Titan Song Dan Stout (top 20 books to read txt) 📖

had to report for regular physicals. All the first responders who’d been present at the manna strike were monitored for any sign of unusual activity. We were regularly told this was to catch any ill effects as early as possible. By now, we all knew that was a lie. Both the AFS and the city leaders had no intention of walking away from a source of wealth and power like next gen manna. If we showed signs of illness or ill effect, we stood in the way of that great financial machine. We were under a microscope on a weekly basis, and our examiner was Dr. Baelen.

And that was why I’d come in with a plan.

“Have you experienced anything unusual in the last week? And look up at the ceiling, please.” Baelen adjusted her headlamp across the green expanse of her forehead, tilting the reflecting disk so it wouldn’t interfere with the prominent fin running across her head.

“Not really.” I kept my voice neutral and focused on the ceiling tiles as a set of cold fingers dug into the flesh under my jaw, the hooked barbs of her nails almost penetrating the skin. An AFS-funded researcher, Baelen had arrived in Titanshade hoping to make a name for herself with her research. Unlike other newcomers, she had the authority to hold me hostage if she could show any unusual activity on my part.

“You’ve put on weight,” she said.

“Maybe a little.” I prepared a litany of defenses and deflections, but she inquired no further. It seemed the good doctor was distracted.

The other members of the weekly group sat in a loose circle. Baelen’s assistants moved among them, collecting samples and probing uncomfortably. Most of her team were genuine medical professionals, but a few stood to the side, ill-concealed sidearms creating conspicuous lumps at their waists. Soldiers in scrubs, a not-so-subtle reminder that federal troops controlled the manna site, and thus the future of Titanshade.

And there’s nothing that those in power enjoy more than treating others like children.

“Open up and say ahhh.” Baelen’s fin perked up slightly as she peered into my mouth. “You should floss more,” she said with a distinct note of disapproval. “You were on the ice plains recently, correct?”

No point in my playing dumb, since all she had to do was read a newspaper to learn the truth.

“Muh-huh,” I said, mouth still open.

“And did you encounter anything peculiar while you were out there?”

“Eh.” I did my best to imply indifference.

“Because the news is full of stories about unusual behavior,” she said. “All kinds of rumors.” She snapped off the light. “You can close your mouth.”

The door to the makeshift exam room opened, admitting a latecomer to our little gathering.

“Sorry, Doc.” Andrews was a broad-chested Mollenkampi patrol cop, a simple man who liked to keep his head down and collect his paycheck, while doing a little good along the way. His shoulders slumped, he was pallid, and sweat dribbled down his temples.

The rest of us tensed, but Baelen returned her attention to me, dismissing Andrews with a curt, “Have a seat, Officer Andrews. Johnson will take your bloodwork.”

I sat in silence, as she pretended to jot a note in her ever-present clipboard while she shot glances at Andrews. “No unusual occurrences, nothing of note?”

“You already asked that.”

Her fin rose and fell, and she pulled back. “Because you didn’t answer the first time.” She crossed her arms, voice stronger. “In fact, it’s my impression that you don’t answer any of my questions the first time they’re asked.”

I didn’t say anything. To Baelen, I was a lab rat with a peculiar tumor, one that might be valuable to her career if she could just split me open and poke around inside. She couldn’t, not yet. To do that, she’d have to find a way to show that my imprisonment would be for the greater good. I had a momentary flutter of discomfort, wondering about the various people I’d arrested for that very reason. But there was a need to lock away wolves from the sheep, even if the system wasn’t perfect about identifying which was which.

“Well, Detective?”

But then again, that was why I had a plan. I had to leave Baelen some crumbs.

“I do have a ringing in my ears,” I said. “Kind of like a buzzing.”

“Hmm.” Baelen leaned in, giving me a blast of her moist and peaty breath. I blinked rapidly. “Say more.”

“Well,” I said, “I’ve been hearing about this buzzing going on. Everyone’s talking about it in the Bunker. You know how cops are.”

She jotted a note, and I continued.

“Anyway, after I read the papers I’m kind of worried about it, the buzz I’m hearing.”

“How loud is it?”

I shrugged. “Pretty faint. If I’m in a quiet room, and don’t say anything, it’s in the background.”

“And it sounds like static?”

“More like a high-pitched ringing.”

“Any mood swings?”

I frowned. “Well, no . . .”

“Sounds like tinnitus, a ringing in the ears that sounds like an air raid siren. Several varieties. It’s common among Mollenkampi, though humans can get it, too.”

“You sure?” I did my best to put a note of concern in my voice. “The buzzing is all over the papers.”

She looked unimpressed, as I’d hoped she would. The media had run with the mysterious sound that was apparently linked to a rash of homicides. “The Buzz Kill Murders,” the headlines had declared. Accompanied by gory photos of the crime scene and old photos of the killers in the worst possible light. It was the editorial choices inherent in media. Pick a photo of the suspect standing with friends and family and they look innocent; pick a photo where they have one eye closed and their mouth half open, and they look unhinged. In any case, it was sensationalist panic-mongering, and the fact that I was citing it made Baelen take what I was saying less seriously.

And that made her note the buzzing in my file, and dismiss it in a single motion.

“I’ll ask again,” she peered into my eyes, “have you seen something unusual?”

I