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

by Gem Jackson

  He backed away, feeling for the exit. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know what I’d have done.” He felt the door in his hand, the metal reassuringly cold and hard as his vision failed him completely.

  He was lying on Six’s bed when he came around. Sleet was still there, as was Six. His arms and legs felt shaky and exhausted.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t,” said Sleet. “It was just a panic attack. You ever had one before?”

  “No.”

  “Well, don’t sweat it, I’ve seen plenty. Just take it easy. C’mon, let’s get you back to your own bunk.”

  He resisted as she went to assist him up. “I want to carry on. There are some things you just said, Six, that I want to know more about.”

  “Well, if you must. Go for it,” said Six. His red-rimmed eyes belied the humour in his voice. “Oh, and if it’s all the same to you, don’t call me Six. My name’s Birch.”

  “All right, Birch,” said Leon, “Let’s go back to Titan having a military fleet. That doesn’t make any sense—Titan isn’t a nation state, it’s an APSA controlled territory.”

  “Bullshit. It’s a corporate dictatorship is what it is. The entire thing is run by Astralab.”

  “I thought you were just the muscle? You an expert on economics now?” asked Sleet.

  “Yeah, well, when I said I got into some trouble? Let’s just say it was political trouble.”

  Leon nodded. “So what? Astralab settled the first colonies there. They invested in the infrastructure needed to get the economy going.”

  “Exactly. Now, if you can, name one other company operating on Titan that isn’t a subsidiary of Astralab.” Birch waited, a benign expression spreading across his face. He knew Leon couldn’t. The company controlled everything. Anyone who worked on Titan was paid by Astralab in one way or another—only what happened when they got paid? The money went straight back to Astralab for their rent. You want food? Astralab. You want clothes? Astralab. It might not say it on the storefront, but it’s always them behind the scenes supplying the goods and taking the profit.

  “So what? That’s just the way it is. It’s always been like that.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, but why has it stayed like that. You’re from Titan; how many people do you know that have got on the wrong side of corporate? Anyone end up in prison? Disappeared? Took a baton to the face?” It was true, of course. Leon could think of a dozen people off the top of his head who had suffered at the hands of the Titan authorities, not least of all his own family. It was always for religious reasons though, rather than anything else.

  “Everyone knows someone like that, but for some reason it’s not Astralab to blame. It’s, y’know, deviants and criminals, people committing sex crimes or getting into terrorism and stuff.” It had always worried Leon, how thin the line was between being an ordinary person and being a deviant. It had gotten to the point that he couldn’t imagine his father’s face anymore. The memory had wiped itself from his mind. Thinking about his father always left him ashamed and scared. Ashamed of who his father had been. Scared that the same tainted blood ran through his own veins. Leon always suspected, in the back of his mind, that his sense of being on the precipice of betrayal had been the real motivation to join APSA, as if by serving the alliance he could expunge his father’s crimes.

  “They’re not deviants. They’re not criminals. They’re not terrorists. Astralab controls the moral crimes unit. The Council of Elders and the company senior board are two sides of the same coin. They’re the corrupt ones. Anyone they don’t like, anyone who becomes too much trouble, well, they get labelled a criminal and then that’s the end of them. Don’t you see? We live in an authoritarian state.”

  Leon did see what Birch was getting at. He’d known people who got into the independence movement over the years. It would be nice to believe that his father wasn’t a deviant. It just felt wrong, as if some fundamental element was being drawn from his bones.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve heard all the independence stuff before. It all seems a bit far-fetched to me.”

  “Are you kidding?” asked Sleet. “Everything this guy is saying is obvious from the outside. Out in the belt, we have no damned idea why everyone on Titan puts up with it. I mean, sure, we know why, the repression, the police state and so on—but it’s not very subtle is it? Has this never occurred to you before?”

  “No! Why would it? Police state? Repression? It’s ridiculous. I come from a good family,” he could feel himself flushing at this. “We’re part of APSA, we have rights and freedoms. It’s not like some fascist state.”

