Titan Encounter

by Kyle Pratt

  “It may be someone from my past.” He shrugged. “I don’t really know. I painted it from several vague memories and a bit of imagination.”

  Naomi smiled and started to move on, but Mara stepped forward. The two almost collided. Mara’s gaze locked on the picture. “Look at the medallion around his neck.”

  “So?” Justin asked.

  Mara pointed to the picture, then to the medal around Naomi’s neck.

  Justin’s eyes narrowed as he looked between the two. The medallion that hung from the collar of the man was similar to the one that hung around the neck of Naomi. Both were gold and etched with two intersecting arcs. The ends of the lines on the right side extended beyond the meeting point and created the simple outline of a fish in profile.

  Both Mara and Justin stared at her and the object that hung from her neck.

  Naomi clutched the medal. “It was my father’s. He gave it to me.” She stepped back and released it between her breasts. “I did not steal it.”

  “No,” Justin said, waving a hand. “I didn’t think you did. I don’t even know who this man is.”

  “Strange coincidence, that’s for sure,” Mara added.

  He nodded. “Do you know anything about it?”

  She shook her head. “It is just a trinket.” Stepping back again, she turned to the table. “The food looks lovely.”

  “Yes.” Justin’s thoughts still lingered on the medallion, but he tried to smile politely. “You should recognize several of the items. These,” he said pointing to a dish of mixed vegetables,” are terra-form varieties from Earth

  “I recognize peas and corn, but I’m not from Earth.”

  Justin’s eyebrow rose slightly. “Oh?”

  “No, Epsilon. My family is from Epsilon,” she said as they sat around the table.

  * * *

  “That was the best meal I’ve had in many days,” Naomi said, looking at Justin. “Did you cook it?”

  “No,” he started clearing the table, “Mara is the brighter cook.”

  As Justin returned with a strawberry cake for dessert, Mara asked the first substantive question of the evening, “Why were you traveling outside of the Empire?”

  “My father was on his way to Gatewai. I just went along.”

  “Really?” Justin’s eyes widened in surprise, “Your father was going out beyond the CFS?”

  She nodded.

  “Does that ancient jump-gate work?” Justin asked as he sat.

  Mara shook her head. “No, I don’t think so…”

  Turning to Naomi Justin asked, “But someone is expecting you there?”

  “They were expecting my father.” She squirmed a bit in her seat. “But I don’t know who they were.”

  Mara swallowed a bite of cake then asked. “What kind of business was your father in?”

  “Terraforming.” She smiled. “He was a freelance engineer.”

  “You must have been very proud of him.”

  “I thought they had given up terraforming that system.” He turned to Naomi. “Your father…what did you say his name was?”

  “Ah, Saul, Dr. Carl Saul.”

  “Oh?” He rubbed his chin.

  “Have you heard of him?” Mara asked.

  Justin shook his head slowly. “No.”

  “It was a small consulting business,” Naomi added.

  Justin stood and collected the plates from the table, balancing them on his arm like a waiter. Still leaning over the table he said, “Your father must have business associates back in the empire, have you been able to contact any of them?”

  Her eyes slid down. “Not yet.”

  Mara frowned. “I’m sure you will soon, but you’re welcome to stay here as long…”

  Naomi shook her head. “As soon as I have the money and can make the arrangements I would like to leave.” She bit her lip. “That did not come out right.” Her eyes darted between them. “You have both been very kind, but I really cannot stay here.”

  “Of course,” Mara said. “We understand, but until you can return home, do let us know if you need anything. I’m sure Justin or I can help.”

  Naomi fumbled with her fork. “Thank you for the meal, but it is late. I should go.”

  Mara stood, “Come on.” Reaching out, she took her arm. “I’ll walk with you back to your quarters.” As they walked toward the door she looked Naomi up and down. “You’re about my size and build. Could you use some clothes?”

  Naomi chuckled. “Well maybe something to wear when I recycle this.”

