Titan's Wrath

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “Kale, are we there yet?” Maya questioned. “I can’t take another second of zero G.” She floated into the command deck, bits of vomit stuck in the crags of the scars marring half of her face.

  All I did in response was point through the viewport, where Mars comprised almost the entirety of the view. I could now perceive the expanses of gray comprising the many domed colonies dappling the planet surface. Thousands of Earthers and first- or second-generation offworlders were crammed into each of them.

  Maya shoved Aria aside and took her place at the main navigation console beside mine, in front of a curving field of screens and switches. Everything was top of the line. It made the command deck of the Piccolo seem like something out of the dark ages. Maya started picking at keys as if testing each one for poison.

  “You have to switch the auto-pilot course off first.” Aria indicated a screen to their left.

  “I know that,” Maya grumbled.

  She struck the command with verve, like she knew it the whole time, and took control. The Cora shuddered a bit but quickly leveled out. Countless readouts and automated fail-safes ensured it was impossible to mess up flying too bad, short of piloting us straight into the side of Olympus Mons. Aria had spent the weeks before this voyage training my reluctant aunt, who refused to put our lives in the hands of an outsider unless it was absolutely necessary.

  As I watched Aria provide Maya with subtle clues to prepare her for landing, I realized how hard it was to bear the sight of her in a navigator’s chair as well, no matter how much I trusted her. Especially the Cora’s.

  The ship shook again, this time from breaching Mars’s paltry atmosphere. It was closer to a gentle vibration all throughout the hull actually, nothing like being bowled side to side by the stormy Titanian skies. Gravity pulled me tight against my seat, straining my lungs just a hair beyond their comfort level since I’d decided against ingesting a G-pill.

  “Unidentified vessel, you are intruding on the airspace of the USF and its affiliated corporations,” an operator spoke through our coms. “Venta Co. security has been dispatched and will be forced to fire if you do not reply.”

  “What are they talking about, girl?” Maya asked.

  “I...I don’t know,” Aria replied. “I submitted our transponder codes before we left.”

  “See, Kale? This is the kind of sloppiness we can expect with an outsider in charge.”

  “I swear, I sent them.”

  “I altered the codes,” I said matter-of-factly. They gawked at me, but I leaned forward and gazed at the tremendous web of segmented domes stretching between and filling a collection of craters. “What is New Beijing like?” I asked Aria.

  “Kale, what the hell were you thinking?” she questioned. “I know these people. They aren’t bluffing.”

  “Watch your tone,” Maya interjected.

  The boom of two fighters breaking the speed of sound on either side of the Cora made my bones chatter. Their bows were visible through the corners of the viewport, soaked in navy blue. The dual white and blue overlapped V company logo was imprinted on their flanks.

  “What’s the plan, Kale?” Maya said, struggling to keep her eyes straight ahead.

  “What’s it like?” I asked Aria again.

  “I repeat, identify yourself, or we will fire,” the Venta operator demanded.

  Maya held our course and kept quiet. Aria’s eyes darted from side to side nervously. “It’s like anywhere else,” she said. “Clean on the surface, dirty underneath.” The fighters dropped behind us, and the Cora’s advanced defensive matrix started beeping as they targeted us.

  I couldn’t tear my gaze away from New Beijing. Every dome comprising the city extended toward the light. Their glass enclosures were tinted from radiation shielding and the diamond pattern of structural beams holding it up, but everyone below got to look up and see a real sky. Ad-covered skyscrapers and layers of narrow walkways filled the massive interiors. They were organized similarly to how the old cities of Earth I’d seen on documentaries were, only clustered more densely. I’d heard about the great domes, but seeing them was something else entirely. Only Earthers would be audacious enough to treat Mars like it was their homeworld. Just slap a lid over their ridiculous tower cities like a glass jar and be done.

  “Kale!” Aria shouted.

  I switched on our end of the coms. “This is Kale Trass requesting entry into the New Beijing Spaceport,” I said calmly, earning a collective gasp from Aria and the other stirred members of our crew who had gathered behind.

