsoever with the express written permission of the publisher except for the

  use of quotations.

  For information, contact Bonnie Milani at https://homeworldthenovel.wordpress.com/

  This story originally appeared in the Visions II: Moons of Saturn anthology published by

  Lillicat Publishers, edited by Carrol Fix. It is published here with the publishers’

  permission.

  Cover art by pro_ebookcovers

  Published in the United States of America

  Green lightning splashed electric arcs across the habitat shield of Dushara Research Center. From the low-lying hills opposite, ex-hero Gerard Rutgers watched the bolts’ lacy reflections dance along Kraken Mare’s methane surface. Storm wind punched an opening in the orange smog that was Titan’s atmosphere and for a moment, Saturn’s vast face filled the sky above the glittering blue towers.

  Just waiting, Rutgers thought. Just waiting for him to foul this chance, too. Well, there’d be no mistakes, not this time. Katrina was definitely here. Bitch had no choice, what with half the Commonwealth Council en route to meet her. Coming to talk peace. The buzz of his comm line broke the bitterness in that thought. He glanced at the ID: ops reporting. “Yeah, what is it?”

  Static crackled. Mama Bird’s just dropped out of Jump, Commander.

  Scrat it! Sonuvatichin’ peaceniks were ahead of schedule. The goddamned peace talks weren’t supposed to start till tomorrow, Titan-time.

  His duty officer waited to let Rutgers finish swearing. Orders?

  “Yeah. Tell the men to suit up.” If he couldn’t go in quiet, then he’d go in loud. He turned to pick his way down the rock. A movement at the corner of his vision stopped him. Something had just rippled Dushara’s shield. Dropping to a crouch, Rutgers snapped scanner lenses down on his face plate and squinted over the hilltop. There it was again, clearer through the lenses: a smoky gray cloud rolling down the slope just outside of the shield. As he watched the cloud unfurled into a long, low coil and began rolling toward them.

  Chon’s tentative footsteps crunched up behind him. “Hey, Rut? Why’d you tell the men to gear up? We don’t have Kerrar’s report.”

  “Your Dog’s late.”

  “Takes time to scout a passage, even in a civvie complex.” Comm carried him the hissing sound of Chon trying uselessly to blow warmth into his hands through the protective folds of his suit.

  “How hard can it be? It’s not like those idiot peaceniks got weapons systems.”

  “Don’t need ‘em. They got Titan.”

  “Yeah, and we wait any longer, Titan’s going to have us.” Rutgers caught himself stamping, trying to work some of the cold out of his suited feet. In pure vacuum, neither Titan’s methane atmosphere nor its minus two hundred degree cold would challenge his armor’s support system. But ground contact was a whole ‘nother level of trouble. The frozen rock sucked heat out through their soles, drove the cold up their legs till it frosted their suits’ receptors. “You see that smoke?” Rutgers leaned aside to give his partner a view past his shoulder.

  Kneeling, Chon studied the advancing cloud. Within the clear patch of his face plate dense white hair poked out of his insulation cap, framing his face in cottony curls. The sight made Rutgers’ own curls itch. “Must be the geyser venting. They’re sitting on the closest thing to a geothermic vent this ice ball’s got, after all. Even steam freezes when it hits atmosphere.”

  “Yeah, only this ain’t freezin’. And those scrattin’ peaceniks just dropped out of Jump twenty hours early.” Rutgers forced his voice to stay level. Chon was his ticket off the Den Cavis shit pile. Chon was as deep in that fiasco as himself. Difference was, Chon still had contacts, even among those Lupan Dogs. More importantly, he had contacts who wanted Katrina dead. He owed the man a minute or two more. At least until his team was suited up.

  He twitched comm on. “Ops – what’s ETA on Mother Bird?

  They just started bleeding off Jump velocity. It’s a civvie ship – gonna take ‘em another ten-twelve hours.

  Time enough. He’d have Katrina’s head in a bag and be long gone in ten hours. Wind from the distant storm whistled past, cutting a momentary opening in Titan’s smoggy cloud cover. Rutgers glanced up, caught a glimpse of Saturn’s terrifying vastness filling the sky before the orange smog closed up again. He twitched his send line open. “Ops, pass the word: I want everybody out here in ten. We’re going in.”

  Got it. His ops officer, at least, had the balls to sound relieved.

