Titan's Wrath

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “Thank you,” I replied. “May I offer my condolences for your clan brother, Director Yashikawa.”

  “Don’t. He too was in charge of your security.” Though her words were harsh, they came out of her mouth as if she were reading a bedtime story.

  “We told you, you should’ve put us in charge, Mother,” the older of two young men standing behind her spoke up. Both of them had a hawkish appearance, with thin noses and permanent scowls. Brothers. I wasn’t sure if she was actually their mother, but I suppose her being as famous and wealthy as she was made her mother to everyone in her clan family.

  “What did I tell you about interrupting while I’m conducting business?”

  “We’re just saying,” said the younger brother.

  “So am I.” She glanced back over her shoulder, and I couldn’t see the look she shot at them, but both shut right up. By the time she turned back around, she wore a pleasant smile. “Excuse my sons. Karl and Fern are still learning when to keep their opinions to themselves.”

  I nodded, catching a glimpse of Maya in my peripheral vision. I never thought there would be something Madame Venta and I could agree upon, but I suppose there are some problems that all leaders face. Whether or not their cause is pure.

  Madame Venta turned to Aria and raised her arms for an embrace. “Aria, my dear. It’s wonderful to see you again. You look positively radiant.”

  Aria hesitated even longer than I had before giving in to the hug. “And you, Madame Venta,” she said meekly. Madame Venta planted a kiss on her cheek only a few centimeters from her lips. Then she whispered something in her ear that drained the color from her cheeks.

  “I hope our cousins on Titan are treating you well,” she said aloud.

  “They are, Madame. Of course.” Aria had never been clear what the extent of their relationship was, but I’d never seen her so diffident in the face of anyone. Even the first time she met Maya.

  “I’m glad to hear it, dear.” Madame Venta’s attention swiveled back toward me with the aplomb of a woman who knew how to command a conference table. “Well, Mr. Trass, I don’t want to waste any more of your time. In light of what has happened, the USF requests a postponement of your meeting.”

  I drew a deep breath. If Aria was cautious of her, then I knew there was good reason. Negotiation had never been my strong suit, even when I was running drugs for fences in the Darien Lowers trying to scrum up Earther credits. I needed to be careful. Not too severe, and not too complaisant.

  “If that is their decision,” I began, “then I’m sorry, but unfortunately we’ll have to rethink things.”

  “They have no intention of disrespecting you,” Madame Venta insisted. “Nothing excessive. A few days to figure out who planned the bombing and ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Titan is in the midst of a considerable transition. I’m sure you understand what it’s like developing settlements. We can’t afford to waste even a single day. Maya.” I gestured for her to return to the hovercar. As I turned away myself, Madame Venta’s hand fell upon my arm. Now it was my turn to glower, and the one I shot at her finally sent a ripple of apprehension across her calm demeanor. Earthers should never touch Titanborns without consent. Luxarn Pervenio learned that the hard way when he invaded a quarantine.

  “Please, Mr. Trass,” she said. “You’ve come a long way. The Assembly takes eons to arrange anything. Don’t throw this chance away.”

  Now when I regarded her, all I saw was another Earther trying to get her way, with her hand on me as if she owned me. Aria was wrong. There was nothing to be afraid of. No matter how any of them conducted themselves, in the end they were all after the same thing. Venta Co. put its neck out to arrange a meeting with the USF to discuss peace. That probably came with a handful of credits, promised contracts, and whatever else a mega-corporation might want. The only person with anything to lose was Madame Venta.

  I held my silence, using my eyes to tell her I needed to hear more in order to be convinced.

  Madame Venta leaned in close and lowered her voice. “We helped your people when Pervenio squeezed too far. Sold you weapons. Materials.”

  “You didn’t care that you were helping us, only that you were hurting them,” Maya hissed. I allowed her that interjection.

  “It’s true,” Madame Venta admitted. Without intending to, I returned to facing her fully. I was expecting her to defend herself. “I won’t insult you with lies, but we came to an honest understanding with the man who led your insurgence before you.”

