Titan: A Science Fiction Horror Adventure (NecroVerse Book 3)

by Aaron Bunce

  Jacoby descended two rungs before a glimmer of light and movement in the galley caught his eye. A ghostly figure walked out of the shower room, but he froze with his foot hovering between rungs. It was Erik–the telltale thin frame and mousy hair giving him away even in the Betty’s poor light.

  “Like…that,” he stammered, struggling to tear his eyes away. “Why am I seeing things like that?”

  The young tech walked right by Shane without the big man noticing, and past the ladder well. Jacoby watched him go by, his face screwed up and puckered, his shoulders and posture tight. A pile of equipment sat in his arms; the ghostly outline of small, blocky modular devices stacked clear up to his chin.

  “Yeah, that is…that is,” Poole stammered. “Ugh, that is definitely a thing.”

  It wasn’t his appearance that surprised Jacoby, or the scowl on his face, but the fact that Erik—the real, flesh and blood version—was not there. There was only the ghostly, glowing form. He moved right by without noticing Jacoby, perched like a groundhog in the ladder well. Then he disappeared into the aft maintenance passage, a distant breath of wind and the whine of hydraulics accompanying his departure. The doors never moved. Why? What did it mean?

  “A thing? Is that all you have to say?”

  “Yessss?” Poole said, drawing out the word, and then promptly blinked out of sight.

  “So…helpful!” Jacoby growled. He closed his eyes for a moment, then, cursing between every painful, head-thumping beat of his heart, descended the rest of the ladder and stepped off. He turned, taking in half the mostly darkened hold before a form jumped out of the shadows to his left and knocked him back.

  Soraya’s strong arms lashed around him, her strength alone keeping him from falling over. She turned in a circle, squeezing and lifting him up, as if they were dancing. The room spun around him, the two working spotlights striping the room with light and almost immediately making him dizzy.

  “Damn, Coby, you have no idea how glad I am to see you alive,” Soraya said, and finally stopped to put him down. Jacoby’s feet hit the ground, and to his horror, the room continued to spin.

  “Thanks,” he grunted, staggering to the side. Poole flickered into view just a few feet away, his legs wobbly as he too fought for stability.

  “Dude, no more of that nonsense, or I might just yak all over the inside of Jacky-Boy’s brainpan. Eww. Ugh.”

  “Wow, you both look like the south end of a northbound goat.”

  “We’re just lucky to be graced with captain unhelpful-pants’ presence over here,” Jacoby quipped.

  “Did anyone get the plate number off that bus? Because it ran us over and just kept going!”

  “I think it was a train,” Soraya said.

  “You might be right, corn cakes.”

  “I can’t lie. When you went down, Coby, I had this feeling that was it for all of us. You may not want to hear it, because I know you don’t think you’re a leader, but you’ve been the glue holding our little ragtag group together,” Soraya said, coming forward to hug him again. He watched her ghostly outline as she pulled away, but it hugged her form perfectly.

  “He’s blind to common sense stuff like that, my darling. But when his head isn’t filled with simpleton stuff like ‘scratch balls’, or ‘ug, pick nose’, he’s actually got some rather good ideas.”

  “Better than you,” Jacoby said, “at least I don’t pretend to be this all-knowing super intelligent being and then just disappear when I can’t answer the ‘difficult’ questions.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Honestly. All I hear is–click, grunt, click, grunt.”

  “Why are you down here when everyone else is up there?” Jacoby asked, turning back to Soraya.

  “Are you kidding, have you met the people up there? With you out of commission, it’s turned into the wild west…just with less guns and prostitutes. Shane started out good, but…”

  “But?”

  “I don’t want to say he cracked, but as soon as you went down, Erik really started to freak out. Every time Shane tried to get him on board or strategize, the kid would find something to argue or yell about. It wasn’t just him, though. Shane started out good, patient, but after a day or two he just snapped and started yelling back. Then he started hitting things. They yelled and threw things for a while, then just stopped. The fighting was bad, but I think the quiet was worse. We tried to work around it…most of us. But couldn’t seem to get everyone to agree to anything. It’s toxic now. Plus, I…” Soraya stalled, her expression tightening.

