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

by Gem Jackson

  “Next thing, we’re in bed, I’m stripping off and she’s hitching her dress up, not that there was much to it to start with. She lies back on the bed and makes it clear she wants me, y’know, down there. Now, I’m up for that and so down I go. It was nice enough down there, tidy and all that, and I’m doing the business when I start feeling a bit… iffy. I don’t know what it was, could’ve been the burger, maybe the beer, I don’t know, but suddenly I feel like I’m gonna spew. I was about to come back up, only I’m flat on my chest so it wasn’t that easy. Before I knew what was happening, it was thundering out of me. Beer, burger, everything—right between her legs. Now I’m fucking mortified at this, just trying to catch my breath and waiting for it to kick off when she realises what’s just happened, only I look up and what do I see? She’s lay there, eyes closed, fast asleep through the whole thing. I’m giving her a hundred and ten percent and she’s dropped off!”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me, what did you do?”

  “What could I do, I was hammered, still feeling queasy, and I had my face a couple of inches from a pool of hot vomit. I crawled up to the pillow, lay down and passed out as well.”

  “You did not.”

  “I swear to you I did. So then, morning rolls around, sunshine through the window and all that, and I open my eyes and look over to where she was lying, only she ain’t there anymore. She’s gone. Cleared up and left. No sign of her. I was fuckin’ over the moon, just lying there thinking how I got away with it. That’s when I smelled it.”

  “Smelled it?”

  “Yep. It was foul. I looked down towards my feet and there, square in the middle of my chest, going up and down as I breathed, was a great steaming turd. It was awful. Really dark and solid. She’d written a goodbye on my mirror in lipstick too; ‘Disgusting pig’. So, I lay there thinking to myself, about the night before, about spewing, about the shit on my chest and I figure—fair enough, seems about right. Call it a no score draw.”

  Anton shook his head as Ramis laughed hard at the anecdote. Anton had heard it before, or variations of it at least, but he had to hand it to Ramis, he told it well. They chatted for another hour or so after that before Anton decided he needed some time alone. He needed to be in good shape for the next few days and his hip was still aching. He hoped a few stretches and exercises in the cabin would be enough to get some of the flexibility back, even if the pain remained. As he got up to leave Ramis waved at him to hold back. He lowered his voice and leaned across the table conspiratorially.

  “That job you asked me to do, you know, to get hold of things? Well, I did it. Exactly what you wanted.” He checked the room again to ensure they were alone and placed two pistol magazines into the centre of the table. Anton picked each up in turn and inspected them. They were perfect. Military issues, the correct calibre, seventeen rounds each, loaded and ready.

  “Were you seen?”

  “Of course not!”

  “My, I’m seeing some real potential here. Stick with me sunshine and I’ll show you tricks you can only dream of. Now, I’ll keep hold of these.” Anton scooped them up and placed one in each of his jacket pockets.

  “What are you going to do with them?” asked Ramis, a little taken aback.

  “Oh, don’t worry. You can hardly hand these back in now, can you? It would be the end of your career. Whereas, if I’ve got them, well, the question becomes how did I get them? And when I don’t say anything, which I’m entitled to without being court martialled, it’ll be a certain pain in the ass master at arms that gets it in the neck.”

  Ramis slapped the table in approval. “Brilliant. I love it. Hospers will go crazy.”

  “That’s the plan. Anyway, good work, but I’ve still got things to do.” At that they got up and left the mess. Ramis walked with him through the ship, opening doors and talking nonsense. Just before they reached the cabins Predovnik rounded the corner and muttered something as he passed.

  “What was that? I didn’t quite catch.” asked Anton.

  Predovnik stopped pointedly and laughed to himself. “I said, and then there was one.”

  “And then there was one? What on Jove does that mean?”

  “It means, McVeigh, now that Agent Long and the scientist have departed, you’re all on your own.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re yanking my chain, you shiny-headed ball bag. Agent Long has gone? Where?”