  “His father,” Maya corrected. This time I sent a sidelong glare her way so that she would back down.

  “Yes, well, in any deal there has to be a certain level of trust. I’m asking you to trust me now. Re-opening free trade with the Ring benefits us all no matter who runs it. The USF knows this, and so do we.”

  “Would you mind giving us a moment to discuss this in private, Madame?” Aria asked.

  “There’s no need,” I said. “If they know that, then they’ll oblige. Tell them they can have the rest of the day to ensure the security of the hall. We will delay the meeting until tonight. That is my only offer.”

  Madame Venta ground her jaw, fighting to retain her pleasant demeanor. “I will pass your terms along.”

  “Whether they accept or not, we leave for Titan tomorrow morning. Thank you, Madame Venta.”

  She bowed her head. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Trass. While you wait, my sons will escort you to your assigned floor of suites. You’ll have to check in your weapons with the USF officers, and then you can head on up.”

  “In light of what’s happened I think we’ll be keeping them on us. And I want our floor emptied of all USF officers in case they were behind what happened. Extra precaution seems like the smart decision for everybody right now, don’t you agree?”

  “I can only push the Assembly so far, Mr. Trass.”

  I leaned in to whisper in her ear this time. “I think we all know who is really in charge on Earth.”

  “I’ll try my best,” she said, biting her lip. “That’s all I can promise.”

  “Perhaps I’ll talk to them myself. I’m sure they’d love to know how weapons wound up on a Saturn gas harvester that was supposed to have disappeared. Or how a Martian nurse somehow knew exactly where Pervenio was keeping medical supplies in New London. Aria tells a wonderful story about that one”

  Madame Venta glared at Aria. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Trass?”

  “Not at all. You brought up your history working with my people. I merely assumed it was public knowledge.”

  “I should snap your twig body in two!” the elder of her two sons barked.

  “Quiet, Karl!” Madame Venta roared. “Mr. Trass was only trying to explain his brilliant idea.” She expertly feigned a grin. “We’ll have your floor emptied immediately. I should have thought of that myself. In any case, I recommend that you and your people don’t leave the premises. As Aria knows, New Beijing isn’t all glitz.”

  “Of course. Who knows what would happen if the ‘self-proclaimed king of Titan’ were to be harmed here.”

  Her smile widened as she ignored my comment. She turned slightly and beckoned me toward the building entry. I could tell by the weight of her stance that I was under her skin. I guess she didn’t expect a lowly “Ringer” like me to pay attention to the things she said on Earther newsfeeds.

  “If everything is settled, we’ve had the finest Martian delicacies prepared for your arrival,” she said. “Enjoy your day, Mr. Trass.”

  Aria was halfway through getting the word “thank” out when Madame Venta stormed away. I didn’t get to see her expression, but judging by the way the bottom of her dress whipped around to keep up with her, I could only imagine. Millions of people worked for Venta Co., and I knew that any of them who’d ever spoken to her like I had were probably floating through space without a suit.

  “Right this way, Ri...Titanborns,” Karl said. The other brother snickered. “Tha
t still what you people like being called?”

  Maya drew herself so close to him that he couldn’t miss the rippling edges of her scars peaking over the top of her sanitary mask. “Why don’t you try the other word, and we’ll find out,” she said.

  He nearly choked on his next breath. “Titanborn, of course. Just making sure. R-right this way.”

  I had two of my men retrieve the dead Cogent to bring with us, and then Maya, Aria, the guards, and I followed Madame Venta’s sons in. The Venta officers had to wait on the landing pad while we strolled right in with weapons, armor, and a corpse. None of the USF officers posted in the upper lobby said a word either.

  “That went relatively well,” Aria whispered into my ear.

  The corners of my lips curled into a grin—not forced like it had been countless times since we took Titan but a genuine grin. Madame Venta surely had sway, but to me it seemed like they were finally taking us seriously.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MALCOLM GRAVES

  I burst through the front door of the Twilight Sun. I’d kept my cool since discovering Wai’s body, but inside my blood boiled.

