Titan (Old Ironsides Book 2) (8 page)

‘What the…?’

The lights from the Marine’s weapons illuminated the face of an Ayleean warrior, frozen in time it seemed within the claustrophobic interior of an emergency survival capsule. As Agry looked at the other two capsules he saw two more Ayleeans within, his Marines wiping frost from the observation panels.

‘We’ve got survivors,’ Agry reported in, ‘three warriors, they’re in what looks like cryogenic storage.’

Doctor Schmidt’s voice replied as his projection shimmered into view, illuminating the corner of the bridge with a pulsing blue glow.

‘That’s not possible, I didn’t detect any biological life forms aboard the vessel from here.’

‘You said your sensors may have been blocked by all the stray energy leaking out of the ship,’ Agry reminded him of the briefing the Marines had received. ‘The hull’s badly compromised and the ship won’t hold together much longer. If we don’t leave soon we’re going to be joining these guys as permanent residents.’

A long silence followed, and Agry could imagine the admiral picturing the scene aboard the stricken warship and also the political situation. The last anybody had heard of the Ayleeans was when one of their warships made a direct attempt to destroy New Washington, one of the largest orbital cities around Earth. Titan had defeated the vessel and saved countless thousands of lives with Admiral Marshall at her helm, and now the Ayleeans were a spent force. Yet despite the admiral’s insistence that the advantage should be pressed home, that the CSS fleet should deploy to Ayleea and take control of the planet for once and for all, as ever the Council of Governors on Earth had hesitated, reluctant to sustain a war–footing once again. Marshall had argued that the war would be quick, a decisive strike against an aggressive and implacable enemy, but the council had countered that the same had been said of the previous Ayleean War, which had dragged on for more than a decade and cost the lives of thousands of human soldiers.

Marshall’s voice broke through the sergeant’s reverie.

‘Bring them back from that ship before it falls apart.’

Agry blinked in surprise. ‘Seriously? You know what they’ll do once they wake up, they can’t be trusted after what happened at New Washington and…’

‘Those were the actions of one Ayleean,’
Marshall cut him off,
‘not their population. We don’t know what happened here but those warriors might. Once you’re out we’ll blast that warship and finish the job. No sense in leaving it for them to put back into action, but if we can save the lives of those survivors it might convince the Ayleean leadership that we’re not intent on their destruction.’

Agry sighed. Marshall was right, of course: a political olive branch now might pay dividends in the long run and nobody wanted another war with Ayleea, but even so he didn’t like the idea of cheerfully transporting three of their hated enemies straight aboard the fleet’s flagship.

‘Roger that,’ he replied. ‘My teams will be clear in fifteen minutes. Have Schmidt on stand by to thaw these guys out and find out what happened to them. If this is another ruse, I want the warriors perforated with plasma before they can think to take their first breath.’

***

IX

San Diego,

California

Although a great many things had changed on planet Earth in the four hundred years since Nathan Ironside had left his old life behind, the crystalline blue waters of the Pacific Coast had not.

The taxi–shuttle descended down through a layer of light cumulus cloud and the city of San Diego glittered in the sunlight like jewels encrusted into a sandy beach, the ocean stretching away toward the west and a milky horizon.

‘Now this is what I call heaven,’ Foxx said as she leaned across Nathan to watch more closely as the shuttle came in over Ocean Beach to land at the city spaceport.

Nathan could see that the city was much smaller than it used to be, the sprawl from Miramar to Spring Valley now reduced to a patch of glittering skyscrapers that touched the three thousand foot cloud base, like giant glass crystals embedded into the earth. The spaceport was smaller than the airport that he remembered, no runways but merely large circular landing pads surrounded by dozens of smaller, similar pads and terminal buildings. He could see small craft catching the light as they flew out of the port toward terrestrial destinations around the globe, no location more than an hour away at near–orbital velocities.

Most all of Earth’s cities were a fraction of the size that Nathan recalled, his own home town Denver likewise reduced to a patch of human occupation on a planet now largely returned to nature. San Diego had once been home to well over a million people, but now his optical implant informed him that just seventy five thousand people called the city home. Only the wealthiest lived here on the surface, and such a visit was considered a luxury by Detective Foxx, her green eyes gleaming and a soft smile touching her sculptured lips as she pushed a strand of silvery hair over one tiny ear and watched the city passing by below them.

