by Jake Bible
THE SAVAGESIDE
– The Flipside Sagas –
Jake Bible
www.severedpress.com
Copyright 2018 by Jake Bible
One
“Another one down,” Lewis snarled into the comms.
The crackling of static told her that the system was far from dialed in, but the response gave her hope that they’d get the long-range logistics figured out soon.
“Can you log the distance for me? I’ll compare to my reading and see if we’re anywhere close to a more accurate measurement on my end,” a voice replied over the comms.
Lewis slowly walked over to the crashed drone known as a “shredhawk,” originally designed to neutralize pterosaurs and keep them from escaping into Topside, but now being utilized as a communications relay system so teams of operators could communicate with Flipside base of operations, or Flipside BOP, while out on patrol. Or that was the theory.
Flipside and Topside, they occupied the same physical space, but totally different times.
Topside was 2046, a future where time bubbles appeared and the land flipped over to reveal a peek into a hundred square miles of a prehistoric lost world that shouldn’t exist in 2046.
A prehistoric lost world known as Flipside.
The late Cretaceous period, that was the time and space that Lewis was standing in, frustrated that one of the four drones that had been following her recon team had given up the ghost and crashed into the ground in a highly unceremonious crunch of metal alloy and failing technology.
Sparks from the downed shredhawk threatened to set the savannah grasses ablaze. Lewis snapped her fingers and an operator hurried over to spray the drone with a couple bursts of fire suppressant from a small tube on his belt. The sparks died and the grasses quit smoldering.
“We’re what? Eighteen clicks from Flipside BOP’s former bubble perimeter?” Lewis replied.
The time bubble no longer existed, having been collapsed in order to keep Topside from being destroyed by the ever-expanding and contracting chaos. No one knew the exact Whys or Whats of the collapse, only that those Flipside were stuck Flipside until those Topside figured out a way to get them back home.
Lewis turned in a circle, her eyes scanning the vast fields and low hills of thigh-high grasses that seemed to go on forever. One day what would become the Rocky Mountains would border the plains, but that was not this day. Lewis sighed.
“You alright, dude?” the voice asked. The voice belonged to Mike DiCenzo, Flipside BOP’s head tech. “Everything okay?”
“Just sick of this view,” Lewis replied. “The Australian BOP was next to a waterfall with a lagoon of crystal clear water and a rushing river only meters away. Colors, Michael. Colors. All this beige is depressing.”
“We’re stuck with the beige for now, Lewis,” Mike replied. “Not a lot we can do about it unless you want to spearhead a wildflower campaign like the Department of Transportation does with highway medians and all that crap.”
“You know what I mean,” Lewis said. “You still reading the other three shredhawks?”
Lewis glanced up into the glare of the midday sun and watched as three drones circled high above, never straying more than a couple meters from where the team of four operators stood.
“They are alive and kicking, dude,” Mike said. “A little static, as you can hear, but fairly clear considering your distance. Shielding is holding out.”
“I still don’t see why tech goes haywire Flipside,” one of the operators said. He was watching the drones circle as well then shifted his attention to Lewis. “Don’t make much sense.”
“That Carter?” Mike asked.
“Yeah,” Carter, the operator, replied.
“Last time I explain it, Carter. Next time you get the dunce hat, dude,” Mike said. “All of our tech was developed in the 21st century. The Earth is a much different environment a couple hundred million years from now. Magnetic resonance is different, alignment of the poles is different, and how the Sun acts is different.”
“He’s talking sun spots, man,” another operator said.
“Exactly,” Mike said. “The sun here is millions and millions of years younger than our sun. The solar activity is different which can wreak havoc on tech not built back in this time.”
“So build some tech in this time,” Carter said.
“Yes, because it’s that easy, dude,” Mike replied. “I have all the time in the world to devote to inventing completely new technology. It’s not like I have an entire base worth of infrastructure to keep an eye on.”
