RE:Inspiration; Titan II

RE: Inspiration; Titan

  Part Two

  By James Phillips

  Copyright 2012 James Phillips

  Cover art by S.M. Rameez

  Thank you for your support.

  I want to give extra thanks my good friend S.M. Rameez, not only for creating the cover art, but also for lending a hand in editing this story and helping make the Tel'atomic Pulse-Propulsion system seem somewhat plausible.

  The dark haze that held his mind started to dissipate, the pain that had plagued him was gone and Jacobi Myles, Captain of the Outrunner, knew that death had beaten his will to live. Light blazed into existence from within the darkness and Jacobi was drawn to it.

  Shortly after the arrival of the light, sound started to flow into the tunnel that led Jacobi to an unknown fate. The sounds were muddled voices, speaking unfamiliar words in a familiar tongue.

  Beyond the strange voices speaking alien words, words that he knew but could not place, was the sound of mechanical whirs and digital beeps. Cool air caressed his skin as he drew nearer to the end of the tunnel. The black void called him once more, but it was weak this time and Jacobi turned from its pleading. Life or death, Jacobi had chosen his path and he would not change his mind.

  He reached the end of the tunnel before he knew it and stumbled over the edge.

  As he fell he could feel his conscious slip from him.

  “This is it…” He thought, but those thoughts were lost as he fell.

  All that remained of Jacobi’s mind was the blinding light and a terrifying silence.

  Suddenly a voice broke through the awful silence. It was loud and clear and a rush of emotions flooded Jacobi’s previously blank mind.

  “Captain, he’s waking up.” The voice was female, but not quite human. It sounded odd, almost synthesized.

  Another voice quickly followed, it was another female. “He doesn’t look like he’s awake.” Sarcasm practically oozed from the words and if Jacobi would have been in control of his body he would have smiled.

  “Just give him a minute, he’s still coming to.” Yet another voice retorted. This time the voice belonged to a male, he seemed annoyed by his female counterpart’s sarcastic quip.

  Was he alive?

  Jacobi’s eyes sprung open. Blinding light -much less brilliant than the light in his dream, but bright none-the-less- seared his retina and his eyes snapped shut. He tried again, this time slowly opening his eyes, allowing them to adapt to the brightness.

  People surrounded the small bed that he was laid out on. An astonishing assortment of machines and gadgets, with a plethora of wires and tubes leading to his bed, sat to his right.

  Above him, past the light that shone down on him, was the unmistakable metallic gray of the hull of a spacecraft.

  Space?

  Memories flooded back into his mind and a mixture of panic and adrenaline burst into existence. Jacobi shot up in his bed. The pain from earlier, while exponentially less painful than before, returned and a harsh cry escaped from him.

  Every eye in the room -except for one pair that might never open again- turned to him.

  “Are you alright?” The owner of the voice was a young-woman; Jacobi judged that she was in her late teens or early twenties. She had a pair of sparkling lavender eyes that resembled two amethyst diamonds hidden behind a small pair of glasses. Her bangs were pulled back with a purple headband and the rest of her pitch black hair fell past her shoulders. Her voice was soft and her frame was small and as she sat in the chair on the side of Jacobi’s bed, he couldn’t help but think that she was fragile, almost as if she were made of glass.

  He tested his voice but only a pathetic croak escaped from his cracked vocal cords. He coughed to clear his throat and tried once more: “I think so.”

  He let his voice trail off as he inspected the room and the people surrounding him. He counted ten faces around the bed, one of which was vaguely familiar. Had he seen her before? The girl stood to the left of his bed, right next to the lavender eyed girl, and she was looking at Jacobi curiously. Her eyes were yellow and-

  “Patient OR-01’s condition remains stable,” Jacobi's scan of the room was interrupted and he looked to the source of the synthesized female voice, the same one that had woken him from his nightmare. She was tall and slim, her hair was pulled back and neatly tied into a bun that sat upon the back of her head and a small pair of glasses rested on her nose. If it weren’t for a ghostly pink hue that enveloped her, Jacobi would have thought her human. Her lab coat furled as she strode to the edge of Jacobi’s bed. “For future reference may I inquire your name, Patient OR-01?”