‘You see, hanging around with me is good for you. This is the second time you’ve been planet–side since I showed up,’ Nathan grinned.

‘Since you showed up I’ve also almost been killed several times,’ she reminded him. ‘But at least I get to breathe fresh air for a change.’

The shuttle landed on one of the smaller pads at the spaceport and a small vehicle drifted across to them, four seats inside and a low wind shield that apparently had no wheels and merely hovered just above the surface of the dispersal area. Nathan spotted a police department emblem on its side as he stepped out of the shuttle and smelled the wonderful scent of the nearby ocean and of air that hadn’t been recirculated through New Washington’s scrubbers a few thousand times.

Foxx led the way across to the police vehicle as its side door opened and a detective leaned out and shook her hand. Stocky, perhaps a little overweight, with thinning brown hair and an easy smile, he looked every inch the lucky cop who got the planet–side gig while the rest of the department sweated it out in New Los Angeles orbit.

‘Detective Larry Samson, first precinct, San Diego,’ he introduced himself as they climbed in. ‘You guys on the Reed case?

‘Down from New Washington,’ Foxx confirmed as the doors closed and Samson drove out of the airport, the craft as smooth as could be on its gravity–defying propulsion system.

‘Must be a hell of a ride,’ Samson pointed out as he switched the craft onto some kind of autopilot and stretched out in his seat, swivelling it around to face them. ‘So what’s the deal here? Xavier Reed went hands–down on the best built case we had this year, no contest from the defense or the jury other than the usual hearsay. What gives?’

Nathan replied, keen to take any flak away from Foxx.

‘Questions,’ he said, ‘about motive and about Reed’s record prior to the event.’

‘You’re investigating the motive?’ Samson chuckled. ‘You know that Ricard died from a plasma hit to the chest at close range after an argument, right?’

‘Reed claimed that his weapon fizzled, that he didn’t make the fatal shot.’

‘Sure, that’s what Reed used as his defense and it was rejected out of hand. His family screaming about it won’t help, the guy’s a convicted murderer.’

‘He still claims a third party was involved,’ Nathan added.

‘So? These dudes would likely invoke the presence of Zeus if they thought it would get them off the hook! Do you know how many homicides we had in the city last year?’

Nathan shook his head.

‘Fourteen,’ Samson replied. ‘That’s more than one a month and the worst it’s been for decades. The police commissioner’s already been hauled over the coals by the governor about the rise in crime and he’s not going to take kindly to somebody walking in here and overturning a solid conviction.’

‘Even if that conviction turns out to be unsound?’ Nathan challenged.

‘You ever heard of a stronger case?’

‘In my time,’ Nathan said, ‘there were a hundred homicides in San Diego every year.’

‘What do you mean
your
time?’ Samson asked, confused.

‘You worked this one, right?’ Foxx guessed, quick to intervene.

‘Sure I did,’ Samson admitted, ‘but don’t go gettin’ any ideas that I’m fighting for my pride here. Reed’s as guilty as they come and no appeal is going to dig his sorry ass out of Tethys.’

‘Then you won’t mind us taking a look around,’ Foxx said with a sweet smile.

‘You go for your life,’ Samson said, and then glanced out of the windshield as a gentle ping sound alerted him. ‘Here we are.’

The craft slowed alongside an old building that looked somewhat like a barn, located at the foot of the hills at Montecito Point alongside a low warehouse that looked like it had been boarded up decades ago. Nathan climbed out with Foxx and looked around them. The residential areas that had once densely populated the area in Nathan’s time were long gone now, the rocky hillsides peppered with scrub and bushes, palms swaying in the gentle breeze from the coast that swept up the valley and carried with it the scents of the ocean and wildflowers. If Nathan looked carefully, he could just make out the centuries old foundations of the homes that had once stood on the hills, angular outcrops in the otherwise wild landscape.

‘This is it,’ Samson said as he gestured to the barn.