  “You?”

  She smiled, but Jacoby could tell something was lurking beneath it. Something eating away at her from the inside. He knew the feeling well enough.

  “Right after it all happened. Lana was in bad shape. I thought she was going to die. I couldn’t see past that moment–hanging on that damned well,” she grunted, and pointed behind him to the dark ladder, “Lana was just hanging there, counting on me, and I wasn’t strong enough to keep her safe. I had to leverage her life against everyone on board. I hated it–the logic, the situation in general, whatever put us in that position. So, when we were all standing there and they wanted Anna to put her hand on her, I lost my cool and hit her, Coby. I hit Anna right in the face. Jesus, I didn’t mean to. I’m not like that. It’s just…”

  “Things were falling apart. It was chaos. We do bad things, things we regret in moments like that.”

  Soraya snarled, turned, punching the air in a dizzying flash of blurred, silvery fists. “I know, but she was hurt, Emiko was hurt, everyone was hurt…even you. I fell apart…reacted like a fool when this crew needed me most.”

  Jacoby watched her for a moment, the silver ring in her eyes shining through the shadows covering her face. He understood her anger, the frustration. Yes, she was pissed about the A.I., the state of the Betty, and everyone else’s apparent inability to work together. But she was more frustrated with herself, the momentary lapse in control.

  “Have you talked with her since?”

  “Damnit, Coby. I know you all think I’m this pushy, never back down, no filter, type, but I hate confrontation! I hate it more than anything. Even when things got rocky in my marriage, right before we came out here, I’d avoid the issue just so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. The silence was okay at first, but it eventually became deafening. I can’t lie, I’ve started looking at the airlock down here and wondering if it wouldn’t be a preferable solution.”

  “Please don’t do that,” Jacoby sighed. “Anna is definitely more comfortable with confrontations than I am. Shit, I avoided telling her about re-upping my contract, and I wasn’t even sure why. She didn’t hate it on Hyde, so it’s not like she would have said no. Then she found out and we fought about it–not the contract, but me not telling her. I tried avoiding her again after I cracked that rock and got myself infected, because I couldn’t seem to avoid making stupid decisions. Funny, huh? I made another stupid decision because I was afraid of making stupid decisions. Yeah, I ran into the bathroom and shut the door. I thought she was going to tear it down and drag me out.”

  “What is it with bathrooms? When Preston and I would fight, that’s where I would go, too,” she said, finally cracking a smile.

  “But I understand. Every time I would hold something back, the silence seemed to get louder. Maybe you should track her down and say something before the silence becomes too much.”

  “I want to, but…”

  “It’s not that I want to be pushy. Trust me. But rip that band aid off now. I need your help and we don’t have a whole lot of time.”

  Soraya turned fully to him, her arms crossing over her chest. Her eyes closed a bit, too, and he immediately worried that he was too blunt.

  “What do you need my help with?”

  Jacoby broke it down as best he could, paraphrasing over what she already knew, and adopting a much more upbeat tone with his plan. To her credit, she listened, nodding through bits and half-turning away du
ring others. When he finished, an uncomfortable silence swept into the small hold.

  Poole was gone again, and Jacoby suddenly wondered if the strange alien creature living in his brain and the odd, ghostly outlines he’d started seeing were connected. Was it a symptom of their shared damage upstairs?

  “Damn,” Soraya breathed, her breath fogging the air.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, after she went quiet again. “Lex said it would be a hard sell. But I can’t see any other way around this. Not with the time we have left or the tools at our disposal. I can’t believe I’m going to quote my father, but he used to say, ‘sometimes we got to eat the crap sandwich when nothing better is available’.”

  “Okay, that’s gross. But Lex doesn’t beat around the bush, and she’s not joking. Okay, I’m just going to come right out and say it. I don’t love it. I’ve worked with people enough to know that they don’t turn around and reconcile as quickly as you need. And people in turmoil rarely do good work. Just out of curiosity, what is your plan B?”

