The Aggressive (Book 1 of the Titanwar saga): A science fiction thriller

by Gem Jackson

  “There’s a coffee machine in here? Why didn’t I know this? That’s brilliant.”

  “Yes. Coffee. Brilliant. What happened with Hospers and the diplomat?” asked Leon.

  “Oh right. Well, this is freaky.” Ramis settled into story-telling mode. “So after you left we hung around for about twenty minutes waiting for the next ship. Eventually it comes alongside and docks. By the way,” Ramis turned to Tariq, “I’ve no idea what the hell has happened to your shuttle.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It was a drone.”

  “Ah, okay. That makes sense. Anyway, so it docks and out comes the diplomat, Forest McVeigh. Well, this guy looks about fifty, skinny as fuck, y’know, like one of those blokes who works twenty five hours a day and forgets to eat. Always hungry. So he comes on board and Hospers starts up on her routine, ‘We need to confirm your ID and check your bags’ etc etc. She gets his fingerprints no problem, but then she asks for a DNA sample, cheek swab, hair strand, something like that and he starts going fucking nuts! He’s all in her face shouting ‘I’m a fucking diplomat love, I’ve got immunity darling, I don’t need to give you anything’”

  “He actually said that? He called Hospers ‘love’? ‘Darling’?” Leon sat down on one of the bunks.

  “I kid you not, he used those exact words. And it gets better. She steps up, right into his face and tells him where he can go if she doesn’t get her sample because we’re at war now. So cool as a cucumber he asks ‘Is that war with the klingons or the death star?’. I swear she was about to lose it. She was practically turning purple and the marines had moved round to back her up, only then he asks for some scissors and a bag, so he can give her a hair sample. He takes the scissors, a pair of those blunt, kiddie ones, turns round, shoves the scissors down his trousers.”

  “No—”

  “Yes. Snip, snip, snip and he hands back a bag of hair. A bag of his own fucking pubic hair.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding” said Leon.

  “So he does the fingerprints okay, but makes a song and dance about the DNA sample?” asked Tariq.

  “Aye. Then Hospers goes to search his bags and he just steps in front of them and starts banging on about diplomatic privilege again. Eventually, they march off to settle it with the Captain and they send me back to wait here.” Ramis flopped back, exhausted from the excitement. “That was literally, the best thing I have ever seen in my adult life.”

  “What happens now then? Do you just wait to get called up?” asked Leon.

  “I suppose. That’s if they let him on board after that display.” Ramis went to the coffee machine and started pressing buttons.

  “You’re going to break it,” said Leon.

  “Hah, bollocks, I know what I’m doing.” After a moment he gave up. “Anyway, agent Tariq, why are you two here? I mean, it’s great that you managed to get off Lancaster and everything, but why come to us?”

  Tariq shrugged. “You guys are heading to Titan, right? Well so are we. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Any idea who is behind the Lancaster attack?” asked Leon. “What do they want?” Just as Tariq went to answer the ships intercom crackled into life requesting Ramis go to the Captain’s cabin straight away. He put down his drink and moved to the door to leave the room.

  “Well, that’s me then. Back in a bit.” Ramis left on his errand and Tariq turned back towards Leon.

  “I can’t really say much about who we think did it, except that when we finally get them, and we will get them, my partner Tem is going to fuck them up. Hard.”

  Chapter 6 – Anton

  Master Hospers led the way, marching through the ship, making way for nobody. Whether this was because she was angry or because the rest of the crew feared and respected her, Anton couldn’t tell. He followed behind, just about keeping pace, harried by the marines at his heels. The corridors were narrow and bare. They passed only a couple of other crew as they walked, which wasn’t a surprise given his research on the ship, but it was still surprising to see just how few people were needed to run a vessel this size.

  “Is it always this quiet, Master Hospers?” No answer. Hospers didn’t even look back. Anton twisted round to the marines as he walked.

  “Is she always like this, or am I getting special treatment? Nothing? So you’re both quiet types too. Well this is going be a riot.”

  They stopped in front of a hatch half-way down a passageway. Hospers pressed a button on what appeared to be an intercom and waited.

