As Adam turned to make his way towards the scrubbers, a sudden wave of premonition froze him in his tracks.
There was danger ahead, but not enough to make him turn back. The subliminal warnings were abstract, never betraying details. The only clarity they offered was in their urgency, informing whether he should flee or be extra vigilant.
He needed a moment to catch his breath.
‘Time’s wasting,’ Abby warned. ‘Come on, Adam.’
‘Okay,’ he said, trekking towards the large air intakes at the leading edge of the rig. There were eight of them, each with their own scrubbers plus a myriad of pipes, regulators, distilling tanks and machinery in between. Finding the problem could take minutes or days.
So with one heavy metal step after the next, Adam stomped on, relishing the view. Two of Zeus’s ninety-one moons were visible through a clearing in the skies overhead; soft rays of white sunlight fell like marble columns upon mountains of amber clouds that stretched beyond the horizon. Dad had once said that his ancestors would have given anything to see this just once in their lifetimes.
It distressed Adam to remember how his father had once been. Though his mother had explained what happened, he knew she was concealing the truth. The Ceti bastards who owned the rig were aboard when it happened. Adam was certain they had played a role in the ‘accident’.
By the time he reached the first intake, Adam had become unfocused by anger.
Then suddenly, the events of his premonition began to unfold.
A pack of Arkady sturgeons darted over the windward side of the rig; then an entire school of them followed. Adam stepped back in awe as thousands of translucent, flattened creatures accented with black streaks soared by. Each was more than five metres in length and awash in countless bursts of bluish-green light. Numerous gill slits along their bodies regulated the airflow coursing around and through them, allowing them to cut through the wind’s currents with a preternatural ease.
Adam was thankful the rig’s radars were broken. Abby would not keep this a secret, his mother would panic and, one way or the other, they would find some way to hurt these magnificent creatures.
Watching the zenomorphs made Adam forget his anger. He studied the swarm until they vanished back into the clouds, then, feeling invigorated, he returned to the task at hand, bending the mech forward to check the intake’s gauges. Squinting at the numbers, he didn’t see the great shadow descending on him until it was too late.
With a terrifying bang, the Pegasus was knocked onto its back. Adam’s helmet slammed into the head guard, disorienting him. He reflexively threw his hands up in a guard position, preparing to fend off more blows from whatever it was that had struck him.
The actuators reacted just in time; a loud snap brought Adam out of his stupor. His face was just centimetres from the severed tentacle of an Arkady hunter, its serrated hooks dangling off the mech’s tripads. The rest of the animal was partially trapped in the maws of Intake One amidst a stream of smoke, flailing wildly.
Adam realized that the animal’s severed limb was wrapped tightly around the Pegasus. Had he been standing a metre to his right, the creature would have pulled him over the side.
‘You’re a minute past your checkpoint, Brat Face,’ Abby complained.
Adam nearly overloaded the mech’s power core trying to get the machine back onto its feet.
‘Sorry,’ he said, backing away from the frenzied creature. ‘I’m concentrating.’
‘Whatever, just hurry up.’
Adam was mesmerised by the hunter’s struggle. The only sounds he could hear were the howling wind, his own shallow breathing, and the muted strikes of cartilaginous flesh on metal. But the creature was no longer lashing at him with its deadly limbs. From ruthless killer the Arkady hunter had become desperate victim; just another living thing fighting for its very life.
Adam was trapped between compassion and caution, though only for a moment.
Moving beyond the reach of its flailing tentacles, he clamped the mech’s tri-pads onto the regulator that would shut the damaged intake down. As the turbines ground to a halt, the shape-shifting beast writhed in pain, unable to free its limbs from the machine.
Dad’s voice cut through the radio.
‘Gas mining is tedious, but it’s dangerous work,’ he informed. ‘But there’s always a buyer for your harvest. That makes it all worthwhile.’
Adam took a step towards the hunter, willing himself to ignore the radio completely.
