Titan (Old Ironsides Book 2) (10 page)

Both men looked down at him with savage smiles, their faces shining in the pulsing red light with a maniacal, volatile fusion of rage and delight. One of them lifted a fist that seemed as big as Xavier’s head, and then the blows began to fall and his conscience retreated into some deep, dark place where the pain would no longer bother him.

***

XI

Brooklyn Spaceport,

New York City

The Global Express shuttle descended smoothly from hypersonic cruise back into Earth’s lower atmosphere, the slender craft’s variable–form wings gradually altering shape from razor thin to gracefully tapered as Foxx looked out of her window.

The first time she had been lucky enough to travel planet–side had been when her parents had bought a holiday at a resort near San Diego on the coast of California, a rare opportunity and one for which her parents had saved long and hard. Although only a child Foxx could remember the warmth of the sunshine, the sight of an open ocean, the life that had seemed to be everywhere, even buzzing on the open air. The planet had seemed so wild and vigorous and
alive
that the memories had remained with her ever since, seared into her conscience along with the melancholy yearning for her family who, like Nathan’s, were gone forever. Her second visit with Nathan Ironside to Denver, Colorado had ended with her being attacked by drones and had nearly cost her life. Nathan, charismatic individual that he was, had a lot to answer for.

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…’