  Jacobi stared at the hologram in amazement. “You’re an A.I. aren’t you?”

  “Affirmative. I am Jolt, medical intelligence of this spacecraft. For future reference may I inquire your name, Patient OR-01?”

  “Right,” He forced the look of marvel from his face. “I am Jacobi Myles, Captain of the Outrunner.”

  Before he had finished stating his title a tall man with broad shoulders and dark gray hair stepped forward with his hand stretched out toward Jacobi. “Welcome aboard the UPSC Battle-Cruiser Windsor. I am Morgan Hughes, Captain of this vessel.” Jacobi took his hand and shook. The great strength behind the Captain’s grip surprised Jacobi, but he hid his shock behind a stern poker-face. Morgan had dark circles engraved beneath his eyes and Jacobi could tell that it had been quite some time since the man had been able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. “We exited the Space-Way near the remnants of a ship, your ship Captain. Luckily we were able to get a rescue team to your boat before you passed on.”

  “And my crew?”

  “They’re alive, for now anyway.” Jacobi tore his attention from Captain Hughes and found the new speaker. It was a young man, probably a year or two older than he was, with sharp green eyes and black hair that had been neatly slicked back; a small scar marred his forehead just under his hairline. The speaker was considerably shorter than the Captain of the Windsor, but as Jacobi scanned the rest of the room he only found three people who matched Morgan’s height. The first was a thin dark-skinned man who towered almost a foot above the Captain, his face was an emotionless slate as he stood behind the rest of the crew, his attention rested on Jacobi; his cold glare sent a shiver down Jacobi’s spine. The second was a soldier, Jacobi recognized the badges of honor that adorned the left breast of his coat from books he’d read as a child, and he could tell by the number of medals that occupied the man's coat that he had seen many battles. Light-blue hair speckled with gray covered his head and the short beard that coated his jaw had hardly any of the light-blue at all; he was only an inch taller than the Captain. And the final member of the group that bested Captain Hughes’ height was another A.I., he looked identical to the battle-hardened soldier, so much so that it was almost comical; Jacobi forced the urge to laugh to the back of his mind.

  “The name’s Devon Hastings, they call me Slick.” He reached out and Jacobi shook his hand. As he did he spied an occupied bed in the corner of the room over Devon's shoulder. The bed held Jacobi’s attention and Devon followed his concerned gaze.

  “He’s…” It was the man that stood between Devon and the yellow eyed girl. “He’s one of ours.” The new speaker was roughly the same height as Devon and Jacobi assumed they were around the same age as well. “He was injured in battle and has been like that ever since.” Sorrow dwelled in his words and silence fell over the room.

  A nervous laugh belonging to a familiar voice broke the silence. “Well, we’re all worried about Nero, but we’re here for a different reason, right?” It was the girl who had spoken while he was still half-conscious, he tracked the voice back to the girl with the brilliant yellow eyes. She lo
oked young compared to the rest of the crew. She had silky black hair that was cropped at her shoulders and a sly smile was plastered on her lips. A top her head were two odd constructs, they looked like a pair of ears that belonged on a cat, or maybe a fox. Was this girl an alien? The ears atop the girl’s head twitched and Jacobi’s poker-face broke. He jumped in surprise.

  The girl laughed. “I’m Fen Mao, but you can call me Kitty.” Behind her a thin black tail swished playfully through the air. “That’s Nightmare,” She motioned to the man between her and Devon. “And this adorable thing is Doll!” Mao pounced on the girl in the chair. The girl, Doll, voiced a weak complaint as Mao tightly hugged her.

  “That’s enough out of you.” The man beside Mao - the one she called Nightmare- said as he pinched one of Mao’s inhuman ears. Mao whined and squirmed beneath his grasp as he turned back to Jacobi. “I’m Vaughn and she’s Geannina. Try not to pay too much attention to this one,” He slightly lifted up on Mao’s ear. “She’s a troublemaker.”

