by C. G. Mosley
STAR CRUISER TITAN
C.G. Mosley
www.severedpress.com
Copyright 2018 by C.G. Mosely
Chapter 1
Jake Crosby spent the evening in what had become his customary position. With his hands laced behind his head and his feet kicked up on the desk, it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. When he’d joined the Space and Aeronautics Military Alliance (S.A.M.A.) three years prior, he’d done so with aspirations of space exploration and a strong desire to do his part for the betterment of mankind. He knew that his dreams and aspirations were simply not going to be enough as it was well-known that S.A.M.A. was an extremely hard organization to gain acceptance into. He’d made the grades, and kept his nose clean all through grade school and when the time finally came to take the Tactical Acceptance and Placement exam, or TAP test, Jake was more than ready.
Out of a possible score of 350, he’d scored a 285, which just happened to be the minimum score required to gain a place in the most elite military organization on planet Earth. His parents were beyond proud, and the small town he’d grown up in had a parade in his honor before his departure to boot camp. His test scores showed that, although he excelled in reading comprehension and technical knowledge, he scored very low in social skills. This ended any possibility of him becoming an infantryman, and seriously put a damper on his chance of becoming a pilot—though his technical knowledge and mathematics scores made him a viable candidate.
Unfortunately, his repeated attempts to get into the pilot training program had been denied and so far, Jake was forced to a desk job. He’d decided that if he was going to have to sit behind a desk and grind out more time until he gained acceptance, he’d do so on an off-earth station. There were multiple colonies on Mars, and between the Saturn moons of Titan and Enceladus, there were another four more. Jake fought hard for a job on Titan’s secretive Discovery station. Discovery’s mission was simple: search and monitor deep space for signs of life.
The surface of Titan surrounding the Discovery station was peppered with military bases designed to respond at a moment’s notice if alien life was discovered and turned out to be hostile. In the ten years since Discovery’s creation, the sky had been monitored on a continuous basis, and so far, nothing had been found in the vast cold darkness of space. Jake often played out in his mind what he would do and how he would react if something popped up suddenly on the radar. When he’d been assigned the position, he’d been warned very sternly by his commanding officer that sleeping on the job would not be tolerated in any way. If he was caught sleeping, he’d immediately be shipped back to S.A.M.A. headquarters on Earth for trial. The trial would almost certainly lead to his dismissal from the program.
The thought of losing his job terrified him and what he had not anticipated was just how difficult it would be to stay awake. He was essentially left in a room alone with an array of monitors covering the wall in front of him. Coffee was the only beverage he drank, and he’d begun to wonder if he’d built up an immunity to caffeine. It seemed that the dark liquid no longer had any effect in keeping his eyes open. To combat exhaustion, Jake often jogged in place and even sang songs to himself to keep his blood pumping and his mind occupied. He never dreamed that such a boring position existed in S.A.M.A but he kept reminding himself that if it meant he could eventually earn himself a spot in the pilot training program, it would be worth it. He knew of other great pilots that had taken a similar path and he found himself wondering if they’d struggled as badly as he was.
This particular evening was still young, and so far, Jake’s battle with sleepiness had not yet begun. A small monitor on his desk played the first hockey game of the season—a much talked about meeting between New York City and the first lunar colony on Earth’s moon—Tranquility. The game was held on the surface of the moon, and a transparent oxygen-filled dome covered the open ice rink. The images on Jake’s monitor showed a large crowd had gathered to witness the game in person, and as the camera panned around the rink, he caught sight of Earth looming beyond the moon’s horizon. It was a beautiful sight and it made him momentarily long to be back home.
There were no hockey teams on Titan—at least not yet. Hockey had been around for hundreds of years and had claimed the title of oldest sport in history. In a different time, many years ago, sports like basketball, baseball, and football had been wildly popular. However, the appeal of all of them soon faded until all that remained was hockey. Jake was rooting for his hometown New York Lions though they were heavy underdogs. The Lunar Knights were the defending champions and were expected to repeat again. The anticipation of a few hours of hockey had Jake feeling wide awake and it was just what he needed to somehow push through until his shift ended.
Fortunately, the game turned out to be a real nail-biter with both teams knotted up at 3-3 midway through the third period. Jake stared at the television with his eyes wide. His heart raced as the seconds ticked by and he began to accept the possibility that maybe his team was going to be victorious despite their underdog label. As the game entered the final two minutes of play, an alarm suddenly beeped from one of the monitors on the large wall in front of him. At first, Jake didn’t even notice it as the spell of the spectacular hockey game continued to unfold in brilliant high definition in front of him.
By design, the alarm was made to grow louder every thirty seconds until a button was pressed in acknowledgement. When the realization finally came to him that the alarm was sounding, Jake looked over at the monitor, his jaw slightly dropping open. The digital readout below the monitor indicated that multiple lifeforms were discovered all at once a few thousand miles away along with the exact coordinates. He then turned his attention to another monitor in the center of the wall. It was the largest of all and the picture it showed was provided by a large mechanical telescope fixed on top of the Mithrim Montes mountain range—the tallest point on all of Titan.
