Siege of Titan (Star Crusades Uprising, Book 1)

by Michael G. Thomas

This was no fancy yacht or military ship, the TS Younara Glory was one of the largest transports in the shipping industry. A single shipment from this vessel promised massive profits for the company and this was no doubt why their competitors were all racing to produce vessels of a similar capacity.

  Since her launch four years ago, she spent her time ploughing the trade routes of Proxima to deliver her cargo of freshly mined minerals and materials. The ship was nearly two kilometres long and almost entirely automated. In theory the entire operation could be conducted without human intervention of any kind. In fact, there were many reasons why taking humans out of the loop entirely would be advantageous. Nonetheless, with such a high price tag on both the vessel and the cargo it was a requirement for any shipping insurance that a small crew was present at all times. If nothing else, should the ship end up crashing into a station there would be humans to blame, assuming any lived of course. A computer or mechanical failure could cause all kinds of problems in deep space and a crew could provide options a computer system might overlook. For those who might be aesthetically minded, she would appear to be an ugly ship. The basic shape was like a giant bell with the rear of the ship massively larger than the front. The great mess of metal expanded in all directions to provide for the numerous storage areas for the raw materials. All around the outer rim additional gantry sections provided mountings for cranes and tooling to use in the movement and extraction of storage containers. Towards the front were three lifeboats, all accessible from the crew’s habitation module, each able to carry all the members of the crew.

  At the rear were a dozen massive engines, each running continually to provide the thrust for the return voyage. The ion thruster was a very common form of advanced electric propulsion used for spacecraft propulsion. The basic principle was that they created thrust by accelerating ions. The electrostatic ion thrusters used Coulomb force and worked by accelerating the ions in the direction of the electric field. The ion engines were commonly used on this type of vessel. They were extremely efficient and could provide continuous, reliable thrust over years and years. The only downside to these engines was that they took weeks to be able to start pushing such a mass through space. This was why the Younara Glory followed a continuous elliptical orbit that was beautifully timed to allow her to pass both collection and delivery points on her voyage without stopping. This was a major feat of navigation as it required the vessel to match the orbital stations positions long enough to move materials before moving on. For the time when the ship needed extra power at short notice the manoeuvring engines were available. These huge power plants were even more substantial than the ion drives. But they had couldn’t provide the continuous power of the ion engines and would burn up all their fuel in less than a week compared to the forty year power plant lifespan of the ion system. This long, monotonous journey was why so much automation was required, and why the crews were able to command such high salaries.

  Down the side of the vessel was a thick double white stripe, the famous symbol of the Trans Shipping Corporation. At the front was a large rotating wheel, much like a Catherine Wheel. It added a peculiar look to the already angry looking vessel. This section provided all the facilities the small number of crew would need for a twelve-month assignment.

  She had been in transit now for two months and was coming to the end of her voyage. The twin stars of Alpha Centauri burned brightly but at this distance the refinery and space dock were impossible to see. It would take another week for them to reach Proxima Prime, the largest colonised planet in the Proxima Centauri System though they were not visiting the planet. The drop off point was the Titan Naval Station, a massive complex that had been built into Kronus, one of the planet’s smaller moons. At some point in the past it looked like any other rocky satellite, but decades of engineering, terraforming and heavy work had turned it into a habitable and busy colony in its own right. From space, the surface of the moon looked completely man-made.

  It was one of the most important ports and transport hubs in the entire System with a combined civilian and military population in excess of two million people. All major freight and passenger transport vessels used the Station when on long journeys or transporting major cargos. Due to its orbit around Proxima Prime it also served as the perfect jumping off point for anybody looking to leave the planet. At any point in the day there were at least a dozen shuttles moving between the planet’s surface and the moon base. With around one quarter of normal gravity it was much easier to build and maintain craft, as opposed to trying to get them through the planet’s atmosphere and all the problems that entailed. The Titan Naval Station was also home to the Proxima Squadron, the elite and most well trained part of the Confederation Fleet and responsible for the defence of this area against terrorism, piracy and hijacking. The Proxima Squadron was based around two battleships and over a dozens frigates and transports. It had the numbers and firepower to settle any problems or disputes that might arise.

  The huge transport was a tiny spec in comparison to her destination docking point. At the front of the vessel the crew module contained several small rooms including a canteen and kitchen, fitness room and navigation centre. At first glance, it might appear over generous but after the first week it was well known how irritable and troublesome a crew could be.

  The crew were sitting around a small round table in the mess. It was dark and cramped but there was little space available to them that wasn’t packed full of cargo. On the centre of the table was the usual collection of artefacts signalling the closing stages of a card game where the players had taken things possibly a little too far. The large pile by far was the luxury food items, closely followed by coins and then a spurious pile of oddities that must have been added as the desperation stakes climbed.