  “Yes?” It was a male voice, rich and laconic.

  “Master Hospers reporting, Captain. I have Diplomat McVeigh with me as ordered, sir.” A sharp clang rang out as the door unlocked from within and swung open. Captain Bryant appeared and looked immediately at Anton.

  “Diplomat McVeigh. Wonderful to have you aboard. Please, come in, take a seat at the desk, I will be with you shortly.” The Captain stepped aside and waved Anton into the room before addressing Hospers.

  “Thank you Master Hospers. Marines. Tell me, is it petty officer Ramis we have accompanying Mr McVeigh?”

  “That’s correct, sir.”

  “Excellent. I will let him know when we finish here so he can collect the diplomat. You may return to your duties.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Captain closed the hatch and joined Anton at the desk. Bryant looked a similar age to Anton, maybe in his early fifties at a pinch, but that was where the similarities ended. Where Anton was lean and sharp Bryant had settled into a middle-aged spread. His accent indicated he was born into money, but his record, at least what Anton had been able to get hold of, spoke for itself; Bryant had made a name for himself hunting pirates and smugglers on smaller ships. He was one of the few genuinely combat experienced captains and had a reputation as being unshakable and dispassionately ruthless when necessary.

  “Mr McVeigh, can I offer you a drink? Tea? Coffee? Pineapple juice?”

  “Tea, thank you captain. And it’s just Forest, please. Did you say pineapple juice?”

  “Yes, it’s a little perk of being captain that I allow myself. I always make sure I get a few litres of the stuff aboard before long tours. It breaks things up a little. Do you take milk?”

  “I don’t. Black no sugar, please.” Anton took the cup, wisps of steam rising from the surface, and laid it on the desk. The captain leisurely made his own coffee—milk with plenty of sugar—and settled onto the opposite side of the desk.

  “I hear you’ve been giving my crew a bit of a rough time,” said Bryant. He took a sip. “Something about the checks and searches?”

  Anton smiled. “Well, I think it’s a case of an immovable object meets an irresistible force. Your master at arms was rather keen on rooting through my stowage and, well, given the somewhat sensitive nature of what I do, I was less than keen on. I hope you and I can resolve this impasse.”

  The Captain laughed gruffly.

  “Yes, Hospers, she’s wonderful, isn’t she? Even the marines are terrified of her and they look at the rest of us as if we’re barely human.” Bryant brought the coffee once more to his lips but hesitated at the last moment. “What you won’t be aware of is that given recent events, I put the ship onto a war footing. That, I think, explains the keenness. Either way, I will have to insist on knowing what you’re bringing on board my ship. I know it isn’t exactly in line with diplomatic norms but we’re out on our own at the moment and frankly, you’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.”

  “It’s fine, I understand.” Anton walked over to his bags by the hatch and opened both of them wide, taking out a steel case about the size of his palm. “Have a look round if you wish, but it’s this,” Anton waved the case, “that I was worried about. A hard disk—”

  Captain Bryant nodded knowingly and continued the sentence. “—which, you know we would insist on checking as a security against the ships closed network.”

  “Precisely. Nobody in the crew should know what’s on here. Of course, if you wish to check it
that would be fine, but I will have to ask for your discretion.”

  “Intelligence?”

  “Pornography. Five thousand hours of offensive, fully senseX immersive, pornography.” Anton placed the hard drive onto the desk.

  “This is in demand on Titan. On Ceres. Most places, actually, but given it’s basically a morality-police controlled totalitarian state, it’s valued most on Titan. The government keeps a tight rein on this sort of thing so naturally there is a black market for it. And for me, where there’s a black market demand, there’s leverage. Leverage that I need. Leverage that I get from being able to supply hours of prime quality, previously unseen strap-on fucking. Group fucking. Animal fucking. All the unique kinds of fucking people are told they shouldn’t enjoy, but they just can’t help but crave. Nasty, bitter stuff that will make your arse clench and your eyes weep. Amongst other things. I mean,” he smiled, “just consider it a smorgasbord of everything that’s wrong with humanity.” Anton sat back down and pushed the drive further towards the Captain.