  “I’m still chewing on that one, but I can tell you that you’ll hate it,” Jacoby said. And he knew she would. Hell, everyone on board would hate it, because he felt dirty just thinking about it. How crazy would they think he was if he told them that part of him wanted to reconnect the ship’s NavCom system to let Poole’s runaway artificial intelligence handle their descent to Titan? Jacoby didn’t need Poole’s sarcastic ass to answer that question. They would think he’d lost his mind. The rest of it, at least.

  “Okay, I’m getting a sense of what you’re thinking, but our connections have felt really weak lately. If what I’m gathering is true, they’ll throw you out an airlock.”

  “That seems a little harsh.”

  “That’s just it, Coby. They’re not thinking about the plan anymore, not as it stood when we first pulsed away from Hyde. You and me, we’re thinking about getting someplace with a powerful transmitter to get word out about Hyde. Especially if there are infected people on those freighters. The way things are looking now, with no computers for guidance and data, we’re way more likely to mess up our entry sequence and burn up trying to get down there. Erik and Lana are smart, they’re good at what they do, but they aren’t talking or working together. There is too much conflict and tension and it’s going to get in the way. Our value lies in getting our message to Earth or the Lunar Colony before it is too late. Their value lies in survival at all cost.”

  Jacoby shook his head. “It’s weird, isn’t it, that talking and reasoning to an invasive, alien artificial intelligence might just be easier than bringing a bunch of people with shared interests together?”

  “I’m not a coder, but yeah, I think that is the gist of it,” Soraya said, smiling without humor.

  “We have a short-range radio receiver on the Betty used for communication with miners as they set anchors. Anna believes we should be able to scan for this Russian Federation’s beacon. If we find it, great. That means there are people down there maintaining the place. Or at least there is a good chance there is. If we could use it, the navigational computer could lock in on that signal for guidance and triangulate entry parameters and everything. Without it, it’s up to Erik and Lana. But if there is no beacon, then we just have questions. Does descending mean the destruction of the ship and everything on board? I mean, it is a long shot, but with the right information, maybe we can negotiate with this A.I. Poole created. Maybe if we can keep him from disappearing long enough, he can help. Does it sound crazy? Tell me it sounds crazy. Best case scenario, it helps, and we improve our odds of getting down there safely. Worst case, we have to shut it down again and we’re no better or worse than right now.”

  “Crazy? Yes. But any crazier than those things that tried to tear us apart back on Hyde? Or the invisible egomaniac living in your head? I’d gamble on it, but to be safe, I’d keep it to yourself for right now. Even with no beacon, Erik, and Shane, maybe Lana, they’ll turn on you. Let’s take this slow and see if we can’t get everyone working together again. Have you told anyone else about your idea to reconnect the NavCom?”

  “No. Just you.”

  “Okay, let’s keep it right here between us for now. But like you said, it is an option. Just one of those ‘break glass in case of emergency’ kind of options. Let’s start pulling people together. This beacon idea is good. It is the first question we need to answer, the first domino. Once that one falls, we analyze what it means and go from there.”

  “Damn, you are so much better at this than I am.”

  “Ha,” Soraya laughed. “Not really. I’m just good at looking at the pieces scattered before me and arranging them into the most logical order. Jigsaw puzzles are kind of my thing, especially those ones that form pictures of beautiful cottages or cozy farms in the Fall.”

  Jacoby felt an immediate boost, a clearing of the fog blocking the path before them, and he thanked his luck that Soraya was there by his side.

  “So that brings us to me. What do you need from me specifically? Unless you woke up and sought me out just to see a pretty face?” She reached out and walked her fingers up his chest, that preternatural ring in her eyes glowing for a moment.

  “I uh…” Jacoby said, laying his hand atop hers. He felt her anxiety, the uncertainty hovering just beneath the surface.

  “It’s like you said. We need to get us all working together again. Erik is really struggling,” Jacoby said, after considering several spicier options. “And I have a feeling it is his hesitation throwing the most chaos into the mix. We…I was hoping you could talk to him, see if you can get him to come around. Lex thinks he’ll listen to you.”

  “Crap. I was worried you were going to say something like that and hoping you had other reasons. You can’t blame a girl. And I’m fairly sure Lex pointed at me because I’m the only one on board that hasn’t threatened to pound him so far.”

