Titan (Old Ironsides Book 2)

by Dean Crawford

  She watched as the blackness of space merged gradually with the pure blue curve of the Earth. The rippled blankets of cloud across the ocean below loomed closer, towering pillars of white vapor soaring into the heights, and the sky gradually turned a solid blue, the sun’s yellow flare casting shadows beneath the drifting clouds far below.

  The shuttle banked gently and Foxx watched in fascination as the east coast of America appeared ahead beneath the clouds. Nestled against the coastline she could see the glittering metal buildings of New York City like a sparkling jewel encrusted into the dense forests that surrounded it.

  The shuttle slowed as it approached the city and Foxx could see the occasional flare of light reflected from flying craft travelling through the skies above New York. A small number of towering skyscrapers soared up into the blue, silver and chrome flashing in the bright sunlight and glass reflecting the blue sky and white clouds. Five thousand feet tall, the buildings overlooked the wilderness continent and the Atlantic Ocean in all their untamed glory.

  The shuttle turned and Foxx watched as they gently touched down on a landing pad of Brooklyn Spaceport just after fourteen hundred hours Local Surface Time, guided in by the pilot who settled the shuttle onto its magnetic landing claws as the engine shut down and passengers began unstrapping from their seats and patiently filing for the exits.

  The air that filled her lungs as she stepped out of the interior of the shuttle onto the boarding ramp seemed once again like the first she had truly breathed in decades, this time tinged with the sweet scent of recent rain, of forests and of the ocean nearby that swirled in a heady aroma as she stepped onto the landing pad and closed her eyes.

  ‘Lieutenant Foxx?’

  Foxx opened her eyes and saw a man in a sharp suit, the lapels of his jacket fashionably folding close to his right shoulder in the manner of the Central Security Services. He bore the discreet shoulder insignia of a captain, and his right eye glowed with the unnatural light of an optical implant that continuously fed data streams to him in real time.

  ‘Captain Larry Ford, CSS. Would you come this way please?’

  Foxx followed the captain toward a smaller shuttle, this one designed for atmospheric flight only. The landing pad was suspended a hundred feet above the surface on thick pillars, and a gantry led from the main pad across to a smaller pad where the CSS shuttle awaited.

  Foxx climbed aboard and Captain Ford strapped in as the access door closed automatically in silence and the shuttle’s Higgs Drive engaged. The small craft lifted off and glided silently out over the city, affording Kaylin a fresh glimpse of her Utopian surroundings.

  The Statue of Liberty stood guard over the city’s harbor as it had done for hundreds of years, now coated with a self–cleaning nanotech film that ensured she was always pristine in appearance. Beyond Foxx could see a coastline and a few scattered dwellings of the super–elite set against the vast forests that now covered what had once been New Jersey.

  The island of Manhattan loomed into view, the soaring sky scrapers towering up into the scattered cumulus cloud and beyond. Kaylin marvelled at the sprawling expanse of museums, mansions and the CSS Headquarters tower in the center, dwarfing the Freedom Tower that had also stood for so many centuries. Central Park’s angular block of greenery housed the wildlife sanctuary, where exotic beasts were allowed to roam in large enclosures for limited times before being returned to their native habitats, allowing the children of the elite access to them for short periods to understand the nature of the planet that had given birth to the human race. Among the natural animals such as lions and elephants there roamed holographic representations of dinosaurs so vivid that it had apparently become a rite of passage for college frat boys to stand firm as a Tyrannosaurs Rex stalked menacingly toward them. Few passed the challenge.

  ‘What’s the situation?’ Foxx asked. ‘Has my request been accepted already?’

  ‘We got a priority signal from CSS Titan an hour ago that coincided with your request,’ Captain Ford said. ‘It’s got the senate in a state and they’re calling an emergency session. Thing is the call’s gone out on private networks only so they don’t want the media to catch on, and the session’s going to be behind closed doors.’

