Savage World (Babel Series Book 1) Read online

  He didn't know what made them happier, the fact they were leaving the ship or the possibility this exodus from Earth was finally coming to an end. Whatever the reason, he didn't care. They earned the respite after everything they went through since they'd boarded the Rutherford.

  Being the buffer between an angry civilian population and the descent into chaos made the Sharks the focus of everyone's resentment. Sharks decided where people lined up, how they behaved, when they stood in line for rations, and shoved them back when they got pissy about how much they weren't getting. People needed someone to blame and the Sharks were the convenient scapegoat for everything wrong in their lives.

  And they weren't afraid to show it.

  Tom wondered if it was the same on other ships, if the Sharks there were going through the same shit as his own platoon. Sharks couldn't show fear since they had to be the ones who kept it together when everything else went to complete and utter shit. While they were tough combat troops capable of facing all kinds of danger, people tended to forget they had lost families and loved ones too.

  They survived by relying on each other as family and Tom had to admit, the only thing keeping him sane, after what he was forced to do, was caring for his troops. Fuck knows, for many, the squad was all any of them had now.

  Of course, the news only Alpha and Beta squad were getting the duty instead of the entire platoon was less well received and there were more than a few complaints lobbed at him. A well-placed bellow reminding them they were soldiers was all that was needed to silence the dissenting voices. Still, those forced to remain behind took solace in the knowledge their trek through space was almost over. For better or worse, the human race had arrived at their new home.

  After a quick mission brief with Derick, he and Tom re-joined the rest of the squad in the Armory, where Tom unsurprised to hear energised chatter and genuine enthusiasm, beyond the usual Shark bluster. The feeling was infectious, and it was not lost on him. For the first time in weeks, he hadn't found it hard to leave behind the bottle of scotch in his footlocker. Maybe that's what he needed, the sun over his head and a job to do, so that he wouldn't dwell on the past. Maybe it what they all needed, to see a sky again and feel dirt under their boots again.

  Maybe Gaia would chase the nightmares away.

  “Well, well,” Tom said, grinning with approval as he approached Sergeant Jackson. “Look at you lot. All smart and dressed up like you're going for a Sunday drive.”

  “Just waiting on you, Pa,” Jazz retorted, handing the Gunny's rifle over to Derick.

  Tom glanced at his friend as the man checked the blast rifle. Not since discovering his younger brother Luke was alive on one of the other ships had Tom seen Derick grinning so broadly. “Right then,” Tom nodded at Derick, “let's not keep Captain Curran waiting?”

  “Captain Curran?” Derick looked up from his rifle. “What, is she giving us a send-off something?”

  Tom didn't meet his gaze. “She's piloting.”

  Derick stared at him, brow knotting with suspicion. “Why?”

  “Probably to make sure I play nice with the squints.” Tom's answer was evasive, and he was certain Derick would question why he wasn't more upset than he was. Under normal circumstances, Tom would be on a tear at being chaperoned by some Fleeter.

  “And you're okay with this?” Derick eyed Tom like the man had undergone an exorcism or something.

  “Got not much of a choice in the matter and I'm not going to bitch when it's a chance to get off this fucking can.”

  You lying, lying bastard, a Cockney Jimmy Cricket chided him in his head.

  What the hell was he doing? The instant they showed up at the hangar, Derick would know exactly why he was so at ease with Captain Curran piloting the hopper. After all, it wouldn't be the first time the big bloke saw him on the pull. How many furloughs had they spent together where they went drinking and partying like a bunch of kids at spring break? Tom couldn't even count the number of strange places they'd woken up in (cough…cough…yoga studio and insurance office), with women they bedded tangled around them.

  True, his present infatuation with the Captain of the Rutherford was a little different, but the reason for that was plain. She was quite possibly the most beautiful woman Tom Merrick had ever seen. With those brown eyes and amazingly full lips, his heart had been ready to pound out of his chest, like some cartoon character, at first sight.

  And she liked Godzilla.

  It was like winning the lottery. Beautiful, brainy and Godzilla. She could not be more perfect if she tried.

