Jaker didn't wait for a signal. He lunged, his hydraulic claw snapping open like a crab's pincer.
Thalos didn't retreat. In the narrow tunnel, retreat meant death. If he turned his back, they would hack him down.
He stepped into the attack.
As Jaker's claw swung for his throat, Thalos dropped to his knees, sliding on the slick, oily meat of the floor. The metal claw sheared the air inches above his head, sparking against the calcified wall.
Thalos was now under Jaker's guard. He jammed the tip of his spear into the soft armor of Jaker's stomach.
He didn't just stab. He pulled the trigger.
KA-CHUNK.
The pneumatic piston fired. The spike extended six inches with the force of a jackhammer.
Jaker's eyes bulged behind his goggles. The impact didn't pierce his heavy mining suit, but the kinetic force folded him in half. He flew backward, crashing into the two thugs behind him.
"Get him!" Jaker wheezed, rolling on the ground, clutching his gut.
The other two scavengers scrambled over their fallen leader, raising their machetes.
Thalos scrambled back, his boots slipping. He was fast, but he was outnumbered. He swung the heavy end of his spear, deflecting a machete blow that would have taken his arm off. The vibration rattled his teeth.
Oxygen Warning: 8%.
He couldn't fight a drawn-out battle. He needed to end this.
Thalos looked at the glowing wound in the ceiling—the Ichor vein he had just harvested. It was still leaking superheated golden gas.
He reached into his belt and pulled out a "Flash-Flare"—a magnesium stick used for signaling in the deep dark.
He struck it against his thigh. It hissed to life with blinding white fire.
"Catch," Thalos growled.
He threw the flare not at the men, but at the ceiling—straight into the pocket of leaking gas.
WHOOSH.
The gas didn't explode, but it ignited in a flash-fire, expanding violently. A wave of searing heat and golden light blasted downward.
The scavengers screamed, shielding their eyes and face masks from the sudden thermal bloom.
Thalos didn't shield his eyes. He knew the tunnels. He knew the risks. He squeezed his eyes shut a second before the flash.
While they were blinded, Thalos moved.
He drove his shoulder into the nearest thug, knocking him into the boiling sludge channel that ran along the wall. The man shrieked as the chemical waste burned through his suit.
The last man—Jaker—was back on his feet, furious. His hydraulic claw whirred as he raised it for a killing blow.
"You dead rat!" Jaker roared.
Thalos raised his spear, but the pressure gauge on the handle was red. Recharging. The piston wouldn't fire again for ten seconds.
Jaker swung.
Thalos caught the claw with the shaft of his spear. The metal groaned. Jaker was stronger, heavier, and had mechanical assistance. Thalos felt his arms bending under the weight. The claw inches from his face.
"Give me the rock!" Jaker spat, his mask pressing against Thalos's.
Thalos grit his teeth. He twisted his wrist, venting his own oxygen tank.
A jet of compressed air hissed out of his suit's auxiliary port, straight into Jaker's face mask. It wasn't a weapon, but the sudden blast of high-pressure air startled the big man. Jaker flinched.
That split second was all Thalos needed.
He kicked Jaker's knee—hard. The joint hyperextended with a wet pop.
Jaker howled and collapsed.
Thalos didn't stick around to finish him. The noise would attract things worse than scavengers: Tunnel-Stalkers or the Osteo Phalanx.
Thalos turned and sprinted.
He navigated the twisting, fleshy catacombs of the Titan by memory, vaulting over veins and sliding under calcified ribs. He didn't stop until his lungs were burning and the sounds of Jaker's cursing had faded into the distance.
He leaned against a wall, gasping.
Oxygen: 5%.
He was running on fumes. But his hand went to his belt. The heavy lead pouch was still there.
He let out a shaky laugh. He was alive. He was rich.
He pushed off the wall. He needed to get to The Ribs district. He needed to find a fence, sell the rock, and buy Elara's medicine before the Phalanx patrols swept the sector.
Thalos adjusted his mask and started walking toward the upper levels. He thought the hard part was over.
He was wrong.