Savage World (Babel Series Book 1) Read online

  Ten years earlier, deep range probes transmitted data regarding the existence of a world with similar properties to Earth lying in a distant star system. The planet was sixty percent water and possessed a rich nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere capable of supporting life.

  They called it Gaia.

  It was a place to be visited someday, when they finally developed a real FTL drive capable of crossing the distance instead of the standard EM drives which allowed them to colonise Sol but nothing beyond. The destruction of Sol changed everything. Gaia became the only viable destination for the surviving human race. Once again, Nakamura had to make calculations based on theoretical science not yet conclusively proven or field tested.

  Fortunately, the Ribbon Drive did exactly what they needed, with the exception of the tiny, tiny mistake in his calculations. They arrived seven light years short of the planet.

  From where the Ribbon deposited them, the journey to Gaia would take months. They simply didn't have the ability to make another attempt to fold space. With no other alternative, the fleet was forced to make the crossing using the EM Drive, travelling half the speed of light.

  The months since pushed them to the very limits of their resources. All supplies were reaching dangerously low levels despite hard-line rations of water, food, and energy. Bodies were crammed into ships, running air and waste recycling systems beyond maximum operating capacity. Medical personnel were already dealing with the inevitable outbreaks of disease due to poor hygiene and bad air.

  The bulk of the planet's diplomatic contingent never made it off Earth. Under any other circumstances, it was a situation ripe for a joke, but no one dare make it. What was left was an uneasy alliance of soldiers and scientists forced to work together to give birth to a new human civilisation. It didn't take long before they realised they needed a third component to function, a civilian faction to complete the triumvirate.

  It was a shotgun wedding if there was ever one.

  Now they were in sight of Gaia and it was none too soon; the entire fleet was sitting on a powder keg and they needed to get off before it exploded.

  * * *

  On board the Alliance Ship AS Missouri, President Philana Zubuqu stared across the conference table at the three people who made up the newly formed Earth Assembly. The Assembly, representing three distinct groups, the armed forces, the scientific community and the civilian population, formed to replace the now extinct Earth Alliance governing body.

  “How soon can we land?” Philana directed her question at Nakamura, the Head of the Science Council.

  A man in his forties, Nakamura never struck Philana as a scientist, certainly not the giant of propulsion and astrophysics he now was. He wore his hair long but swept back over his forehead. His severe expression and dark, sharp eyes belied the warmer personality Philana had become acquainted with over the years. She liked and admired him even before his Ribbon Drive saved them all.

  Yet, he changed over the last few months. Instead of warmth and sharp intellect, she saw a man blunted by grief for not saving enough lives.

  Running his fingers along the slate device in front of him, Nakamura brought the display alive and projected a holographic image above the centre of the table for all to see.

  An iridescent world appeared before them, not Earth but not entirely dissimilar either. It was a place of blue oceans, greenish tinged clouds, and large greenish brown land masses. There were two moons in orbit. The moons weren't lifeless husks like Lunar but just as teeming with life as the world below them. Even as a hologram, their first glimpse of Gaia was breathtaking.

  Nakamura refused to forgo the details even though the urgency of the situation was not lost on him. He knew about the escalating tensions throughout the fleet, the strain on all their resources and the civilians on the verge of rioting. Their fabricators could produce important things like medicines and machine parts, but food and water for ten thousand people was beyond even the most inventive engineer's capability.

  “We can land any time,” Nakamura answered, “but whether it is safe to do so is another matter entirely,” he said, meeting Philana's brown eyes. “Since arriving in orbit, we have been conducting scans of the surface and what is clear to us, that wasn't before, is that there is an abundance of life on Gaia.”

  The announcement did nothing to allay anyone's concerns.

  “Intelligent life?” Field Marshal Grigori Anisimov asked suspiciously. He was very much a Russian bear, towering, with a deep, booming voice and large hands that could break you apart if he felt like it. Grey eyes stared at the scientist, showing his concern at how the natives might react to ten thousand humans landing on their doorstep. As well as humans would, he suspected, if the shoe were on the other foot.