  “Okay.” Derick shot him a last cocked eyebrow before turning around to push his way to the front of the room. “Alright!” Derick shouted at the squads, glancing at his watch. “On the line! Time to earn that pay check! Sergeant are we ready?”

  “Locked and loaded, Gunny!” Jazz called, weaving through the group to join the Gunny.

  “Right, ladies; let's get our arses into gear,” Tom added. “We've got a hopper with our names on it. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get off this boat for a bit.”

  With that, he turned on his heels and headed out the door, confident Derick and his squad would be right behind him.

  * * *

  As her squad prepared to move out, Private Renee 'Ren' Richards took the opportunity to tuck a wild red curl beneath her helmet. She had tied it up, but the tight curls never seemed to stay put and always found some way to cause mischief. As her green eyes glanced briefly at Major Merrick leading them out of the Cave, Ren couldn't help but let her gaze linger on Gunny falling into stride with him. Their eyes met for an instant before Derick flashed her a grin and turned his attention elsewhere. The contact was brief but satisfying and, not for the first time since she laid eyes on him, Ren told herself she was playing with fire. She couldn't help it, he was simply too pretty.

  The same curl popped free again and she sighed and ignored it. Speaking of hair, she packed two objects in her kit that weren't regulation. A bar of scented soap and a razor because, goddamn it, she was shaving her legs the first chance she got. Just because she was a Shark, didn't mean she ignored all forms of feminine grooming. There wasn't much she could do about getting a bikini wax, but she could at least stop causing herself third degree lacerations whenever she scratched her calf with her toes.

  “I'm bringing my razor, what about you, Mayday?” She glanced over her shoulder at Maya. “You going to take advantage of the natural environment to get in some much-needed grooming?”

  “Same,” Maya whispered, dark eyes flashing wickedly. Her thick dark hair was braided and neatly tucked under her helmet as well. “It's all peace and free love down there.” She glanced at her friend as they filed out into the passageway. “Eddie says it's like shagging a bloody Sasquatch!” Even though the words were crass, Maya's posh British accent made even the foulest language sound classy.

  “Ben-zona!” Private Isaac Jager, better known to his comrades as Jag hissed in his native Hebrew as he overheard more of this conversation than he needed to. “As fascinating as it is to hear what you two are planning for your nether regions, please stop. Really.”

  “Suffer, Jag,” Ren gave him an unrepentant look before winking at Maya, “suffer.”

  * * *

  Even though the ship was a small, kind of chubby and blockish troop transport and not her beloved Zephyr, Jules was not complaining. She dubbed the ship Firefly, after a bit of pop culture from the last century she knew Tom Merrick would get. It seemed to fit the economically-sized, bullet-shaped craft. Being back in a cockpit, being a pilot once again, felt good. While commanding the Rutherford was an awesome responsibility and one she would not surrender now she was in the big chair, she missed the freedom of being in a fighter.

  And it wasn't the same without Chuck.

  Jules swallowed, forcing away her grief about Chuck, whose absence felt like an abyss. She missed him even more now she was captain because the rank would make no difference to him. He'd call her out on
her shit or tell her to take the stick out of her ass when she was being especially testy.

  With a slight grin, she ran a gloved hand over the console. She'd learned to fly in these things, all the pilots did. Her TO had made sure she knew everything the hopper could do and what it wasn't supposed to be able to do. They disproved those a couple of times, hadn't they?

  Behind the cockpit, the walls were lined with jump seats with five-point harnesses. Divots marked the floor, sporting lay-flat hooks to secure equipment, pallets or whatever. The ship had seats for 40, including the co-pilot spot beside her. At least this would be a smoother flight than the last time she was in such a craft.

  The sound of the Sharks entering the bay caught her attention and she sat up, leaving off bad memories that were no good to anyone. Pulling on the headset, she brought up the communications console to start the pre-flight procedures.

  * * *

  Tom led the way into the hangar and as expected, the hopper was there, opened up and waiting. There was no sign of the Captain, but Tom was taking no chances. Glancing slyly at his best friend behind him, he spoke almost nonchalantly, “I call dibs, mate.”