  Bryant took another sip of his coffee and glanced down at the disk. He had the look of a man who just watched a puppy do a shit on an expensive carpet. Anton waited. Bryant would have to check it. Given the security risk, he couldn’t just take Anton’s word. Even if he did believe Anton was a respected diplomat. It was a bind even for someone with a reputation such as Bryant’s.

  “As you can imagine,” continued Anton, “the consequences of it becoming common knowledge that APSA diplomats were trafficking this kind of material. Well, our position as trusted intermediaries would become untenable.”

  “Yes, I can well imagine. I don’t suppose your wife would be too pleased either.” The Captain got to his feet and circled round to the open bags. “Is it just one of those drives you have?” He peered inside the bags, gingerly moving the contents around as he searched.

  “There are three, actually,” Anton said, “the other two are in the front, inside pocket of that second bag.” Anton forced himself to relax his grip on the desk. The gambit was on a knife edge. Was this loss of face, this dirty little secret enough to escape a more thorough examination? The Captain retrieved the other two disks, holding them up in triumph.

  “Super. Well, all I can say is that I’m glad I got to these before Ramis did. He’s filthy, you know. Don’t let him tell you any anecdotes.” The Captain chuckled, “You two might get on, actually.” He collected the three together in one hand. “I can’t say I’m ecstatic about plugging these into any computer system on board, so here’s my suggestion. We keep these in my safe in this room alongside the written orders from the admiralty and other such precious cargo. When we reach Titan, you can take them back before you disembark. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Good. I’m glad that's sorted as we have other matters to discuss.”

  Anton perked up as the conversation drifted into safer waters. They talked about the events at Lancaster orbital and what they knew. Captain Bryant chatted about the minimal and unsuccessful role played by the Aggressive to stop the Enigma.

  “The order to have you on board came directly from a cabinet minister. I gather that you know our ultimate destination?”

  “Yes, Captain. I do. We’re going to Titan. I suppose I’m going back to Titan. Sooner than I anticipated. I communicated briefly with the minister myself. To my knowledge, sending the Aggressive to Titan is a form of… power projection? This tea is lovely, by the way.”

  “I think it’s what the old guard, such as myself, would call gunboat diplomacy.”

  “Yes, and no.” Anton leaned in. “Captain, at the moment Titan is, shall we say, potentially unstable? There are groups, some within the local government, which do not see Titan’s future as being so closely linked with APSA. They wish to strike out on their own. Obviously, this would be a disaster. Our economy depends on the industrial and commercial capacity of Titan and the Saturn system in its entirety. The Aggressive isn’t being sent there to change anything. There are no set of demands, no threats or conditions. The minister simply wants to maintain the status quo. Keep things as they are.”

  “I think I’ll stick to gunboat diplomacy if it’s all the same to you,” said the Captain with a smile. “How does all this link to Lancaster? You know a fair number of my crew have lost people on the orbital today?”

  “You don’t have to tell me Captain, I’m lucky to be alive myself. I don’t know anything about what happened today. It isn’t my remit. I am to make sure that no group on Titan seeks to use what has happened as a cheap call to arms. No more, no less.”

  “I didn’t know things were so bad on Titan.”

  “Captain,” Anton finished his tea, “I’m fairly confident that nobody knows the half of it.”

  “Here we are. You have been assigned to bunk in here. It’s a state room.” Anton allowed some space between himself and his escort. He stared at the boy, eyes narrowed, lips drawn thin across his face. The escort continued, “It’s got a coffee machine. If you need me or you wish to go anywhere, you can call me with this pager. I’ll either be in my bunk or in the petty officer’s mess, which is just around the corner. There are a couple of special agents on board too. They will be bunking in the state rooms next to yours.” He pointed at the adjacent rooms along the corridor.

  “Thank you. It’s petty officer Ramis, isn’t it?”

  “Yes sir, that’s right.” The boy looked delighted that someone had remembered his name.

  “Well, you’ve been very helpful so far. If it’s okay, I’ll settle in for now, but you can give me a more thorough tour of the Aggressive later on?”

  “Yes sir, of course.” Ramis opened the door and placed Anton’s bags into the room.