  “No,” Nakamura quickly dismissed the notion, seeing the fear it generated.

  “There is an abundance of animal life, but we've detected no signs of intelligence. Of course, it is a big planet and we can't assume anything for certain. Until we are sure of what we are dealing with, I do not recommend landing. I propose we send a survey party first.”

  “And how long will this take?” Jyoti Sengputa asked impatiently. She was a petite thing who wore her dark hair in a tight bun, accentuating a strong jaw and eyes that looked older than her thirty-five years. “Life support is barely holding on as it is, not to mention people are becoming violent and desperate. They need to get off the ships. They need to feel the sun on their faces and breathe fresh air. They need to know there is an end in sight to all this.”

  Until a few months ago, Jyoti was the deputy secretary of the Solar Health Organisation. She had been off world investigating an outbreak of Miner's Disease on Ganymede when news of the disaster was made public. In transit when Earth was destroyed, Jyoti now found herself as the voice of the civilian population.

  “It's difficult to determine. We are entering an entirely unknown ecosystem. We simply cannot assume the place is safe….” Nakamura tried to reason with her. He understood her concerns, they all did, but this could not be rushed.

  “I agree with Albert,” Grigori spoke and made Nakamura smile a little because the big Russian was the first one of the Assembly to address him as if they were more than colleagues, but rather soldiers in the same foxhole. “We cannot simply descend onto this planet. For all we know the dominant animal life down there could be dinosaurs.”

  Although that would simply be magnificent, Grigori thought silently.

  “People are at breaking point,” Jyoti insisted, her small fist thumping the table to emphasize each word. “We need to do something…”

  “We will,” Philana said firmly and with enough force in her voice to remind everyone they were in this together. Like the Zulu people from which she was descended, Philana's high cheekbones, full lips, and almost feline eyes exuded regal authority and confidence.

  “Albert, put a survey team together. The sooner we send them down there the better. Have you selected a possible landing site yet?”

  “Yes,” Nakamura nodded and swiped the slate's screen to show another image. This one displayed a map, specifically a large continent shaped a little like Greenland but was the size of Africa. “This is the continent we have decided to call Laurasia. The name is an amalgam of Laurentia and Asia.”

  He widened the image further and showed a stretch of land on the south-east side of the continent. “We thought this might be a good landing site. There's a waterway of significant size travelling at least a thousand kilometres inland and gives us access to the sea. The land between the waterway and the mountain range is comprised of fertile plains and there are flatlands suitable for cultivation. The mountains will also give us protection from any harsh weather. The science team is calling it Babel.”

  “Babel,” Philana smiled faintly. “I like it.”

  “I think the survey team should be accompanied by some ground troops,” Grigori added. “With all due respect, Albert, we don't know what your team will be walking into.”

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p; “Fair enough, but I request that, in all scientific matters, my team leader has authority.”

  “And in all military matters, my officer should have the same,” the Russian countered.

  “Well then, gentlemen,” Philana swept her gaze across the two men, “let's make this happen.”

  * * *

  After Derick took out Alpha and Beta squad to manage crowd control during food distribution, Tom returned to the quarters he shared with a dozen other officers on board the Ruthie. Not only was he the only Shark officer present, he was also the only one with the rank of Major. The SHARC ranking structure, like most of the armed forces, was still a work in progress. Only the bird in charge of the Ruthie outranked him and she was a Yank promoted for being in the right place at the right time.

  Before the Exodus, the room was a storage area of some kind and Tom swore he could detect a whiff of brain cell-killing chemicals through the wafting odour of sweat and stale air. Frankly, he didn't know which was worse.

