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

by Gem Jackson

  “Fuck me, he’s good,” she said.

  Presumably he had allowed her to operate all these years as a known threat. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and all that. Her skin crawled at the thought of it. How many emails had he read? How many reports? She shook the thought away. She had the evidence to reveal his identity and his crimes and suddenly, the tables had turned and he had lost control. She could bring his world crashing down and that scared him. Instead, he would destroy her.

  “This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.”

  She looked at the bag of IV fluid hung up beside the bed. It was empty. There were a couple more nearby, discarded and left. All were five hundred mil. She hoped it was enough to stop her fainting.

  She disconnected the cannula from the drip, hanging the tubing out of the way. Then, using the wrist of her injured arm, she pressed down firmly below the butterfly valve of the cannula, where she imagined the needle entered the vein. She bit down on the end of the cannula and as gently as she was able, pulled it out. A flash of freezing pain leapt, like lightning, along her arm between the skin and the muscle. A spurt of blood leapt from the wound onto the floor. Regretting her impulsiveness, she scanned the room for something to staunch the blood. Without use of her left hand, it took three attempts to get a nearby cotton bud in place, re-purposing the tape from the cannula to hold it in place.

  “What on Io are you doing?” asked Ramachandran. She had the tone of a parent who had returned to find a toddler decorating the room with the contents of the cat’s litter tray. “I leave you for five minutes and this is what you get up to?” She stepped in to help, putting down the tray of food on the bed.

  “I’ve got some bad news, doc. You might want to hold off accepting that job offer.”

  “What’s happened?” She adjusted the cotton bud on Tem’s arm and removed a shawl, wrapping it around Tem’s shoulders, simultaneously covering her up and holding her left arm in place across her stomach. “I presume we’re off somewhere? Has the plan changed?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Okay, but first, we eat.”

  They sat and ate the meal together, a rehydrated chilli with hunks of white bread. Between bites, Tem described what she had discovered; the message from APSA, the falsified footage of the murder and her thoughts about being framed by Biarritz’s network.

  Ramachandran listened thoughtfully, asking the occasional question to clarify. After Tem had finished, she was silent for a moment.

  “So, what you’re telling me is, that job you just offered me is out of the window.” She smiled. “Seriously, though, what are you going to do? You might be right about all of this, but then again, it might have nothing to do with Biarritz at all.”

  “I know that,” said Tem. “I don’t know what the hell is going on. It wouldn’t change much either way. Even if this is nothing to do with Biarritz, I still can’t risk going back to APSA. The best-case scenario is that it’s just a coincidence, and I get furloughed for six months while they sort it out. By then, the trail will be cold and I’m back to where I started. I can’t let that happen. I need to stay here.”

  “I suppose.”

  “How do you feel about me being, you know, an ultra?” She couldn’t look at Ramachandran as she waited for the response. She had let Tariq know, eventually. There were too many in the department that had known and wanted nothing to do with her. In their minds, she was a time-bomb waiting to go off. The footage from the orbital would only serve to prove that. It wouldn’t surprise her if half her superiors thought it was genuine.

  “It doesn’t bother me,” said Ramachandran. She shuffled closer and leaned in. “I mean it. It doesn’t bother me. We have a few ultras on Ceres. The boss asked me to look into the evidence before he took them on. I know the science behind it and I know it was public opinion that shut the programme down. I’m not scared of you. Well, not for that reason anyway.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now come on girl, get your ass in gear. If you’re going to pull cannulas out left, right and centre, we should get on with it and do something.”

  “You’re right.” She tossed her empty plate onto the bed and, wincing all the way, walked to the door. “Lets go and speak to whoever is running this ship. The basic plan is still the same—find Anton Biarritz. There’s a storm coming for that son of a bitch. He thinks he knows me? He has no idea.”

