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

  The Aggressive

  Part one of the Titanwar saga

  Gem Jackson

  Copyright © 2020 Gem Jackson

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  For HJWW & KEW

  Think!

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  PART ONE

  Chapter 1—September

  Chapter 2—Anton

  Chapter 3—Leon

  Chapter 4—September

  Chapter 5 – Leon

  Chapter 6 – Anton

  Chapter 7 – September

  Chapter 8 – Anton

  Chapter 9 – Leon

  Chapter 10 – Leon

  PART TWO

  Chapter 11 – September

  Chapter 12 – Anton

  Chapter 13 – Leon

  Chapter 14 – September

  Chapter 15 – Leon

  Chapter 16 – Anton

  Chapter 17 – Leon

  Chapter 18 – September

  Chapter 19 – Leon

  Chapter 20 – Anton

  PART THREE

  Chapter 21 – Leon

  Chapter 22 – Anton

  Chapter 23 – September

  Chapter 24 – Anton

  Chapter 25 – Leon

  Chapter 26 – September

  Chapter 27 – Leon

  Chapter 28 – Anton

  Chapter 29 – September

  Chapter 30 – Leon

  Afterword

  Acknowledgement

  About The Author

  PART ONE

  EARTH

  Chapter 1—September

  They were twenty minutes away from docking at the Lancaster Orbital when Tem realised the crew of the Enigma were dead. The shuttle had been decelerating for over an hour and having resisted for most of the flight, she was at the gin and tonic stage of coping with the anxiety of spaceflight.

  "I think they’re dead," she said to her companion seated beside her. Having worked together for a few years, Tariq Abbas was more than just a partner, he was as close to a friend as she had.

  "Who's dead?" he asked. His eyes were fixed on a report. At this proximity to the Lancaster Orbital, real-time data connections were coming back on-line, and they both had work to catch up on.

  "The crew of the Enigma. I'm pretty sure, anyway. I think this is turning into something big." She finished the last of her G&T and placed the plastic tumbler onto the fold-down table in front of her. At some point in the past, the shuttle had been luxurious. The faded designs on the seats had been fashionable when she was growing up but now told a story of age and repeated use. She ran a finger along the table, tracing scratches in the chipped plastic. The whole cabin needed a refit. Hopefully, the shuttle was in better condition mechanically. She glanced at Tariq and found him waiting expectantly.

  "Go on," he said. "You need to explain that."

  Tem placed her tablet in front of his and cycled through to the right screen.

  "See these telematics? They're worrying, aren't they? No ship with a functioning crew would approach Earth at those speeds without any kind of communication. You know the Ceres intelligence as well as I do—someone, probably Biarritz, wanted a significant asset. ‘More than mere piracy’, the source said. The Enigma went grey around Ceres. It fits the bill perfectly. I think someone has taken it. If that is the case, the crew are as good as dead."

  He focused on the data and went to say something when Tem placed a hand on his wrist and nodded at an approaching flight attendant. Tariq locked the screen, and they waited quietly as the attendant came to stand beside them. His uniform was dishevelled. Sweat glistened across his forehead, despite the cool temperature of the cabin, and his tanned neck betrayed a pulse rate close to a hundred beats a minute. He waited silently, shifting dilated eyes from Tem to the empty tumbler and back again. She pointed towards it quizzically and he nodded, a little too quickly. She went to pass the beaker but held on as he tried to take it.

  "Aren't you going to offer me any?"

  "I'm sorry, madam, would you like another drink?"

  "I don't mean a drink. I mean, whatever you've snorted back there? Coke? Smash, maybe? Blue?" She released the beaker and he stumbled back, stammering.

  "I... I don't know what you're on about?"

  "We're trying to talk. We don't need a coked-up flight attendant interfering, so just fuck off, will you?" She shook her head as he hurried away.

  "What on Earth was that for?" said Tariq.

  "Oh, come on, did you see him? He's damn lucky I didn't arrest and search him."

  Tariq scowled and unlocked the tablet. "You're just stressed because of the journey, so you took it out on him. You've been on the job too long. Forgotten how to act in polite society."

  "Give it a few years, kid. You'll get there too."

  He snorted. At thirty-four, Tariq wasn't much younger than her, but having spent most of his working life in military intelligence, he was relatively new to the civilian world. Tem had enjoyed working with him so far. He was slightly taller than her, slim and broad across the shoulders. In contrast to Tem's typical look—dark jeans, dark top and dark jacket—Tariq dressed with style; tailored grey suits, crisp shirts open at the neck and a conspicuously expensive watch.

  "You might be the old dog around here," he said, "but you still need to explain why you've gone temporarily insane. The Enigma is a destroyer. It's more than a kilometre long and has an experienced crew of nearly a hundred. APSA have monitored it since Titan and particularly closely since it passed Ceres.