  The beds provided were no more than makeshift bunks and cots, while the grey, windowless walls and metal deck plates added to the ambience. At the foot of each 'bed' was a foot locker to store a lifetime of belongings. Most military men lived out of a duffel bag anyway, but Tom missed his books; not the sizeable library he stored on his personal slate, but the soft paper books he'd collected over the years. He'd taken what he could; the Count of Monte Cristo, the Puppet Masters, Dune and a few others, but the rest were sacrificed because the space was needed for the essentials.

  This time of day, the room was empty and fortunately accessible by security code to keep civilians from coming in here and stealing. Desperation drove people to extremes and theft was just one of the things people were forced to take up to survive. With barter the only form of currency at present, thieves were always on the lookout for something they could steal to trade for something better.

  Tossing in the bottle of rotgut he'd traded for a copy of Moby Dick, Tom grabbed a change of clothing from the chest and locked it shut. Leaving the room, he crossed the corridor to enter the communal shower used by most of the military personnel stationed on this deck. There were a few people in there already, some he recognised, and others he didn't.

  Adhering to the etiquette of co-ed showers, Tom kept his eyes fixed on the porcelain tiles. It was extremely bad manners to steal stray glances at anyone's junk, male, or female. Self-consciousness at being naked in front of other people simply didn't come into it anymore, even with the nude bodies of the opposite sex beside you.

  Still, it was harder (no pun intended) said than done when one came across the tantalising slick of glistening skin or the curve of a breast. At least, in those situations, everyone had the good manners to say nothing, even if it was affecting.

  Tom stepped under the shower head and turned the knob. The spray rushing over him was lukewarm. Wasting no time, he pressed a dollop of gel onto his palm from the dispenser and began soaping up. He had two minutes to wash before the water switched off automatically. Biometric sensors on the tap knob identified him and ensured he was allocated his two minutes. After that, he'd have to wait for the next twenty-four-hour cycle to come along.

  Once he was done, Tom got dressed and headed back to the Cave, still longing for a shave when he ran his hand across his chin and felt the stubble. At least, now, he looked somewhat respectable and not like a pile of dirty washing.

  “Message for Major Tom Merrick at Com Station 14.” Tom heard his name over the speakers as he was in the middle of the hallway. “Repeat, message for Major Tom Merrick…”

  Tom hurried to the far end of the corridor, where a small secured room awaited. Punching in his identification code, the door slid open and he stepped into the cubicle sized space formerly used to let ship personnel make private calls home. Now it was used for ship to ship communication across their ragtag fleet. Shutting the door behind him, he sat at the station and took his call.

  On the screen in front of him, the face of General Rhys Connor, the commander of the Sharks appeared, waiting to talk to him.

  When the Sharks were first formed six months ago, Rhys, a Brigadier General of the British Army, introduced himself to his senior officers. Ironically, despite being a Major, Tom was one of the longest serving combat soldiers in the fleet. He'd started out as a non-com and come into his officer's bars late. Despite Rhys being a good fifteen years older, he was a career infantry officer who'd been in the trenches. Their shared combat experiences gave both men common ground as battle-scarred veterans of a changing armed forces.

  He was a decent bloke. For a Pom.

  “General,” Tom greeted respectfully, feeling like he knew the man enough to recognize this wasn't a personal call. “It's good to see you.”

  “Likewise, Tom,” the General replied from his office on the Nelson, green eyes resting on Tom with a similar affection. “I have some news for you and I wanted to talk to you face to face.”

  That didn't sound good. Tom wondered what fresh calamity was going to be visited on them now. “What is it?” He was almost afraid of the answer.

  “Relax, Digger,” Rhys grinned, seeing the man stiffen through the screen. “It's nothing bad.”

  “Digger,” Tom grumbled, bloody Pom. Nowadays, it was a term of endearment and evidence of their growing friendship. “What can I do for you, Sir?”

  “I need you to get two squads together. You'll be accompanying the science team planet side.”

  Tom did a double take, thinking Rhys was fucking with him but the man's expression revealed otherwise. “Planet side? As in 'off the ship'?”

