The Vassal World (The First Exoplanet Book 2)

by T. J. Sedgwick

“That is correct, General Hadley. I will brief the PM and the Secretary on the situation in country and around the World and Solar system. We may ask for advice given that you've dealt with these Alien hordes before,” said Dickson in his received, upper-class English.

  “Understood, sir,” replied Hadley.

  “Good. Then we shall begin…” started Dickson as he went into his situation update. He covered how every single military facility in the UK had been hit, with the same happening all over the World. Not just in WGA countries, but everywhere. The loss of service personnel lives had been huge as a proportion of the now smaller, partly robotised military. Only a few dozen fighter drones had escaped the Alien bombardment and not a single surface Navy ship.

  “So there is one highlight amongst the depressing forest of lowlights: the Submarine Service. Those vessels that were submerged at the time seemed to have escaped attack. Since they’re all nuclear powered, those that have survived have all stayed submerged. Four survived, including the old Astute-class sub, HMS Ajax. Should be a museum piece really, but she’s still used for training. Then there are the three ballistic missile subs – all Wellington-class – HMS Wellington, HMS Waterloo, and HMS Dover,” reported the rubicund, grey-haired General Dickson.

  “So with the Space Force gone, the Air Force, surface Navy and military bases all gone, what do we have to hit back at the Aliens with? Anything at all?” asked the frustrated-sounding Defence Secretary, Nick Howard. The grey-haired, grey-faced, bespectacled technocrat shook his head in dismay, unused to having an empty metaphorical toolkit.

  “Realistically nothing, sir. WGA, the Russians, the Chinese, and at least six other nations tried hitting the Alien ships using re-targeted ICBMs…they were just swatted out of the sky by those blasted particle beams. All Earth-based lasers that we know of have been destroyed or disabled. And, as you know, we’re down to the FTL gate that is in this bunker – that’s your lot – in the UK, at least. And remember: we only have one crew capsule to send through the thing at the moment. We’re reserving it for when we really need it and have a firm plan. The Americans have a few more FTL gates that are operational,” said Dickson.

  “What about the Wellington-class subs? Can’t we try again with their ICBMs?” asked Howard, clutching at straws.

  “I’m afraid that would just be a waste of missiles with all due respect, sir. Eventually these Aliens are going to try to get boots on the ground, or whatever those damned beasts wear on their feet. When they do, that would be the time to hit them with all we have. Or to at least have the threat of force. At the moment though, we’re all-but powerless to hit back at them.”

  Howard persisted. “So what about Plan Shotgun? Wasn't that a fall-back plan you and the other WGA Generals had developed?” Plan Shotgun would use some of the last remaining FTL gates to send hundreds of nuclear warheads to the coordinates of the surviving Alien ships. The idea of Shotgun was to clear the Solar system of Alien vessels and rebuild the Space Force.

  Dickson shook his head, dismissing the notion. “Sir, Plan Shotgun has so many challenges it’s pretty much unusable as things stand at the moment. Firstly, only some of the warheads necessary were ever transported to Groom Lake AFB where the FTL gates are located underground. So it’s more like dozens rather than hundreds of warheads. Secondly, the accuracy issues with the FTL tech mean we’d have to carpet bomb large volumes of space to have any chance of destroying their fleet. Although, we should note that the Americans are working on accuracy improvements as a top priority. The Aliens would probably just jump in more destroyers from Avendano anyway once we’d expended all of our nukes. Then there’s the small matter of the asteroid. We’ll not only need to clear the enemy ships from space, but we’ll also need to divert the asteroid. At the moment, and until we can think of a way of doing that, we actually need them if Earth is to be spared. I’m afraid they have us by the balls, sir.”

  “Thank you, General,” said Howard. The exhausted Secretary of Defence looked down and asked nothing more.

  General Dickson continued. “So at the moment, for the first time in my career we don't actually have a plan. I know that doesn't sound good, but the pivotal moves are going to come from the American delegation on Exelon. That’s assuming the prospective allies there turn out to be what they profess to be. My personal view is that we have to take the fight to Gaia somehow, whilst simultaneously diverting the asteroid and keeping the Solar system Alien-free. It’s a very tall order indeed I’m afraid.”

  PM Carlton replied. “I agree and yes, we’ve not yet had an update from our US counterparts, but expect one within days. They have with them an EQP transceiver. So fingers crossed that they and our prospective alien allies on Exelon can pull something off. We’re not going to use our only crew capsule and the FTL gate to go there just yet. As the General said, we’ll use it when we have a firm plan as it’s a one-shot deal.” He sounded far more upbeat than either the General or the Defence Secretary. His naturally positive aura had been of benefit throughout the consummate politician’s corporate and political career. Sometimes he found Secretary Howard overly defeatist, even in light of the efficient way the technocrat ran his portfolio. During the present situation though he would forgive him, and perhaps have a word in his ear later.

