Titanborn (8 page)

“Hold your fire!” someone shouted.

A pair of hands rose up from behind a machine belt. I wasn't sure who they belonged to until I saw a pistol identical to my own held in one of them. I fired a shot five or so meters to the left of him on purpose. It made me feel better.

“Whoa, hold it!” Trevor Cross yelled. He popped up farther so that we could see his face.

“Oh, sorry,” I responded. “I couldn't tell it was you from here. Old eyes and all.”

Trevor released a nervous laugh and shuffled toward us. He went to lower his arms, but Zhaff said: “Why are you here, Collector?”

“I heard shooting,” Trevor said. “Thought it might be a lead.”

“Holster your weapon immediately,” Zhaff ordered.

“All right, all right.” Trevor lowered his weapon slowly and slid it into his side holster. “No need to get angry. We're all on the same side here.”

I tapped Zhaff on the shoulder and whispered to him: “I'll handle this.” Zhaff nodded, stowed his pistol, and lifted the hood of the hauler I'd selected to start tooling around with the engine.

I kept my gun in my hand and my eye on Trevor. There was no way I was going to trust a Venta Co rat when we had a real lead to follow. “So you just happened to be out here?” I asked him. “You weren't trying to follow
us
for a lead, were you? You know how I feel about contract poaching.”

Trevor shrugged. “Hey, we're all after the same person. I followed the trail same as you did.”

“Right. So you figured out it's a Ringer, did you?”

His eyes went wide. He nodded, but I could tell he was as shocked as I was when I first saw the Ringer standing next to me in the Molten Crater. He was an awful liar.

“Why don't you go home, Trevor?” I said. “This is no place for kids.”

“Tell that to your—” He stopped when he noticed the split head of the shop attendant slumped against the wall.

“Like I said. The Ringer we're after has a flair for killing. I'm sure Venta has a crooked shop owner you could go after, or a streetwalker who isn't paying dues. That sounds more your speed.”

“Funny, Malcolm. But I'm not the one who let him get away.” He gestured toward the hauler tracks and the spots of blood on the snowy street outside. Then he walked up next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “How about this: I help you find the Ringer and we split the reward?”

I grabbed his hand as tight as I could and removed it. “I'd rather the Ringer kill me.”

“Don't be a fool. He went to the wilderness. You know how big that is? If we find him I'll let you be the one to turn it in. Pervenio doesn't even have to know I helped.”

Zhaff stopped working and slammed the hood of the hauler shut. “Locating the bomber is our priority, Malcolm. It is true he could provide assistance in the wilderness and benefit Pervenio relations with Venta Co. I will contact Director Sodervall to draft an arrangement.”

“I was wrong about you.” Trevor stepped past me toward Zhaff, who was pulling himself up into the driver's seat of the hauler. “Listen to him, Malcolm. Think of the headlines, all of us working together in the name of justice.”

Zhaff turned the ignition, and this time the engine clicked a few times and hummed to life. Of course he knew how to fix one. He could do everything, but nothing more expertly than foul my mood. He pulled out his hand-terminal and started typing.

“I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut next time?” I said to Zhaff.

“I apologize, but I am unable to keep my mouth shut and also speak,” Zhaff replied without looking up at me with his eye-lens. “Communication is critical for this mission.”

Trevor snickered. “This guy gets better and better. What do you say, Malcolm?”

I shoved past him and climbed up into the hauler. “Move over, you're too young to drive,” I said to Zhaff, not even thinking that it was probably true. For once he did something without a fuss. I took my spot in the driver's seat and wrapped my hands around the wheel. Then I sighed. “All right, hop in,” I said to Trevor.

He was beaming. “I knew your brain wasn't too withered up. This'll be fun.” He grabbed on to the side of the vehicle and started to draw himself up into the tight backseat when I hit the gas. The hauler zoomed forward, causing him to roll over the back. He squealed like a young boy as he hit the ground and rolled even though I knew we weren't going fast enough for him to receive anything worse than a scrape.

“Malcolm!” he hollered behind us. “I'll kill you!” The echoes of his screams grew softer as we zoomed toward the edge of civilization. The only thing keeping me from bursting out in laughter was the cold air rushing against my face. Leave it to the Earthers of Old Russia to build their haulers without tops.