  “Aside from the lack of communication, for which there could be a dozen explanations, there's been no sign of foul play or interference. So unless you can explain how someone could hijack a military ship, in plain sight, with no evidence of a struggle, then you're not convincing me, or anyone else, that the crew are dead. Let's get to the station and do some digging when the Enigma arrives."

  He was right. To most, the suggestion that the Enigma had been taken was absurd. On the other hand, given its bizarre movements, radio blackout and the intelligence they had from Ceres, it might just be the best explanation. Either way, the unusual activity had hastened their departure from Lunar One and meant they would be straight into action once they reached Lancaster.

  She peered through the small window beside her. The Earth filled her vision, sprawling below the shuttle. Back at her house in Alcúdia, she sometimes encountered a special kind of light; it existed fleetingly on hot, dry days between the sun going down and darkness taking hold. In those moments, everything was bathed in a rich, blue luminescence; dim and bright at the same time. It was unsettling and fascinating all at once. The same shimmering light, she decided, marked the boundary between the Earth's horizon and the darkness of space. The view was almost enough to compensate for the crappy shuttle.

  A bell chimed in the shuttle's cabin and the pilot announced they were beginning their final approach to the orbital. As the shuttle manoeuvred to align with the entry cone, Lancaster Orbital swept across her vision for a few seconds. She had always recognised it. It was like the Eiffel Tower or Statue of Liberty in that respect.
But after fifteen years of travelling between Earth, the orbital and the Moon, the glamour had long worn off.

  There was too much to take in at once. The central cylinder was straightforward, although its massive scale was difficult to appreciate, but the half-dozen sets of spokes that protruded from the body of the station were confusing. They jutted outward like bicycle wheels with their rims removed, crisscrossing chaotically when looking at the station from above or below.

  At any one time, there were at least thirty thousand people on board the Lancaster Orbital. Hundreds of vessels arrived and departed each day, from shuttles to cruise-liners to enormous commercial ships laden with minerals from across the Solar System. She peered beyond the station, beyond Earth, and a shiver ran down her back. Somewhere in the ink was the Enigma. The more she thought about it the harder it was to escape the feeling that she was an unwitting participant in someone else’s game.

  She pulled the blind down and sat back into her seat, ready for arrival. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

  "It's going be fine," said Tariq. "Docking is much safer than departure."

  An image of the Enigma, lifeless and silent, flashed in her mind.

  "I've got a bad feeling about this."

  After arriving, they went straight to the control room at the top of the orbital. Tem scanned the room; it was large and brightly lit. The orbital was owned and run by APSA, the Atlantic-Pacific Security Alliance. APSA was a quasi-political entity governed collectively by a council of European, American and Asian state representatives. The aim was to provide a stable framework of laws, customs and agencies across swathes of the Solar System. Lancaster Orbital was the jewel in its crown. Funding was plentiful and though it was more than a hundred years old, constant upgrades and refits meant it was cutting edge. A cluster of officers bunched around the central holo-desk, which depicted the spatial environment surrounding the orbital. Tem dropped her bag by the door and made her way over, followed by Tariq, and took a spot around the desk.

  One of the officer acknowledged them with a nod.

  "You must be the intelligence agents," he said.

  Tariq flashed his badge. "Agent Abbas. My partner here is agent Long. We were due to arrive tomorrow for the meet and greet with the Enigma. We came over early when he heard things were escalating."

  "What's the situation?" asked Tem, studying the data on the holo-desk. There was far more information available than she had to access on the shuttle. She looked back and forth between different sets of figures.

  "Take a look," the officer pointed to the edge of the display. "See way out there? Guess what that is."

  "The Enigma," she said without hesitation.

  "Indeed. It just passed the third deceleration threshold fifteen minutes ago. No recent contact, not even a morse-flash for emergency docking. Do you think someone tipped them off about the quarantine?"

  Tem shook her head. For a destroyer like the Enigma to ignore deceleration protocols without good reason was unheard of. Approach vectors around Earth were the tightest in the system. A civilian ship refusing to slow down appropriately could be impounded, and the crew prosecuted, but a military vessel? That was quarantine and court martial territory. Yet, it wasn't protocols that interested Tem; if the Ceres intelligence was correct, the Enigma was a concrete link to tracking down the only person to ever evade her—Anton Biarritz. He was a black hole; powerful, destructive, yet impossible to observe directly. He was visible only through the effect he had on others. That's why she and Tariq had made the trip to the orbital. If there was a connection to Biarritz on that ship, she would drag it out kicking and screaming if she had to. Unfortunately, it looked like she would not get the chance.

  "No, that's not it. Look here." She tapped beneath the triangular representation of the Enigma. "See how hot she's running? She not cooked any of her speed off. I don't think she's coming in, or at least, not in the way we were thinking." She gestured to the Station Commander, "He's aware of the trajectory though, right? Please tell me that someone has noticed?"

  "Holy shit. That can't be right?" Tariq furrowed his brow.