  As they left, Justin walked to the counter and poured himself a drink. With a quick tilt of the head, he poured the golden brew down. The hair on the back of Justin’s neck still bristled, and that feeling, that old feeling in the pit of his stomach, lingered. He poured himself another drink then shook his head. He didn’t want to believe it, but he knew it was so. Naomi’s whole story had been a lie.

  Chapter 5

  Justin bolted upright in bed. His eyes darted to every corner of the room, but he heard no sound or movement. With one hand he wiped cold sweat and drool from his face. Dim light came in through the window overlooking the main passageway, but otherwise the room was dark. What woke me? He looked at his clock beside the bed. The power was out.

  Help!

  Mara’s voice shouted inside his head. For a moment he thought it was his imagination, but it came again as if she were inside his brain. He jumped from bed, grabbed a gun and his pants, and ran down the hall to her room. It was empty, the bed unused. Where are you? Then he knew. Somehow, he knew. Justin turned and headed for the cargo bay. Gun in hand, he stumbled down the stairs while pulling on his pants. Don’t shoot your foot!

  The pale glow of backup lights met him as he emerged from the stairwell on the main level. The air lock to the first cargo bay was open. Using two hands he snapped his gun to the ready position as he stepped into the tiny compartment and heard Naomi scream in pain.

  He hunched low, moved into the bay, and darted swiftly behind a tool caddie. He scanned the room. The women were outnumbered, but they didn’t appear to need much help. Mara’s knife protruded from the chest of a man on the deck before him. A few meters away Mara, still in her dress, had her hands tight around the throat of a man. Someone grabbed her from behind. Mara head-butted him then kneed the man before her in the groin.

  Both men stumbled.

  Mara hit the one before her as Justin shot the one behind.

  On the far side of the bay, Naomi pounced on the throat of one man, performed a perfect pirouette, and shattered the jaw of another. His blood painted the bulkhead beside him. She grabbed a metal bar and used it to catapult herself onto her next victim. Remembering their first meeting in the utility room, he smiled. The woman sure likes metal pipes.

  Mara was street brawling while Naomi performed a dance of destruction. Justin smiled, then saw Ferren moving toward Naomi. He fired his weapon, just missing the pirate’s head. He cursed as the fat blob ducked behind a crate.

  The women were mopping up the last of the other men.

  Rage consumed Justin. He marched across the bay firing his gun. He cursed the pirate. You’re the cause of this!

  * * *

  “Justin,” Mara shouted from across the bay, then in a softer tone, as if to gently awaken someone, she repeated herself. “Justin.”

  Justin’s eyes followed his outstretched arm as it reached into the air. His hand seemed to hold something, but it was empty. Only then did he realize that Ferren hung in the air, two meters above his empty grasp. The bloated bag of bilge turned a pastel shade of blue as his fingers frantically clawed and scratched at the invisible hand that held him high by the throat. Justin looked from the pirate to Mara. “How?”

  Ferren fell to the ground and gasped.

  Two meters away, a look of astonishment spread across Mara’s face.

  Naomi’s eyes grew wide with fear. “Are you a Nephilim?” She backed away.

  Ferren again gulped air, then shouted, �
�Titan,” and stumbled backward.

  Naomi and Ferren ran in opposite directions. Mara chased after Ferren, but the fat pirate like a cockroach motivated by terror and self-preservation, darted through a hatch and slammed it shut.

  Crashing into it, Mara cursed. When she managed to open it he was gone. She cursed again and locked it.

  “Naomi, help me shut and locked the hatches.”

  Justin looked over the bay. Ten dead, and dying, men littered the deck. “She’s gone,” he said then melted to the floor.

  Mara ran for the nearest hatch.

  Justin, his strength spent, knew he should get up, but instead, continued to lay face up, gazing at an emergency light while replaying the battle in his mind. How did I hold Ferren in the air? He shook his head. No logical answer came to him. How did the girls kill ten, armed men? Naomi was clearly a trained fighter, but they could have shot her. They wanted her alive. No! Ferren wanted both of the women alive, Naomi for the mysterious buyer from Earth and Mara for himself.

  Still his mind was troubled: Ten men should be more than capable of handling two women, even if one was a well-trained fighter and the other a good brawler.