  “How do you plan on getting in without Kerrar?” Chon again, still studying the distant smoke.

  “Knock on the scrattin’ door,” Rutgers snarled. He twitched comm back on. “And tell the demo team to pack their gear. We’re going to blow the habitat shield.”

  Yessir.

  “Are you crazy?” Chon grabbed at his arm forcing Rutgers to jerk aside. In Titan’s barely-there gravity even that slight jerk bounced him across the rocks. “You blow the shield you’ll kill every living thing in Dushara.”

  “Yeah. Going to put a real dent in the peace talks, ain’t it?”

  “Going to put a dent in more’n that. What’re you aiming for – another Den Cavis?”

  Rutgers nudged up his suit’s ballast limit, shook Chon’s arm off in disgust. If he’d got Katrina then, nobody would’ve cared that he’d killed off a whole Lupan colony. She was the Lupans’ brains, the mastermind behind their victories. Only she hadn’t been there. So he’d wound up handing the Lupans a new battle cry, one Katrina had driven straight into the heart of the Commonwealth itself. One scrattin’ mistake. One goddamn miserable, scrattin’ mistake and he’d wound up a monster instead of a hero. Not again. Rutgers shouldered past Chon. “I’m through waitin’ on your pet Dog. We’re moving out.”

  “Wait…”

  Ice crunched on the slope below. It was an easy, loping stride, not the ice-wary pace of a human trooper. Rutgers turned to scowl at the newcomer. He chose not to notice the way the Lupan’s wolfish ears flattened above amber eyes. And the fool peaceniks called him a monster! Technically, Lupans were just genetically engineered humans. He knew that. But, hell, he couldn’t even tell what sex the damned thing was without checking between its legs. He’d refused to lower himself to asking, settled for calling the creature an ‘it’.

  Fido flipped him off with an ear, added something to Chon in its own ruffing lingo. Dog didn’t know how lucky it was. If Chon hadn’t vouched for it, Rutgers would’ve already put a laser bolt through its helmet. But Chon had spent a year as one of Katrina’s personal prisoners; he had his own reasons for hating Katrina. You could rely on hatred. It was almost as powerful as greed. So he simply shouldered past the Dog. “Too late, Fido. We’re out of here.”

  Fido swiveled with him. Through its face plate its eyes turned Saturn-glow into a feral gleam. “See smoke, flat tooth?”

  Rutgers flicked a glance lengthwise at Dushara. Whatever it was, that gray mass was steadily shortening the distance between them. The sight of it prickled the hairs along the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

  “Troop screen. Katrina’s troops.” The Dog peeled lips back to give Rutgers a good look at those fangs.

  Chon grabbed Rutgers’ arm, eyes gone suddenly fearful. “Katrina knows we’re here? Damn it, Rut, let’s cut, now, while we can. We can’t stand against Lupan warriors, not mano a mano. No human-only can. Believe me, I know-”

  “Yeah? And how far do I run, with a forty mil credit bounty on my head
?” The man’s terror made Rutgers’ teeth grate. He pushed past the Dog to wave his men into line then twitched on comm. “Ops, you got a wolf pack coming in. Once we’re off open your gun ports. Fire at will.”

  “Got it. We’ll scrub ‘em for you, Commander.”

  “You better. I don’t want any survivors.” Rutgers twitched the line off, stepped around Fido to meet the men clumping toward him. “Chon, you and Fido wait here.”

  “But…” Chon’s eyes went wide.

  Rutgers cut his sputter off. “I don’t need your Dog to blow that shield. You just keep Fido away from its buddies, got that? Otherwise it gets wiped with the rest of ‘em.” He started to step out. And realized he wasn’t moving. Red flashed at the corner of his vision: pressure alarm. Turning his head, he made out the line of Fido’s hand gripping his shoulder. “You got something to say, pup?”

  The Dog released him, pointed toward the gulley winding down from Dushara’s highlands to the methane sea of Kraken Mare in the distance. “You want quiet way in. I find. No need blow shield.”

  Rutgers studied the path a moment, weighing the odds of ambush. But Chon vouched for the Dog. And Chon had his own forty mil reasons to be sure. “Okay, so we take you after all. Chon - back you go.” He jerked a thumb toward the ship.

  “But…”

  “I need somebody to guard my back.”