  Tem looked at the man in control of the orbital. The Station Commander. His eyes flitted between the desk and two or three monitors above. He was old school; former military and now in a civilian role. Tem had looked him up on the shuttle. She liked knowing who she was working with. He was, to all intents and purposes, a British aristocrat; educated at Gordonstoun and later, Oxford University, then straight into officer training at Stornoway Space Academy. He had captained a half a dozen ships of increasing size before being mothballed on the Lancaster Orbital. Rumour had it he lost his last command knocking egos with an admiral a few years back. He responded without taking his eyes away from the monitors.

  "I assume you are referring to the Enigma's trajectory, agent?" he said. "At the moment the Enigma is on a direct collision course with this station, following a projected path that takes it to within a hundred kilometres of the Beacon."

  Tariq whistled. "I assume you've launched interceptors and alerted nearby ships?"

  "Correct. We've requested that the Aggressive, the nearest capital ship, remain on standby and we have twelve drone interceptors en route. Should the need arise, they can push the destroyer onto an alternative course." The Station Commander mumbled instructions to two surrounding officers. They darted away to complete whatever errand they had been given.

  "The Enigma is less than an hour away," said Tem. "Interceptors or not, you need to evacuate the station." She leaned across the desk towards him, her arms passing through the floating images.

  "We don't. Not until it's absolutely clear what the situation is. And, as you say, we have an hour before any collision event." He sounded bored. Typical stiff upper lip.

  "I'm not kidding, look at it! You need to call the evacuation now. An hour is barely enough time as it is; there is a million tonnes of destroyer, at best out of control, and more likely on the attack, about to smash through the single most important and heavily populated stellar-port in the Solar System. That is the situation, commander. This isn't the time to gamble with thirty thousand lives. Call the alert."

  The commander addressed her directly. He spoke in slow, measured tones, as if instructing a child.

  "We don't know that for sure. It is true that Lancaster is the single most important stellar-port in the Solar System, and if we evacuated every time something like this happened we'd be out ten times a year. Now, there are very clear protocols in this area, the APSA council is being kept abreast of the situation. Your presence is required only for context." Tem noticed the others step away from her slightly. The commander straightened up. "You haven't introduced yourself, agent. With the greatest respect, who are you? Precisely?" His tone was sharp enough to cut glass.

  Tem felt herself deflate. He was pulling rank. It was useless reasoning with old bastards like this. It would come down to everyone getting their dicks out on the table and seeing who's made the loudest thump. That left very limited options as it wasn't worth escalating matters just yet. She pulled her badge out and flashed it at the old man.

  "Agent September Long, APSA Intelligence Agency, counter-terrorism division. Happy?"

  "Thank you agent Long. Do you know what a destroyer is?"

  She shrugged. "A big ship?"

  The commander and his officers smirked. Her fists started to itch.

  "Yes, it is a big ship," he said mimicking her intonation. "And it would take a small battle fleet to take one by force." He cocked his head. "Have you noticed any battle fleets around the Enigma? Have you seen something we have not?"

  Her shoulders tightened and she forced herself to take a deep breath before responding.

  "No, commander, nevertheless—"

  The commander cut her off, "In that case, your advice has been noted, agent Long. You may remain in the room, but please refrain from interfering with the good order of my station."

  "Lieutenant," having finishe
d skimming the latest reports the Station Commander handed them back to the waiting officer, "Bring the visual feed from the interceptor drones onto the primary display and give me audio with the control unit, if you please." The Station Commander's orders cascaded down the chain of command and within moments the crew made the connection. The primary display snapped to the perspective of one of the drone ships heading toward the Enigma.

  "How big are the interceptors?" asked Tariq. Tem went to say something glib before realising that he was speaking to an officer rather than her. Of the two of them, Tariq was far more knowledgeable about space and tech. For Tem, spaceships and technology were useful tools and that was all.

  "They're slightly bigger than the tug-drones we use for the commercial vessels," said the officer. "Their engines are much more powerful though, so they should stand a better chance of nudging the Enigma to an alternative course."

  Tariq nodded enthusiastically, "Nice." He looked at Tem. "See, they've got a plan. It's under control."

  "We'll see."

  The chatter from the drone controllers crackled through the speakers as they co-ordinated the operation. From what she could see, given the view of the drone-feed, there were a dozen bullet-like interceptors travelling in a wide delta formation.

  "They're brilliant, aren't they?" said Tariq. "Look at that one on the left. It's basically just a weapon system strapped to a huge engine. The acceleration and manoeuvres they can pull are far beyond what a human pilot could cope with."

  "Quiet please, they are going in."

  The camera feed spun and flipped as the drones re-aligned themselves and out of nowhere the destroyer swept onto the screen. They were approaching from the rear and gaining fast. Far ahead in the distance was the bright glow of Earth. The Enigma grew bigger and bigger, filling the right-hand side of the screen. It was enormous; a gunmetal dagger that dwarfed the approaching drones. There were no windows along the hull, just armour plating and a few weapons batteries. Halfway along its length jutted two structures like backward shark fins, one along the top and the other underneath—or was it the other way around?