Jake quickly punched in the coordinates he’d read into the keyboard in front of him and the telescope changed its focus in response. Within seconds, the high-powered lens concentrated on an eerie sight that made Jake’s heart race much faster than the hockey game he’d suddenly forgotten all about. In the center of the screen, with a black and starry backdrop behind it, a massive space craft travelled at a high rate of speed. It wasn’t a saucer like countless U.F.O. sightings through the years had been described. To Jake, the shape of the ship he was looking at reminded him more of an almond. The small end of the “almond” seemed to be the front and its sleek design clearly boasted a level of speed that no ship on earth was capable of. The ship was heading straight for Titan and there would be little time to react.
With his anxiety level at an all-time high, Jake reached over and punched a green button located near the top right corner of the control panel in front of him. Within seconds, a six-inch holographic figure of a man’s head appeared in front of him—it was General Harry Hightower. The image had a defaulted green hue, but otherwise was incredibly life-like.
“I trust this is important,” the middle-aged Hightower said with a yawn.
“Y-yes sir,” Jake stuttered. He took a deep breath trying to regain his composure. “Sir, the moment we’ve been waiting for has arrived. I’ve got an unidentified flying object approaching at a high rate of speed. I have visual and I have confirmed it’s not anything of ours,” he stated in as calm a manner as he possibly could.
General Hightower’s face perked up considerably. His eyes widened to the point they reminded Jake of ping pong balls. For a moment, he said nothing. It was as if he were trying to decide if he was really awake or not.
“Very good Crosby,” he said finally. “Does the incoming object appear to be hostile in nature?”
�
��There is no way to tell,” Jake replied excitedly. “The U.F.O. is moving towards us with a high rate of speed…I anticipate an E.T.A. of half an hour.”
“Half an hour?” Hightower asked, his voice raised an octave in disbelief. “Crosby, keep your eyes on that object and be prepared to call out the exact coordinates when requested. I’ll be back in touch with you in a matter of minutes.”
Hightower was just about to disconnect, when Jake suddenly shouted for him to wait.
“What?” Hightower hissed. “We have absolutely no time to waste!”
“Sir it stopped,” Jake said, his eyes still locked on the monitor.
“What? What do you mean it stopped?” Hightower asked. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or annoyed.
“It’s just hovering now,” Jake explained.
“And you’re absolutely sure that this object isn’t one of ours?”
“Yes sir,” Jake replied, nodding. “I’ve never seen a ship stop that abruptly ever before. None of our ships are capable of that.”
General Hightower took a moment to stroke his chin as he considered the new development. “Crosby, be ready with those coordinates,” he said finally, and the holographic image immediately vanished.
***
Roger Stellick had just completed his daily exercise routine and was wiping sweat away from his forehead when he noticed the gym manager jogging in his direction. She was young, very attractive, and the last sort of woman Roger would ever expect to show interest in him. She was very athletic, and he estimated she was at least ten years his junior. Her hair was long, blonde, and pulled into a pony tail. Roger, on the other hand, was balding and only in the gym because General Harry Hightower had forced him to. In his words, Roger was getting “a little fluffy” and was in danger of getting grounded if the trend continued.
“Commander Stellick,” the woman said excitedly as she came to a halt in front of him. “General Hightower is on the phone wanting to speak with you immediately.”
“Hightower?” Stellick asked, tossing the towel aside. He glanced at his watch. “He’s usually asleep at this hour.” He glanced up at the woman. “Lauren, did he say what it was about?”
As expected she shook her head and he found himself wondering why he even asked the question.
“Alright,” he said as he rose from the padded bench. “I’m assuming I can take it at your desk?”
Lauren nodded and motioned for him to help himself. As he walked away, she bent over to pick up his sweaty towel and to check on some of the other military personnel using the gym.
As Stellick reached the desk he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He then placed the phone to his ear, expecting the worst.
“This is Commander Stellick,” he said, speaking into the receiver.
“Stellick, it’s Harry,” the gruff general replied. “Listen, I don’t have a lot of time to explain, but I need you in a fighter in half an hour and in the air in forty-five minutes at the most.”
Roger felt his jaw tighten. “What is going on?” he asked.
“It’s the moment we’ve been waiting for…and the moment you’ve been training for,” General Hightower answered. “A legitimate U.F.O. is hovering near Saturn’s ring…I need you up there to intercept it. We need to find out real quick if this thing is hostile.”
Everything Hightower was saying made Roger feel as if he were in a dream. Nothing about it seemed real. “Alright,” he said in an almost robotic tone. “I can be at the hangar in ten minutes…I’m assuming they’ll have a Comet ready?”
“Already ahead of you,” Hightower responded. “By the time you get at the hangar, a Comet fighter will be fueled and ready for take-off. All I need is for you to get your butt over there.”
“Be there in ten,” Roger said, but General Hightower had already disconnected.
Chapter 2
Each base of operations on the Titan colony was comprised of numerous domes—enormous domes that were temperature controlled and also sourced the precious oxygen needed for human survival. Human beings had the ability to venture outside of the domes without the need for a pressurized suit, however, the air was unbreathable and dense clothing would be necessary to combat the extreme cold. Each of the domes on Titan’s surface were connected by various tubes, and within some of the tubes a railway system provided quick transportation when necessary.