‘Did you know that every Orionis citizen will use several million cubic litres of compressed hydrogen fuel over the course of his lifetime?’ his dad informed.
The desperate hunter, its strength depleted, was fading away. Taking a deep breath, Adam marched directly towards it.
‘What are you doing down there?’ Abby demanded. ‘You missed another checkpoint!’
Adam was within ten metres when the hunter lashed out at him; its tentacles, now coruscating in angry bursts of yellow and green, made a futile attempt to latch onto the mech. Instead the limbs collapsed onto the rig, splayed out like strands of discarded cable. Gill slits along its body began twitching. Adam sensed it was dying. Time was running out.
He climbed deftly on top of the intake. The exhausted creature was heaving besides him, close enough to touch. Securing the mech’s footing as best he could, Adam set to work removing the intake’s cowling to examine the inside.
‘Radio check,’ he mumbled.
‘Did you find the problem?’ Abby demanded.
‘You could say that,’ he answered. As the cowling came loose, he carefully set the metal sheet down and peered inside. Two of the creature’s limbs were badly mauled and tangled in the turbine fans. The Pegasus was strong enough to pull them apart, but he would have to step up and over the leading edge of the platform to reach.
So that’s what he did, trying not to think about what would happen if he slipped.
‘Well, how long will it take to fix?’ Abby asked. ‘The offloaders are en route.’
‘Intake One can’t be fixed,’ Adam said, plunging his tri-pads into the ruined machine. ‘It has to be replaced.’
He clamped on tightly, transferred as much power into the arms as he could, and began pulling.
‘Are you serious?’ Abby asked.
With an abrupt, sickening snap, the fans came apart unexpectedly, and the sudden surplus of momentum carried the mech off the edge.
‘No!’ Adam shouted.
He thrashed out with both arms to grab onto something, anything. The first arm grabbed nothing but Zeus air; the second found the edge of a flotation bladder. Adam transferred all the power to the grip, dangling over oblivion as he brought his second arm up.
‘Really?’ Abby fumed. ‘What’s your problem?’
Adam thought of some choice words, but instead:
‘No, I mean, yes, the intake is ruined,’ he said, plotting a vertical path to reach the platform rail.
‘What the hell can ruin a turbine intake?’ Abby demanded.
‘Did I ever tell you the story about how I got this rig?’ his father asked.
‘I didn’t think you ever wanted us to know that,’ Adam muttered, thankful for the interruption. The Arkady hunter was gone. He hadn’t seen what had happened to it. Given his efforts, he hoped it had flown away instead of falling to its death.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ his dad said. ‘It’s probably best you don’t.’
With full power diverted to a limb, the Pegasus was capable of pulling several times its own mass. But he would have to overload the reactor’s output in short bursts, timing each one with the grips he needed to reach safety.
In the hands of a lesser pilot, it would have been impossible. By the time Adam stepped over the rail, the reactor was overheating and doing permanent damage to the mech. Grateful to be alive, he limped back towards the drop sled, covered in Arkady remains.
Abby was relentless the entire time.
‘So not only did we
miss the cut-off, now we produce less than every other rig. Wonderful.’
‘I’m finished down here,’ Adam said, unlatching the fuel hoses. ‘The Three tanks are full and ready to go on Cable Four. Cables Two and Three are on schedule for H and O deliveries. I’m coming up on One. Lift off in ten.’
‘Fine,’ Abby grumbled.
Exhausted, Adam very much wanted to get back into orbit. He just didn’t have the energy to explain that the Pegasus was likely ruined as well. Yet much as he wanted to avoid her, Abby had every right to be upset: the load coming up now wouldn’t reach the market before the other trawlers sold off their inventories. The cost of these equipment failures would far exceed whatever pittance they received for the harvest, and they would fall deeper into debt.
Their Ceti overlords were tiring of excuses. The last visit had made that clear.
Adam stowed the fuel hoses away and backed the ailing mech into the sled cage. When the harness locked into place, he keyed in the launch sequence.
