Prologue

In the 22^nd Century, humanity found its place among the stars.

Earth and its governments agreed to join arms after the Third Great War. A generation of people battered by conflict looked on and up to the future of their race.

The United Earth Coalition set forth world-wide decrees to emphasize the advancement of the physical sciences, theoretical and otherwise.

A decade of fervent research yielded fruits only then heard in science fiction novels. The ability to fold space and leap through wormholes to previously thought unreachable heights.

From the depths of the Lunar pole shipyards arose massive colony ships. Each by a different name, harboring the next great generation of explorers.

History was destined to repeat itself, and with this came periods of trade. One of the most precious commodities was carbon.

Aboard the colony ships were devices that could create food, medical supplies, various building materials, and at times electronics with fabricators.

Carbon was the key to operating fabricators. The colonies ran on carbon, and the UEC backed their currency in it.

Over time, colonies deprived of natural deposits grew disillusioned with the innate poverty of their homes.

History was destined to repeat itself, and with this came the rise of the Outer Peoples Movement. A rebellion against the UEC with the purpose of giving equal representation to those colonies that are less fortunate.

Founded in the moons around Jupiter, the OPM began campaigning outside the Kuiper belt to rally the support of the other gas giants and the most unfortunate of those colonies, Pluto.

Pluto was the proudest and most unusual of all the colonies. Their population believed in exclusively Agnostic religions and relied heavy on transhumanist philosophies.

Through religion, they found their greatest work in genetic manipulation. Pluto, though the most hostile of all planets, was the best suited to this task.

The sheer cold and the nitrogen ice would sustain the preservation of genetic templates and allow for the long-term cataloguing of genes.

Pluto was rich in information, and one day they opened Pandoras box.

From the tundras of Pluto came the Red Plague, a lively, virile, and deadly strain of the Black Plague. Resistant to extreme conditions and antibiotics alike.

Hadeans, the people of Pluto, fled to the inner system, seeking refuge. With word and evidence of the infections spread, the UEC halted all sanctuary seeking people, but left the mode of this sanctuary up to the individual colonies.

Most opted to keep them in orbit, isolated from the rest of the planet, fading fast from infection and famine, however a select few would allow these refugees to the surface.

Titan was a frontier harvest world during this time. Heavy sympathies among the moon lead the government to create the Shangri-La Quarantine Zone to allow a small population of Hadeans to reach solid ground, once again finding sanctuary among the stars.

Chapter 1

The writhing, inky sky rose above. My world was being held up by bars of smoke, the clouds just reflections of our diligent work.

This wasn’t my home. I felt I played it well, but uprooting from one place to another robs you of that sense of familiarity. Time would be the only remedy.

Pluto, I remember it clearly, the glassy domes of Hadean land. Our royal red and white clashing among the frigid landscapes of our cruel planet.

It was beautifully violent and we knew it, but we didn’t expect that violence to strike so hard.

The yellowing grey smoke of our new stomping ground cast everything in a harsh glow, and yet I found a morbid comfort in it. A Titan afternoon, no rain, some wind, blackened dust. It was sickeningly quiet.

“Hey, Kurt!” a small voice cried out. Startled, I turned to find the impatient face of a little girl, my sister, Sam. Her curly blonde hair falling in heaps at her shoulders, spattered with stains of carbon sand.

She bore a feverish scowl, one that tried too hard to inspire that sense of guilt.

“Did you go to the store? I’m starving and you said we could have warm food today.” Her irritation was akin to holding my hand. If she was yelling at me, she still cared enough to talk to me. At least I knew she was full enough to have a flame under her.

In times of hardship, it was good to have family by your side. We were the last of our shared blood.

I nodded my head, shooting her a thumbs up. Her face let off the aggression slight enough to notice, but in her resolve, she continued, “Well, I’m hungry! Can you make dinner already? I’m tired of eating leftovers!”

She was standing in the street, a well-traveled sedimentary road of compressed carbon sand and repurposed or abandoned aluminum panels. Much like the promises of the UEC, it was crude and there seemed to be something amiss every week.

I needed my time away from everything. As much as I loved my sister and the way my life is going, something never quite sat right with me. I despised waking up every day. If it weren’t for Sam, I’d have given up long ago.

My roof was a spot away from the desolation of the rest of the zone. In my desperate attempt to be a normal twenty-something year old, this was the closest I could get.