  “If I were him, that would be a good start. And you’re kind of pretty and smell nice, too.”

  “Ahh. You think I’m pretty?”

  “Maybe a little,” Jacoby winked, and the silver in her eyes glowed a little brighter.

  “It makes sense. He’s wearing more of this ship’s grease and dirt on his hands and arms than anyone else.”

  “Anna said we could technically be in range of the beacon anytime now. The sooner we receive it, the sooner…”

  “The sooner we figure out what in the hell we’re going to do. Got it. What can…err, should I tell him? Do I have a magic bullet to change his mind, or am I just using my sparkling personality and ravishing, good looks…minus threats of violence, of course?” Soraya said, finishing with a snort.

  “Poole said it better than I could, honestly. Erik just needs to understand that this is the only way we survive. That is us,” Jacoby said, emphasizing the word, “being everyone on board.”

  “Pinch me, please. This crap just keeps getting weirder,” Soraya said and closed her eyes. Jacoby reached forward and lightly pinched her forearm. Goosebumps immediately appeared on her arms, chest, and neck.

  “Damn,” she said, opening her eyes and turning to look at the dark hold. “Shit is still weird, but that felt nice. You could do that again if you wanted.”

  Soraya sauntered forward, her hips practically dancing. Her hand pressed against his chest, finger dragging down over his stomach and coming to rest right above his groin. Jacoby’s thoughts immediately went back to their run-in after the power failed, when Poole’s early manipulations almost stripped away all her inhibitions. His heart started to race, a wave of blood and warmth radiating out through his body.

  “You changed your hair,” he said, reaching up to sweep a strand off her shoulder.

  “A man that notices when a girl changes something. Look at you,” she said with a corresponding hair flip. “I needed something more economical. I found some beard oil and a comb in the showers. Believe it or not, Lex knows how to twist some killer locs.”

  “I like it. They make you look more…”
>
  “Fierce?” Soraya growled, laughing. “It’s me, which is more frustrating to me than you’d think. My grandmother immigrated from a little island in the Caribbean called Curaçao after my grandpa died. She sold everything she owned to buy boat tickets and brought my mom and two uncles to the states with nothing but the clothes on their backs. She’d twist my hair at the start of every summer, telling me stories of my mom when she was a little girl and how they would sneak onto the resorts to fish the coves.” Soraya laughed and looked up to the ceiling. “All the beaches and shoreline were bought up by resorts and big companies, so they would always kick her and my mom out. She would get so mad she would start speaking in Dutch and twist my hair too hard. My god, I remember it like it was yesterday. She’d call me her little krijger prinses. Her warrior princess.”

  “I like it. It suits you,” Jacoby said, sliding his hand up to cradle her jaw.

  “When I got older and made my university scholarship, I didn’t just stop wearing them, I cut my hair off. Even when it grew back, and I was in the pros, I didn’t wear them. I wanted my hair to look like the other gals, to fit in. That is what frustrates me, that my gran tried passing on a piece of my culture and I rejected it. I conformed.”

  “It’s hard. We’re inundated with pressure,” Jacoby said, “I remember when my dad couldn’t afford to buy me new clothes for school, he took me to this really ratty thrift store. He couldn’t even afford the used name brand stuff, so he ended getting me clothes out of the free box in the corner. I was so embarrassed to look like the poor kid at school, that I threw the pants over a fence and told everyone that some crazy homeless dude mugged me and stole my clothes. Anna ended up swiping a pair of old sweatpants from the boy’s locker room for me. I know it’s not the same thing, but I guess I was just trying to say, I understand.”

  “It’s okay,” Soraya said, and pulled him into a hug.

  Jacoby returned the embrace but caught sight of Soraya’s ghostly duplicate where she’d just been standing. It had not moved. She stood a few paces away, her hair curly instead of gathered in locs, and instead of Anna’s old, tight jumpsuit, she wore a flowing, elegant dress. Her mouth moved, yet he could not hear the words. Then she turned her head and lifted a hand to point back up the ladder. She became more animated, her brow wrinkling and her arm jabbing at the air. But why? He’d seen them appear to not quite sync up before, but now they appeared untethered.