  Chapter 30 – Leon

  Leon drew a line beneath his jump calculation and slotted the pencil into the top of the pilot station. It was within tolerance to the one produced by the ship’s AI. It felt good to do pilot work again. He had insisted on checking the calculation by hand, much against the wishes of the others. Given that someone had murdered half the crew and used the ship to start a war, it wasn’t beyond the realms of probability that they might have hacked the AI so the next jump put them half-way across the galaxy. He persuaded them in the end.

  “Calculations check out,” he said.

  The others were milling around. While he worked, they had shifted the dead bodies to one of the cold storage units and put the control room back together as best as was possible. Someone had propped the hatch open to circulate the air a little quicker. The breeze that flowed in was a welcome relief. Between the cramped, sweaty conditions and the blood-soaked floor, the control room wasn’t an especially pleasant place to be.

  The same could be said about the Solar System as a whole. Conflict was erupting in dozens of places. News broadcasts from Titan stayed focused on the warships lost to the Aggressive, but elsewhere it was clear that Titan forces were expanding rapidly. From nowhere, a new power had emerged; dozens of capital ships in white and red livery. Within an hour the whole of the Saturn system was dominated by the Titan fleet, with APSA ships and stations broadcasting desperate requests for assistance. When the beacon around Earth was destroyed, APSA forces had been pulled back in case the act precluded an attack on Earth itself. Though no such assault had taken place, APSA was slow to move back out beyond the belt, leaving their stations and colonies around the gas giants weak and exposed.

  Yet the response from APSA had been even more disheartening. A line of senior politicians queued up to denounce the actions of the Aggressive while at the same time committing to meeting the Titan threat with ‘ironclad’ resistance. That was the word they all used; ‘ironclad’. Encased in metal, like a warship. Torren pointed out that Ironclads were a type of sailing ship the Americans had used to fight the British, or something like that anyway. It was the language of war.

  The rumour spreading across the unofficial communication channels was that a huge APSA fleet was being put together around Deep Six, the powerful military base between Mars and the belt.

  It boggled Leon’s mind—all this conflict, and he was right in the middle of it. All he had done was spend the past few weeks trying extremely hard not to die. In the process, somehow, he had triggered a war.

  His reverie was broken as September Long and her scientist companion entered the control room. One by one everybody stopped what they were doing. Eyes followed them as they took position at the front.

  Sleet spoke first. “Agent Long, I wasn’t expecting you out of bed so soon.”

  Torren had one hand on his sidearm. Hail was standing at the side of her station, arms folded, eyes narrowed.

  “I’ve just had a new set of orders,” said Long. “I’ve been told to ensure this ship is returned to APSA forces as soon as possible.”

  Sleet pulled her rifle from her back. “Traitorous bitch.”

  Long held up a finger on her uninjured hand. “Hold fire, I’ve not finished,” she said. “It would be pretty fucking ironic if you saved my life and then shot me in the space of an hour.”

  “That isn’t irony,” growled Hail.

  “Whatever, I don’t care,” continued Long. “Before I do anything I need to check a few things. I hope you don’t mind if I sit?” Gingerly, she crouched down and t
ook a seat on the floor. “I’m still a bit woozy, truth be told. Jesus guys,” she lifted her injured hand and used the other to point at the scientist. “I’ve got one functional hand and I’m backed up by a chemist. You can drop the guns, I’m not overpowering you anytime soon.”

  “The broadcasts are saying you’re an ultra,” said Sleet, her voice dead-flat.

  “Suit yourself,” she said, ignoring the comment. “So, this ship. How did you come into possession of it?”

  “It was empty when we got here. Fuck knows why, but they abandoned ship after firing on the Cronus. You must have seen the escape-craft jettisoning?”

  “The Cronus?” asked Long.

  “The big Titan ship that faced off against this one. It’s on the other side of the moon now, hiding.” Sleet and the other laughed at that.

  “So they abandoned ship. Then you turn up and take over? It all sounds a bit shady to me.”

  “It’s not a coincidence,” said Leon. “You know yourself that I was ordered to bring the diplomat’s ship from Ceres to Titan. It’s a long story, but I got captured by the Cronus around Ceres and escaped with everyone here on the Jackdaw’s Straw. By the time we caught up with the Aggressive, things were crazy. There’s no conspiracy.”