  Slowly he sat up and began reloading his gun while still pondering the fight. The regular lights came on Mara entered the docking bay. Standing a few meters from Justin she haltingly asked, “Are you all right?”

  Still sitting on the floor, he breathed heavily then placed the gun on the deck. For the first time he noticed her dress was torn and bloodstained. He clutched the damp material. “Is this your blood?”

  “No. Come on, we should leave here.”

  He tried to stand. “However I did that,” he held up his arm as he did when Ferren floated above him, “it drained me. I can’t focus. My arms are like lead weights.” His arm dropped to the ground. “All I want to do is rest, but I think I’m okay—or will be.” He looked at the spot where Ferren had dropped to the deck. “How did I do that?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ll deal with it together.”

  “Naomi thinks I’m one of the Nephilim.”

  She smiled. “They’re a myth.”

  “Am I a Titan?”

  “You’re not a cloned killer.”

  “Killer?” he mumbled. Memories of Garrett, their former owner, flashed through his mind.

  “Yeah,” she looked at him strangely. “You know, supposedly the Titans had god-like powers they used to kill their enemies.”

  I am a killer. “Killing someone…isn’t that what I was doing?” Justin rubbed his throbbing head.

  “Remember all those history books you made me read while we were growing up?”

  Justin grinned. “I read them, too.”

  “Well, according to those books, the Nephilim led the humans to victory over the Titans during The Titanomachy War.” She waved her hand dismissively. “The Titans were all killed.”

  He looked about searching for something. “So, what am I? What other choices are there?”

  “I don’t know, but right now we have a bigger problem.”

  He frowned, “What?”

  She looked around a bay strewn with bodies and blood. “Ferren will report this to the authorities.”

  He nodded. “Ferren’s alive and no one will care that these thugs were killed.”

  “But they will care about what you did, that mental power you apparently have, and since I’m pretty sure you’re not Nephilim, they’ll burn you at the stake in front of the Hall of Justice as a Titan.”

  Chapter 6

  There hadn’t been such an execution in Justin’s lifetime, but he had seen the historical vids from centuries past and the laws were still on the books. He came up on one knee. Mara helped him to his feet.

  Reluctantly the realization formed. Moments ago, using some sort of psychic ability, he had held Ferren in the air and just yesterday he had known that Ferren stood outside his office. Later, he had known the young woman in the hall was pregnant, and that night he knew Naomi lied during the dinner.

  Justin feared what the authorities might find if they performed a detailed analysis of his DNA. He didn’t believe the stories from the Empire about the Nephilim, god-like spirit warriors guiding and assisting mortals, and didn’t for a moment believe he could be one. That left one option. The Titan soldiers had used their psychic abilities to slaughter millions but, unlike the Nephilim, the Titans claimed to be human. My parents may have been Titans.

  “I’m not channeling some ancient warrior god.” He shuddered and turned toward Mara. “I’ve got to hide…” He froze for a moment then added softly, “Somewhere.” He stepped forward, gave her a hug, then kissed her forehead. “Goodbye.”

  “Oh, no.” She shook her head and stepped back, but held his hands tight “We may not be brother and sister, but…well…my earliest memory is in that escape pod with you and seeing your mother….” Her voice trailed off, her eyes fell to the floor. “I’ve always felt that wherever we were from, our families had been close.” She paused and when she spoke again her voice was a whisper. “You’ve cared for me and,” she looked up, tears welling in her eyes, “I’ve always cared for you.” Jaw set and eyes intense she declared, “Where you go, I go.”

  “In minutes I’m going to be a wanted man.” He was closer to tears than he wanted her to know. “I don’t know where I’m going. I….”

  “I’m going with you.”

  He knew it wasn’t smart for her to come. He knew he should forbid it. But she had always been there, his sister in every way but blood. He could not imagine living without her. At some level it shamed him, but if life was going to get tough, he wanted her by his side. He squeezed her hand. “Okay.” Turning he looked at the ship in the bay. “This is just a sublight hopper. What’s the fastest FTL ship we have?”