  “That’s insubordination, McVeigh. Carry on like that and diplomat or not, you’ll see out the rest of your time here in the brig. And yes, she’s left—somehow convinced the Captain to let her and her hippy friend take the shuttle to the Titan Orbital ahead of us. So, you’re all alone.” He carried on down the corridor, satisfied with the look of horror on Anton’s face, assuming it was at the prospect of being without his erstwhile companions.

  Long had gone? To the Titan Orbital? This could be it, the end of everything. What had changed? Did she know he had been there? Had she gone to get the proof? He closed his eyes and, batting Ramis away, forced himself to be calm, to put aside the hypotheticals. He knew what needed to be done, and he knew how to do it. Things would be accelerating from this point onward. She hadn’t blown his cover, else it would have been an armed security detachment that had found him, rather than a smug Predovnik. That meant she still didn’t know who he was. Not for sure, anyway. So he would lean in to these new circumstances. Lean in and take things past the point of no return.

  Anton stepped through the hatch and paused to let his eyes adjust to the gloom of the control room. It was the port shift on duty and so he didn’t recognise that many faces. Unlike the rest of the ship, there was no diurnal light cycle in the control room. It lay suspended, outside of the ordinary passage of time, in claustrophobic darkness. As with everything on the Aggressive, it was cramped, however the increased use of automation meant fewer crew were needed to occupy the space. As was common, the ship's designers had combined the bridge and the CIC into one space. Stations relating to the movement and navigation, communications and ship operations were allocated to the fore of the control room, whilst sensors, intelligence, weapon and drone operations were found at the rear. Large screens dominated the front of the control room, displaying key data and metrics from all stations in real-time, and this was mirrored with screens at the rear of the control room too.

  In the centre of the room were the executive consoles where the captain, or officer of the watch, along with other senior crew could oversee the running of the vessel and receive the steady stream of information from the CIC. Around them were fixed three transparent boards showing the spatial environment around the Aggressive, local contacts and combat modelling. It was Captain Bryant himself in command at that moment. He was reading some report or other on a thin, glass tablet, though, it seemed, not with a huge degree of urgency. Although Titan was close, with more than a day to go before arrival, there remained something of a relaxed atmosphere in the room.

  Anton took a deep, slow breath. The air was warm and musty. The smell of body odour was more pronounced in this part of the ship, natural since it was constantly occupied. He took a careful note of everyone’s position and committed them to memory. The shifting screen and flashing console lights illuminated the nooks of the space and would be more help than hindrance when it came to it.

  “Can I help you, Mr McVeigh?” It was Captain Bryant, peering over the top of his spectacles towards Anton. There was no reason whatsoever why Bryant shouldn’t have perfect vision, given the medical facilities available to APSA senior officers; the spectacles were an affectation.

  “Yes, Captain, I certainly hope so.” Anton stepped forward towards the middle of the room. He shifted his weight to accommodate his sore hip. The Captain’s gaze flickered down, catching the movement before Anton could disguise his discomfort. He carried on, “I heard rumours that agent Long and Dr Ramachandran have left the ship. This isn’t true, is it?”

  The Captain lost interest immediately and turned back towar
ds the screen at the front of the room. “I’m afraid what you have heard is correct, Mr McVeigh. The agent and her companion departed for the Titan Orbital Chemical Facility an hour or so ago.”

  Damn.

  “Why wasn’t I informed?”

  “Excuse me, Mr McVeigh, you forget yourself.” A couple of ratings looked up from their stations. “We were ordered to provide you passage to Titan. No more and no less. The running of my ship is no concern of yours. Whoever you might be.” He muttered a command to someone or other in the room, Anton didn’t catch who, before eventually looking back over. “You should be thanking me,” hissed the Captain. “She’s a bomb just waiting to go off. Much better off my ship.”