  Most politicians had what was loosely termed as a “back door number”, a means of communicating off the normal channels that Foxx often considered uncomfortably similar to the illegal networks used by criminals on the orbital stations.

  ‘Any idea what’s spooked them?’ she asked as Ford guided the shuttle in to land alongside an enormous domed building in north Manhattan surrounded by landing pads and hundreds of giant holographic icons denoting the flags of all Earth’s historic nations united under the banner of the CSS. They were not there just to advertise the unity of CSS: rather, they reminded all humanity of the fragmented and untrusting nature of history’s warring nations and the reason for the existence of the CSS and its archaic forbearer, the United Nations.

  ‘If I knew, I’d tell you, but Director General Coburn is passing this information only in person and Admiral Franklyn Marshall requested that you be at the senate.’

  ‘Me?’ Foxx asked. ‘What would he want me there for? Last time I saw the admiral he was about to embark on another cruise.’

  ‘Titan’s last tour was almost at an end and she was about to come home,’ Ford said. ‘Whatever’s happened out there it’s important enough to have kept them on station, your request coincided with Marshall’s requesting the senate session. You got history with the fleet?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ Foxx replied as the shuttle touched down.

  Ford unbuckled with her and together they exited the shuttle, which had landed on a platform suspended some two hundred feet above the city along the upper rim of the building. Foxx followed Captain Ford inside to where two soldiers awaited them, acting as an escort as they led them through the building for several minutes until they reached the senate hall.

  ‘They’re in session already?’ she asked Ford.

  The pilot nodded. ‘Apparently, they’re waiting for you.’

  Foxx felt a twinge of anxiety pinch at her belly as she followed the guards through two immense double doors, heard the rush of massed conversation as she walked into the cavernous senate hall.

  The huge amphitheater was filled to capacity with senators, congressmen and other lawmakers all in heated debate, a thousand voices speaking as Foxx saw CSS Director Arianna Coburn standing on a podium that looked up at the politicians surrounding her. Tall, elegant, with dark brown hair cut into a neat bob and flowing senate robes of white rimmed with gold, Coburn spotted Foxx as the huge double doors thundered closed behind her. The crowd reacted to the closing doors, taking their seats as the rush and whisper of conversation died down and Coburn took the podium.

  ‘Senators, Congressmen, representatives of the people, this session has been called due to unexpected events on the fringes of our solar system,’ she said, her voice echoing around the huge building as though hers was the voice of a deity. ‘I leave the explanation of what has occurred to Admiral Franklyn Marshall, CSS Titan.’

  Foxx saw a larger–than–life hologram shimmer into view to take apparently solid form, the admiral standing in characteristic pose with his hands behind his back and his chin held high as he spoke in his gruff, no–nonsense tones.

  ‘Senators, two hours ago CSS Titan encountered a distress signal sent by an Ayleean warship near the edge of CSS controlled space. Upon investigation, we learned that the vessel had been attacked by overwhelming force, its crew killed save three souls. The Ayleean vessel was unable to fire a single shot in its own defense.’

  A ripple of uncomfortable whispers fluttered like a live current around the amphitheater as the admiral went on.

  ‘We have since confirmed that neither CSS nor Ayleean vessels were present in the region at the time, and that no civil ships made passage here in the last four days. In short, ladies and gentlemen, we consider it possible that they
were attacked by an intelligence not born of this Earth.’

  Foxx noted that this final statement was met with silence. Politicians were not men of war, although in history they had frequently been war makers. She imagined that their minds would be empty of reaction because they simply had no real idea of how to react. Marshall’s next words anticipated their lack of response.

  ‘We have suspected for millennia that this time would come,’ he said simply. ‘It is perhaps good fortune on our part that it did not happen hundreds of years ago, when a defense against such technologies would have been unthinkable. Here in the present, at the very least, we have some notion of how to defend ourselves against such a threat and the means to study it as closely as we can.’

  A further silence followed, deeper than the last.

  ‘Do we have any visual identity attached to this attacking force?’ Arianna Coburn asked the admiral.