As the countdown commenced, he gazed down the length of the rig. Somehow it seemed much longer than usual.
Adam’s heart stopped as it began to move, undulating in the wind currents, rising above the rest of the platform.
A colossal zenomorph, wider than the entire platform, was gliding towards him. He had never seen an Arkady like this before. Its skin was pitch-black, its winged shape masterfully controlling its position in the gale.
The sled began ascending, all too slowly. Closer and closer the beast approached, unfurling tentacles many times longer than the hunter’s, all within easy striking range.
It would be no effort for the creature to kill him. But instead, as the sled ascended, a pattern of blue flashes danced across the Arkady’s ebony, liquescent skin. Symmetrical and deliberate, unlike the chaotic life energy that radiated from schools or hunters.
Adam sensed the signs were intended just for him.
3
JAKE
I was lying face down in my own vomit when the Minotaur showed up.
There must have been a binge, and a bad one. I had the awful feeling I was falling, but I couldn’t be since the mess was spread out instead of floating around in puffy blobs. This was good, insofar as being preferable to a micrograv crash. Beyond that, I had no idea where I was or how I got there. With considerable effort, I managed to lift my head and look around. But my eyes wouldn’t focus on anything, except for … the Minotaur. And I decided there was nothing unusual about a horned, bull-faced humanoid and just let my head fall back onto the deck where it belonged.
Which may have offended him, since he kicked me so hard I threw up again. Then he began to laugh-snort through his formidable nostrils.
‘What do you want?’ I gasped.
‘I’m here for Jake Reddeck,’ the Minotaur said.
‘Don’t know him,’ I managed. The bile in my throat tasted like some twisted narcotic concoction.
‘I’ll help you remember,’ the Minotaur said.
He kicked me again. I was beginning to wonder if there was a non-lethal exit from this. Bad enough I had no recollection of my evening, but who was this animal? Either I owed him money, in which case this was a simple misunderstanding, or he was the competition, which meant I’d have to kill him. I have no patience for Belt-trash amateurs trying to muscle their way into my business, even if I used to be one of them myself.
There are twelve million lawful firstborn human beings in Orionis, and they would all love to shove me out of an airlock. Mostly, that was because I was guilty of doing to countless others what the Minotaur was about to do to me. It’s the nature of the drug trade; the old Ceti saying is ‘Success scales not with the customers you serve, but with the enemies you make.’ After whatever evil I committed last night, I was sure I deserved a promotion.
But the more I tried to remember, the more my head hurt. Whether from injury or product or both, there was a black hole in my memory. I’ve seen some crazy augmentations in my time, but this Minotaur … damn. Mutants aren’t hard to find in the Zeus colonies, but this guy was a fucking aberration, easily the most disfigured one I’d ever seen. I mean, there were heat waves radiating off the man. Just being in the same room as him was giving me cancer.
Considering the circumstances, I thought it best to remain civil.
‘Here’s the best deal you’re going to get,’ the Minotaur said. ‘Bring me to Jake, and I won’t kill you slowly. How about that?’
‘I told you, I’m here for Jake,’ the Minotaur said, nodding towards the more prominent chunks of vomit nearby. ‘Wish you had drowned in that. It would make things simpler.’
Everywhere I looked, the rest of my surroundings took a few moments to catch up. As reality blurred across my vision, I heard this wailing sound, like screaming children over the groan of old, bending metal. The fog was palpable; I was only peripherally aware of my own existence, just watching myself from the edge of consciousness.
That meant I was dangerously intoxicated, even for a hard bastard. The crash was coming, and I needed something to soften the landing.
‘I can help with that,’ the Minotaur sneered.
I don’t know if I asked for a fix out loud, but the mutant obliged with another kick to the gut. By the time I finished wheezing, the floor was coated in blood.