“That was not advisable,” Zhaff remarked, still unruffled as always.

“We're doing this alone,” I replied. I reached over with one hand and ended his pending call to Director Sodervall. “He won't get away again.”

Considering that I had no clue what the Ringer was trying to do, Trevor's help would've made things easier. But I wasn't sharing the credit, and I definitely wasn't sharing credits, which Zhaff seemed to be okay with. I wasn't sure if Cogents even needed money, so it wasn't his choice to make. I was in charge.

There were no more people for the Ringer to kill where we were going. It was time to put his spree to an end and put what happened on Undina behind me where it belonged.

There was no wall to pass through when leaving the boundaries of the Euro-String, only a final row of shanties standing in a line and then nothing. Civilization stopped and all you'd find beyond were ruins and wasteland. Most species of life on Earth weren't as fortunate as humanity when it came to surviving after the original M-day. Wild animals were nearly as rare as diamonds, and you'd have to search high and low to find any foliage growing naturally. Livestock, forests, crops—they were all grown in contained zones along the strings.

I'd chased targets into the wilderness before. Most of them were dead by the time I found them, either frozen solid or starved to death. You could find shelter in the skeletons of ancient cities, but any supplies from the pre-Meteorite world had been used up a long time ago. The Ringer we were tracking wouldn't last long if we weren't fast. I had no intention of letting him die on his own.

Zhaff spotted the stolen hauler a couple dozen kilometers away from the string. It was parked in a ditch at the edge of a frozen river that skirted an abandoned city and ran off toward the horizon in both directions. Every building on the other side of it was dilapidated, with entire walls missing on some and rooftops caved in on most.

It was a different sort of emptiness than what we had found in the slums, as if an entire culture had vanished suddenly and left behind only the bones to slowly wither away. The first time I'd experienced the wilderness, a similar sight filled me with trepidation. It didn't affect me much anymore, but it was hard not to feel a slight sense of mourning.

When we reached the hauler we found it empty. There weren't any visible footsteps leading in any direction. We'd traveled so far from the Euro-String that the snow had already covered any shallow tracks left behind by the light weight of a Ringer. The frozen river had no cracks on it from being walked upon, either.

The remnants of a bridge were about half a kilometer east, but nothing was left of it except for the tarnished structural members around its landings and a few lonely, metal columns poking up here and there through ice. Still, I had to assume the Ringer had crossed into the forsaken city somehow. There was nowhere else to go.

I switched off our hauler and hopped down over the side. Taking my first step after sitting in the cold for so long reminded me that I wasn't as young as I used to be. My legs were stiff.

“Looks like he crossed here on foot,” I said. I stretched out my leg and tapped the ice a few times with my foot to test it. It felt solid as bedrock, as if the river had been frozen for centuries.

“The ice is more than a meter thick,” Zhaff clarified. “It would take at least four men of your mass to break through it by walking.”

“Thick enough to drive this piece of junk across?”

“Doubtful. The hauler would be unable to traverse the debris-laden streets in the settlement regardless.”

“All right, then like I said we'll have to follow him on foot. With the head start he's had we'll be lucky if we ever find him in there.”

Zhaff stepped toward the river and turned his head slowly from side to side, surveying the length of the urban area across it with his eye-lens. “Without more than two of us it would take too long,” he decided. I couldn't tell if he was taking a shot at me for leaving Trevor behind. “The dense portion of this settlement covers approximately eight hundred hectares,” he continued. “I will message Pervenio Corp to send airships to sweep the area.” Zhaff began typing into his hand-terminal, but I held out my arm.

“Hold off on that,” I ordered, remembering that, as far as I knew, I was in charge and Zhaff had to listen. “We'll cross here and split up to cover as much ground as we can. If we can't find any sign of him by nightfall, then I'll let you make the call. It'll save them money.”

I knew that we, or at least I, would be paid handsomely for finding the Ringer's location, but I was still determined to bring back the culprit myself. Even if the carelessness of the mechanic's murder had me feeling uneasy, it wasn't enough to sway me from that desire. Getting a short break from Zhaff wouldn't hurt, either.