  No doubt, Derick would be wondering what the fuck he was talking about, but Tom wanted to stake his claim before Juliana Curran showed up.

  “On?” Derick eyed the hangar bay, not seeing anything worth that kind of claim. No Victoria's Angels, no pole dancers. Newp. All he saw was green. Crates, the hopper and green-clad Sharks. He was about to say more when a woman appeared at the ramp extending outward from the rear hatch.

  Gorgeous tanned skin indicating Spanish ethnicity, her hazel eyes were browner than green but still appeared luminous. Her dark hair was pulled back in a French braid. She was clad in a flight suit that did nothing to hide her curves and goddamn, she was flawless.

  “Dude, who is that?” Derick asked in surprise, too stunned to put two and two together.

  At the ramp, Jules surveyed the Sharks, impressed that even after the last few months, they still looked sharp and energetic, ready for anything. Once upon a time, she'd served under a captain who took it upon himself to greet every single crew member in person. He was the best she served under and morale was always terrific. Granted, she hadn't done much like that since leaving Earth, but it was never too late to start, and she had time while the pre-flight did its thing.

  Stepping off the ramp, she nodded to the tall Marine officer and his moose-height gunnery sergeant. “Major Merrick. Gunnery Sergeant,” she said, extending a hand to the latter. “Captain Jules Curran.”

  “Cap… Captain.” Derick raised an eyebrow at Tom but shook the woman's hand. He should have called the team to attention, but it was too late, she'd introduced herself.

  “Captain Curran,” Tom greeted her as professionally as he could, hoping she couldn't detect all the unpardonable thoughts running through his head upon laying eyes on her again. Derick's reaction told Tom it wasn't just him and they had somehow landed the prettiest captain in the fleet.

  “This is Gunnery Sergeant Derick Rickman,” he introduced, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Dibs mate, his eyes said silently, even though the distance between ranks made any kind of fraternization impossible. Still, it was a necessary part of the bro code.

  Derick shot Tom a good-natured dirty look before turning back to her. “Nice to meet you ma'am.”

  “And you.” Jules smiled at them both and glanced over the other Sharks. “So, Major? Are we ready to go?” She couldn't hide the real excitement in her voice because they were about to get off this heap and hit the turf.

  “We are,” Tom avoided Derick's gaze as he spoke, quite sure he was on the receiving end of what the Yanks like to call the stink eye. “My people are itching for the sun and, with any luck, a look at Godzilla.” He threw in that last bit for her benefit.

  Jules rolled her eyes, lips pressed together in a somewhat failed attempt to hide a smile. She was never going to live that down.

  Jesus, Tom was showing his nerd, Derick groaned inwardly. Time to intervene, as any good wingman would do. Hitching his pack over a shoulder, Derick made sure that it 'accidentally' hit Tom's arm.

  “Oh, sorry sir.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he headed towards the hopper. “Jazz, load 'em up!”

  Watching the Marines line up, Jules watched them approvingly. “If I were them, Major, I'd be more worried about stepping in Godzilla crap.” Jules couldn't hide the grin this time as she went past Tom and returned to the Firefly.

  “All a part of the job, Captain,” Tom replied, reminding himself he had to stop wanting to call her 'luv'. “After you,' he said, motioning for her to go first. Not because she was the pilot or the captain of this boat, not even for any sense of out-dated chivalry.

  He let her go first because he wanted to check out the view.

  * * *

  “Nice.”

  Ren heard Jag say and made a face at the man. “Great, I'll bet she has water to shave her legs,” she threw sourly at Maya as they started to move out.

  “Hot water at that,” Maya grumbled. “You know if men had to deal with shaving their bloody legs, we'd have hot water all day long.”

  “My brother was a competitive swimmer. He had to shave his legs and chest and he didn't whine as much as y'all are,” Ozzy teased as he came up behind them. “I thought ladies liked stubble…”

  Maya frowned at him and flicked his chest. “I curse you with razor burn…”

  “Enough chit chat, ladies!” From the loading ramp, Jazz pointed at Maya with an expectant look.

