Children of Titan Series: Books 1-4: (A Space Opera Thriller Box Set)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  I veered toward him. The others followed me, no questions asked. I sped up and purposely bumped into his wife. Compared with him, she was slender, but she was still an Earther—it was like walking into a wall. I reached around her back as I collided with her and dropped the hand-terminal into his pocket.

  “Watch where you’re going, ghost!” he slurred, then hiccupped. His wife shot me a look of disgust and towed him away.

  “Sorry,” I said before falling back in line with my companions. Hayes wrapped his arm over my shoulder.

  “Nice one, kid,” he said.

  My grin was swiftly wiped away by what Rin said next.

  “Now remember, Kale, you’re the most wanted man on the Ring,” she whispered. “Don’t remove that mask, no matter what. Fake a bad cough, be confident about it. You’ll be fine. They won’t expect anyone new coming from Saturn.”

  My throat went dry. I’d forgotten about that little detail. Without the mask, I would be locked up within minutes of being spotted.

  We fell into line at the scanners, and I forced out a few grating coughs. There were no decon-chambers on the way back in, only before hopping on a shuttle back to Titan. It maintained efficiency during disembarking, and considering how wiped I usually was after a shift, I never minded. That would help me as long as the officer at the gate was in a decent mood.

  The line ticked along. I grew more and more nervous with every step. I didn’t even know Rin’s sister, and we were essentially trusting her with our lives to falsify the IDs we had. I was trusting her, and them.

  “ID,” the security officer said to Rin when it was finally our turn. I realized then how young he was, probably just out of training.

  Rin placed her bag on the scanning belt and then handed her falsified ID over. He ran his scanner over the data-chip, and when her information appeared on the view-screen, his brow furrowed in a way that boosted my anxiousness.

  “I’m going to need to see under that mask,” he said.

  She reached up and slowly pulled it down to reveal the ghastly burns coating half of her face and the sinewy hole in her cheek. The officer looked repulsed. Immediately, I realized that the blemish must not have been featured in the linked identity Rylah provided for her.

  “How’d you get that, Ringer?” he questioned.

  “Cooking oil spill on board a while back,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Well, put that thing back on before you scare somebody. Your baggage is clear—move along. Next!”

  Rin passed through the full-body scanner clean, and Hayes stepped up. His passage went much smoother. I was after him, and predictably, my heart thumped uncontrollably. I fake-coughed repeatedly, hacking so it grew phlegmy. I was fortunate I hadn’t slept, leaving my eyes red and with a slightly glassy appearance. I repeated my fake name over and over in my head, just in case.

  The officer snatched my ID from my clammy hands and gave it a scan. I saw the top of his screen. My face popped up; however, everything from the bridge of my nose down had been altered in a manner that was unexpectedly familiar. My memory of my dad was fuzzy, but I was pretty sure it was him at my age. I feigned a series of even more guttural coughs than earlier and rubbed my eyes.

  “Mask,” the officer grumbled, clearly tired of repeating the order.

  “Is that necessary, sir?” Again, I hacked.

  “Just for a second, Ringer. C’mon, you’re holding up the line.”

  “I’m worried I caught something on board… Please. I can’t risk it.”

  He sighed. He glanced back at his partner, who monitored the bags, and they exchanged shrugs. The officer then leaned forward and stared straight into my eyes, so close that I actually did get nervous about germs.

  “You do look like shit,” he said, lip twisting in revulsion. “Decon-chamber on the way home should sort you out. Let’s go.”

  He placed my ID back into my gloved hand and beckoned me along. I hesitated for a moment, shocked that it had worked, and then shuffled forward. I maintained my cough all the way through the scanner, until I found Hayes and Rin waiting on the other side. Gareth came through with our supplies soon after. Nothing was suspicious about a Ringer hoarding ration bars and water packets.

  We were in.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Pervenio Station’s main concourse wasn’t anywhere near as busy with foot traffic as usual. Instead, I noticed the overly-packed entertainment venues running alongside it. Security seemed low outside of the hangar as well. I was used to seeing an officer posted on the station at every corner, but all the way down the gently-arcing hall, I spotted only a handful, spread thin.