  “This leads me on to the UN-proposed summit. We’ll discuss it in full cabinet this afternoon, but comments are welcome, chaps. The SG has proposed that each country with a significant proportion of their land area outside of the Tropics pledge to take some of the displaced tropical citizens. Our current position on this is that our capacity is strictly limited given the already-crowded state of these islands. But let’s first see what the expectations are through the back-channels. The most obvious and, I think, the best proposal is for countries like Australia, Russia and Canada to take the lion’s share,” said Carlton. “Still, I would say that, wouldn’t I?” he continued.

  “Sir, may I ask a question?” said Chip tentatively.

  “Of course Sergeant, please go ahead.”

  “Sir, what’s in it for them? I mean, why would they want to?”

  “Well,” laughed PM Carlton, “therein lies the problem, Sergeant! Expect some serious divisions, which, I suppose, is exactly what the Aliens want.”

  They continued the session for another half an hour before they left the meeting. As Chip walked away from underground conference room with Hadley and Motor, he considered the PM, now without his official residence at Number Ten Downing Street to sleep in tonight. The bunker would be home for the time being.

  “I’ll have to call Zara and tell her: technically, we’re flat-sharing with the PM!” he joked.

  Chapter Four

  April 10, 2063: Outcast Underground Base, Exelon

  Adai, leader of the Outcast diaspora, led them through the gloomy tunnel that had been bored through the red rock of Exelon. The armour-clad guards had now left their superior alone, displaying the first indication of trust from the alien hosts. The humans had been given two things before leaving their quarters. The first was a simple facemask. It fit none of them very well and had to be adjusted quite tightly with a small dial at the back, to form any kind of seal. They walked through the tunnel with this hanging from around their necks since there was no need for it in the oxygen-rich humidity of the tunnel’s air. The second thing was a mouthpiece connected with a flexible tube to a small box, which they wore like a mini backpack. Although it was not necessary to breathe through the mouthpiece during short periods outside of the human quarters, it was advisable. It took exposure time to happen, but when it did, the effects of oxygen toxicity, due to the higher concentration of the gas, were serious.

  Adai walked slowly and precariously with the six human guests bunched up close behind. They passed several tunnel branches to the right and left until Adai stopped. In front of him was a circular pool of water. They gathered around the hole, which reminded Powell of the ice-holes cut by the Inuit to fish through. He looked down into the hole and c
ould see crystal clear water extending an indeterminable distance below. The source of illumination was not clear, but whatever it was gave Powell and the others a view of dozens of Outcasts powering across the vignette at an impressive clip. Like penguins or sea lions, while ungainly on land, these mermen were accomplished swimmers.

  “This is where we live,” said Adai, gazing into the world beneath their feet, his translator producing the synthesized English they heard. “Above the water is where we work to take the fight to the enemy. But our spiritual home is in and around the water.”

  Sorensen bent down to touch the water. “Wow, very nice. Feels like bath-water,” he smiled.

  “I presume that you built this and it wasn’t already here,” said Christina, ever the scientist.

  Adai paused a few seconds looking at her as he awaited the translation into Outcast-language. “There are vast natural caves in this part of Exelon, which is why we chose here for our base. The water was already there locked beneath the surface, warmed by the volcanism that lives inside the core of this moon. We needed to treat the water to remove harmful minerals and we need to cool it enough to swim in it.”

  “Can we have a look for ourselves?” smiled an enchanted Sorensen, the former Navy SEAL naturally the most sanguine of the six when it came to water.

  “Yes, but only if you would like to.”

  “Err, one more question if you don’t mind...Do we know if there are any risks of catching some deadly alien disease? I saw what happened in War of the Worlds when the aliens died of a virus or something and Earth was saved. Couldn’t the same happen to us?” asked Wilke, in no way acquainted with the science of biology.

  The other four looked to senior scientist, Christina, taking Wilke’s question and the worried tone in which he asked it seriously. Powell wondered why he or anyone else hadn’t brought this up so far. It must be looked at by someone at some point. She smiled, trying hard not to laugh. She couldn’t blame him as he was a Secret Service guy, not a scientist, but the general level of ignorance of the scientific basics did sometimes worry her. Unless one believed in some kind of relatively recent panspermia theory, the trees of life on Earth and this alien system were completely unrelated. “You will be safe from infections as our biology is very different. Pathogens that affect us have evolved to affect us and I have no doubt that their diseases will be uninterested in our bodies. That’s not to say that in the much longer term they couldn’t develop. But for now, we’ll be quite safe from germs here.”

