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Titan Chronicles Box Set

by Samuel Best          Format: eBook

Five months to Titan. Four brave crew members. One incredible mystery.

Jeff Dolan always wanted to be an astronaut. After helping a private space company build a ship that can travel to Saturn’s largest moon in five months, he gets his chance.

Shortly after launch, a devastating malfunction forces Jeff and the crew to make a choice: continue to Titan, or go back home. As the truth about their mission unravels, one thing is clear: someone on Earth knew about the system flaw and covered it up.

Yet surviving the journey isn’t the crew’s only concern. Even if they make it to Titan, they will face another problem:

Something is already there.

What begins as humanity’s first mission to Titan becomes a journey of discovery, evolution, and survival as Jeff Dolan and his crew uncover a deadly mystery that will change Earth…and its people…forever.

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What to expect in these books:

-A visit to the surface of Titan
-Survival in an underwater ocean research facility
-The drama of a new private space race
-Action and adventure
-Space exploration
-Unique first contact
-Believable tech
-Near-future sci-fi
-Likeable characters
-No swearing
-No on-page sex
-Minimal violence

This set includes ALL 3 ebooks in the best-selling TITAN CHRONICLES
Over 8,000 ratings on Amazon
100,000+ copies sold

“Absolutely fantastic.”

“Everything I love in Science Fiction.”

“Full of plot twists and a surprise ending.”

“A great book that keeps you guessing all the way!”

“Well written and gripping all the way through. Characters were well developed and the storyline became more intriguing as the action progressed.”

About the Author

Picture of author Samuel Best in Europe

Hi, I’m Samuel.

I was born in Cape Canaveral, Florida, and I grew up a mile from the gates of Kennedy Space Center. My grandmother built space shuttles, my father designed scientific equipment that flew on them, and I watched the launches from my rattling front porch, dreaming of the stars.

I recently spent three years traveling across our little blue-green marble in space, finding inspiration for my books in places like Ha Long Bay in Vietnam and the ice caves of Iceland.

My best-selling novel Mission One launched my career as a science fiction writer, and now I spend my time crafting new universes for you to explore.

Bonus sample from MISSION ONE:

It would take Jeff just under five minutes to get back to Explorer, moving at what the Flight Op techs in Mission Control called the “nominal speed”—a veritable snail’s pace of about three meters per second.

Jeff was toying with the notion that the other ship had been launched without a crew—that perhaps MarsCorp had decided on a rushed, automated mission in the hope that the mere presence of their vessel at Titan would signify a binding ownership of its resources. When he asked if that were the case, Silva told him there were signs that North Star had indeed been crewed until quite recently. Eating utensils clumped with food floated slowly in the dark command module as Riley tried unsuccessfully to pull up the flight record. Without power to the main systems, the centrifuge couldn’t rotate, and anything unsecured floated freely throughout the ship.

The video feed window of his HUD kept Jeff’s full attention until he was nearly back to Explorer. Riley and Silva hadn’t seen any sign of North Star’s crew on the other side of the airlock, nor in the T-junction leading to the command module.

Jeff muted and shrank the video feed window, leaving it as only a thumbnail in the lower left corner of his HUD. He decelerated early, giving himself plenty of room to maneuver safely into position just aft of the cargo hold, over the secondary fuel line access panel. The insulated, two-meter-long panel opened onto a mere snippet of the overall fuel line, but also onto most of the sensors monitoring the complex system.

He hooked his safety tether to an anchor loop on the hull, then grabbed the multipurpose hex driver strapped to the side of his pack and unscrewed the panel’s fasteners. Small rivets on the end of the fasteners caught against the underside of the hinged panel, preventing them from floating away.

Two thick fuel lines ran the length of the compartment, propped up from the hull several centimeters. A dozen small, black boxes surrounded it, bolted to the hull. Multicolored braids of wire connected the black boxes to the fuel lines.

Jeff shined his helmet light into the compartment. Silver labels on the black boxes gleamed as he searched for the one containing the faulty sensor.

“There you are,” he mumbled to himself.

He popped a latch on one corner of the box and pried open its stiff plastic cover. Inside was a five-centimeter copper cube etched with fine, geometric lines. If he were to yank out all the sensors monitoring the fuel line, the pumps wouldn’t be able to regulate the flow on an active system, and the engine would overload, triggering a catastrophic explosion. A temporary loss of one sensor was still considered safe. Losing more was an unacceptable risk.

Inaccessible to Jeff were the contents of the copper cube: a delicate sensor array, the components of which were suspended independently of each other in a clear gel. He pulled out the cube and ran a gloved finger inside the empty black box, checking for any sign of leaks or corrosion. It was clean, as was the copper surface of the cube. He tucked the cube into a Velcro pouch on his right thigh.

“Canaveral,” he said, “the faulty fuel line sensor has been removed. No signs of corruption. Sensor array was probably scrambled inside. I’ll replace it with a new sensor now.”

The near-instant communication provided by his proximity to the alien artifact sent the response back a moment later.

Copy that, Jeff,” Frank said over his headset from Cape Canaveral. “Proceed to the cargo hold for that replacement fuel pump after you wrap it up.” Jeff paused for a second—he had been expecting to hear Kate’s voice. Frank sounded different somehow—world-weary, as if he had shouldered an enormous burden since he’d last spoken to the crew.

The spare sensors were inside a latched compartment set into the hull between the fuel lines. Jeff retrieved one of them and gently pressed it down into the empty black box. After he resealed the box, he said, “Sensor replaced. What’s the verdict?”

“Clearing error code,” Ming said from inside Explorer I. “Looks like you did it. Good job.”

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “At least now we’ll know we’re going to blow up a few seconds before it happens.”

“Cherish the small things.”

“I’m headed to the cargo hold.”

“Copy that,” Ming replied. “Don’t forget to—”

She cut off suddenly and gasped.

“Ming? What’s wrong?”

Oh my God,” she said slowly.

Jeff was going to ask her what she was talking about, then he looked down at the small video feed box in his HUD and got his answer.

“They found the crew,” Ming said.

Jeff quickly magnified his HUD’s video feed and unmuted the audio, but heard only the quick, stopping breaths of Riley and Gabriel.

Riley’s camera looked from the end of the T-junction at the crew module extending toward the back of the ship. He and Gabriel had apparently given up on the power problem and left the command module to explore the rest of the ship.

The only lights came from Riley’s and Gabriel’s helmets—wide halogen beams flowed over every surface as they looked around. The floor layout of the centrifuge was identical to Explorer’s, with low walls compartmentalizing specific areas. A central pillar ran down the axis of the ship, extending from above the camera’s field of vision to the back of the module.

A red Mark III Constellation Space Suit, slightly bulkier than the Mark IVs, floated into view, filled out as if it contained a person. The bright, sealed space suit reflected the powerful beam from Riley’s helmet light. The Mark III rotated slowly to face the camera, and Riley’s light spilled over its helmet, revealing a vibrant splash of blood on the inside of the clear face shield.

Gabriel’s helmet light played hesitantly around the module, landing on three other sealed red Constellation Suits, adrift in the darkness.

Mother Mary,” he whispered, followed by a string of rapid Portuguese Jeff didn’t understand.

Riley spoke with grim determination. “Canaveral, Dr. Silva and I are going to check for survivors. Stand by.”