  “Don’t need these,” Rin said. She tossed her stolen luggage into a trash compactor bin. Everyone but Gareth did the same. Our Ring Skipper staff hats also went in, which thankfully made the oppressive heat of the Earther-run station more bearable.

  “So how do we contact Rylah?” I asked.

  “We’ll need the best terminal out there,” Rin said. “As minimal transmittal delays as possible.”

  “Where do you plan on getting one of those?”

  “Like everybody else.”

  Rin headed toward a tech shop nestled between two bars. She strolled right in, past all the screens and automated dispensers displaying Pervenio-made gadgets for sale. Terminals, timepieces, health monitors—all the things people with credits used to make sure they were never late, never disconnected, and lived longer than any human ought to. She strutted right up to the counter and requested the same V3X model I’d stolen from John what seemed like an eternity ago. Five thousand credits. A shift’s worth of Piccolo work in pay, and that was before Pervenio and USF colonial taxes.

  The Earther shop-keep was so short I could see only his big head above the counter. His eyes lit up when Rin slapped her ID down without a care in the world. Like John would have. My real ID chip used to be linked directly to my credit account, so her sister must’ve done the same to hers… or to the Children of Titan’s. For a group that cursed credits, I couldn’t help but wonder how much they had.

  “You’re sure?” the man asked. “I have a few cheaper models over here—”

  “No, I want this one,” Rin said, oozing confidence. “Been working for years—might as well get the best.”

  “If you say so.” He retrieved the shiny device from his display counter. “V3X, it is. If you’d just have your friends there wait outside, I’ll get it registered straightaway.”

  She glanced back at us, and we took the cue. We stepped into the concourse and waited outside of a bar-restaurant called Pan Fusion. The words NO GLOVES OR MASKS ALLOWED were projected beside the entrance.

  “She does a good impression of one of them, doesn’t she?” Hayes said.

  “Must hurt her,” Gareth signed in response.

  “Guys, look,” I said.

  Pan Fusion was separated from the hall only by a hip-height partition, and every single Earther patron on the other side of it crowded around a view-screen. Their drinks were all lowered, and they were so silent it was like they were attending a funeral.

  On the screen, a news correspondent stood in the tram station within the Darien Q-Zone, a place I was all too familiar with. We were too far away to hear her, but the tram was parked in the Q-Zone station, with armed Pervenio security officers swarming about it. Hundreds of sick Ringers were being herded by them, marched along like they’d committed a crime and shoved into the tram cars. I also caught a glimpse through one of the space’s narrow viewports of Pervenio dropships hovering outside.

  “What the hell is this?” Hayes said, echoing my own sentiments.

  Our peoples had one unspoken agreement since the Great Reunion: Leave our sick alone unless all proper precautions are taken. But the decon-chambers at the end of the waiting area were powered off and being used like rotating doors by officers and ailing Ringers. The reporter didn’t wear a helmet or a mask, and neither were many of the higher-ranking officers.

  Sud
denly, a Ring-wide address broadcasted through every speaker and view-screen in our vicinity. The Voice of the Ring, Director Sodervall himself, popped up. He appeared more exhausted than ever. His wrinkles cut deeper, and the whites of his eyes were as pink as mine, like he too hadn’t slept properly in days.

  “People of the Ring,” he announced, his tone autocratic yet solemn. “According to reports from our Collectors, the terrorists behind the Piccolo attack are hiding out in caverns somewhere below the Darien Q-Zone. All tram-lines have been suspended until further notice as peaceful efforts are made to displace the residents to a contained area of Darien for a brief period while the investigation commences. I assure you, nobody who is innocent will be harmed. Soon, this war being waged in the shadows will be extinguished, and we will have peace. The fight to ensure our survival rests in all of our hands.”