  “Alright, we can finish up introductions later.” Captain Hughes announced in a booming voice. “It looks like we can begin.” He motioned to the door.

  A man with bright green hair ran through the door and saluted Morgan, gasping for breath as he stood before the Captain. “Trip Canta reporting for duty, sir!” He was covered in oil and sweat ran down his face as he tried to catch his breath.

  “Good, good.” Morgan turned away from Trip. “Now, Captain Myles, since everyone is here, why don’t you tell us your tale?” He looked at the operating room where various mechanical arms were working on the remainder of Jacobi’s crew. “What in the worlds happened to you people?”

  Jacobi knew this question was coming. “It’s a long story.”

  “We’ve got all the time in the Galaxy, Captain.” His sudden smile somehow reassured Jacobi.

  He decided he could trust this man, these people. They had saved him from certain death in the middle of space after all. “Alright,” He balled his fist and was surprised to feel resistance. He looked down to find bandages wrapped firmly around both of his hands. He wondered how many other minor injuries he had sustained, but quickly banished the thought. “Where should I start?”

  “The beginning preferably.” Morgan replied. “And I want every detail.”

  Jacobi nodded and collected his thoughts. He took a deep breath, the pain that had been in his neck and in his stomach had lessened and he was thankful for that. “It all started on the moon of Saturn, Titan.” He looked to Captain Hughes.

  The Captain nodded and Jacobi continued:

  ~~~~~

  “The small moon was terraformed in the late Twenty-Eighth century, almost sixty years ago now, and before any of the pioneers from Old Earth could settle on the satellite the deed to the entire moon was purchased by an entity known as Gabgoblin Industries. Gabgoblin Industries was led by a young entrepreneur named Plough Gabgoblin and with the titanic financial backing that he had he turned the moon of Saturn into his personal playground.

  When Plough was finished with it, Titan was nothing but casinos and resorts as far as the eye could see. The shining star of Titan was home to Gabgoblin Industries’ Headquarters and Plough’s personal play-place Plough’s Palace; he called it Titan City.

  For years after its foundation Titan City and all of the smaller resort towns that surrounded it brought in billions of units per year and Titan was soon the galaxies’ top vacation hot-spot.

  But that was all a charade. The true purpose of Titan City and Gabgoblin Industries was an illegal trade ring; a black market, if you will. According to the knowledge that I was able to gather on the subject, Plough sold everything in his black market. And I mean everything.

  I was orphaned into slavery at a young age, but each of my “owners” quickly found me to be a useless tool. They said I was unmotivated to work, not even the crack of a whip would get me to comply. Upon my third return to the slave house Plough took me in. Apparently he saw something in me that the slave owners who had returned me hadn’t, that something was my mind. He put me to work as his personal errand boy, I was six at the time, and with the promise of anything that I wanted as payment, I ran the goblin’s errands. In return I wanted books, any type of book that Gabgoblin could get his hands on.

  Over the years as I worked my way up the ladder from errand boy to personal assistant I gained Gabgoblin's trust and learned things that no book could have taught me, security codes and protocols to name a few. While slaving away for the goblin I read every single book that he could find and when he offered me money for my work when finding new books became too difficult a task I gladly accepted.

  Three years later, at the age of thirteen I had read all of the books in my collection twice, and the interesting ones -the ones about space- three or even four times. I had also saved up a large sum of money, working as Gabgoblin’s personal assistant paid well.

  I didn’t hate Gabgoblin, not at first; he had taken me in, saved me from a life of slavery and treated me well. But as time went on I realized that my life was no different than the life of any other slave. Even as I started to think of ways to escape from Titan, I was fourteen when these thoughts began, I still didn’t hate Plough Gabgoblin.

  On my fifteenth birthday I was approached by a strange creature. The half-monkey half-robot cyborg called Charlie had broken into my apartment, and told me that he wanted my help. Charlie had devised a plan to escape from Titan and his life as an experiment. He would construct a small shuttle and fly away from the moon in the middle of the night. According to the tamarin the shuttle that he had obtained plans for, the shuttle that would eventually become the Outrunner, would be able to fly fast enough to escape from Titan before the Gabgoblin Military Police could do anything about it.

  I recklessly agreed.

  Over the next two years we worked in an abandoned hangar in secret to construct our shuttle. We worked tirelessly to perfect every detail; when the day of our escape rolled around we would only have one shot at escaping. Once the engines of the Outrunner roared to life Plough’s police would be scrambling to shoot us down, any mishap with the engine, the life support systems, a breach in the hull, any small fault would bring us crashing down to the surface of Titan; and if the crash wouldn’t kill us Plough’s soldiers would. But we didn’t have a single doubt. I would pilot the Outrunner and the two of us would be free from the tyrannical kingdom of Titan City.

  We were less than two days away from our launch date when the troubles began…”