Many scoffed at the idea of installing a railway as the primary means of transportation on Titan as it was seen as an antiquated and subpar option. S.A.M.A. researchers were quick to point out that the railway system was astronomically cheaper than other more technological ideas, but even more importantly, it was the most reliable option. There was little room for failure in any capacity on a distant colony near the outer edge of the Earth’s solar system.
Roger Stellick made use of the railway system to quickly travel from the main military hub of operations to the large hangar where the Comet fighter planes were housed. The moment he stepped off the train, he was greeted by the deck crew chief, Tim Reed. Reed was a large, muscular, African-American man in his early thirties. The man was well respected by crewmen and pilots alike. To Roger, he was also a close friend.
“About time,” Tim said as he began shoving Roger’s flight suit and bright yellow helmet in his face.
Roger snatched the suit away and flashed a sideways smirk. “I see you’ve been in my locker,” he replied as he paused to push a leg into the gray suit.
“I just do what I’m told,” Tim replied very matter-of-factly. “The only man on this rock that truly scares me is General Hightower. If that man tells me to break into your locker, grab your gear, and wait on you to get off the train…well, that’s what I’m going to do.”
“I see,” Roger said as he pulled the zipper on the front of the flight suit upward. “Did he bother to tell you what’s going on?”
“Only that you’re going to intercept a U.F.O.,” he replied. “That true?”
“That’s the rumor,” Roger answered as he reached for the helmet. “How’s my bird…are we ready to go?”
“I’m surprised you’d even ask,” Tim said as he shook his head. “We’ve even punched in the exact coordinates the Discovery station provided on the craft’s current position.”
Roger paused as he was about to secure the helmet over his head with the chin strap. “It’s still hovering?” he asked. “It hasn’t moved at all?”
Tim shook his head and shrugged. “Hasn’t moved since it stopped,” he replied.
“Well that’ll make it easy to find,” Roger said half-heartedly, and he turned toward the hangar. “The general here yet?”
“Nope,” Tim replied. “He’s on the way…he said for you to get in the Comet and he’ll radio you once you’re out of the atmosphere.”
Roger jogged into the hangar and was surprised to find many other pilots there suited up and waiting on him.
“Bout time commander,” a young man said as Roger entered the building. It was Christian Smith, call-sign Sabre. “They’re not allowing us to go with you,” he added gruffly.
“No need for that right now,” Roger replied as he began to climb the ladder leading into the cockpit of his Comet fighter. “I’m gonna ease over to them and see if they’re looking for a fight—and if they are, well then you’ll get your opportunity.”
Sabre coughed and ran his fingers through his sandy-blonde hair. “It seems to me that we should be there to back you up in case something goes wrong,” he said.
Roger eyed him for a moment and could see that his head was covered in perspiration.
“You feeling alright?” he asked as he began pulling the cockpit straps over his shoulders.
Sabre wiped the sweat away from his brow with the back of his sleeve. “I’ll be alright,” he said, a bit of annoyance in his tone. “I woke up with a fever, but I’ll be good to go if I’m needed.”
Tim Reed walked up and began to remove the ladder.
“Tim, please see to it th
at Smith here gets checked out by the doc as soon as possible,” he said as he began flipping switches on the console in front of him.
“I said I’m fine,” Sabre snapped. “Probably just something I ate.”
“If it were something you ate you’d be in the bathroom right now,” Roger said. He looked at Tim again. “I mean it, he doesn’t go up until he sees the doc.”
“He won’t,” Tim replied, but he was looking at Sabre.
Tim Reed’s size made him a difficult man to argue with. Sabre huffed and turned away to make his way toward the infirmary.
“Anybody else you want to ground before you leave?” Tim asked as he scanned his eyes over the other pilots in the hangar.
“Nah, not unless there are more that are sick,” Roger quipped as the canopy closed over him. He then signaled for Tim to remove the wheel chocks and in seconds the Comet fighter was rolling.
Roger guided the large spacecraft toward the nearest launch bay. A massive door rolled upward, and the Comet fighter entered and then came to a smooth stop in front of an even larger door. Roger sat patiently as the door behind him rumbled closed. Once it did, he pushed the radio button located on the yoke.
“Launch bay is sealed,” he said.
“Roger that, launch bay is sealed,” a voice crackled back at him. “Opening exterior launch bay door in three, two, one…”
The large door in front of him cracked open in the center and then both sides slowly swung open. Roger had complained for quite some time that he felt the doors opened much too slowly and that something needed to be done to speed it up. So far, his complaints had seemed to fall on deaf ears.
Once the door had fully opened, Roger again lurched the Comet fighter forward and onto the long stretch of runway before him. Bright blue lights zipped along both sides of the concrete path and it was a noticeable contrast against the yellowed soil of Titan’s crust. Roger glanced to his left and through the thick and hazy atmosphere he could see the ominous view of Saturn over the horizon—or at least most of it.