“Which is why we’re testing the shielding,” Lewis said, sounding more than exasperated with the subject. “Tech from the 21st is garbage. Tech shielded from the influence of Flipside is lesser garbage, but still garbage.”
“I wouldn’t call it rubbish, dude,” Mike said. “Maybe glitchy, but not garbage. And I thought Aussies say rubbish?”
“That’s Brits, asshole.”
A loud explosion echoed from above and one of the drones came spiraling down to the ground in a flaming mess. Parts and bits rained down for a few seconds, forcing the operators to cover their heads with their arms and pause before putting out the drone’s flames.
Lewis sprayed fire retardant on the downed machine and grimaced. “Garbage, Michael. Garbage. You should have listened to me and stripped them down completely for a full bottoms-up rebuild.”
“I know the shredhawks better than you, Lewis,” Mike objected. “Now, if you’d brought more of your Australian tech with you, maybe you could work on that. But for now, we aren’t stripping everything done to bare bones for full rebuilds. We don’t have that kind of time, dude.”
“Seems to me we got nothing but time,” Lewis said.
“Hey, I get it. You’re used to being Commander Bloom’s go-to person for all things tech Flipside,” Mike said. “But rules have changed since the bubbles collapsed and Flipside BOP has been on the front lines of those changes. I’m head of tech at Flipside BOP, dude. Not starting a pissing match again, but that’s the way things are.”
“Yeah, but your problem is you’re only tech,” Lewis said and patted her TS .338 sniper rifle. “I’m field ops and tech. I have more perspective. And my field perspective is the shielding is rubbish and can’t last out here for long. Full rebuild will fix that.”
There was silence for a second.
“Michael? You still there, mate?”
“What? Yeah, sorry. Got distracted. Comm you back in a few,” Mike said. “Try five more clicks before calling it a day and heading back to base.”
“Copy that, mate,” Lewis said and nodded to the others. “You heard the man. We got five more clicks to hike before the day is done.”
***
Seated at his console in the clapped-together building that had been provided as half control room for him and the other techs to work in, and half command center for Commander Bloom and his team to work in, Mike stared at a holograph of the landscape the shredhawk drones had scanned and mapped on Lewis’s trek.
Mike swiped the image into a virtual box marked “Field Topography” then brought up the wave form of the comms frequencies that he’d programmed to continually modulate in order to cover a broader spectrum. There was still too much interference for the system to be called reliable, but he was close to dialing it in. And it certainly wasn’t garbage…
Several other techs, all from different Topside nations, were busy working at consoles behind Mike, some silently typing while others chattered back and forth, comparing notes on different projects they’d been assigned.
“Mike?”
Mike stared at a new reading that had po
pped up on his console’s vid screen. Seismic activity about twenty clicks from Lewis’ team’s position. Heavy seismic activity.
“Mike? Hello?”
“Hmmm?” Mike replied, turning his body, but not his head, to face the visitor.
“Mike!”
“What, dude?” Mike snapped, looking directly at Barbara Chin as she stood next to him, her hands on her hips, eyes fiery with annoyance. “Oh, hey Barb. What’s up?”
“The camera? You said you’d have a camera ready for me today so I can continue documenting our time here Flipside,” Barbara said. “The last one fried after five hours of use. Can’t really create a visual record of experiences, or interview folks, when the instrument I use to do all that tries to electrocute me on a daily basis.”
“Camera?” Mike asked, a blank look on his face.
“Sweet Jesus,” Barbara said. She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheeks then opened her eyes and gave Mike a pained smile. “Do you ever listen to me?”
“Oh, sure I listen to you,” Mike said, his attention drawn back to the seismic readings still coming from his console. “Leave the camera and I’ll fix it tonight.”
“I left you the camera, Mike,” Barbara responded in a tone that said her patience was at an end. “Two days ago. Two days, Mike.”