  “You’re right there,” said Birch. “It’s a corporate state. APSA needs the wealth that Titan produces. Earth is fucked, right? Without the off-world manufacturing bases, their economies would collapse. So APSA needs to ensure that Titan and the other colonies don’t switch ties to the belt or Mars or somewhere and cut Earth off. Corporate ownership is the way to do that. APSA’s greatest fear is that Titan becomes self-governing. It would be a catastrophe for them.

  “So here we are,” he continued. “On the road to self-determination. We’ve got a fleet. An underground government ready to step in. A good portion of Astralab itself are behind us. They can see how Titan is being throttled under APSA control. When the moment comes, and it’s not far away, we’ll finally be able to step into the Solar System as our own state.”

  “So who’s funding it all?” asked Sleet. It was a good question. If Titan really had its own fleet, the costs associated with that would be ridiculously high. There had to be outside backers.

  “Well, like I say, there’s some in Astralab itself who are backing it. Plus, I understand that there’s a lot of support from some of the belt powers and a others who want to see Titan opened up to trade. I don’t really know much, but I know it’s serious. We’ve got the Cronus for Christs’ sake.”

  “If your revolution is so fantastic then, why are you here instead of still being on the Cronus?” said Leon.

  “You know why, we’ve been through this. It’s the Captain. He’s fucking lost it. It’s one thing to have ships, but another to actually crew them. That’s why we were out pirate hunting. Everyone is so green. Except Captain Motion.”

  “Captain Thomas Motion? That name is so familiar,” said Leon. Then it hit him. The rumours from the academy. It couldn’t be true, could it? It all came flooding back. Motion was notorious within APSA. If anyone was a deviant, it was him. The whole affair had been a disgrace—no more so than when it emerged APSA had tried to cover up the scandal, paying off the victim's families and expunging the logs. Torture was such a dirty word. It was commonly accepted that captains were a law unto themselves when out pirate hunting, but Motion took that beyond the pale. He pushed his crew further and harder than anyone else in the fleet. His disciplinary practices were the stuff of legend. If he had realised at the time he was face to face with Captain Thomas Motion, he would have soiled himself a heck of a lot sooner. It all made sense now.

  “That’s the one. He’s not why I signed up. I believe in the cause, but I couldn’t stay aboard under him. It’s all right for everyone else, they just see him as a mean, angry bastard most of the time. They don’t have to do his dirty work for him. With him. They don’t have to clean it up afterward. I couldn’t handle it.” Birch went quiet again. Leon felt sorry for him.

  “Starflight,” said Sleet, “back up to the cockpit? I think we have a lot to discuss.” He agreed. They left Birch to his thoughts. This was getting more and more complicated by the minute.

  Chapter 20 – Anton

  Anton sat at the Captain’s desk and seethed. The entire Ceres escapade had been a clusterfuck from start to finish and now he had to put up with a bollocking from a man with all the authority of a meat-popsicle. Whilst he had dialled out for the most part, there remained a dim awareness of the Captain’s ranting at the outskirts of his consciousness; he was banging on about putting the entire
ship at risk by commandeering a privately owned vessel to dock with the Aggressive. It was laughable. There wouldn’t even be an Aggressive before long.

  Agent Long wasn’t taking it so stoically. She argued every point, disputed every judgment and reposed every assertion the venerable captain made. It would have been entertaining to watch if he didn’t have so many other pressing matters on his hands. The most important thing was getting them moving again. They needed to make up time and reach Titan quickly.

  “Was it worth it?” asked Captain Bryant.

  “Actually, yes. Yes it was,” said Long. “And if we could have the room,” she looked pointedly towards Anton. “Then I could give you a briefing regarding what we discovered.”

  “Oh, don’t mind him, he’s security cleared. I’ll get you together with Major Board later on for a full debrief, but for now just give me the headlines.”

  “With respect Captain—”

  “To hell with your respect, I’ve just given you an order and when you’re on my ship you damn well do as I say. If you don’t like it, well you can take your shot-up colleague and head back to Ceres. See how long you last there this time.”