  “Galt’s yacht, the Surfeit, in bay Three. We just finished the refit.”

  The ship specifications ran through his mind: medium range FTL drive; back up fission reactor; small auxiliary skiff. “Great. Get everything you’ll need and meet me there in five minutes.”

  Minutes later Justin came down the passageway toward the yacht with two duffle bags full of clothing, food, guns, and ammo. Under one arm he carried sketch books. Too weary to lift the bags he dragged them.

  Naomi stepped from a side passage three meters ahead with a gun pointed at his chest. “Only a Nephilim or Titan could do what you did. Which are you?”

  Fear and determination flowed from her like waves into Justin’s consciousness. He looked her in the eye. “I’m not Nephilim.”

  The gun remained pointed at his chest. “I believe you. I’ve never seen a Nephilim show mercy or kindness, but,” she pressed the targeting button and a red dot appeared on Justin’s chest, “neither did the Titans.”

  “All the Titans were killed,” he said.

  “How can you be certain?”

  Frustration brewed within him. “Look, I don’t have time for a debate right now.”

  She ignored him. “The Nephilim still fear the Titans.”

  Justin sensed that she was telling the truth and wondered how she would know what the Nephilim feared. He tugged the bags. “I really need to be leaving.”

  Her aim remained fixed on his chest.

  Tentatively he stepped forward. “I don’t know what I am.”

  She bit her lip and seemed to mull his answer. “Are you some new kind of messenger or prophet?”

  “Okay. Great. I’m some kind of new Nephilim. A prophet. Lower the gun.”

  “You are being sarcastic.” Naomi stared at him intently. “If you are deity then, forgive me Lord.” She took a step forward, stared intently at him, then squinted. A dagger seemed to stab from inside his skull. The sketchpads slipped from under his arm.

  Memories flew through his mind like a torrent, but backwards from the present. Suddenly he was strangling Ferren. Then he was imagining Naomi in Mara’s blue dress mere hours before. In a flash, he was staring down at Naomi as she lay unconscious with h
er hair flowing over the side of the cot that first day. The desires of that moment stirred again. Then he was bargaining with Ferren, and Naomi was part of the price. Those events faded as earlier events flowed to life. He was negotiating to free a family, even earlier giving the father a job. Next, he was freeing the man moments after he had been given in payment. In flashes he saw himself doing the mundane tasks of life, but also giving money and assistance to others. But he also saw Garrett, who had treated him like a son. The man he had murdered.

  Days of floating in an escape pod with Mara flowed backward through his mind until the moment of his mother’s death rushed into his consciousness. He saw her as if for the first time dying on the wrong side of the portal. Mara cried beside him. He shook his head violently. “No!” The sketchpads hit the ground. Pages floated in the air and spilled across the deck.

  The gun flew from Naomi’s hand and crumpled like a toy in midair. She stumbled backward, barely maintaining her footing.

  “I’ve got to go. Out of my way.” He flung his hand to the side as if to sweep her away.

  Naomi flew against the wall.

  He felt her struggle. Somehow his mind held her to the bulkhead.

  They glanced at the crushed weapon at her feet. Frantically she resisted his mental grasp.

  Weariness gave way to exhaustion. “Stop. Stop. Whatever I am, I won’t hurt you.” His tired arm collapsed to his side.

  She collapsed to her knees. “You are a Titan?” It was both a statement and a question.

  No. Don’t think so, but how then did I disarm you, hold you against the bulkhead and nearly strangle Ferren? “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He stared at Naomi’s pleading eyes. He sat on one duffle bag with his head in hands. What am I?

  “It is indeed confusing. You have powers only the Nephilim or Titans possess…

  Did I ask that out loud?

  “…but you show mercy and kindness.”

  Mercy?Kindness?

  “You set me free and have treated me with kindness. I had a gun pointed at you, but you did not kill me when you could have.”

  A myriad of thoughts bubbled in the back of his mind. Am I crazy? How many god-like beings does Naomi know, or think she knows? Is she crazy? But one idea pushed to the front of his mind. Can she hear my thoughts?