  “Mr Ramis, I’m sorry did you say there are special agents on board?”

  “Yes sir, two of them. APSA agents, I think. Apparently they’re here to help us investigate the attack on the Lancaster Orbital. Abbas is one of them I think, Tariq Abbas.”

  Anton spoke slowly. “Tariq Abbas?” Anton felt his stomach go hollow as Ramis nodded.

  “Yes sir, that’s one of them. The other is a woman. Long I think she’s called. Emma Long?”

  “September. It’s September Long. I believe.” Anton fought to maintain his composure. He could hear his heart thumping in his ears and his vision started to drift up to an angle. He recognised the panic and made an effort to smile at Ramis.

  “Thank you again Mr Ramis. We’ll do that tour later.”

  “No problem, sir. If you need me I’ll be next door with agent Abbas—”

  Anton bolted into his room and slammed the hatch behind him, clawing around for a lock. He found the mechanism and secured the door in place.

  Tariq Abbas. And September Long! They were the agents assigned to his case. The two people in the whole Solar System who had dedicated their lives to finding him and they were on the same ship. Worse, they were neighbours. Sure, he had a lot on Abbas, he wasn’t really a problem by himself, but it wasn’t part of the plan. Anton had been looking forward to the next couple of weeks. After all the painstaking preparation, the months of planning, bribing, organising and killing, these few weeks on board the Aggressive were supposed to be easy, a chance to recuperate and get ready for the end game. No chance of that now.

  What did they know? Obviously they knew his mode of operation. After tracking him for so long they were sure to have some awareness of his style, his approach to things. It had infuriated him a year earlier when they found out his name. They found and interrogated an engineer he worked with years earlier, when he was young and sloppy. When he carried out his own interrogation of the man afterwards he revealed they had used his name. ‘What can you tell us about Anton Biarritz?’ they had asked him, over and over again. Of course the engineer couldn’t answer, but it hadn’t stopped him confirming the connection. That slip sealed the man’s fate.

  Did they know what he looked like? Would they recognise him? If not, then things could continue.
He would have breathing space. If they did? That would change matter considerably. The uncertainty gnawed at him.

  A little calmer, Anton hunched down and opened one of his bags, and carefully removed a compact mech-print machine. Captain Bryant believed he had taken away the most sensitive items from Anton’s luggage; he was wrong. The mech-printer was everything he needed. He loaded a spool of composite into the feed and rummaged around the bag. He found what he was looking for, a small data-stick, and plugged it into the printer, scrolling through the display to select the correct schematic. It took a couple of minutes for the printer to construct the knife. The grey, composite blade was slim and less than four inches in length, but it would be enough if it were needed.

  He slipped it into his pocket before checking himself in the mirror attached to the wall. If they did recognise him, he reasoned, it was better they did so in private where it could be dealt with discreetly. Even better than that, if he could meet them one at a time, and hadn’t the grease-monkey Ramis said they were in separate rooms?

  Anton left his bunk room as quietly as possible and made his way to Long’s room. He knocked and waited for a response.

  Chapter 7 – September

  Tem paced the room. She had the disparate pieces of evidence on her optitact, the documents, video clips and charts arranging themselves lazily before her eyes. Her dismissal from the investigation around Earth had shaken her more than she expected and so she hoped throwing herself into the investigation would settle her mood.

  The scale of the attack was beyond belief. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Off planet terrorism was nothing new, there had been shootings and bombs and even co-ordinated machete attacks before; deadly, vicious actions carried out by fanatics, but isolated nonetheless. Tem had investigated more than her share of such scenes and the details were all too familiar.

  The worst had been a firebomb attack on board the Tranquility, a lunar orbital cruise ship. It took a few thousand passengers on round trips to the moon and back. The route was a popular one, needing less time and money than one of the longer trips to Jupiter or Saturn and so would consistently sell out. For many a luxury trip to the moon and back was a once in a lifetime experience, worth throwing their savings at. Tem’s parents had taken the trip two years before, although not on board the Tranquility. They had paid the extra to go on the moon landing excursion, a chance to leave their own footprints in the dusty regolith and, for her father at least, launch a few golf balls into space.