I leapt from my roost and landed next to my sister. She erupted in a fit of coughing as my clumsy landing delivered a wispy cloud of dust into the air. I couldn’t help but suffocate her more with laughter.

I lived for moments like this, where we could be siblings again.

She was not so fond of my stunt and returned with a favor in kind, a wild swing. She mumbled as she dusted away her ragged smock.

I gently ushered her inside. Our home was a simple ten by eleven-foot “hut” with a basic stove and pair of bunked beds. We got unlucky enough with our situation that we were afforded a decent sized habitat.

The walls were manufactured metal panels, or concrete, I wasn’t entirely sure. It made for cramped living, a lot closer to an afterthought than a planned town. It was nauseating to think about how to navigate it all.

Our neighbors who numbered four plus per home were forced into identical housing. Hard to justify building bigger units when we were all used to cramming into the tight quarters of evacuation craft.

At least this was the rationale conjured by my less gracious neighbors. I was content to have a home to call my own regardless of the circumstances, though I hope one day they will get better.

Still, hope was dangerous, and I was often disappointed. We were scorned people and the world would remind us of that at earliest convenience.

Sam rushed back to her bunk, returning to her drawing and giving me a meaningful glare. “Hey Kurt, remember not to burn it this time.”

She would tell you all day that she ran the house. I give her a semblance of power and choice. She didn’t make any meaningful decisions; I would get to always exercise my authority and age on her. She was at times none the wiser, which gave her those moments of control. On our own, it’s the least I could do to help her become more independent.

That was the issue of being forced into a parental role against your will. You’re forced to meet a child where they’re at, and still, it seems like it’s never enough. I’ve had to balance being her brother and her parent, it made me begin to resent our parents, though they couldn’t help their situation either.

Gracing her with another nod, I whisked myself away to my duties. The small stove had electric coils, glowing hotly into the air.

I feel the need to explain myself; I don’t really resent my parents.

The feeling was alien to me. I knew I felt alone and overwhelmed often.

This felt different. Like a feeling of nostalgia for a time I never lived.

Firm pressure rooted in the base of my eyes as I continued to fill the pot with water and powdered food. The slurry looked exactly as you’d imagine.

It was overly processed and looked as appetizing as sewage, but at least it smelled and tasted edible. As I smelt its salty aroma, I continued to think of kinder memories.

My mother, a noble woman, full of conviction and a taste for the obscure. She was the glue that held our ambitious family together. My dad, a strong-willed man who made his mark as one of the greatest scientists of Pluto.

Together they were unstoppable, but when their love blossomed with two children, they passed that onto us. You’d think that four immovable obstacles would make an imposing force, but it was often explosive.

We liked to compare it to the Yosemite Tragedy, dynamics and fires were much the same.

It seemed we had it all, then the plague struck. My throat yearned to hum a tune of sorrow. My chest quaked with the notion of infection.

The fate of plague victims like the ones my parents faced was worse than death itself. The pressure beneath my eyes loosened.

It rained down into the boiling pot beneath me, churning with the unnatural mixture of processed food powder. I turned away, looking at Sam, still seeing her intently scribbling along pale pages.

I had lost myself along the way. I knew with what I had done, to those around me, I was nothing. I had no reason left to live, besides Sam, everything else felt like filler.

I could be content with a girlfriend, a steady job, a purpose, but my sister was the only thing that kept me anchored in this life. It isn’t fair to her and I know this. Putting the weight of my life on her shoulders was far from appropriate.

She gave me a type of hope you don’t often feel. Hope for someone else. It was the kind of experience you could live for vicariously.

There was so much more life ahead of her that I couldn’t possibly miss out. She needed me. She wouldn’t survive without me and for that I have identity. I am her caregiver and I am her brother. Without her, I am nothing and without me, she would die.

I just kept reminding myself that if she could be so content, so happy with herself, then maybe I could be okay too. I glanced over at her, still drawing, her hand racing feverishly among the faded paper.

Ever since I lied to her, she’s put a decent bit of distance between the two of us.

It scared me. To ever think I would lose her.

I vowed that I wouldn’t do that to her again.

Times grow and people grow. It wouldn’t be like this forever and I fear she won’t need me anymore.

–

We sat in the middle of our home on top of a knit jute rug, a comfort of our heritage.

Sam eagerly dug into her warm porridge, I took mine steadily, eyeing her bowl to see if she may want more.