  “Fine. The headline is this—it’s likely the Enigma was taken after the crew was poisoned. We’re still not one hundred percent on the details, but there is evidence suggesting heavy water poisoning. The symptoms match the communication snippets and the timings would correspond with the fresh water flush and refill that the Enigma had at Titan.”

  Anton almost fell off his chair. How on Earth had they figured that out? The heavy water was perhaps the subtlest and most sophisticated part of the scheme. Then it dawned on him; the scientist. It had to be Ramachandran who figured it out. He swore under his breath. Bryant noticed and glanced across, but took it as an expression of shock about the poisoning.

  “Poisoned? Heavy water? That’s madness. There’s no way that could work,” said Bryant.

  “Oh, it could work. The main prohibition is cost. Heavy water is expensive. So expensive, in fact, that it’s probably going to give us the start of the paper trail that we need. There can’t be that many places around Titan that can produce heavy water in the volumes needed to effectively contaminate a destroyers water supply and so if I can track them down and do some digging, well, who knows what might turn up?” Long’s eyes flared as she spoke. This was a worrying turn of events. The compact timescale of the operation meant that Anton hadn’t been able to cover his tracks at the water plant as well as he normally would. If she made it over there and started rummaging around, there was a good chance she might find enough to put two and two together. That could not be allowed to happen.

  “What are you expecting to find?” asked Bryant.

  “Honestly? I don’t really know. I have a good idea of who I think is behind the attack on Lancaster and so hopefully I’ll be able to make a connection. Else, I guess it could take me in another direction. Either way, this is the thread I need to pull. Which means, Captain, that as soon as we get close to Titan it’s likely that I’ll be off your ship and doing my digging elsewhere.”

  “Indeed. The sooner the better,” said Bryant. “And what about yourself, Mr McVeigh? Are you still intending to depart at Titan?”

  “Of course, Captain. I’m just hitching a ride. May I ask if there has been any news from Earth?”

  “Earth? Oh, of course. We’ve had a few simple dispatches. Not much is getting through. It sounds like they are still struggling with the Kessler syndrome. The satellite network has been absolutely decimated. There are communications now, but the infrastructure is sketchy. On top of that the loss of Lancaster Orbital has caused a political earthquake across APSA. The Beacon has been replaced, but there’s a scandal brewing about that too. If the Beacon had been lost in isolation, it could have been dealt with in days, but this has been a perfect storm of disruption. Frankly, if the enemy's aim was to maximise chaos around Earth, they have succeeded.”

  Anton nodded. At any other time, a compliment such as that would have been music to his ears. Yet it might all be for nought.

  “By the way, agent Long,” continued the Captain. “We received confirmation of the diplomat’s identity back from APSA. Fingerprints and DNA data corresponds. He checks out.”

  Anton turned on September. “Excuse me? What fresh fuckery is this? Have you been checking up on me?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I don’t think you’re who you say you are. You’re not the man my boss described, that shit with giving a sample of your own pubic hair looks a lot like misdirection to me, and to top it off, you’re involved in gang shit on Ceres? No. There’s something not right about you.” She squared up to him, a sneer of deep contempt drawing across her face. “I am going to find out who you are, one way or another. And Captain, thank you for stirring that up. I’ll be sure to note it in my report.”

  “You’re not the only one who can leave a dump on someone else’s doorstep, agent.” The Captain smirked. “But as I say, as far as I’m concerned, Mr McVeigh, your credentials check out.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Will we be making the jump to Titan soon?”

  “Yes, the pilots are finalising the calculations now. We’ll jump as soon as we are ready.”

  Anton thanked the Captain again and made his excuses. A plan was forming in his mind. The principle aspect of the project was on track so long as they were still heading towards Titan. He was confident of success in that regard. More troublesome was the meddling of agent Long. What good would it be if the project were completed, but he was unmasked and hounded across the Solar System? No, that wouldn’t do at all. Things needed to be taken care of. While she was on the ship, it would be difficult to harm her without placing suspicion on himself. He had no plans to be in the brig when they reached Titan.

  It would be better to throw her off course. Muddy her thinking. Give her something else to obsess about.