  Captain Thomas checked his cards, it wasn’t going well for him. The last card had put him in the unenviable position of having to withdraw and he was less than impressed. Dropping his cards onto the table he looked at Casey, his adversary rubbed his head.

  “I fold!”

  Casey smiled and made to move forward to grab his winnings when he was interrupted by the emergency alarm. As the sound reverberated around the room, the lighting cut to emergency mode. As with most vessels of this kind the low level red lighting used minimal power and didn’t interfere with night vision as much as the normal harsh lights.

  “What the hell?” said Jackson, as he looked around.

  “Shit, that is a bad sound, I know that!” Traci replied with a slight hint of sarcasm.

  Captain Thomas, the older but experienced officer was the first to stand and made his way out of the door. He ignored the rest of the crew as they tried to catch up. This was his first emergency on this ship and being as they travelled along a clear and safe transit route it must be serious if the computer system was reporting it. As they made their way through the corridors, the ship’s built-in computer system was activated.

  “Proximity Alert! Proximity Alert!” The message repeated as they entered the bridge area.

  The screens were all live and Captain Thomas jumped into his chair, waving his hands as he moved through the pages of data. He stopped on one that displayed a number of small objects.

  “I’m getting readings on twelve small vessels, they look like life pods to me,” said Jackson.

  Wilkinson arrived and checked his screens. “I have life readings in all of them, it looks like two people per pod.”

  “Two per pod? That is strange, can you confirm that?”

  He continued looking through the screens of data on the various displays, checking on the communication and navigation logs for signs of trouble. One entry got his attention, it was concerned with a missing tug. Bringing up the story it appeared a vessel had disappeared in this same area two weeks ago. The crew compliment was forty-two including several passengers.

  “Sir, I’ve got a report here on a missing vessel, it could be them, if so they’ve been out here for some time.”

 
“We don’t really have the space for them but we can’t leave them out there. Wilkinson, get down to the airlock and help them in. Mathews, get the bots out and bring in the pods.” The Captain ordered.

  The only woman in the crew, Traci, was the medical officer and doubled as the security chief. She moved to the weapons’ locker on the wall with a look of someone who always expected the worst.

  “Traci, get down to the airlocks and help Wilkinson, they may have casualties amongst them.”

  She flipped open the cupboard and removed a firearm. It was a civilian issue C14 carbine fitted with ultra low velocity rounds designed for use against un-armoured targets. Anything more could risk a breach in the habitation section and a breach quite simply meant death. The weapon was quite rounded, partially for aesthetics and to ensure it didn’t catch or damage anything important when being used in space. Military grade firearms were only available on military vessels and even then usually issued prior to action, due to the inherent danger of weapons in space. She moved into the side corridor that led down to the main access section and airlocks. The room was hexagonal shaped and equipped with four airlock seals. As she reached the computer terminal between two of the seals she felt the clunk of the first of the pods pushing against the sprung section.

  “Weird?” She checked all the valves prior to starting the airlock sequence. The changes in pressure could be fatal and must be normalised safely prior to anybody coming aboard.

  Wilkinson was already lowering a set of doors that operated as beds or seats as he checked the status of the pods on his hand-held computer.

  “I don’t get it, these readings show they are over a minute away, the bots have only just started.”

  A loud noise hit the side of the section and then a dull throbbing sound started pounding on the furthest airlock door. It sounded like a badly aligned motor or a wheel on an automobile that wasn’t properly balanced.

  “Get back!” Traci shouted as she moved away from the airlock and back into the corridor. She pulled the carbine from her should and held it in front of her. It seemed like any other weapon apart from having a much wider muzzle and a magazine that held six shots. The wider muzzle was due to the large, low velocity rubberised slug the weapon fired. She reached out to a panel on the wall revealing an intercom system and hit the button.

  “Captain, what’s going on out there? We’ve got something at the airlock already. Captain, please respond, we’ve got a situation down here!”

  There was no response and they stood in silence, watching the airlock with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Traci hit her fist on the seal button and an additional seal came down in the middle of the corridor, cutting them off from the airlock section in case of a breach.

  Then the airlock seals blew. The pressure change was not as great as she would have expected but it was enough to make her stumble as the section shook from the movement. The entire section was temporarily flooded with a mist that blocked visibility up to the sealed area.

  “You okay?” Wilkinson asked her as he held onto the wall.

