I crossed the hangar exit and peeked around the corner. The Phoebe ship factory’s harbor was deathly quiet and dark, what passed for nighttime on a moon of Saturn. The Ringer day-night cycle fell in line with Earth’s. Fight it as they might, it was genetic. Earther days and years were an inter-solar standard, at least until Kale inevitably tried to change that too.
I crept along, checking my corners. I’d never been to Phoebe, but Pervenio Stations all stuck to a similarly efficient design standard. Every groan from life support sent me ducking into a niche, finger on my trigger. Occasionally, I heard a footstep from someone scurrying toward the station’s rec area, but I was a ghost. Infiltrating offworld workstations happened to be a collector specialty.
Except usually there was security.
I didn’t encounter any in the central passage, and when I reached the factory itself, it was more of the same. Dozens of Ringers slept between unfinished ship chassis, using insulation for blankets. Signs of protest littered the floor. A handful throughout the vast space continued working, but they wore welding masks and were distracted by sparks from fusion torches.
All I had to do was not sneeze, and my path to the glass-fronted foreman’s office overlooking everything was clear. I supposed it was precisely how Rin planned it.
I sidled along the outer walls like a shadow, using scraps for cover. The stairs to the office were only a step away, when one of Kale’s few loyal workers across the room dropped his fusion cutter. He cursed loudly then lower as he tried to get control of it. It spun along the floor, melting anything in its path. I got distracted, and my foot banged into a sleeping Ringer.
“What the—?” the man groaned awake.
I was on him in a heartbeat. My hand covered his mouth and nose, and my artificial knee pushed down on his chest. I could see his eyes bulge as he saw what I was. Even the sanitary mask I wore couldn’t hide my stout Earther frame and pink skin. He couldn’t do anything about it. I held him there on the precipice of death until his eyes rolled back. Then I let off. I didn’t kill for free unless there was no other choice.
I glanced up to see if anybody noticed. A few Ringers by the clumsy worker stirred, either telling him to shut up or trying to help. I used the commotion to climb the stairs to the office door. The lights were on inside, and even though the office’s privacy tints were active, it was the brightest area of the factory.
I crouched and tested the door—unlocked. I raised my pistol and pushed it open with my boot, then rushed in and locked it behind me. A man I assumed was Orson Fring sat at a desk, poring over some data on his computer terminal. He didn’t jump or hit the floor. Instead, he calmly glanced up from his work. His beard was as white as snow in Old Russia, somewhat hiding how intense low g had stretched his face. He was easily ten years my senior, maybe more since low g also caused Ringers not to show their wrinkles and sagging flesh as drastically as mine.
“I knew it wouldn’t be long before he sent someone,” Orson said, staring at my pulse pistol. “I didn’t realize it would be you.”
“Do I know you, old—” I didn’t finish. It didn’t seem right calling Orson “old man” after I’d gotten so used to hearing the phrase thrown my way. I edged closer, keeping my pistol aimed and watching his hands. One click and he could switch off the office’s privacy tint, and we’d be lit up for anyone in the hangar to see. He didn’t make a move, not even a twitch.
“I doubt you’d remember,” he said. “You saved my son Jimmy once when he got himself into trouble a long time ago.”
I scoured his face to imagine a younger version, and then it hit me. It was one of the tougher jobs to forget, what with a mad scientist trying to turn the poor boy into a cyborg servant. I wasn’t often hired to help offworlders, but Pervenio Corp had an interest in keeping the Fring family happy so they could keep its cheap Ringer laborers happy.
“Jimmy Fring,” I said. “I remember.”
“I never got a chance to properly thank you,” Orson said.
“Thanks aren’t part of the job. Hands,” I indicated as he went to stand. He presented his palms without protest, even going so far as to smile. I could see beneath the expression. Deep in his dark eyes rested an elderly soul resigned to his fate.
“What happened to Jimmy?” I asked, lowering my firearm. It didn’t seem right having a pleasant conversation with the man while aiming at him. Especially a man who had the decency to remember me.
“He died raiding an Earther luxury cruiser with Kale and his aunt,” Orson answered.
“Aunt?” I asked.
“They’re the last two with Trass’ blood. You didn’t know?”
“I should have.” That was why Rin’s leash was so long. My last words to Zhaff lamenting family came to me as I realized how accurate they were. No matter where anyone was born or what kind of family it was, all the connections seemed to lead to was trouble.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that about Jimmy,” I said. “He was a good kid from what I recall.” I didn’t really remember anything about him specifically, but it seemed like the right thing to say. I was used to targets crying or begging on their knees.
“I tried to keep him out of all this,” Orson said, “but he had too much fight in him.”
“I know how that goes.”
Orson chuckled meekly. Then he closed his eyes and lifted his chin, as if imagining a cool, seaward breeze on Earth rustling his beard. “So what happens next?” he asked.
“Your king needs me to ‘eliminate’ you. His aunt’s words.”
“He’s hiring Earther collectors now?” Orson asked.
“I wouldn’t say I’m under contract. He and Rin are damn good at leaving people with impossible situations, though, I’ll give him that.”
“What do they have on you?”