“Hmmmm? Two days? Oh, yeah, I’ll have it done within two days, dude,” Mike said. “No problem.” He pointed at the readings. “That doesn’t look good. What do you think?”
“I’m not a seismologist or geologist,” Barbara replied. “I’m a former holo news reporter, one that was at the top of her game back home, and now I’m a documentarian. Without a camera. I do not care about earthquakes and shit, Mike.”
“Right, sure, of course,” Mike said and nodded. “You see Dr. Xipan around? She should look at this.”
“Are you asking me if I’ve seen Dr. Xipan because she’s Chinese and I’m an American of Chinese descent?” Barbara glared. “That’d be pretty damn racist of you, Mike, if you were.”
“What? Racist?” Mike spun in his chair and faced Barbara again, alarmed. “What do you mean? Dr. Xipan is our only geologist. I was wondering if you’ve seen her. She doesn’t have a comm yet, so I can’t call her. All working comms are for operators and command personnel per Commander Bloom.”
“You’re not going to fix the camera, are you?” Barbara asked. Mike grinned then slowly spun back to study the seismic readings. “Oh my fucking God…”
Barbara stormed out of the building, slamming the door behind her. The other techs watched her go then looked at Mike who was oblivious to the drama and focused solely on the readings.
“This can’t be good, dudes,” Mike said. “Someone go find Dr. Xipan.”
No one moved. Mike didn’t notice.
***
The last of the drones spiraled their way to destruction, leaving swirling smoke in the air and more flaming wreckage on the ground. Lewis stared with semi-disgust and disinterest as two of her team put out the flames. She tapped at her ear and was not surprised to find that the comms were down. Until they backtracked to the closest grounded comms relay, they’d be cut off from Flipside BOP.
“Lewis?” Carter asked. “Go on or go back?”
The rest of the team—Operators Transk, Nochez, and Wellstone—finished making sure the drones weren’t going to set the savannah on fire then regarded Lewis as well.
“Can’t see any reason to keep moving forward,” Lewis said just as the ground shook violently and she was thrown off her feet and onto her ass.
Transk and Nochez fell to their knees, but Wellstone and Carter managed to stay upright by spreading their feet wide and lowering their centers of gravity.
Lewis got back to her feet and frowned at the others. “That was a bigger quake than usual.”
The ground shook again, but Lewis stayed upright and waited out the quake before turning to look back the way they came.
“I’d feel better if we were in the speed roller and on our way back to the BOP,” she said just before a third quake hit them.
The third quake was brutally violent and no one was left standing. It raged for a full five minutes before dwindling to considerably milder aftershocks coming every five seconds. No one tried to stand as the aftershocks caused the grasses to bend and sway as if a large wind was blowing when there was no wind to speak of.
“What’s that?” Transk, a large man with a heavy brow and torso built like a tank asked. He was part of the Scandinavian contingent and looked the part. “You see that?”
“Where am I looking?” Lewis asked.
“On our eight,” Transk replied and got to his knees. He put his rifle to his shoulder so he could zoom in with the scope. “About three clicks out. A shimmer.”
“Not seeing it,” Carter said, his rifle to his shoulder and eye to his scope too. “Three clicks out?”
“On our eight, Carter,” Nochez said, her attention fully locked onto what Transk had spotted. “Turn twenty degrees.”
Carter did and gasped. “Is that a bubble?”
“What’s that?” Wellstone asked and scanned the horizon with his rifle. “A bubble? Don’t mess with me, mate. I been praying for a bubble since we got trapped in this Hell of a past.”
Wellstone gasped.
“Oh…”
“Oh, is right,” Lewis said. “That’s a bubble, alright, but it ain’t our bubble. What’s going on inside there?”
“That’d be fire,” Nochez said. “A lot of fire.”
“Maybe we should have a closer look,” Transk said and stood. He waited for a quake to knock him on his ass, but smiled at the others when one didn’t come. “Might be fire, but could also be a way back home.”
