The Ribs District was where the desperate went to pray, and where the greedy went to prey on them.
Located in the skeletal framework of the Titan's chest cavity, it was a slum built on bone. Shanty houses made of scrap metal were drilled directly into the massive white ribs that curved overhead like the vault of a cathedral.
Thalos kept his head down, clutching the pouch under his cloak.
The air here was thicker, filled with the smell of fried fungus and ozone. Neon signs flickered in the gloom: OXYGEN REFILL, PROSTHETICS, MEAT MARKET.
He bypassed the main market and ducked into a narrow alleyway known as "The Marrow."
He stopped in front of a reinforced steel door and knocked three times. A slot slid open. A pair of cybernetic eyes whirred, focusing on him.
"Shop's closed, digger," a voice rasped.
"I have something raw," Thalos whispered. "High grade. Gold."
The eyes widened. The slot slammed shut, and the heavy door groaned open.
Vargas, the fence, was a fat man who had replaced his legs with tank treads. He sat behind a desk covered in dismantle mining gear.
"Show me," Vargas said, extending a greasy hand.
Thalos placed the lead pouch on the desk. He loosened the string.
The golden glow illuminated the dingy room. Vargas gasped, leaning back. "By the Spine... that's pure Ichor. Where did a rat like you find a vein like this?"
"Does it matter?" Thalos asked. "I need credits. Fast. And I need the Serum for Stone-Sickness."
Vargas's eyes gleamed. Greed. "This is dangerous goods, kid. Archons execute people for holding this. I can give you 500 credits."
"It's worth five thousand!" Thalos slammed his hand on the desk.
"Take it or leave—"
BOOM.
The front door blew inward.
Debris rained down. Thalos was thrown against the wall, his ears ringing. Through the smoke, heavy boots stomped onto the metal floor.
"PHALANX RAID! DOWN ON THE GROUND!"
Four soldiers in pristine white power armor stormed the room. They weren't local police; they were the Osteo Phalanx, the elite guard of the Archons. They held heavy shock-rifles.
Vargas squealed, trying to hide the Ichor, but a soldier backhanded him with a gauntleted fist. Vargas flew across the room, unconscious.
Thalos tried to crawl toward the back exit, but a heavy boot slammed onto his back, pinning him to the floor.
"Don't move, helot," a cold, metallic voice said from above him.
The Captain of the squad stepped forward. His armor was polished bone-white with gold trim. He didn't wear a helmet, showing a face that was handsome, clean, and utterly cruel.
Captain Vane.
Vane looked at the desk. He saw the glowing pouch. He picked it up with two fingers, as if it were trash.
"Illegal mining," Vane said, his voice bored. "Possession of Class-A contraband. Theft of Divine Essence."
He looked down at Thalos, who was struggling under the soldier's boot.
"Is this yours, boy?"
"I... I found it," Thalos wheezed. "Please. My sister is sick. I just need—"
"Silence." Vane didn't even raise his voice. "The Titan belongs to the Archons. The blood belongs to the Archons. You are just a tick drinking what isn't yours."
Vane held the crystal up to the light. It was beautiful. It was Elara's life.
"Please," Thalos begged. "Take it. Just let me go."
Vane smiled. It wasn't a kind smile.
"Take it?" Vane chuckled. "We have warehouses full of this. We use it to power our toasters."
He dropped the crystal onto the dirty metal floor.
Thalos watched in horror.
Vane raised his armored boot.
"NO!" Thalos screamed.
CRUNCH.
Vane stomped down. The crystallized Ichor shattered into a thousand useless shards. The golden light flickered and died, turning into dull, grey dust.
Five thousand credits. Elara's life. Gone in a second.
"Oops," Vane said dryly. He wiped his boot on the floor.
"Process the fat man," Vane ordered his men, pointing at Vargas. "Leave the boy. He's not worth the paperwork."
The soldier lifted his boot off Thalos's back.
Thalos lay there, staring at the grey dust mixed with the mud on the floor. His heart felt like it had stopped.
The soldiers dragged Vargas out. Vane paused at the door, glancing back at Thalos.
"Learn your place, maggot. The sky is for the Gods. The dirt is for you."
They left.
Thalos was alone in the ruined shop. The silence was deafening. He crawled toward the spot where the crystal had been. There was nothing left but dust and dirt.
He had failed. Elara was going to die.