  “Yeah, what was that?” She tried to check the screen to her right. The display was showing garbage, as though the software had crashed or been jammed. Another series of blasts shook the habitation part of the ship and they were forced to hang onto the sides of the shaft. Casey’s head appeared at the far end as he shouted down.

  “We’ve got breaches in the loading bay, Jackson is checking it out. You okay down there, Traci?”

  “Yeah, I’ve closed the shaft seal for now, looks like one of them must have hit an airlock mount, the pressure just shifted, nothing too serious though.”

  There was another clunking sound followed by noises at the bridge. Casey turned and disappeared from view. There was a shout then nothing.

  “Come on! The bridge!” Traci shouted as she rushed along the shaft to the Captain and Casey. As she rounded the corner she came face to face with Casey. His hands were low and holding his stomach. A dark red patch spread across his clothes and then she noticed the tip of a weapon extending from his flesh. With a sliding sound it disappeared and he slumped forward. Wilkinson jumped ahead, catching the dying man as he fell.

  Traci lifted her carbine to her shoulder and quickly scanned the room. Just beyond where Casey had been standing was a man in a long flowing robe. She could just make out sections of scale-like armour, though they were so thin it looked more like a patterned tunic. The man’s head was covered in the traditional hood of the Zealots.

  Without pausing, she fired a round directly at the man. He was taken by surprise and it hit him squarely in the chest, kicking him back almost a metre before he managed to straighten himself up. He looked down at the hole the bullet had made on his robe and with a snort ripped it off, exposing his body armour in all its finery.

  Though Traci had never met one, she had heard of the Zealot infiltration teams from the security briefs they held every six months. These men were notorious for their attacks on civilian transports but never this far from the planet. He didn’t appear to be carrying any firearms though he did have a short, savage looking blade attached to his right arm. It was serrated along its back edge and reminded her of something from a pirate adventure in books she had read as a child.

  “He’s dead.” Wilkinson stood up and grabbed an emergency axe from the wall. “This bastard is mine!”

  The axe was light and balanced for single hand use. As he swung the weapon the Zealot leapt to the side, parrying it with a single neat move and then counter slashed into Wilkinson. The technique was perfect and left a great wound from his thigh to his armpit. Wilkinson cried out in pain before collapsing near the Captain’s chair. It was then that Traci spotted the Captain’s body slumped in the chair. He had multiple wounds on his torso.

  The man turned to Traci, a foul sneer forming on his lip.

  “What is a woman doing working as crew on a commercial vessel? Do you not have a family to attend?” he said angrily.

  “A family? What the fuck!” She cried out and then emptied the rest of the carbine’s ammunition into the man. Though they were obviously incapable of penetrating his armour they could certainly incapacitate anyone they struck in the face.

  The shots were well aimed and the first struck him in the cheek causing a superficial but bloody wound. The subsequent rounds hammered around his head and shoulder but he managed to twist bringing his left arm up to absorb the impact. As the kinetic energy blasted him backwards she rushed in, the carbine held high and with the butt facing forward. As she moved ahead she heard screams coming from below, presumably the loading bay. She reached the wounded man who moved to get up from the floor. Her combat training kicked in and she didn’t give him the chance to get up as she slid down and slammed the carbine into his face. There was a sickening crunch as the weapon crushed his nose and sent blood spraying into her eyes. It wasn’t enough though and she struck again and again until he moved no more.

  Traci rolled away from the bloody body of the man and looked back towards the badly injured Wilkinson who was still crying in pain from his wicked wound.

  “Wilks, hey, Wilks!”

  He was in too much pain to notice her shouts and continued to roll back and forth in pain. Traci moved along the slippery floor until she reached the hurt man. As she bent down to help she spotted two figures stood in the room staring at her. They were dressed the same as the first man but didn’t wear cloaks. Each carried the same vicious looking blades in their hands and both had seen their dead brethren in the corner of the room. Traci stood up, still holding the now damaged carbine and lifted it up, ready to fight.

  The man to the left reached down to a pouch on his right leg and pulled out a heavily modified pistol of unknown manufacture. Like the rest of their equipment it had a blade fitted to the muzzle with ridges running along the barrel. Traci knew it was over and rather than wait she rushed. The men were taken by surprise and her speed truly was impressive. Her first three steps brought her almost with
in striking range before the man fired. The first bullet struck her in the shoulder and then more spread across her chest. She collapsed just in front of the men, blood pouring from her wounds. She tried to get up but it was no good, she was finished. As she slumped down she heard the intercom crackle, it was Jackson.

  “I’m hurt, some guy just broke in and tried to space me. I need medical attention down here. Hurry, please hurry!”

  Traci tried to speak and then the darkness crept over her eyes and her pain vanished.