“It is unwise to separate,” Zhaff advised. “We have no knowledge of the suspect's training.”

“He's a Ringer,” I scoffed. “Here in Earth's gravity he'll be about as strong as a child compared with us. Plus I saw him. He looked sick enough to topple over at any moment without even needing the help of our planet. He emptied his gun at us earlier and didn't have time to grab bullets so I think either one of us could take him.”

“He remains strong enough to crack that mechanic's skull.”

I bit my lip. “Who knows how many swings it took.”

“I have been instructed to follow your lead, Malcolm. This is, however, the third instance since our meeting when my recommendation has been disregarded. I will be taking note of all such occasions in my task report. Would you still like to proceed?”

I thought about calling him a mindless drone and a freak, but I held my tongue
.
“Affirmative, and I'd love to see that report when we're done here, too.”

“You are not authorized.”

“All your skills and you still can't sense sarcasm.” I sighed and shook my head. “You take the east side. I'll take the west.”

“Agreed. If you do locate the Ringer first, do not engage him without contacting me.”

“Will do.”

I pointed at my hand-terminal with an exaggerated motion before walking cautiously out onto the river. Every subsequent step helped me to gain a little more confidence in the safety of the ice.

“What did I do to deserve this?” I grumbled under my breath once Zhaff was out of earshot.

I readjusted my duster so that I could breathe into the inside of my collar and avoid the frigid air. Then I reached down to my belt, grabbed my spotter goggles, and set them to thermal imaging. When I pulled them down over my eyes I saw nothing but darkness.

Hours passed. It was rare on Earth that the sky was clear enough to see the sun as anything but a dull glow. It wasn't at that moment, but I could tell it would be setting soon. My legs were getting sore, and my cheeks felt like they were ready to crack open from the cold. It'd been more than two hours since Zhaff and I split up and I'd neither heard back from him nor found the Ringer myself.

So much rubble and ice invaded the streets of the decrepit settlement that it was hard to move quickly. Like many bodies of water after the Meteorite hit, the river had apparently flooded and was frozen soon after. The ice devastated everything it touched as it expanded. There were treasure hunters who dedicated their lives to digging through their ice to find artifacts from the old world, but mostly all they discovered were the rusty chassis of ancient vehicles. I could see pieces of some popping up here and there like tiny islands of metal. It was as if every pre-Meteorite human had one of their own.

It was hard to use landmarks to track my path when so much looked the same. Signs at intersections were completely tarnished and unreadable as well, so when I was forced to cut through gutted buildings it was impossible to know if I was going in circles without constantly double-checking the regional scans on my hand-terminal.

I climbed up the half-collapsed stairs of what looked like an apartment building and looked out through a cavernous hole in the wall of the second floor. There was nothing out there but more rubble. I rubbed my hands together to regain some warmth before continuing on. Even with my gloves on, my fingers were numb. I decided I'd give it ten minutes more before I gave in and allowed Zhaff to call in the airships.

I shimmied out through the hole and searched for a way to get a little higher on the building since the stairs inside were nowhere to be found. A sagging balcony jutted out from the building one story up. A piece of wall snapped off when I tried to place my foot on it to climb up, but I was able to use what little feeling I had left in my fingers to heave myself onto it. Once there, I lowered my spotters over my eyes listlessly, expecting to see nothing but darkness for the hundredth time. I swept my gaze from side to side, and again saw nothing, but right before I removed them I noticed the tiny red blip of a heat signature on the edge of my vision.

I would've grinned if my face weren't so numb. I clambered down from my perch as fast as I could without killing myself. When I reached the streets I whipped out my pulse-pistol and headed in the direction of the thermal signature.

Once I got closer I began monitoring my steps, making sure they were light enough not to crunch the layer of ice that seemed to be everywhere. I arrived at a break in a cluster of buildings. A small, broken-down shack sat at the bank of a narrow tributary stemming from the nearby river. It had no roof anymore, and most of its stone walls had crumbled away to reveal a bare interior. Beyond it, barren land extended through a haze until a faded range of mountains in the distance sliced up through the thick veil of clouds.