  The feed cut out, replaced by the usual talking heads discussing the director’s announcements and defending all of his words. “Peaceful efforts?” This was the greatest show of force I’d ever witnessed in my lifetime. The amassed officers weren’t flaunting shock-batons. They wielded pulse-rifles, fingers on triggers, ready to blow a hole in Ringers, even though they were surrounded solely by the frail and dying.

  Rage filled my heart. Gareth grabbed the rail of the low divider and squeezed like he was choking the life out of someone. I’d never seen him display such emotion. Hayes’s trademark smirk vanished, replaced by pure abhorrence.

  “Rylah’s in,” Rin said to us. We turned to see her staring down at her hand-terminal. Her expression surprised me. It wasn’t brimming with the unbridled hatred I’d expected her to radiate after hearing the director’s message, but sorrow.

  “Rin, are you seeing this?” Hayes asked.

  “We have to move,” she said.

  “Rin!”

  “We have to move. As soon as security finds those staff members on the Ring Skipper, this place will be shut down tight.”

  She started walking, leaving us no choice but to follow. She moved at a brisk pace, but I caught her by the shoulder.

  “Stop!” I said. “You knew this was coming, didn’t you?”

  “No,” she said.

  “You’re lying.”

  She stopped and faced me, breathing heavily. “I have no reason to lie to you! Rylah just informed me the orders to sweep the Q-Zone from top to bottom came from Luxarn Pervenio himself.”

  “By Trass,” I said. “How many people were you hiding under there?”

  “Not enough to warrant this. There is a Pervenio army down there. Look around. Security has never been this light on the station, because he dispatched so many to Darien. Rylah said transports arrived by the dozens to maintain order before they went in. The feeds won’t show it, but the Lowers are going crazy. Everything is shut down. It’s...” She gathered her breath. I could tell that beneath her sanitary mask, her lips trembled slightly. “It’s happening.”

  “What is?” I said. “What’s going on?”

  “They pushed too far,” Hayes said. “Whatever happened with those collectors down there, Luxarn Pervenio’s lost his mind.”

  “Focus!” Rin snapped, startling the three of us. “This is what you wanted, Kale, and now whatever’s happening on Titan has cleared our path. All that’s left here are men too green to stop this. There is no time to waste. Rylah is inside the surveillance systems watching over us.”

  “Can she see Cora?” I asked excitedly. “Can she see the others?”

  “Everything in the detention block is on a local server. Accessing it right now would be too risky, but logs say no prisoners have been released since the Piccolo’s crew was taken in.”

  I nodded earnestly.

  Rin gave my shoulder a reassuring shake. “We’ll get to them soon enough,” she said. “Now, when I say ‘move,’ or ‘turn,’ or anything, follow me exactly. The detention block is only accessible by tram, so we need an officer. Follow me.”

  “Where—” Hayes began, but Rin stared daggers in his direction to shut him up. “Follow.”

  She set off in a hurry again, and it took every ounce of my energy to keep up. It was impossible not to notice the newsfeeds reporting on the situation inside of every venue we passed. Earthers who managed to pry their attention off the screens scrutinized us, along with all the other Ringers arriving at the station after the recall from Saturn. The few security officers posted about stood at attention, trying their best to appear calm. I could see clearly that they weren’t. With so many on Titan, they were the worst of what Pervenio had to offer. Something contorted their features. Something drew their hands toward the grips of their weapons.

  Fear.

  Rin spotted the most panicked of them and led us toward him. The young Earther stood alone outside the gate of an empty hangar with no departure scheduled. His hair was matted to his forehead as he perspired uncontrollably. His gaze danced nervously from side to side.

  “Stop,” Rin said to us, glancing down at her hand-terminal, where Rylah provided directions. We listened. “Wait. Surveillance will be cut in five...” She finished counting down and then approached the officer.

  His shoulders rose and fell with each of his nervous breaths. As Rin got closer to him, I realized what she’d meant when she’d said we needed an officer. She was going to take him down— an Earther, wearing armor that likely augmented his strength and a weighted boiler suit underneath. Not to mention that while we were now unarmed, he had a pulse-rifle on his back, a shock-baton dangling from one hip, and a sidearm holstered on the other that wasn’t snapped in, enabling him to draw it hastily.