“Anything interesting happen at school today?” I asked. She pulled the hair from her face, giving little thought to the question before returning to her food, “No.”

She was lying. I knew she would think about it for another half hour before she gave me the updates on the Holme’s kid, telling me about why math sucked, or saying how the class clown got himself in trouble again.

You know, typical school kid things to talk about. I returned to my food, considering the possibility of Sam getting in trouble. What could they possibly do? It’s not like you could go anywhere.

Our village, despite its centerpiece was much closer to a medieval village from centuries ago than one may consider. In recent history, perhaps Kowloon. It was a surprise that more of us hadn’t suffered from the conditions.

Our town is notably smoggy. The combination of Titan’s storms and the artificial clouds of smoke we generate create a dreary environment. Yet another manifestation of our shared loss.

We couldn’t look at the stars anymore to wonder of our home; of the people we left behind. The wool was pulled over our eyes, and we were helpless to stop it.

When we first arrived, we established a great deal of infrastructure with help of local government. Breathing is something you come to take advantage of when you live in well-established colonies.

Out of all our achievements, we found a way to keep our culture. It wasn’t without difficulty of course, but life finds a way.

Sam finished her porridge, taking a quick sigh. This is the part where she asks if I’m done eating. Her small body rocked clumsily across the way, eyeing my bowl with curiosity.

“Hey Kurt, if you’re not hungry anymore, could I have some of yours?” her eyes were glistening.

I knew she was young so the maliciousness of stealing food from others was not even a consideration. It was hard not to be protective.

Food was a commodity that the zone held in high regard. Sharing was the highest of honors you could partake in. I had to hold standards even if I wasn’t above it.

“Sure Sam, here.” As I offered my bowl to her. “I managed to scrounge up some leftovers at work. You can have the rest.”

The “Leftovers” I was referring to, was a colleague’s lunch. He got trapped in one of the carbon sand pits, and while others were busy trying to fish his body from the sand, I took to his lunch.

An unfortunate reality of our situation. Where once murders deserved capital punishment, the stealing of food took its place.

I wasn’t above it. I knew all too well what would happen to me. I was dedicated to making sure I would never be caught. It’s a dangerous thrill to chase and one I was addicted to.

She smiled kindly, her eyes lighting up gently from the offering. “Thanks, Kurt.” She said, followed by “Thanks for not burning it this time.”

A courtesy and a diss. How nice.

I could feel a warm glow rise from my belly. This was reward enough for me. If she was content, then I could be content. There was room enough for me in this world if she included me.

While she ate, I told her about a rumor I heard, “You know, I hear that the United Earth Coalition is supposed to step in and help get us some more food.”

She hummed, her mouth full of porridge. I nodded and leaned in, talking quieter, “I also hear that they might be shipping real life mac and cheese too!”

She beamed with excitement, slamming the bowl into the rug, “Oh my god! I’ve always wanted to taste that!” she said, mouth full of porridge.

I continued smiling.

This wasn’t a lie either. A member of my cadre had scrounged up the paperwork heralding at our imminent saviors. Though what they would be sending, I wasn’t sure, but judging by the pattern of deliveries, the next one would be food.

After living on gruel and porridge for so long, you start to get used to simple ingredients making simple dishes. A powder mixed with boiling water was enough to make a meal for four, and the governments knew it.

Rations were standardized and I wasn’t sure if our quartermaster was just being generous or if they were illiterate, but it states on the package too.

We received the same as every other family; this effectively doubled the amount of food we received.

Sam didn’t know about it, I couldn’t risk having her go around telling everyone about the clerical error.

So, as the protector of all in my domain, I had to make sure we remained just healthy enough to go about our lives, but skinny enough to fit in with everyone else. If one of us became too overweight, people would start questioning.

According to the Titan Frontier Commonwealth, our people were supplied ample rations that allowed comfort to all who lived in the zone.

It hardly was, our food lacked several micronutrients. A great deal of the people in the zone found it hard to keep on weight, much less the energy to engage in tasks at full efficiency.

Obesity is a crime in the zone. It’s discriminated against and those who are found putting on extra pounds are at least denied rations and at worst were ostracized until they fit in again.

We weren’t uncivilized folks by any means. But we were much closer to a conformist state than anyone outside truly knew. Priorities change when what you search for changes.