  “M...Mr. Trass,” the operator stuttered. “My apologies, we didn’t realize the vessel belonged to you.”

  “We’re having some trouble with our new transponder.”

  “There is—” He paused, likely to speak with a supervisor. “No problem. Our fighters will escort you into your designated hangar to ensure your safety.”

  And to make sure it’s really you, I knew he wanted to add. That settled the debate that had raged in my head while I sat alone throughout the journey. Hearing only my voice and name offered no certainty it was really me, but they couldn’t risk shooting us down or denying me entry. That meant they were starting to take us seriously enough to at least be cautious. I had to push them even further.

  “It’s not smart to coerce them like that,” Aria scolded as the Venta Co. airships sped out in front of us. “Madame Venta isn’t known for her temperance.”

  “I said watch your tone,” Maya bristled.

  “Quiet, both of you,” I said. “I wanted to see how close our stealth systems could get us before they noticed. In case we need to leave in a hurry.”

  Maya obeyed for a few seconds, then couldn’t help herself. “This better not be another trap,” she muttered to Aria, as if I wouldn’t hear her.

  “If I wanted you dead, Maya, you’d have never left Titan,” Aria remarked. She didn’t wait for a response either. The moment the last word escaped her lips, she patted my aunt’s tense shoulder and drew herself out of the room.

  I snickered. Maya shot me a sidelong glare. “She’s lucky I’m flying.”

  “None of us are lucky for that,” I replied.

  The Cora suddenly banked so hard around the crest of a bulbous, barren mountain that my stomach jumped. Judging by how smoothly the ships leading us made their approach to New Beijing, it wasn’t an accident. Turbulence was alien to Mars.

  “You shouldn’t encourage offworlders to talk to us like that,” Maya advised. “Kale, are you listening? I don’t care who they are or what they’ve done in the past.”

  The ship leveled out and headed straight for an open portion of a smaller dome bulging from the side of New Beijing’s main one. I unfastened my restraints and stood.

  “How I missed your lectures while you were asleep,” I muttered. As a fellow Trass and experienced combat leader, Maya answered to nobody but me. I valued her opinion more than anybody’s, but Aria’s position within our fledging government had been our first disagreement.

  “I’m serious,” she said. “You let one of them in close, they’ll spread like a sickness. Just like last time.”

  “Well this one got us a meeting with the USF Assembly. She’s given as much as any of us for the cause. Besides, even you know we need her.”

  Maya rolled her shoulders. “For now.”

  “Just try and pretend you can stand them at least a little bit. I have a feeling this will be the only meeting we get. For now, they have to see we come in peace.”

  “You’re right. I’ll just keep my mouth shut and let the Earther...offworlder...whatever the fuck she is, speak for me.” She licked the corner of her lip, and I could see the side of her tongue wriggling through the crater in her cheek. Her support was always welcome, but maybe that was a good idea. Diplomacy wasn’t her specialty. Plus, I could remember how terrified I was the first time I laid eyes upon her. Even in a sanitary mask there was no way to completely hide the horrors of what Earthers had done to her.

  And
now we were about to arrive on a planet full of them.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MALCOLM GRAVES

  Sol was filled with rotten and fuzzy memories. Everywhere I considered going in my retirement, I could think of a job that got ugly, a night that got out of hand, or a hotel where my daughter looked disappointed when I smuggled her in. I guess that’s what happens when you get to be my age. No matter where you go, the past is lingering to haunt you.

  So, I searched for a place that was still a part of civilization where I could disappear easiest. I settled on New Beijing, Mars. Of all the shit memories I had, at least a handful of the good ones came from there. The expansionist propaganda rampant on Earth would drive me to put a gun in my mouth if I stayed there too long. Development around Jupiter was happening too rapidly to relax. I’d seen too many asteroid colonies busted open or wither when their wealth dried up to choose one of them. And Titan... I’d rather board a Departure Ark out of the galaxy than go back there even if it wasn’t a war zone.