The barn itself was a bar, Nathan realized, devoid of tenants at this time of the morning as they followed Samson to the left of the building.

‘Reed and Anthony Ricard came out of the side door here,’ Samson pointed to a small access door in the side of the bar, ‘then stood here in this clearing. Reed shot Ricard, who fell right about here.’

Nathan looked at the spot where Ricard’s life had ended, his chest a black mass of cauterized flesh. The spot was probably no more than five paces from the access door.

‘Looks like it happened fast,’ Foxx said. ‘They didn’t get far before the shooting started.’

‘That’s what the witnesses reported,’ Samson agreed. ‘The pair of them walked out here and moments later they heard the plasma shot. Case closed.’

Nathan shook his head. ‘Quite the opposite.’

Samson peered at him. ‘You kiddin’ me? Reed was caught by his own friends with a smokin’ pistol in his hand and one really dead buddy lying in the dust at his feet.’

Nathan gestured to the door.

‘They walk out here and shots are fired within seconds. Witness statements said that Reed led the way, right?’

‘Sure,’ Samson said, ‘so what?’

‘Well, if Reed led the way he would have had to draw his pistol, turn and then fire on Ricard. For his part, Ricard would have had to have been blind not to have reacted.’

Foxx stared at Nathan for a moment. ‘The reports said that Ricard had been drinking heavily, enough that he could have been surprised by Reed even if what you’re saying is true.’

‘And Reed could have had the pistol concealed, maybe pulled it discreetly or even drawn the weapon and spun at the same time,’ Samson added. ‘It’s not enough to question Reed’s conviction.’

‘It’s enough for me to look further,’ Nathan said as he looked across the clearing to the abandoned warehouse, leaving Samson to shrug indifferently.

The construction was sagging heavily in the middle, the timbers exposed without maintenance to the harsh Californian sun for decades. With nobody coming in or out for endless years, the interior would likely be littered with animal scat and other debris from nesting birds.

‘Is this the building that Reed claimed the shot came from?’

‘Sure,’ Samson nodded, ‘if you believe him.’

‘Did forensics search it for prints of any kind, DNA evidence, that sort of thing?’

‘They gave it a once over,’ Samson agreed somewhat sarcastically, as though Nathan was insulting his department by even asking such a question, ‘but they found nothing to support Reed’s story of a third shooter.’

Nathan moved to stand where Samson had indicated that Ricard had fallen, and then looked at the warehouse. Two large windows stared back at him like soulless square black eyes, cold compared to the warmth and sunshine outside, the glazing smeared with dirt. He turned to Foxx.

‘Kaylin, do me a favor and get on your back,’ he said with a sneaky smile.

Foxx peered at him. ‘Do
what
now?’

‘I need you to be the victim for a moment.’

Samson sighed and strolled to the indicated spot. ‘I think I know what he has in mind, and I know how to be a gentleman even in this day and age.’

Wearily, Samson sat down in the dust and lay down on his back with his hands clasped across his stomach. ‘Good enough for ya?’

‘Great,’ Nathan said. ‘Now, Kaylin, you stand about where we think Reed was at the time of the shooting.’

Foxx moved into position and stood over Samson as Nathan hurried across to the abandoned warehouse and found an entrance from which hung the tattered remains of a door on shattered hinges.

He stepped through into the darkness within, the air cool but heavy with dust and pollen trapped inside the building. The smell of rotten timbers and mold clung to his skin as he crept through the darkness until he reached the grubby windows and saw Foxx and Samson outside in the sunlight. Careful to stay well back from the windows, he shifted left and right until he figured he was in the right spot.

Nathan drew his pistol, checked that the safety catch was in place, and then aimed out of one of the filthy windows, sighting over Foxx’s right shoulder at where Ricard would have been standing. It took him only a moment to position himself accordingly and then he called out to them.

‘Okay, you can get up now!’

Nathan holstered his pistol and pulled out a flashlight as he illuminated the ground before him. A dense carpet of leaves and soil covered the ground, and he carefully began sifting through it as he sought any sign of anybody who might have stood here when Ricard was shot dead months before. Foxx and Samson joined him in the warehouse’s shadowy interior.

‘What are you doing?’ Foxx asked.