  Almost imperceptibly Anton began to nod his head. This was almost a worst-case scenario. There was evidence on the Titan Orbital Chemical Facility. Evidence that could implicate him. If found, he would be finished for sure. Locked up or even executed. He hadn’t counted on anybody investigating it before he returned to Titan himself, and so he had cut a corner. A calculated, albeit necessary risk. There were a hundred things he wanted to say to the damned Captain right now, but he chose his words carefully. He needed to keep free rein of the ship. Not for long, but for the next few hours at least. “I understand, Captain. Thank you.”

  He turned on his heel and marched back through the hatch, into the corridor, lit in the dim, yellowing colours of late evening. He made his way through the ship, back to his bunk as fast as he could, swooping past the few crew he passed along the way. Thankfully, the cabin was empty. God knows where Ramis was, but he could stay there. He heaved his bag from beneath the lower bunk and dug around inside, retrieving a small radio communicator. Dialling carefully, he spoke into the microphone, keeping his voice low.

  “Catesby. Come in Catesby, this is Fawkes.” Nothing. He repeated the call and continued to wait. It would likely take a few moments for a response to be organised at the Titan end of the call. Before long a voice crackled from the radio. The Titans had chosen the code names. Anton hadn’t been impressed. His paymasters on Titan seemed comfortable taking codenames from one of the greatest failed coups in history. It didn’t bode well.

  “Fawkes, this is Catesby actual. We weren’t anticipating a communication.” Anton snorted. Damn right they weren’t anticipating a communication.

  “Catesby, we need to move things forward. I may be compromised in the next few hours. I need you to move Wintour into action.” Another pause. He needed Motion and the Cronus to be brought into play quickly. It wasn’t ideal, he knew that, but if his cover was blown on the Aggressive everything they had done over the past eighteen months would be for naught. This was the critical moment, his opportunity to neutralise the threat posed by Long.

  “Negative Fawkes, Wintour is otherwise engaged at the moment.”

  “Fuck Wintour’s engagements, move him forward now, or all may be lost. If you cannot confirm, I will abort.” The pause was much longer this time.

  “Please bear with us, Fawkes. Communicating with Wintour. He is… reluctant.”

  “I don’t give a shit how reluctant he is, bring him to heel.” No response to this. The minutes dripped by. Anton kept one eye on the hatchway, ready to deal with Ramis should be return unexpectedly. Though he was a good thirty years his junior, Anton held no doubts about his ability to dispatch the younger man should it become necessary. Eventually, the radio crackled into life.

  “Come in, Fawkes. Wintour has agreed to move forward and execute the plan. He will be ready in ten hours.”

  Anton sagged. “Ten hours? Are you joking?”

  “Operational necessity, Fawkes. Wintour needs ten hours in order to jump into position at peak operational capability. Can you confirm?”

  Anton cursed. A ten-hour gap was a long time. What on Jove had Motion been doing to drain his jump capabilities so close to zero-hour? He knew the answer, of course, the man had no self-control. He had obviously got caught up chasing something or other. He was like a child. Ten hours it was then. “Confirmed, Catesby, operations commence in T-Minus ten hours. Over and out.”

  Chapter 23 – September

  “You a bad flyer, huh?” asked Ramachandran. She sat in the right-hand seat of the drone shuttle, her bright fabrics spilling out of the straps and across the surrounding panels. Tem closed her eyes and tried hard to relax. It was like trying not to think about pink elephants. She tried not to think about the shuttle looping towards the orbital along its vaguely parabolic course. She avoided imagining it failing to slow down and shooting past the orbital out into deep space. She refused to visualise the electrical systems running flat, one by one, and the temperature dropping lower and lower as they drifted further and further from the Sun into nothingness.

  “I’m not great. I prefer being on-world, truth be told.” She checked her own straps again, feeling for the buckles and running her fingers under the wide strips of material pressing across her chest into her shoulders. “Plus, I don’t like drone ships. I like steering myself. Or someone else steering. Anything with a sense of self-preservation at least.” Ramachandran made a noise at this; it could have been agreement or mockery. It didn’t make much difference either way. She wasn’t Tariq, and he was about the only person who would have made her feel better about getting into the coffin-cum-vehicle they were using to get to the orbital. Now he was gone.