  “There you are, Haglin!” Ning shouted as he scurried out from behind the bar. The place was busier than I’d ever seen it, with at least half the tables filled and most of the bar. Every eye was fixed on the newsfeeds, which he’d somewhat managed to return to working order. “You’ve got some nerve running off at a time like this. I should—”

  “Where the fuck are they?” I growled, stunning him into silence.

  “You...huh? Where’s who?”

  “Those Venta officers. Where’d they go?” Trevor and his cronies were nowhere to be seen.

  “Probably to do their jobs.” I peeked into a few booths just to make sure. Ning followed me around. “Speaking of, I can’t deal with any more slipups. I don’t care who you are, this is your last warning.”

  I drew open the last booth. Two offworlders were busy humping inside, she in a dress and he with his drawers down. I startled them so bad they knocked heads and spilled two glasses of synthahol all over the floor. The two degenerates scurried passed us and out the door. Calamity sure did bring out the best in people.

  “Haglin, you hear that?” Ning said.

  I ignored him. I checked my holster to make sure everything was in the right place, then brushed by Ning. He grabbed my arm a bit too aggressively and was lucky I didn’t rip his hand off.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he questioned. “You’re still on the clock.”

  “You know how many worthless sacks of meat on Mars like you I’ve stuffed in a cell? You touch me again, I’ll make sure yours is on Pluto.”

  Nothing else needed to be said. He backed away, completely flabbergasted. All those weeks of ignoring what I might really be, and the truth must have hit him like a hovercar. He returned to the bar so fast he knocked over a few bottles.

  “You can’t stay upstairs if you don’t work, Haglin,” he shouted after me as I neared the exit. “You’ll pay full rent!”

  I reached into my pocket and removed the key card. I dropped it in the entry and continued on my way. I couldn’t say where I’d spend the night, nor did I care. The search for information often brought me to corners darker than the Twilight Sun’s, and I didn’t plan to sleep until I found what I needed.

  I had a refurbished hand-terminal, but with all my old Pervenio contacts lost, it was of little use to me. The newsfeeds wouldn’t say anything substantial about what happened until the perpetrator was found and the truth could be spun in such a way that it appeased most parties. I had to do things the old-fashioned way. Since it was still daytime and most of the workers in the city were out at the factories dotting Mars, I knew just where to start.

  The worst part about a bombing in New Beijing was that Venta Security shut down the Redline. That meant crossing the Tongueway on foot. The crowds were smaller than usual as people hid in their homes, but every step was a reminder of the synthetic limb I didn’t want. One thing the doc never told me was that walking with one leg I couldn’t feel meant the other felt everything. No matter how much I exercised it, which admittedly wasn’t much, the muscles got sore fast. From my thigh to my foot. I couldn’t even tell which side I was favoring anymore, but whatever I was doing, it was wrong.

  It didn’t matter. After I found the bastard responsible for pulverizing Wai into a puddle on the sidewalk, I could get back to sitting down. There were dozens more hole-in-the-wall bars like the Twilight Sun waiting for a gun for a hire in Old Dome.

  I stopped outside of a Venta security outpost halfway down the Tongueway. They’d filled out a small shop connected to a Redline Station. There were posts nearer to the Twilight Sun, but this one was special. For starters, I knew the captain, and it wasn’t Trevor. If I found him, I knew I’d wind up doing something I’d regret.

  A few drunks and strung-out offworlders were sprinkled around the lobby. Otherwise, it was empty. With Kale on Mars and the bombing, most officers were en route to the security headquarters or USF Assembly Building. They had more important things to do than clean up sewer trash.

  Newsfeeds hanging from the ceiling played for nobody. I did my best to ignore them. The talking heads were at it again, speculating about who could be behind the attack to a backdrop of grainy footage taken by reporters who couldn’t get close. I didn’t want my instincts tainted by the musings of people saying what whoever paid their bills wanted them to say.