  Long was silent, mulling over what he said.

  “Well, it’s yours then,” she said.

  “What?” said Leon and Sleet in unison.

  “It’s yours. I’m no lawyer, but I know that when a vessel is abandoned, international law says whoever manages to board and run it gets salvage rights. The ship is yours. My orders are illegal. Fuck ‘em.”

  Sleet began to laugh. It was low and sinister, rising to an unsettling crescendo. “Fuck ‘em indeed. Is that true?”

  Torren shrugged. “It sounds right.”

  Sleet strode over to the agent and pulled her to her feet. “I knew I liked you. You are being serious?”

  “Completely serious. The other part of my orders is to stand down as an agent. You must have seen? I’ve been framed for mass murder by the cretin at the heart of this shit storm—”

  “We think it’s him, at least,” interjected the scientist.

  “Yeah, right, we think it’s him. If you don’t mind a wanted mass-murderer hanging around, I think I can manage gearing up with a bunch of mercenary, belt criminals for a while. No offence.”

  “None taken,” said Sleet. “How do we know you’re not actually a mass murderer? ‘I didn’t do it’ kinda sounds like the sort of thing a killer would say if they found themselves in a tight spot. See what I’m getting at?”

  September smirked. “That’s fair. Firstly, the doc can vouch for me, though I doubt that will count for much. Second, the fact you just shifted a pile of bodies from around here suggests the killer hung around on the ship after I left. You can check the logs if you like.”

  “Good point. So what’s your plan?”

  “Ceres,” said Leon. “We’re about to jump.” He looked at Sleet, who nodded. They needed to get going. They had long outstayed their welcome around Titan and it wasn’t clear how long their luck would hold.

  “What then?”

  “Sell the ship, maybe? I know a couple of brokers who would love a chance to fence something like this. Even selling cheap we’ll get more cash than we’ve ever had before. Reckon we’ll take the fancy yacht and head off deep into the belt. Find somewhere that serves a decent beer and wait for all this to blow over.”

  “Mind if we hitch a ride to Ceres, then?” asked the scientist.

  “Well, you’re here now,” said Sleet. “May as well stick around. Just promise me one thing?”

  “What’s that?” asked Long.

  “Don’t kill us in our sleep? If that’s not too much to ask.” She grinned and slapped Long on the shoulder.

  Torren and Hail agreed to make the jump to Ceres and take first watch while Leon and the others got some rest. They left the control room together and headed towards the bunks. At the end of the passageway, Sleet stopped short.

  “Where are you off to Starflight?”

  Long looked at him. “Who’s Starflight?”

  “It’s a long story. I’m sure we’ll get round to it before we reach Ceres.” He turned back to Sleet. “What do you mean? I’m going to my bunk. I know this ship better than anyone, remember?”

  She smirked. “In that case, you would know that the Captain’s cabin is back that way.”

  Leon went to laugh, then realised she was serious. She had called him Captain when he spoke to Motion, but that had just been a front, a way to avoid giving his real name away. Not that it had worked.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you? I thought you’d want to be in charge?” he said.

  She shrugged and pulled a face that said she couldn’t care less.

  “You convinced us to come back. You wanted to board even when you thought you’d be on your own. You took on four capital ships and won. It should be your name on the ship. Now, I’m not soft. I’m not saying I don’t have a stake in the ship, and Torren and Hail are still my crew. We took the Jackdaw’s Straw; that’s enough for me.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head, Leon,” said Long. “She’s very gently screwing you, I think. This ship is in the middle of a war, remember? Regardless of what the law says, APSA are going to see this as stealing the Aggressive.” She pointed at Sleet. “This one isn’t stupid. She’s just making sure you’re the one they pin the blame on, when they catch up.”

  “Which they will,” said Sleet.

  Leon paused. Agent Long was right, and Sleet had said nothing to deny it. It didn’t matter. There was a level of respect there too. She trusted him to run the ship.