  ‘None,’ he replied. ‘They left no trace of themselves, whatever or whoever they were. However, data my Marines have recovered from the wreckage of the Ayleean ship pinpointed their direction of super–luminal travel when they arrived alongside, and it confirmed their point of origin as being the globular cluster M55.’

  Now ripples of acknowledgement drifted through the senate, understanding beginning to form.

  ‘M55 has long been touted as a source of intelligent signals,’ a senator said to the admiral as he stood from his seat. ‘Could this be evidence that those signals are indeed from other civilizations?’

  Marshall inclined his head. ‘It is likely, although as yet we don’t know the full story behind the attack.’

  Another senator stood. ‘Then we don’t know for sure that the attack was from some other species. The Ayleeans could be attempting another infiltration of our space, or the damaged vessel could even be the result of in–fighting among the Ayleeans.’

  More ripples and murmurs of agreement from the crowd.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Marshall replied, ‘but in this case I don’t think so. The Ayleean fleet is severely depleted after our last engagement.’

  ‘Have the survivors been able to report on what happened to their vessel?’ Director General Coburn asked.

  ‘They were found inside emergency stasis capsules,’ Marshall replied. ‘Our doctor is currently working to stabilize them before reviving them.’

  ‘Can we really believe that an alien species’ first act would be to destroy anything it finds?’ suggested another senator.

  ‘Mankind,’ Marshall replied with a rueful smile, ‘has done just that for much of its existence, invading the lands of other tribes and races, occupying with violence. There is no reason to suspect that other species would act any differently.’

  Arianna Coburn spoke softly, her voice still carrying to every corner of the amphitheater.

  ‘What would you recommend?’ she asked Marshall. ‘This is a military situation, not a political one.’

  Marshall inclined his head to the Director General before he replied.

  ‘I would bring the fleet in to the gas giants,’ he said. ‘Our solar system is too large to effectively police on its outer borders, something we learned when we were at war with the Ayleeans. Station the fleet to defend the inner planets and order all civilian vessels to withdraw to Earth orbit until further notice, giving us the chance to investigate further and see if we can’t find out exactly what’s happening out here.’

  Another of the senators stood up.

  ‘Eminently sensible admiral, but would it not be wise to contact the Ayleeans? They have been the victim of this attack and you mentioned three survivors. If we are facing some unspeakable threat from another world, should we not reach out to them and both bolster our numbers and the chances of success against this suspected hostile force?’

  Marshall hesitated.

  ‘I have considered that, but I would be reluctant to trust the Ayleeans to honor any agreement with us about…’

  ‘Your reluctance is not the issue,’ the senator pressed, ‘our apparent survival is. You said it yourself: we cannot patrol our own borders for our fleet is not large enough. Have we even had any word from Ayleea itself? Do we know if they have had further encounters with vessels of unknown origin?’

  Marshall lifted his chin. ‘We have not yet contacted them. Our primary concern is Earth.’

  ‘And yet the Ayleeans have a fleet and families of their own and presumably know nothing of what has happened here, admiral? Are we now simply abandoning the code of conduct that we share with them in the face of…’

  ‘They abandoned that code every time they’ve attacked us!’ Marshall snapped. ‘Their survival is not my priority and nor should it be of concern to this senate.’

  ‘They are still human,’ the senator pressed quietly, his voice carrying the weight of history with it, ‘no matter how much they may deny it. It’s been six months since they attacked us and we have heard almost nothing from them since. If we truly are facing a dangerous and unknown enemy, then the enemy of our enemy is our friend, no?’

  Marshall ground his teeth in his jaw but said nothing, looking instead to Arianna Coburn for guidance. Her chin lowered to her chest for a moment and she closed her eyes briefly, then she spoke.

  ‘Send a message to the Ayleean warlords,’ she said finally. ‘Inform them of what has happened, and that they should send a dignitary as soon as they can. Organize a code to grant them access and escort to Polaris Station.’