“It’s a who…” I paused. I rarely told people about who Aria really was, but it seemed like the right time. He deserved to know why I had to do what I did, especially now that I knew Rin was a Trass as well. “An unregistered daughter.”
“Doesn’t make her any less yours,” Orson said.
“Tell my people that.”
“I understand. I’d do the same for Jimmy.”
“Family. What a burden,” I mused.
“And such a blessing. Seventy-three Earth years I’ve been alive,” Orson said. “I watched the first Pervenio ships sent from Earth sail over Titan. It was peaceful here before they made contact. So few remain alive who remember, but I do.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Things were simpler,” he continued as if I’d said nothing. “We worked to survive in a place where humans shouldn’t and spent the rest of our days finding love and living life. Maybe it didn’t look like a paradise, but it felt like it. Then I watched thousands of my people perish from sickness. Lost control of my own docks from fear, and watched my employees and family become mask-wearing wage-slaves.”
“No paradise was made to last, I guess,” I said. “They say Earth was once lush and green, but I have a hard time imagining that too.” My fingers grew spry around my trigger just in case. This fearless acceptance of death reminded me far too much of the Ringer on Earth who got me caught up in all of this when he stole my gun and blew out his own brains.
“We’re so proficient at ruining beautiful things,” he said.
“We didn’t ask for the Meteorite,” I said.
“We would have found a way to destroy it anyway. I don’t blame Earth for what happened here either. Your ancestors survived a hell I can’t imagine. Every day must feel like a blessing to be protected no matter the cost.”
“Why didn’t you just give Kale whatever it is he wants?”
“I spent fifty years fighting in this very station for my people to be treated fairly,” Orson said. “To get paid what we deserved; for Pervenio to take proper precautions to ensure our health. To be trained to take on the same jobs Earthers had. And do you know what?”
I shook my head.
“We
earned some semblance of respect,” Orson said. “Our slender limbs and fingers made us valuable at putting together the tiny pieces that comprise a larger whole, and we were cheaper than machines. We earned enough to survive in a factory that became renowned for its working conditions despite Earthers and Ringers working side by side.”
I noted his use of “Ringer,” a word the rest of his kind seemed allergic to these days. My fingers relaxed. I can honestly say I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but I was no longer nervous. He was different from the other Ringers I’d encountered; from a different time.
“I had that victory,” Orson said. “No amount of Earther slurs or insults could take that away. I wore them proudly.”
“You ever feel like ancient men like us should’ve hung it up before we wound up here?” I said.
“Every day.” A tear rolled down Orson’s cheek. “I never thought I’d live to see a free Titan again. Now our king wants me dead because we won’t work like slaves anymore. Because we already fought so hard for more, and he doesn’t even see it.”
I didn’t realize my gun-hand had begun quaking until he stopped speaking. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. For years, I thought I was numb to the world. Fighting, fucking, killing—that was my life. Then Zhaff was assigned to me, and Aria came back, and the next thing I knew, I was a human feeling pity for sick Ringers.
Orson Fring was as familiar to me as a hole in the wall, yet my heart thumped in my chest like I was in my first firefight, and I knew... he didn’t deserve to die.
“C’mon.” I holstered the pistol I hadn’t been able to fire since I'd unloaded it at Zhaff, and took Orson’s arm.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“Getting you out of here. Kale will be pleased enough with you out of his hair, and you can come back to your docks when this all blows over. Time is the only collector who’s gonna take us old-timers, right?”
“No.” Orson shook me off, then grasped my hand and positioned it over my pulse pistol. “I’m too tired to keep fighting and starting over. This new world, whatever it is, it isn’t for me.”
“Too bad. Let’s go.”
I went to grab him again, but he drew my pistol for me. I backed away slowly as he held it with two hands, shaking even more than mine had been. I’d underestimated another Ringer and found myself at the mercy of my own gun again.
“Take it, please,” he stammered, flipping it around and offering me the butt.
I’d dealt with far too many murderous offworlders not to listen, but as my fingers wrapped around the grip, he aimed it at himself and pulled me close. The barrel pressed into the center of his chest. It took all the effort in his weak Ringer muscles to hold me there.
“Do what you came to do,” Orson whispered.
“Not for him,” I said.
“Then for me. Give this one kindness to a stranger, Malcolm Graves. Don’t make me beg another Earther for something.”
“I…” Words got trapped in my throat. All the breath fled my lungs.
“Please,” he begged. “Thanks to you, I got another decade with my son. I’m ready to join him now in the skies of Titan. I’m done with all the fighting.”
“It doesn’t have to go like this.”
“It does. You still have something left to lose, and this time, I get to give a stranger a chance at extra time with his child.”
Orson’s fingers folded over mine, but he wasn’t strong enough to force me to pull the trigger. So I stared into the eyes of the first man in my life who wasn’t begging me to live or for me to kill him for selfish reasons. There was no payoff for his family, no infamy in it for his order like the herald on Mars.
“Please…” he said again.
I nodded slowly, biting my lip. My hand felt as numb as the artificial leg on the same side. It was like pushing aside a boulder, but I squeezed gradually and never broke eye-contact. I had to picture Aria’s smile just so I could keep going, one millimeter at a time, until the shot went off.