  Chon opened his mouth to argue. He thought better of it and trudged off. Rutgers kept an eye on his back while the column of men queued up.

  Beside him Fido shook its head. “Too many. No good.”

  “Not your call, pup. You just show us the way in.” He nodded for Fido to move out. Motioning his men to follow, he stepped out after the Lupan.

  Half a klick in the gully curved left, angling upward toward the back of the massive complex looming above. Dushara’s brilliant spires raised blue reflections off the farther wall, putting the nearer wall in deep shadow. The cold in the shadows pushed absolute zero. Through comm he heard the others’ teeth chattering over the whine of his suit’s stressed heater. Muttered curses interspersed the chatter as men lurched for balance on the rounded stone littering the frozen ground. More than once a turned ankle careened Rutgers into a rock wall. Good thing the walls were worn smooth. He refused to think what jagged edges could have done to his suit. Or what a team of snipers could do up on those ledges. Damn, what if Fido…Rutgers shut the suspicion down, hard. He was out of options.

  Light flared as they rounded a bend in the gully. Ahead, the path branched off into a Y. Dushara loomed directly above the break. Aeon-ancient ice along its rim caught the towers’ gleam, limning black rock in blue glare. Rutgers let out a breath, got a nose full of stink. Another sign of suit-strain - his filters should have damped body smells instantly. He called up diagnostics and swore. The power reading was already yellow and sinking toward orange. Another hour, hour point five, then he’d be just one more frozen Titan rock. He flicked diags off and focused on the path ahead.

  To the left, the path angled steeply up into the shadows at Dushara’s back. Be a tough climb, in dark all the way from the looks of it. The right hand split, though - immediately past the Y, that branch widened, rising in a gentle slope to curve around the complex. Ice glitter along the gully rim gave light enough for him to make out rough step works. Easy option. Too easy. Ignoring Fido’s fidgety nudge, he motioned his men up the left side of the Y. He waited long enough to make sure they were clear before he backed around Fido to follow them.

  “No.” The Dog shoved him toward the right fork.

  Rutgers shoved back. “I’m not arguing with you, Fido.” He jabbed a finger toward the right-hand fork. “If Katrina’s got an ambush planned, that’s where it’ll be. Right where we think we’re safe.”

  He wasn’t surprised when Fido refused to follow. The surprise came when Fido yanked him off his feet and bounded up the right hand fork. The Dog had him six meters up the stairs before Rutgers’ boots found the ground again. He yanked free, started to bounce back down. And felt the temblor rumbling beneath them.

  A heavy barrier rose out of the gully floor, blocking the fork. Through comm he picked up the sudden frantic chatter of the four men bringing up the rear. Tracking the chatter, Rutgers spotted a gray mist in the high distance above. A moment later crystalized methane rained ice balls onto Rutgers’ helmet. Desperate, Rutgers grabbed Fido’s arm, shoved the Dog at the barrier. “Get that thing down! Now!”

  “No can. Is geyser flush.” It swept an arm toward the path ahead. “This run-off channel. Let geyser stuff run down to Kraken Mare. That-” it swung the arm around to point at the barrier – “heat shield.”

  “Scrat the damned shield! I need those men!” In horror Rutgers pounded on the barrier. “C’mon, climb the scrattin’ walls!” he thundered.

  They were trying. Comm fed him scrabbling noises, the sound of blunt-fingered suits trying to claw up the far side of the barrier. Comm chatter turned to screams as the run-off thundered down the other branch of the channel. Rutgers slapped hands across his helmet in a futile effort to shut out the agonized howls as suits exploded in the rush of volcanic slush.

  The rumble faded. Rutgers jumped as the ground trembled again, but it was only the barrier dropping back into the gully floor. For a moment Rutgers could only stare at the emptiness, feeling its echo in his gut. He’d seen so many ugly deaths. That was the break of the draw, the risk they all took. He whirled at the sudden pressure on his shoulder. With a start he realized it was Fido’s hand.

  “Tell you too many. You no listen.” Impossible to tell through the static whether Fido was offering consolation or criticism. “Not safe here, either,” the Dog added. “This sewer drain. Few more minute, they flush this, too.”

  “Shit!”

  “Hot shit.” Fido actually grinned.