  She turned to Admiral Marshall. ‘Bring the fleet in, organize a defensive line and prepare for whatever might be out there while we question the survivors.’

  ‘And the involvement of New Washington’s Police Department?’ the admiral asked.

  Both Coburn and Marshall looked at Foxx and she saw a softening of the admiral’s expression as he recognized her.

  ‘We need access to Polaris Station and Titan’s armory,’ Foxx said, ‘as part of our investigation into a possible miscarriage of justice. If it happens that you require our assistance aboard Titan then we’ll be more than happy to oblige, admiral.’

  Marshall allowed a smile to crack the armor of his craggy features.

  ‘As you all know, Detective Foxx and her colleagues proved themselves essential in solving a crime that almost cost humanity its existence just six months ago. I would not have believed that the same thing might happen again so soon, but right now I want the best people on the job to figure this out. I have specialists here on Titan in technology and scene surveillance but I don’t have detectives. Lieutenant Foxx, if you’re able to help us, we would be very grateful and I’d be more than happy to grant you access to the ship’s armory.’

  Foxx stood up, suddenly nervous as a thousand pairs of eyes swivelled to look at her.

  ‘I’d be delighted,’ she said, her voice sounding tiny compared to the admiral’s booming tones. ‘But I won’t travel without my team, and we have one operation to complete.’

  ‘Bring as many people as you like,’ Marshall said. ‘Just get to Polaris Station as fast as you can. We’ll be bringing the survivors with us under quarantine conditions. Your team can meet us there.’

  ***

  XII

  New Washington

  Nathan followed Detective Foxx to the squad cruiser, ranks of flashing lights flickering in the darkness and reflecting off the walls of buildings that towered into a night sky filled with billions of stars as though the heavens were reflecting the city below. Night had fallen on the Pacific Ocean far below, the gigantic space station revolving slowly in the absolute blackness. For a while Nathan could gaze upon the vast banner of the Milky Way stretched across immense vividly colored star fields, then he could see the Earth and the fainter lights of coastal cities against the darkened surface.

  ‘What happened at the CSS Senate?’ he asked Foxx as she moved alongside him.

  ‘We got clearance,’ she replied in a whisper. ‘Something’s got the fleet and the senate riled up but I’m not allowed to talk about it.’


  ‘Not even to me?’ Nathan asked with a teasing smile.

  ‘Especially not to you.’

  Foxx turned to the other police officers around them, her voice clear and stern.

  ‘This guy’s dangerous so no heroics, understood?’

  Twelve police department detectives were amassed around four squad cruisers parked in a side alley on North Four, one of the station’s most notorious slums. Even as Nathan scanned the stars above so they were obscured by a drifting veil of cloud that glowed a soft orange in the city’s street lights, the station’s air scrubbers as ever overworked to dehumidify the atmosphere. Rain would come soon to soak the city’s streets a glossy black.

  ‘Keiron Scheff,’ Captain Forrester announced, his big black face creased with distaste as he gestured to a projected hologram of Scheff floating on the hood of one of the cruisers, ‘aged twenty nine, one of the leaders of the so called Prime Time gang that spins the wheels on the upper east side here on North Four. Drugs, prostitution, racketeering and smuggling – you name it, they’re into it.’

  Forrester gestured to Kaylin Foxx as he went on.

  ‘Detective Foxx has an informant who has directed us to the likely hiding place Scheff is using, which is four blocks from here in an old cinema complex that got certified ten years ago but hasn’t been pulled down. We have it on good authority that the complex is deep within the Black Hole, so maintain line of sight with each other.’

  The “Black Hole”, as Nathan recalled, was an area within North Four that was filled with illegal jammers, making it tough for police to coordinate actions against the criminals and thugs that called the area home. The most notorious of the Four Corners, the external hubs of New Washington’s “wheel” structure, North Four’s streets were as rough as it got on the station. It was also the Fourth Precinct’s most frequent patrol duty.