  “Is Captain Harris in?” I asked the window attendant. She was kicked back at her desk, boots up on the table and basically taking a nap while she watched something on her terminal’s screen. Sounded more like an entertainment program than a newsfeed.

  “Depends who’s asking,” she replied without looking up.

  “Malcolm Graves. Tell him I’ve got a business proposition.”

  She hopped on the coms, voice as dreary as could be. You’d think the city was in perfect shape. Nothing more boring for a low-level security desk clerk like her than a crisis period.

  “He’s not interested,” she droned.

  “Tell him I’d rather not hop on my hand-terminal and mention Mannekin to anyone.”

  “Sir, don’t you know what’s going on out there? We’re busy.”

  I glanced to my side. A salt sniffer coughed and decided to sprawl out across a line of empty seats. “It sure looks like it. Just tell him.”

  If a subordinate had rolled her eyes like she did while I was still a Collector, I’d have had her ass shipped to an asteroid colony. I couldn’t stand ineptitude. It slowed things down, and in my line of work that was the difference between taking down a killer and him squeaking off a few extra shots. Lives on the line. Credits.

  “He said come in,” she finally answered, only seconds before I took my shiny new leg and shoved it through the door myself.

  “Great. Thanks.”

  An officer at the entry confiscated my gun and then let me through. As a Collector, even from a rival corporation, I once could flash my badge and officers wouldn’t dare touch me. Now, I stayed quiet and tried not to draw attention.

  The outpost’s bullpen wasn’t big enough to fit more than a few desks. They were half empty, their officers off patrolling. Exposed water pipes rattled beneath the plasticrete ceiling. A few signs for what used to be a noodle shop still clung to the walls. Tiny outposts like this in the heart of Old Dome weren’t used for more than ringing up miscreants like the ones inside. Minor offenders. Druggies. I guess Venta didn’t think putting any credits toward looking appealing to those people was worth it.

  That was one difference between Venta Co. and my old employer. Luxarn always ensured that anything visible to the public had a polished coat. A waste of credits at times, probably, but he was a perfectionist. He never wanted people to see the rust filling Sol but instead be constantly reminded of how far humanity had come despite the apocalypse.

  “Graves,” Captain Harris grumbled from inside his crampe
d office, as if I’d stirred him from a nap. Considering his legs were up on his desk and he was staring at the ceiling, I probably had. “I thought I was done with you.”

  He had a jaw like an anvil, but it didn’t account for much. The rest of him was wrinkled and world weary. Unkempt hair he’d never combed in his life. He was probably older than me and was happy never to advance any further than where he was. Typical Venta rubbish.

  “So did I.” I plopped down in the seat across from him and made myself comfortable. There wasn’t even a porthole inside the office, and a leaky pipe relentlessly dripped onto the edge of his desk. Far too close to his terminal for comfort, like he cared.

  “Sure, come right in… What is it, Graves? I heard about the trouble you caused the other night. Collectors? If you’re here thinking I can get them off your back, you’re even stupider than I thought.”

  “Oh, come on, Harris. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

  “I don’t have time for your games today.”

  “I need a favor.”

  “I thought we already made things even when I got you that ID you’re carrying, no questions asked.”

  “Something came up.”

  “Something always does.” He kicked down his feet. “Let’s hear it. I’m in the mood for a good laugh.”

  “I need access to the Venta reports about the bombing. Not the bullshit on the newsfeeds. The real intel.”

  “And I want to retire to a penthouse in New London. Unfortunately, Graves, I like my job. As far as I’m concerned we’re already square, so why don’t you find another officer to screw over.”

  “But I like you.”

  “Too bad.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I’ve got work to do.”

  “How about I put a call in to one of the reporters I know. I’m sure they’d love to find out about a security captain selling illegitimates to a mad scientist and keeping the credits.” It happened almost a decade back when a deranged lunatic named Lucas Mannekin was trying to turn people into organic androids. I knew Harris was too lazy to ever find something on me to make us even, so I’d been using him to get what little bits of Venta Co. intel he knew ever since.