  New Beijing it was. The city both where my daughter was illegitimately born to a streetwalker and where I’d lost her. A city mostly free from that damn Pervenio logo I’d spent too much of my life honoring. Newsfeeds all portrayed the city with its grand domes, shiny towers, and cascading garden terraces. It was home to some of the wealthiest people, finest hotels, and best entertainment venues in Sol. Of course, that was all above surface level. The parts of New Beijing I knew best were where I’d once operated. In the shadows. I’d spent so long hunting offworlders that, ironically, they wound up being the people I felt most comfortable around.

  Every city came with its own seedy underbelly. Few were on par with New Beijing’s. It comprised basically everything sandwiched between the main-level avenues and the expansive subway subterranean tram and sewer network, where amalgamations of rusty structures filled the volume the city’s original, lower domes once covered before being radically extended. They called it Old Dome, and it boasted some of the best and grubbiest gambling dens, clubs, and streetwalkers a person could buy.

  There was no better place for a retired old Collector like me to stay off the grid.

  Too many years removing targets for Pervenio had left me with more enemies than I probably knew I had. And I couldn’t be sure whether or not Luxarn would have me taken out just to be safe. As if I knew anything that really mattered. He put on a pleasant face when we parted ways, but men didn’t get to be as rich as he was if they weren’t good actors.

  It didn’t take me long on the Red Planet to find the hole I’d likely spend the rest of my life in. A little bar buried so far in Old Dome you could almost smell the rank of the sewers if you stepped outside. It shared a wall with one of the city’s larger Redline Stations, the crisscrossing New Beijing subways. That meant constant rumbling within and a steady flow of homeless offworlders desperate for a place to sleep. Yeah, the Twilight Sun was my kind of dump.

  They needed a new bouncer at their door, and since I’d apparently invested thirty years of Collector service into a new leg I didn’t ask for, I still needed credits despite retiring. The job made me wonder why I hadn’t dragged my old bones into similar work sooner. There wasn’t any glory in it, and sure as hell no thrill, but I finally wasn’t seeking any of that. In exchange for sitting at the door and making sure things stayed quiet in a place that usually had more tables than patrons, my new boss let me live in one of the apartments upstairs and drink as much as I liked. It offset the garbage pay.

  The bar tried to instill some old-world oriental charm with its bracketed faux-wood bar and the old ink paintings dotting the walls. They depicted ferocious beasts long extinct and serene landscapes the Meteorite ensured were now impossible, yet all of it was discolored or scratched. Even the sliding paper walls at the private booths were too torn to provide real seclusion, not that anyone was paying to use them. The owner hadn’t put a credit into the place in years. Probably why he had to hire a gunman with no resume for the door. At least, not one I could elaborate on.

  A lackluster month and a half had passed since I had taken the job. I brought the rim of a bottle to my mouth and leaned my head all the way back to eke out the last few drops of whiskey. I sighed. From my seat by the front door I had a great view of the only dancer the bar could afford to keep on payroll. Wai. She was on the cracked stage behind the bar, wearing a skimpy leotard and a conical hat with blue beads falling from the brim to conceal her face.

  She was a pretty young thing, with soft skin and almond-shaped eyes as deep a brown as wet soil. A sewer girl just like Aria’s mom. Too green for me, though, and too skinny. Her ribs protruded like the keys of a piano, so far that all I could think about while watching her was ordering her a ration bar or three.

  The night was so far gone only one patron was left watching her. The slovenly, gray-bearded man synced credits to the hand-terminal set upright by her nimble feet. He could hardly keep his swaying head up, and by then she wasn’t doing much more than wiggling her hips to eerie, atmospheric string music. When the song came to an end, the man reached out and stroked her calf.

  My bottle dropped with a loud clank, and I stumbled toward her, using every table en route to steady myself. Intoxication limited my brain’s ability to communicate with my synthetic leg so that I could walk straight. That’s what the doc had warned me about at least. I’m fairly confident a full bottle of Martian whiskey would’ve had any man stumbling no matter what kind of legs he boasted.

  “It’s time to close,” I said to the man.

  He turned his head slowly, eyes lagging behind. “No, it ain’t.” He was slurring worse than I was. “I’m just getting started.”