  Maya feigned innocence as she filed in behind Ren and the others.

  * * *

  Leaving the Rutherford put everything in perspective.

  For weeks, they could only see their predicament in the microcosm of the Ruthie. Their understanding of their situation was limited to personal loss, to the mourning of the lives lost and the ones they could not save. It was easy to let their suffering be defined by the lack of creature comforts, the absence of personal space and the threat of dwindling resources hanging over their heads like the Sword of Damocles poised to fall.

  Those complaints were silenced once the hopper left the ship and they could see the vastness of space surrounding the ragtag collection of ships containing the entirety of the human race. A civilisation of twenty billion now numbered a paltry ten thousand, trapped in dozens of ships carrying food, equipment, livestock, and every piece of cultural heritage they could salvage.

  Looking at those ships made Tom realised just how fragile and alone they were.

  In a part of the galaxy known to them only by maps and long-range probes, there was no guarantee they would survive. For so long, humans confined themselves to countries, building walls around each other as they jockeyed for power and resources on foreign patches of dirt. What had it all been for?

  Seeing the fleet limping along in space, Tom realised it wasn't just about them starving to death or going crazy in these ships. It was about extinction. Mankind was now as scarce as the buffalo or rhino, a species on the brink of oblivion. If humanity didn't start seeing themselves as one organism, they would never survive, even if they landed on the new world.

  Looking at the stars, Lisa entered his mind. Usually, he buried thoughts about her in drink or deflection but, gazing out the hopper window, he thought about what would have happened if he hadn't purged the airlock. The entire ship would have been compromised and ten thousand would be less seven hundred. Blinking slowly as he digested that, he knew he had to get past it.

  The kids under his command needed him to. It struck him just how young the members of Alpha and Beta squads were as he observed them on the deck. He and Derick were veterans, but the rest— they were all so young! Most had seen some action in the last five years, but they weren't lifers yet, not the way he and the big bloke were. Half of them looked like they should still be in school and the other half just looked out of place.

  A familiar laugh caught Tom's att
ention and he looked down to where Corporal Ren Richards, was speaking in whispers to Private Maya 'Mayday' Sanjay. Those two, shared more in common with schoolgirls up to mischief than a sharpshooter and a top-notch medic.

  * * *

  “Look at him,” Maya rolled her eyes and gestured at Private Colin Macon, her boyfriend who sat four seats down. Like he usually did, he'd dozed off in his seat within minutes of planting himself in it. “He can sleep through anything!”

  “Not everything I hope,” Ren nudged her and the two erupted into peals of laughter.

  Tom hid a grin, pretending he hadn't heard the conversation. Next to them, Jag was listening with a grin, despite his numerous complaints about their ribald chatter.

  Across from them, Ozzy and Linus sat next to each other, arguing about everything from who took what seat to how much they were invading each other's space. Even though they were fully kitted, both were nudging and fidgeting like two lads spoiling for a fight in the schoolyard. Tom gave it another two minutes or so before Derick lost his head and threatened them both with death.

  Dupree, whom Tom called French because he didn't give a shit about cultural sensitivity, was sitting beside Private Lorio and Anderson. The two came out of boot a few weeks before everything went tits up and still wore 'what the fuck just happened' looks on their faces. French, who came from a large family in Provence, took them under his wing, for which Tom was grateful. He couldn't imagine a worse baptism by fire than what these two kids had endured these last few weeks.

  Meanwhile Ozzy and Linus continued to bicker, their voices getting louder as they once again launched into an argument the others had become familiar with over the last six months. Jnr. Corporal Shaini 'Shiny' Ndlovu, the squad's comtech, sat two seats from Ozzy, wearing a grimace as her exasperation grew the more intense the debate became.

  “Oh, for the love of GOD!” Shiny finally snapped, dropping her head back in exasperation, her helmet smacking the wall lightly. “Will you two shut up about cavemen and astronauts? I can't believe you keep arguing about this same shit!”