I know how it looks: my consumption habit is killing me. That’s fair, because I’ve tried every drug there is. It’s expected of me in this profession, which is running a distribution network for Ceti. From Tabit Prime to the House Worlds, I vend chemical pleasures to people of all statures. What kind of sales rep would I be if I didn’t sample the product? That’s the kind of enthusiasm clients want to see. It’s made me very rich and, consequently, very sociopathic. Like any successful businessman, I defend my interests fiercely, with no regard for the laws of governments.
The downside: I do very bad things when I’m high. Because of the drugs.
Which I do because the profession demands it.
I guess the infinite loop of denial means I’ve reached rock bottom.
What a view.
‘It gets worse,’ the Minotaur said. The room was spinning around him now, like he was the centre of the universe. ‘You have no idea.’
The mutant had bright yellow eyes criss-crossed with purple capillaries. Every time he blinked, one of the irises changed colour.
‘Jake was mindful of these things,’ the Minotaur said. ‘Where is he?’
‘Look, man…or whatever you are: I don’t know who you’re talking about,’ I repeated, turning myself over.
The Minotaur reared up an iron hoof for another kick, and I cringed. But he held back at the last moment.
‘Is your name Jack Tatum?’ he asked.
‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘Who are you?’
The Minotaur snorted a puff of hot smoke.
‘What do you do for a living, “Jack”?’ he asked.
‘I work for Ceti,’ I answered, hoping the mere mention of the most notorious cartel in Orionis would make him recoil in horror. But no such luck.
‘Tell me something, Jack,’ the Minotaur asked, kneeling so his hairy face was very close to mine. ‘What happened to your hands?’
I hadn’t realised that my knuckles were shredded and bruised. They reminded me of the more despicable things I’ve done in my life. But not what had happened last night.
The Minotaur was now holding a gun.
‘Do you want to know?’ he asked.
His question provoked a powerful revulsion in me, like some primeval, autoimmune response to danger.
‘No,’ I answered.
He pressed the weapon against my temple. Deep down I could feel this whimpering urge to do something about it. But my limbs were limp, unresponsive dead weights. I had a reflex to deal with this. The muscle memory was there because I’d practised it a thousand times. It just wasn’t listening to me.
I guess I didn’t care.
‘You swore an oath,’ the Minotau
r said, snorting through flaring nostrils. ‘Remember?’
I didn’t, but began surrendering to the possibility.
‘Lie to yourself all you want,’ the Minotaur said. ‘The truth is coming.’
‘Is that why you’re here?’ I spat.
Steam poured from his nostrils.
‘Something like that.’
Maybe the high was wearing off, and the adrenaline was wresting back control of my sanity. But a voice rang out that I hardly recognised, and it used my mouth to speak.
‘I do what I do for the job,’ I muttered.
The Minotaur roared a slow, throaty laugh.
‘How’s that working out for you?’ he quipped, tapping the gun against my head. ‘Is it worth this?’
Strangely, the cold sensation of steel against skin reminded me of someone who once gave me strength.
But I had to try harder to forget.
‘The job,’ I said, driving the memory out, ‘is absolutely worth it.’
The Minotaur spat onto the floor. His phlegm burst into flames on contact, making the place stink of sulphur.
‘This is the last time I’ll ask,’ he warned. ‘Where is Jake Reddeck?’
My patience ran out.
‘Look, friend,’ I said, ‘I really don’t know who he is.’
He struck me once, then again when the first blow didn’t open a deep enough gash.
‘Guess you’re telling the truth,’ he growled, leaning in close to admire his handiwork. ‘Danna wouldn’t recognise you, anyway.’
The name made my skin boil. Lesions bubbled out, oozing necrotic slime that dripped over every inch of me. The world spun with the ferocity of a Zeus cyclone.
‘Tell me,’ the Minotaur sneered, ‘was Danna worth the “job” as well?’
I snapped.
‘Fuck you!’
‘What do you care?’ the Minotaur roared, centimetres from my face. ‘She was Jake’s problem, not yours.’
The Tabit Genesis Page 2