“You gonna walk through flames to get back to Sweden, mate?” Wellstone asked. “I know you come from vikings, but you ain’t indestructible.”
“I do not know what my heritage has to do with being indestructible,” Transk said.
“Lewis?” Carter asked as everyone got to their feet. “What’s the call?”
The ground shook, but calmed itself before anyone lost their footing.
Lewis’ eyes were locked onto the far-off shimmer in the air that was barely visible without the use of her scope. But it was visible. She narrowed her eyes and tapped at her ear. Still no comms. She knew that would be the result, but thought it worth a try, just in case.
“Let’s have a look,” Lewis said finally. “We were going to hike five clicks, so three shouldn’t be an issue. Michael knows our current position, and where we were headed, so finding us shouldn’t be an issue if we run into problems.”
“You expecting us to run into problems?” Wellstone asked.
Lewis blinked. Carter shrugged.
“Right. Flipside. Always with the problems,” Carter said.
“Let’s have a look,” Lewis said and walked toward the shimmer.
The other operators fell in step and carefully made their way through the grasses, mindful of any new crevices and sinkholes formed from the quakes.
***
Trevon Cash sat with his back against the heavy-duty metal fence, arms crossed over his chest, scowl on his face, and glared at the Ankylosaurus that refused to stand up as he’d been ordered to.
“I can lean here all day, E,” Cash said. “All fucking day.”
The Ankylosaurus barely gave Cash a second look before wriggling his multi-ton mass deeper into the dirt, going all in with his refusal to cooperate.
Elvis’s body was a wide, flattened dome made up of multiple armored plates topped by knobby, bony protrusions. The dome protected the entirety of Elvis’s back, ending where the long, powerful tail began. At the end of that tail was a mace-like ball that could crack steel in half if Elvis got up a full head of steam and felt particularly destructive.
Four stocky legs, as big and thick as an elephant’s, held up the huge armored body. Two horns protruded from the back of the wide, thick skull, with another set of two horns pointing
downward from the first. Cash had witnessed those horns hook the legs of predators and flip the attackers onto their ass with the shake of a head.
But the only head shaking at that moment was from Cash as he struggled to keep his temper intact and not kick the obstinate dino. And even with Elvis’s size and armor, a kick from Cash would have been irritating for the uncooperative beast.
Early forties, biracial with bright blue eyes, and salt and pepper hair shorn tight, Cash looked like he meant business. Being six foot five, two hundred and fifty pounds, and all of that size lean muscle, helped with the image. Straight from school to the military then as an operator for Topside Industries, the company his father owned and his half-sister ran, Cash knew how to take care of himself.
The only issue was that his knees were mush. That was the only way to describe them. Seventeen surgeries later and the best the knees were good for was keeping his calves attached to his thighs. Stability of any kind was a pipe dream. Allergic to cybernetic replacements, Cash was forced to support his knees with a pair of exo-braces.
Exo-braces that continually glitched now that he, his friends, and personnel from Topside Industries, as well as the international coalition that was forced to come together when the time bubbles collapsed, were stuck hundreds of millions of years back in time in a setting that was not compatible with modern technology.
Cash decided to risk the exo-brace glitches, and the irritation of the large dino, and walked over to Elvis, drew his right leg back, and was about to give a hard, swift kick to the Ankylosaurus’ backside.
“He’s been in a mood,” Tyrel Thompson said from the fence. “Kick him and he’ll be in an even worse mood.”
Cash slowly lowered his leg and turned to face his father.
Lean, early seventies, deep brown skin with blazingly intelligent eyes, Thompson was dressed in his usual khakis and short-sleeved, button-down shirt. But the clothes were looking a little worse for wear despite being impeccably clean. Eight months in Flipside without proper resources and equipment meant that having clean clothes was a do-it-yourself affair. And despite being the primary stockholder in Topside Industries, no one was volunteering to do the old man’s laundry.