  ~~~~~

  Jacobi reclined in his chair, put his hands behind his head and stared at the gray speckled ceiling of his office at Gabgoblin Industries’ Headquarters. For six years Jacobi had stared up at that ceiling, for six years Jacobi slaved away under Plough’s ever-vigilant gaze. Plough was a smart man, his success in both the business world and the black market served as testament to that, but as far as Jacobi knew Plough knew nothing of Charlie or the Outrunner.

  Jacobi stared vacantly upwards as he leaned back in his chair. Plough was smart, this was true, and he was also cautious; very cautious. Plough kept tabs on every single Gabgoblin employee, or he used to, as his empire grew so did his work force and so Plough brought a few of his highly trusted workers together and started a department exclusively for watching Gabgoblin employees. The Gabgoblin Security Department served as Plough’s eyes and ears and notified him of any suspicious activity, but even they couldn’t watch every movement of every employee; and this is where Jacobi took advantage of his rank and his knowledge to avoid being caught.

  “’Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer’ was it?” Jacobi thought to himself and laughed.

  Before Charlie came along Jacobi had never had any real friends, sure he would wear a friendly smile when he had to interact with any of his co-workers, but the authority that his position as Plough’s right-hand-man commanded kept any would-be friends at bay.

  “But it’s all for the better, is it not?” The voic
e startled Jacobi; he sat up and scanned the room. No one was there. He laughed once again when he realized that the voice was his own; a small voice that often spoke within his mind. His voice of reason, the voice of his subconscious mind, Jacobi wasn’t sure exactly what the voice was, but it often offered a rationalized point of view when he was in a complicated situation. He could tell that the stress was starting to get to him. In less than forty-eight hours he would fire up the Outrunner, what came next, only time could tell.

  He thought about what his voice of reason had said and nodded to himself. It was all for the better. No friends meant no connections and a lesser chance of getting caught.

  Jacobi checked the clock that hung above the door-way. It was an analogue, old fashion really, but he liked the way it looked above the white-steel door. The hands read three-fourteen. The day seemed to be dragging along at an alarmingly sluggish pace.

  Jacobi sighed and looked over the reports that occupied the holographic display of his desktop. Profit. They were always profit, always in the green, always what Gabgoblin wanted to see. Jacobi wished that he could see some red numbers on a page similar to the ones he currently viewed, but trying escape Titan was risky enough.

  The red light on his intercom flashed from red to green and a loud beep erupted from the box. “Ya there kid?” It was Gabgoblin.

  “Yes sir, what can I do for you?” Jacobi replied in his well-practiced “faithful servant” tone of voice.

  “I gots an assignment fer ya.” Jacobi could hear furious typing behind the voice. If there was any redeeming quality that Plough Gabgoblin possessed it was his ability to work tirelessly until a job was finished. His skillful multi-tasking would rank high on the list as well.

  “I’ll be right there sir.”

  The intercom’s light returned to its usual red and Jacobi rose from his seat. He straightened his uniform and headed toward the door.

  “Hopefully this job will occupy my mind for a while.” He thought as he passed through the heavy white-steel door into the pristine white hall that led to Gabgoblin’s executive office.