Out of all the places, Titan was the most underdeveloped, partially from its focus on resource gathering. When we left our Hadean land, Titan was the first to offer their help, though they were probably the least equipped to do it.

Much to the chagrin of some of the nearby colonies, we were offered our own place among the people of Titan. They offered us refuge within a quarantine zone, at least until they could confirm the absence of the plague. That or until they could create a cure for it.

It’s been a few months since then, and part of me was starting to think that we weren’t leaving. Sam seemed none-the-wiser to our situation, and I was happy to keep it that way.

As far as she knew, we were getting a shipment of food that would finally let her taste macaroni and cheese. I would hold out hope that that were true. It’s the little things left now.

I gave her a gentle smile, “The minute I can find it, I’ll sneak you a morsel.” Her eyes beamed with content excitement. She turned back to her empty bowls with a sigh of contentment.

The gloss in her eyes escaped into her thoughts as she left to place the bowls next to the stove.

She moved with subtle stiffness. She wasn’t entirely paying attention. Something was on her mind.

“Sam, are you sure nothing interesting happened at school?” she placed them down and turned back to me, the floodgates of hidden mysteries waiting to erupt.

I shifted, it wasn’t often she looked ready to burst, but when she did, it usually wasn’t the greatest.

She began “One of the kids in class got sick. It looks a lot like when Mom and Dad got sick.”

The air between us fell still for a moment. A pit formed in my chest.

I feared it was a matter of time before the plague came back, but I held out hope that it wouldn’t follow us here.

I asked, “Did they send him home early?” She shook her head. A growing concern shattered across her face. She drew a small breath “No, there was some men from the office that came to get him.”

My stomach further sunk. Surely this had to be a machination of a traumatized child. The plague looked much like a seasonal flu when it first started.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, “All the kids were talking about it. They said he got it.”

Rumors weren’t taken lightly; people have gone missing because of a hunch. I was disappointed that those suspicions creeped into the young.

I’m familiar with the men Sam talked about. It was a modern-day boogeyman. If you ever catch a full-bodied neon green isolation suit walking around with a thick black case, you’ve found the biggest ill omen next to the stench of death. Over the past week we began to see more of them.

I remember seeing them when we first settled, they were responsible for viral screenings, so their uptick was likely less of a safety precaution and more of a suspicion of spread.

I asked her, feeling the hesitancy of what answer lay waiting, “Are you okay? Do you feel sick?”.

The notion of the question made me feel woozy. My head rushed, jaw growing tight with anxiety. I needed her to say no; I needed her to lie if it was a yes.

The idea of losing my sister was worse than death. When she finally understood the words, my heart raced and my palms began to sweat.

She paused, the light sinking from her eyes for a moment “No… I feel fine.” I believed her of course, but the question scared me as much as it must have scared her.

We saw what the plague did to our parents, the countless nights of soft, creeping agony. Pain had a habit of saturating the places you live. Much the same as light smothers the dark, it was hard to escape its imposing grasp.

I reached for Sam, holding out my arms for an embrace which she quickly melted into. “I don’t want them to take me. I don’t want to get sick.”

Her plea tugged at my heart. I shushed her gently “Did he cough on you?” She shook her head into my chest, followed with a hollow mumble “No.”

I rubbed the back of her head and tried consoling her, “Then we shouldn’t have an issue, Sammy, you’ll be alright.” Those words spelled the nullifying of my pact with her.

It was a lie, I wouldn’t truly know if she would be okay. All I could do is sit back and watch.

If those words stuck with her, she would live the heartbreak of a lie for the second time, dying alone with me by her side.

In this whole ordeal, I noticed a distinct lack of tears. Sam was strong but I couldn’t help but feel she was holding them back.

She’s a tough kid but I can’t help but feel like she’s growing up too fast. This isn’t a world made for children.

Resolved, I realized I needed to try harder to step into the shoes of my parents. She was slowly losing that innocence they tried so hard to protect.

I guess the reach of pain never leaves our hearts. Much like the sun moves about the day, maybe the shadow we sought to hide under has abandoned us, and the pain chooses to illuminate our worst qualities.

I patted her back, moving away from the embrace. “Okay, let’s get heading to bed. You’ve got school tomorrow, best to get your rest.” She nodded reluctantly and left our spot on the floor.

Sam is one of the last things I have left in this world. I need to make absolute sure that the kid in her class is alive.

Tomorrow, I need to find him.