  Nothing for it now, then, but to sprint. And hope that whatever way in Fido’d found was close. With a growl of his own, he jogged past Fido and up the stairs.

  A few meters past the Y, the stairs curved left. The gully deepened to a ravine as the rise turned steeper. Even through the multiple insulation layers in his suit boots Rutgers’ feet numbed, making footing treacherous. Ice sparkled on his gun arm where the Dushara’s blue light shone through the occasional break in the rock wall. Rutgers listened to the whine in his suit’s heater and tried not to think about the deadly red-shift in his power readings.

  A frozen eternity later the staircase curved back toward the complex. Power thrummed up through his boots here. Looking up, Rutgers made out the soft haze where the habitat shield met the rock. The thrum turned deeper, deadlier. Squinting against Dushara’s glare he made out a brownish mist erupting out of the tower base. They’d flushed the sewers.

  “Here!” Fido was already clambering up a set of maintenance holds toward a ledge above. Rutgers scrambled up the near-vertical climb after him. The rumble strengthened till it threatened to shake Rutgers’ grip off every icy hold. He was still one hold shy of the ledge when the maelstrom thundered into them.

  The lip of the ledge shunted the deadly stream away from Fido. Rutgers, clinging to the handholds below, could only plaster himself against the rocky wall. Lumpy yellow-brown liquid spattered the rocks a meter from his face patch, flash-froze into steel hard pellets where it hit Titan’s atmosphere. Frozen bits of Dusharan shit ricocheted off his helmet, shrieked down his body to pepper his boots. In rising horror, Rutgers felt the inexorable pressure slowly pry his fingers off the hand hold. Desperate, he scrabbled a toe hold on the wall, strained up against the gale.

  And then the blast was…gone. Rutgers’ straining muscles slingshot him over Fido’s head. Reflexes honed in a hundred battles rolled him onto his side, locked his fingers around the top most handhold. Sidelong he saw Fido’s burly shape dive past him. Too far. Scrabbling desperately, the Dog shot out toward the chasm below.

  Rutgers twisted to catch its boot. The muscles in his back and arm snapped taut as he took Fido’s full weight
. He heard the scrape of suit on rock, held on until Fido pulled itself back onto the ledge and levered to its knees.

  “Damn you.” The Dog was still gasping but its voice shook with hatred.

  “Yeah, well thanks to you, too, pup.” He was personally going to overhaul his suit’s translator when this was over, Rutgers decided. For a moment there, Fido sounded truly human.

  The Dog jerked to its feet, fists balled at its sides, ears flat. “Why? Why save me?”

  “Just habit, okay? I’ve never yet let a…” Rutgers snapped his jaws shut. He’d almost said ‘friend’. “Just forget it.”

  “Can’t. Owe you.” Fido extended its hand. No mistaking the effort the gesture cost it.

  Rutgers batted the Dog’s paw aside. “You don’t owe me anything, got that? Be a hot day on Titan before I need a Dog’s favors.”

  “No claim, then? No debt?”

  “Hell, no. Now if you’re breathing again, let’s get going. We don’t have time to chatter.”

  Fido twitched its nose at him, yellow eyes narrowing. With an uhf it dropped its paw and turned back to the path.

  Far down the gully a miniature sun flared, spreading an oddly cheerful yellow glow across the habitat shield. Rutgers glanced back in satisfaction. That was the end of Katrina’s troops. Even Lupan armor couldn’t survive a direct blast from his ship’s guns. The flare bloomed, wiping out even the green flash of the lightning storm. Damn, those Dogs must’ve been packing some hellish armament to raise a blast like that. He doubted the civvies running Dushara would spot the flare in this storm. But if that delegate ship had a military escort... “How long till they flush again?”

  Fido shrugged. “Thirty minutes.”

  Tight, but time enough. With a grunt, Rutgers motioned the other to follow.

  Dushara’s glitter turned to glare without the shield’s softening filter. Harsh light stretched his shadow across the rocks. Scattered blue reflections turned the cess pit below them into a thing of glittering beauty. The temperature was rising fast, now. Readings showed outside temps were just cold enough to keep the ice solid. He fought down the urge to pop his face mask. Atmosphere was breathable, here – if you wanted to breathe cess pit air. Damned straight the Dusharans kept this area cold; place would stink clear out to Saturn if it ever thawed.