  “I’ll take the compliment. Captain’s cabin it is then.”

  He left them and proceeded to find his new quarters.

  Entering the cabin, he felt like a trespasser. It was larger than what he was used to, though nowhere near as luxurious as he was anticipating. The Jackdaw’s Straw was much more comfortable. Opposite the entry hatch there was a wide, laminate desk with metal legs and a comfortable looking chair beneath. The desk was strewn with unfinished paperwork. On the left-hand side was the bed, perfectly ordinary except that there were no other bunks above or below it. It was smartly made, up to a standard that any of the training staff at the academy would be happy with.

  A second desk lay on the right. Bench seats surrounded it on three sides. It was much bigger than other and was obviously intended for briefings and meetings. Tucked around the room, hugging the ceiling, were various cupboards and storage areas. Leon rooted around until he found the main lights, which he switched off, and the reading light above the bed, which he switched on.

  He was the captain of a capital spaceship. He ran the idea through his head a few more times, but it refused to sit right. He knew he should enjoy it while it lasted, but it didn’t feel real. He tossed and turned in bed for a while, but couldn’t settle. It was useless. There was no chance he was sleeping anytime soon.

  He left the cabin and meandered through the ship, much as he had done when putting off his shifts. The ship still hummed as it always had. He ran a hand along the walls as he walked, bouncing it over pipes and bundles of cable, across pressure monitors and crossbeams. For the first time in a long while, he felt home.

  He knew it wouldn’t last. Without the rest of the crew, the ship would inevitably deteriorate. Half a dozen people couldn’t maintain the thousands of complex mechanisms which made up the ship. They would operate it until it broke down.

  Before long he reached the petty officer's mess. For once it wasn’t empty. Agent Long was sat drinking a coffee.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  He went to the dispenser and filled a cup to the brim, adding a couple of sweeteners and a dash of milk.

  “You won’t sleep,” said Long.

  He sat down at the table opposite her. “I’m not sleeping, anyway. If a coffee before lights out is my b
iggest worry right now, well, I’ll take that.”

  They laughed. His stomach lurched. The lights flickered a little and for a few seconds the world seemed a little wrong. They had made the jump to Ceres. Long was nonplussed by the jump. He remembered how jittery she had been arriving the first time.

  “A bit more comfortable with space travel now?”

  “You’re one to talk. You’re practically a different person since I saw you last.”

  He held her gaze for a few seconds, mulling over a response, before finding refuge looking down at the table between them. That hadn’t changed about her. She still had the same incandescent intensity. Eyes that could strip away your thoughts and reveal what lay beneath. Even wearing an ill-fitting crew top, she could still be intimidating.

  “Do you remember?” she continued. “Before you left for Ceres? You were a squirt back then. What happened?”

  He thought about Murray. About Ardbeg. About Ramis.

  “You know, when people say, ‘it could be worse’? Well, what we came through, me, Sleet and the others. It got about as bad as it could. And I’m still here. I guess I had to change in the process.”

  They both sipped their coffee in silence.

  “You had a partner, when you were here last,” said Leon.

  She nodded. “I did.”

  He didn’t ask any more. He didn’t need to. They sat in silent recognition of each other. Damaged souls, who, somehow, had found a way through the chaos. Survivors.

  The intercom crackled into life. It was Hail. “Starflight, Sleet, you need to get to the control room.”

  “Christ, can we not have an hour without a crisis?” asked Long, before draining her cup and slamming it down onto the table.

  Leon eased himself up.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, it’s kinda how we do things round here,” he said. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Leon led the way to the control room. Sleet had beaten them to it, but only by a few seconds. He strode into the darkness and made for the centre of the room. The spatial environment board showed the jump had occurred and placed them frighteningly close to Ceres. A jump like that was akin to rolling a handful of sixes—great when it happened, but not something you could ever count on. The issue was clear. A few thousand kilometres outside Ceres sat a familiar sight; three Titan capital warships.