  Moreover, there was a possibility of leaning in to her suspicions. Maybe he wasn’t who he said he was? It was a long shot, but there was one thing he could do that, if anything, would consolidate his position even further on the ship and draw the Captain himself into preserving his cover.

  Be flexible, be agile, be determined.

  “Come with me, sunshine, we’ve got work to do.” Ramis hadn’t been difficult to find and for once in his life he would perform a useful function. The boy stood opposite Anton in the middle of the corridor with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

  “Yes, boss. I thought you were getting chewed out by the Captain?” asked Ramis. Anton exhaled slowly, his jaw clenched. Ramis took the hint and changed tack. “Where are we off to?”

  “Never you mind. Just follow me and stay quiet.” He turned and started walking away, confident that the young man would be on his heels.

  “As always, boss.”

  Anton spun round and thrust a finger to within an inch of Ramis’ nose. “Now listen here, this is important. You’re not going to like what happens next, but it needs doing and I need you paying attention. Do you understand?” Ramis made a garbled sound that Anton interpreted as an affirmation.

  He made off again, skulking through the bowels of the ships, Ramis hopping and skipping as he tried to keep pace. The painted metal passageways of the Aggressive were all but empty as the ship prepared for the jump to Titan. While he wasn’t especially concerned with being seen, the relative peace was pleasant.

  They arrived at the medical bay. There wasn’t much to it; a few diagnostic rooms dedicated to large, expensive equipment, the medical offices where the staff would congregate and one moderately sized ward. Only one bed was occupied. Beneath pale blue sheets lay agent Abbas. He was conscious, though resting after his ordeal. Anton quickly checked-in with one of the medics and asked not to be disturbed. Reluctantly, the medic agreed. Anton, trailed by Ramis, swept over to the prone officer and drew the privacy curtains around the three of them. The agent eyed them nervously.

  “Mr Abbas, how are you?” asked
Anton, clasping his palms together and resting his chin on top.

  “Not too bad, all things considered. This is unexpected.” He wore the expression most people did when visited in a hospital, awkwardness at being spoken to whilst in bed with no underwear.

  “Just checking in on you. That was some rough business on Ceres and you,” Anton let out a gentle laugh, “you did some very impressive work.”

  “Thanks, I think. What can I help you with? I’m pretty drugged up with painkillers at the moment so I’m not sure how much use I can be if you want to ask me anything.”

  Anton pursed his lips. This was delicate. Where to begin? “No, don’t worry. This won’t take long. It is, however, a little sensitive. Listen, Mr Abbas, you have kids, don’t you?”

  “Sure, two—Amar and Inaya. How did you know?”

  “I pick up on these things. How old are they?”

  Abbas rolled his eyes as if clearing the fog in his head. “Erm, Amar is eight, Inaya, twelve. I don’t have my phone on me, otherwise I’d show you pictures.”

  “That’s okay, I just want you to have them in your mind for what I say next. You see, Mr Abbas, I’ve not been entirely honest with you. I’m not really a diplomat trying to get back to my posting on Titan.” Both Abbas and Ramis shifted uncomfortably at this. He waved them both to settle before continuing. “My line of work is closer to your own, as it happens. I work for APSA intelligence. Only I work… internally.” he let the last word hang and do it’s work in Abbas’s mind. He saw the Abbas’s pupils dilate, the pulse quicken on the monitor, his breathing become rapid and shallow. Time to put the knife in.

  “We know, agent Abbas. We know about you.”

  “I…” Abbas stuttered, “I don’t understand.” His’s eyes darted between Anton and Ramis, whose wore an expression of fathomless confusion.

  “You understand, Mr Abbas, you understand perfectly well what I’m saying to you. However, for proprieties’ sake, I will spell it out. A while ago, we became aware of a mole in your section. This isn’t entirely unusual, it is for this very reason that my division exists. The mole has been leaking very specific information regarding the investigation of a terrorist suspect, one recently identified as Anton Biarritz. You know this. You know because you are the mole. It is you who has been leaking the information to Biarritz’s network of informants.”