I crouched behind a wall overlooking the shack and checked my spotters again. The heat signature was somewhere on the other side of it. I lifted my hand-terminal to my mouth and set it to contact Zhaff.

“I think I've located the Ringer,” I whispered boastfully. Finding him may have been a stroke of luck, but for all of Zhaff's supposedly extraordinary abilities, to me there was no substitute for real experience. I wanted to make sure my partner was aware of that.

Zhaff's response came immediately. “It will be easier to capture him alive if there are two of us. I will be able to reach your position in precisely eight minutes and seventeen seconds.” He didn't even need to pause in order to calculate the number.

“Fine, but if he starts moving I won't be able to wait. He'll spot me following.”

I ended the call before I could receive a reply. Then I peered at the ruined structure again, this time without my spotters on, and tried to locate the Ringer with my own eyes through the cracks. I couldn't.

I breathed out slowly and turned my attention to my pulse-pistol, analyzing it to make sure everything was in working order. That went on for about a minute before I elected to ignore Zhaff's warning. I could take him down alone. It was only a weak Ringer, after all. I didn't need a partner. Plus, remaining still was making me shiver even more than I had been.

I readied my gun and approached the shack with furtive steps. I wanted to keep the element of surprise on my side just in case the Ringer had managed to snag a few extra bullets back at the hauler shop.

“Don't move, Ringer!” I shouted once I poked around the corner of the shack with my pulse-pistol aimed. “Or I'll blow a hole in you so large you'll freeze from the inside out.”

The Ringer was sitting out in front of the shack, against a pile of stones that looked like they used to belong to one of its walls. His head turned toward me, but unlike most of the targets I'd ever tracked down, he didn't ignore the warning and attempt to run. He barely even moved. In fact, the worry seemed to drain from his face once he realized who the man barking at him was, and he returned to gazing out toward the faraway mountains.

The first thing I noticed about him was that he wasn't wearing his mask or gloves. They were lying on the ground next to him beside the empty old-world revolver. The next thing was that he was dressed in nothing but a thin boiler suit. The sleeves were shorter than Zhaff's and revealed stringy arms so white that they glowed under the waning sunlight as well as a deep gash on his left biceps, the blood around it frozen. He didn't appear cold in the slightest. I was struggling to keep my teeth from chattering as I spoke, yet the Ringer didn't even have goosebumps.

“By Trass, I knew someone would track me down eventually, but that was faster than I expected,” the Ringer said calmly before succumbing to a fit of coughing. His sickly eyes were even redder than when I met him, like two almond-shaped rubies. Every time he exhaled it sounded like a broken-down air recycler. If the g-pill I saw him take back at the Molten Crater was the last he had, his lungs were probably verging on collapse from enduring Earth's gravity. “Impressive for a mud stomper,” he continued after he gathered his breath. “Shame it had to be you, though.”

“I don't know about that,” I said as I advanced on him. “There are some of us who only prefer one aspect of alive or dead, no matter what the reward is. Especially for offworlders who blow up innocents. Lucky for you I'm just trying to make a living.”

“None of you are innocent,” he stated categorically, retaining his calm façade despite the harshness of his words. “So what now, Collector?”

I was surprised the Ringer made no effort to deny his part in the bombing. Fugitives were rarely so compliant. Because of that it took longer than intended for me to come up with a response. When I finally did, I decided to lie. “It's up to you,” I said. “Pervenio airships are already on their way to retrieve us.”

“So it's that simple here on Earth? Offer a man chains and expect him to lock them on himself before following quietly?”

“Again, it's up to you.” I kept my gun aimed steady as I moved around behind him until I was close enough to reach out and touch him. “Make this easy on me and I'll call them off. We'll take the train back instead; just us. Unless you'd rather start the interrogation right away. Trust me, the people who want you won't be as cordial as I am after what you did.”

“Not so pleasant when foreigners come and murder your people, is it?” the Ringer asked scathingly, his mask of composure finally beginning to slip away. The same rage I'd seen brewing in his sickly eyes back in New London returned in full force.

“You offworlders and your messages. If your flair for dramatics didn't keep me employed, I might find it irritating.” I pressed the barrel of my pistol against the back of the Ringer's tall head. “Now c'mon, get up. Don't make this harder on yourself.”