  My hand fell toward my pulse pistol. The only friend I had left. He watched it, then started to chuckle.

  “What’re you gonna shoot me over watchin’ some sewer trash?” he asked.

  “No. I’m going to shoot you so I can get some damn sleep.” I grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him toward the door. Another good part about Old Dome. I was an Earther, and scrawny offworlders like him were easy to push around.

  “Alright, alright,” he said as he bumped a chair. He turned to say something else, hiccupped instead, and then continued on his winding path toward the door straight ahead.

  “What the hell was that?” Wai said angrily. “He was still paying.”

  “Was he? Didn’t realize.” I slumped into his vacated seat and eyed his ale. It didn’t look like he’d even taken a sip, so I took one for myself. Warm and metallic, like everything else on tap in the Twilight Sun.

  “Lǎo wán gù!” she cursed in an ancient, oriental dialect still championed by the poor folk of New Beijing. “You weren’t getting enough sleep over there?”

  “Why are you even still here, Wai?”

  “You know why. I guarantee your old Earther pigu hasn’t ever had to sleep a night in the sewers.”

  I smirked. I remembered plenty of them, more than a few with Aria’s mom or with Aria herself when I dragged her around on jobs.

  “You could be dancing at one of the big corporate dens, you know,” I said. “You’re good enough. Got the looks. You’d make a hell of a lot more.”

  “And be asked to do a hell of a lot more.” She twirled on the stage once before falling back into the couch across from me. She had a robe waiting in it, which she pulled over her body so only her thin, pasty legs were showing.

  “Can I have one more before we close. Synth, strong.” She waved to the owner, who didn’t have the money to hire a human bartender let alone one of Pervenio’s new service bots. Yan Ning was as old and ragged as I was. If I had to guess, I’d take him for an ex-security officer on some run-down asteroid mine. Without a nod or acknowledgment, he filled a glass with the most florescent yellow liquid you could imagine and carried it over to her.

  “You’re locking up, Haglin,” he grumbled to me.

  My brow furrowed; then I remembered. Sometimes I drank too much and forgot my fake name. I didn’t care
if anybody knew who I was, but there was something appealing about disappearing where even Luxarn Pervenio couldn’t find me. Setting up a fake credit account and passable ID with a gun-carrying license wasn’t too tough. I still had a few connections on Mars who owed a favor.

  “Sure thing, boss,” I saluted. I wondered if he had any idea how much of Sol I’d seen to know how ridiculous it was every time I called him that.

  The room started to tremble as a subway train raced underground, kicking up dust and making the lights rattle. He waited until it passed before placing Wai’s colorful drink in front of her and heading out without a word. She took a lengthy sip. Her lips scrunched as the awful-tasting synthahol went down, but after the initial shock she sank back into the couch and made herself comfortable.

  “I’ve known Ning since I was a girl,” Wai said. “I like it here. Everyone keeps their hands to themselves mostly or drinks so much that I can do it for them. And it’s quiet.”

  I tipped my glass toward her. “We can agree on that.”

  One of her eyebrows lifted. “You really think a corp. den would hire me, though? How much would you pay, lǎo tóuzi.”

  “That’s tough. Maybe the rest of this leftover beer?”

  “Earther pig!”

  I grinned. She had a mouth on her, and if I didn’t know better, I might think I’d fathered another illegitimate daughter on Mars. I found myself staring as she raised her drink again. The way the dim lighting struck the sphere of ice inside it suddenly caused a glimmer of a yellow like Zhaff’s eye lens to touch her eyes.

  The glass slipped from my hand, and a healthy portion spilled before I caught it. I coughed a few times, squeezed my eyelids tight, and when I reopened them, the yellow was gone.

  “Okay, lǎo tóuzi, I think you’ve had enough to drink.” She went to grab the glass, but I pulled back.

  “I’m fine!” I objected, then realized I’d snapped. ”Sorry. Never come between an Earther and his drink.”

  She wasn’t bothered by my tone. Instead, her gaze had wandered to my leg. The attempt at catching the glass had caused my pant leg to rise enough to spot my synthetic ankle above a shoe I didn’t need to wear.