My ears rang. Lights throughout the sleepy factory switched on. I lunged forward and caught Orson, then lowered him to the floor and laid him flat.
“You’re a good man… Malcolm Graves…” Orson rasped, eyes wet with tears. “Maybe you can show our king a better way. Wouldn’t that be ironic.” He coughed and turned his head, a thin line of bleed leaking from the corner of his lips.
“From ice… to ashes,” I whispered. They were Ringer words I never thought I’d say, but they felt right. This stranger deserved a proper goodbye before Kale Trass got his hands on his legacy.
I sat with Orson as he wheezed his final breaths. Until his eyes went glassy and the air rattled to a stop. I don’t think I breathed that entire time, not until my pistol slipped from my trembling grip. I stared at the weapon that had now claimed one hundred thirty-four lives. I used to tell myself all had it coming, but it wasn’t true anymore.
Workers who’d heard the gunshot started pounding on the door.
I could have run then and shot my way through a mob of fragile Ringers. I didn’t. Instead, I clung to Orson’s body and wept for the first time I could remember since I was a boy on Earth working in the Amissum clan-family’s factory. And for the first time since I ran off and became a collector, I wondered what my life might have been like if I’d stayed. I wouldn’t have anywhere near the number of stories, but maybe, just maybe, I might have been content.
“Mr. Fring!” someone shouted as the door broke open. Not a second later, I was bashed hard across the head. The last thing I saw before the world went black was Orson’s face, as peaceful as could be.
Eleven
Kale
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” Rin said. We stood in the Darien Uppers, surrounded by guards keeping my people at a safe distance. My aunt had me by the shoulders, checking me as if I were a damaged hover-car.
“I’m fine,” I said. “But if it weren’t for Aria, I’d be dead.”
“Yet somehow, being around her attracts enemies to you like a magnet. What if she let that Cogent in to save her father?”
“She didn’t. “
Rin rolled her eyes. “I thought your mother arrived to save the day anyway. That’s what your guards told me.”
“She did, just… the Cogent went after Aria first when he could have had me.”
“Then at least keep her somewhere else until Luxarn is dealt with. She’s not worth risking—”
“She is. I let you handle Orson your way, Rin. You’ll have to let me handle Aria. There’s nowhere safer on Titan than my quarters, and that Cogent probably knows what she’s carrying now, which means Luxarn will find out.”
“Well, we need to find out. I have all our best hunting for the Cogent. He won’t get off Titan. I can put the collector on it as well.” Nobody else had gone after my mother’s ship. As soon as Aria and I escaped, in fact, the soldiers said the Cogent backed off and completely vanished.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“He’s getting a bit more compliant, trust me. We might have to let him and Aria see each other eventually, but if you really believe we can trust her, then I don’t think it will be a big deal.”
“It has nothing to do with her. This Cogent might be more important than any of the others. As soon as we’re done here, I want your focus to be on capturing him alive.”
“What are you talking about?” Rin asked.
“I’ll tell you after. For now, we have a man to honor.” I’m not sure if it was the way I said those words as I pulled away from her, but Rin clutched my arm.
“He didn’t suffer, if it makes you feel any better,” she said. “He pretty much begged Malcolm to do it.”
“It doesn’t. But it’s done.” Before I went to Hayes to meet with Aria, I’d told Rin to handle Orson Fring because nobody else seemed to be able to get things in line. I didn’t tell her to kill him specifically, but I might as well have.
I knew Rin, and I kn
ew what she would do to ensure we had a fighting chance when the Earther fleet arrived. She wouldn’t have forced him to leave and risked him spilling secrets to the Earthers. I just had no idea a Cogent would nearly kill Aria and me, making it seem like a coordinated series of assassination attempts against Titanborn leadership. A Cogent whom Aria claimed might be the bastard son of Luxarn Pervenio, born from the dead.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said. I signaled my men to lead me to the foot of Darien Trass’s statue, where I always stood while addressing my people. They gossiped about what the announcement would be about, even though word from Phoebe about Orson had already spread after Malcolm was captured there and beaten within an inch of his life.
Rin aimed her hand terminal camera at me. “My heart…” I paused to gather myself. After all we’d been through, I couldn’t believe I felt any semblance of pity for a Titanborn who was willing to threaten our existence purely out of greed. It was probably because I knew how Aria would feel about it if she ever found out; about the secret I’d now have to keep from her after she revealed everything about herself during the tram ride home. About her father’s negligence and how he crashed back into her life, about Zhaff Pervenio, about how Madame Venta forced her to please her sexually in exchange for moving up in the organization.
“Kale,” Rin whispered, waving me along.
“My heart aches for the loss of one of our own,” I stated. It was easier to seem genuine, considering I meant it. “Orson Fring and his family have worked tirelessly to make the Ring a better place since the days of Titan’s first settlers. He was innocent of all this fighting. He didn’t deserve to die!”
My voice echoed across the Uppers so that all the Titanborn watching me around the atrium would hear every syllable.
Children of Titan Series: Books 1-4: (A Space Opera Thriller Box Set) Page 94