  I had no time to stop her.

  “Sir, can you help me with something?” she addressed him, utilizing the sort of gentle, unassuming voice I wouldn’t have imagined could stem from her mouth. As she spoke, she allowed her sanitary mask to drop.

  When the Earther noticed her grisly scars, he froze, giving her the opening to slide to his flank, snatch his sidearm, and aim it at him. Her back faced the corridor, and with the three of us behind, anyone passing by would just assume we were all having a conversation.

  His arms rose slowly. She pressed the pulse-pistol firmly against his chest plate with one hand. With the other, she switched off the Pervenio com-link built into the neck area of his armor.

  “Arms at your side,” she growled. “Eyes on me. Understand?”

  He managed a nod.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Vi… Vick,” he stuttered.

  “You have a clan-family, Vick?”

  “I… uh… Yes. Amissum.”

  “Well, the four of us are the ones who took down the Piccolo. I’m sure you’ve seen the recording.” She typed something into her hand-terminal with one hand and then read information off the screen. “The Amissum clan-family holds their main residence just outside of New London, factory workers. If you don’t do exactly what I ask, I’ll make you watch as we do the same thing we did on the Piccolo to every single member of your family, and then you’ll go out last.”

  His eyes bulged. They wandered toward Hayes, Gareth, and me, but Rin lifted the gun and aimed it right under his chin.

  “Eyes on me,” she said.

  Vick obeyed. Sweat poured down his forehead. He looked like the crew of the Piccolo had when we were locked in the harvesting bay, awaiting our inevitable doom.

  “Please, don’t shoot,” he said. “What…What do you want?”

  “I need you to get us onto the tram to the station’s detention block,” Rin said. “Pretend we’re detainees en route for questioning for contraband discovered in our belongings.”

  “What contraband?” Vick asked.

  “You’ll see. No more questions. Will you help, or do I have to find another officer?” She pushed the barrel of the pistol into the upper part of Vick's neck so hard that he gagged.

  “I’ll do it!” he yelped. “Just don’t hurt anyone.”

  “That’s all up to you. Now remove your rif
le. Slowly.”

  Vick reached onto his back, detached his pulse-rifle, and carefully brought it around in front of him, fingers stretched away from the trigger. Rin grabbed it and handed it to Gareth, who emptied its magazine into our supply bag. She then shoved it back into the officer’s gut before taking his shock-baton and smashing the switch used to ignite it against the wall, breaking it.

  “There we go,” Rin said. “Now walk. Gareth, stay on him.”

  Gareth took the pistol and fell in directly behind the officer as he started moving. He kept it inside the supply bag, pressed firmly against Vick’s back. Rin was behind them, head down and focused on her hand-terminal. I was behind her, as anxious as Vick that we were going to be spotted and mowed down. I could feel Hayes’s rapid breaths on the back of my neck.

  “Trust her,” he whispered into my ear.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The security tram station wasn’t far. Vick led us toward two officers posted outside the entry, ammo-less pulse-rifle in his hands. Rin typed something into her hand-terminal, and then we all pretended that our wrists were cuffed as she’d instructed earlier.

  “Rylah’s now got control of the scanners and cameras inside,” she relayed to us. Then she leaned over Gareth’s shoulder and whispered to Vick, “Take us in. Act poised.”

  “Bringing them in for questioning,” Vick said to the officers as we passed them, his voice shaking only a little. They were too focused on a newsfeed about what was happening down on Titan to notice or even offer him more than a nod of acknowledgment.

  Inside, a scanner was planted in front of the tram-line spouting up through the ceiling. A sleek, vertically oriented car waited on the rail. A listless female officer sat in a booth beside the scanner, chin resting in her palm.

  “Bringing them in for questioning,” Vick said to her. This time, his voice cracked from nerves.