  Nothing felt right about Tariq’s death. There was more to it, she could feel it in her bones. The Captain was concealing something. But what? There was no evidence of anything. The docs had explained again and again the link between trauma and aneurysms. Ramachandran had assured her it checked out. It was just shitty luck. It just didn’t feel right.

  Maybe she was losing it? A pattern of paranoia was developing. First McVeigh and now this. Maybe it was all in her head. Was this how it started for the other ultras? The ones that went postal?

  “I’m losing it,” she whispered.

  “Not long now. Look, there’s Titan, oh and—madher chod!—Saturn. I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  She heard Ramachandran’s breathlessness, her strain to get a better view, and decided to take a look herself. What she saw was spectacular; Saturn loomed in the distance, bright and angry, sharp rings cutting across the blackness of space like razors. Of course, she was familiar with what Saturn looked like, the rings, the electrical storm and so on—but seeing it with her own eyes made it real. She appreciated for the first time just how far from Earth she had come.

  Beside the great, ringed planet was Titan itself, their journeys end. It had no natural rings and no electrical storms. It had no moons of its own and its thick atmosphere rendered the surface all but invisible from space. It was beautiful, though. Shifting hues of gold and pastel amber shimmered to give the moon an ethereal quality, like some ghostly kindred of Earth. It was big too. Certainly bigger than Earth’s moon, and on a par with Mars. No wonder human beings had settled here. It was glorious.

  “I never imagined that it would seem so,” Ramachandran groped for the right words, “… alive.” She brushed her grey hair away from her eyes and brought her chin to rest atop her clasped hands.

  “I know what you mean. I think I suddenly understand why there’s a colony out here. I mean, Ceres is nice, sure, but it’s still just a bit of a—” She hesitated.

  “—rock?” said Ramachandran. “Don’t be sorry, I know what you mean.”

  “I thought Saturn would be bigger though. It is a gas giant, right?”

  Ramachandran nodded. “It is, yes, but Titan orbits at a distance of a million kilometres or so. We’re still far out compared with some of the closest moons.”

  “Why this one then? Why not colonise one of the others?”

  “Well, it’s the biggest for a start, and it’s stable too. It’s also best positioned to exploit the huge natural resources around Saturn. You might say it’s the Ceres of the Saturn system.” Ramachandran paused for a response. Maybe it was intended as a joke. When none came,
she continued, “Saturn has close to a hundred moons, along with the ring systems, all spread out over an enormous area. Titan sits at a rough mid-point between the rings and inner-moons and the stuff on the edge, like the Norse moons. I know a lot of the companies I worked with on Ceres were desperate to get a foot onto Titan. It’s an industrial powerhouse. The combination of abundant hydrocarbons, stability and extreme low-temperatures means a high mechanical efficiency can be achieved.”

  It didn’t look like an industrial powerhouse. It looked too peaceful. “How long until we reach the orbital?”

  The scientist checked the navigation pane. “Another couple of hours yet.”

  “So, we’re still on course and everything? We haven’t drifted wide?”

  Ramachandran laughed. “No, everything is still as it should be. There’s far more chance of a human pilot screwing things up than a drone pilot, you know?”

  “Sure, I know that. But you acknowledge they both screw up from time to time?”

  Ramachandran laughed again. She had a brilliant smile. It spread out from her eyes as well as her mouth, like ripples from stones dropped into a still pool of water. After a moment she became sombre again. “I haven’t thanked you properly. For what you did in my apartment. And for letting me come with you.”

  Tem weighed it up, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal. You were only in that mess because we were around, anyway. If we hadn’t been there, it wouldn’t have gone down that way.”

  “I wasn’t always like this,” said Ramachandran, still staring ahead. “I tried to get out a few years ago, when I realised what the job entailed. They didn’t give me a choice. Once you’re in with something like that, well, there’s no easy escape. You’re a liability if you’re on the outside. So you either stay with them, doing your bit, keeping it it all running smoothly, or you get replaced.”