  “That's right,” Rhys smiled smugly.

  “Are we there? Did we get to the planet? When?” He fired questions like artillery shells, trying not to show just how excited he was at the prospect of escaping the Ruthie. After six months, it felt as if they would never reach Gaia, the Promise Land at the end of this nightmare journey through space.

  Rhys didn't go into details, giving Tom just enough to proceed. “We slipped into orbit last night. They've done the initial scans and selected a landing site, but we need to go down there to confirm the data. So, you and your team will provide support to the squint team surveying the area to make sure that it's safe for the rest of the population to come down.”

  Tom didn't care if this was a babysitting detail. Not one bloody bit. The chance to see sky again, even if it was on an alien world, was the shot in the arm he needed after months of hell. Not just for him, but for his squad, who needed this excursion almost as much.

  “We'll get it done, Sir.”

  “Good to hear. Just be aware that in all matters scientific, the head squint is in charge, but…”

  Tom bristled at that but before he could voice his protest, Rhys raised his hand to stop him. “Unless of course, the situation becomes dangerous in any way and then you can assume command. Let them do what they need to do and take over if anything nasty jumps out of the bushes.”

  “Right.” Tom could live with those terms. Besides, while they were scanning, he and his team would be out in the fresh air with the sky above their heads. He could tolerate a bunch of squints with that kind of perk. “I'll get the team together as soon as possible. When are we leaving?”

  “At 1100 hours. Report to Captain Curran. She'll give you further details.”

  “Will do, Sir, and thanks for giving us the chance to get off this tin can.” He was almost beaming.

  “Yeah, I do recall how much you said you love space travel,” Rhys replied dryly. “Good luck to you, Major. Connor out.”

  The screen went dark and Tom eased into his chair, letting out a sigh of relief. Finally, some good news.

  It was about fucking time.

  III

  Jules

  For a few seconds, she could do nothing but stare.

  The ship was ablaze, from bow to stern, wearing the fire like a second skin. Dark space lit up like a newborn sun. The vacuum would extinguish the radiance soon enough, bu
t for the few seconds while exploding bulkheads and ruptured hull plating allowed oxygen to escape, the flames lived. There wasn't an inch of the hull across the capital ship not on fire.

  Elemental demons danced across the cracking plexiglass windows, invaded the vast turbines of the main engines and battered down airlock doors. They ran like wayward children through the hallways and slipped into the air vents, igniting fluids, greedily consumed furnishings, and sucked away flesh before the final damning explosion.

  To those screaming, the fire's cackle sounded like laughter.

  * * *

  “We've got to find another ship!”

  The hopper she was piloting carried fifty people, crammed in so tightly they could barely breathe. She promised them she wasn't leaving them behind and would get them to safety. The Asquith was an American battlecruiser, one of the largest ever built. It would be more than capable of handling a rough docking and providing refuge to her passengers for the trip through the Ribbon.

  Except within sight of it, a solar flare lashed out with the fury of an angry god and smote the great ship like it was nothing. One brilliant eruption and the ship, with its crew of 400 was gone, incinerated. It was so quick, it staggered belief. She gaped through the cockpit windows, stunned for a moment until she remembered the people in her charge.

  “Hold onto something!! We've got to get out of range before the engines blow!”

  Pulling on the throttle, she banked hard, the hopper's systems groaning in protest at the sharp change in trajectory. Under normal circumstances, it was a bus, ferrying passengers from cruisers and transport liners to their planet side destinations. It wasn't made for speed or designed with the manoeuvrability of a fighter, which was what she was accustomed to.

  Her Lidar Intercept Officer, or LIO, Chuck, grabbed an overhead bar and braced himself. Muttering under his breath, cursing whoever put the navcomp in the back of the cockpit on these barges, his free hand flew over the navcomp. Like Jules, he ignored the utter ruin of the Asquith even as they were bathed in the hellish radiance of the fire beyond the cockpit window.