  “Good. So, are we all in?” asked Powell, looking at his five companions.

  All were intrigued enough to overcome any fears they may have harboured. With facemasks donned and rebreathers set to water-mode, they slipped into the underwater kingdom before them.

  It was plain to see that the cave system was natural. It branched to the left and to the right with sheer rock walls in front and behind. Even in the illuminated, clear water, the extent to which the seemingly straight right branch of the cave went was impossible to see. The left-hand leg turned around a gentle curve. There were artificially bored entrances at regular intervals on all of the cave’s walls – caves within a cave. Adai glided effortlessly forward towards one of them. It was in front of them, twenty metres below the waterline and fifty metres laterally from the surface hole they’d entered through.

  Powell considered himself a good swimmer and a fit man considering he was in his fifties. Nevertheless, he struggled to keep up with Adai, despite the Outcast pausing every few metres in consideration of his land-lubbing human guests. Powell looked over to Sorensen, twenty years his junior and an expert diver. Even he couldn’t keep up. The surface area brought to bear by the amphibious Adai was increased substantially, not only by his large webbed hands and feet, but also by the way his legs were formed. The flaps of skin that seemed so unsightly and encumbering on land had somehow locked together between his legs to form a highly effective tail fin. His entire body rolled like a sine wave, powering him forward. No trail of air bubbles followed his path as he was holding his breath. Powell wondered just how long Adai could do that for. He considered the same question about his rebreather. Yet again, it was that all-important concept of trust that was at play – this time in the technology providing his most basic of needs.

  As he started to get used to his new surroundings, Powell noticed that they weren’t the only things alive down there. Little green eel-like fish swam in shoals and eight-legged crab-like creatures clung to the cave walls, occasionally scaling downwards to scurry into a crevasse. Far off to the right was a giant floating object. It was like a blue-tinged translucent ball with no discernible features except some sort of aperture pulsing open and closed at the south pole of its body. He guessed this must be its mouth, although it was hard to be sure. Christina had previously explained to him how eyes had independently evolved between fifty and a hundred times on Earth’s tree of life. This ran through his mind as he witnessed the creatures before his own eyes. He concluded that, even on an alien tree of life, some similar solutions to a given set of environmental pressures might have arisen. One thing was for sure: if they ever survived the Korgax onslaught, Earth’s exobiologists would be busy for decades to come. As they neared the entrance to whatever was beyond, a group of three Outcasts swam up to track alongside the humans. The Outcast closest to Defence Secretary Romero startled him, as he turned to be confronted by the shark-like black eyes and the strange alien form that suddenly filled his view. Powell smiled: they were probably just curious, and after a brief look plus some subtle hand motions from Adai, they retreated and carried on their previous path. Adai waited at the hole-in-the-cave-wall until the stragglers had caught up. He waggled his fin then went inside. Powell guessed it meant ‘follow me’. He started to appreciate that, under the water, the Outcasts must have developed a form of sign language in absence of being able to speak.

  Powell followed directly behind Adai, as the entrance took an upward dogleg towards another round water hole and the air-filled room above it. Adai hauled himself out, made easier for him by the reduced gravity compared with the 12 m/s2 on Gaia. He bent down and offered his hand to President Powell, who used it as assistance, climbing out just as his colleagues arrived around the hole at his feet. His clothes were sodden and it was hot and humid, making it abundantly clear why the Outcasts wore little apparel. He stay dressed for the time being, but felt it was only a matter of time before they stripped down to their underwear. Even the fairly liberal-minded Powell didn't think it would be fitting to be head of humanity’s first nudist government. He grinned at the humorous images it conjured up.

  The other humans joined him above the water, after the aging McIver needed Wilke and Sorensen’s help to lift his substantial bulk from the water. The cave-like single room in which they stood was from the same red rock as everywhere else and, like their quarters, was sparse by modern human standards. There were several rock-hewn tables around the edges of the rough hemisphere of the space. A single large orb provided light, its glow diffuse and bluish-white. Powell found the colour cold and utilitarian along with the space itself. A mattress of the same sort provided in their quarters sat in the near left corner. Next to it was something low and square and covered by a thin shroud of cloth. Opposite the entrance was a light-coloured rug. Sitting on the rug, cross-legged was, to Powell’s eyes at least, an Outcast identical to Adai. He stared at Adai with his dead-looking black eyes and said nothing. Occasionally he blinked, but was still as a statue, his moist dapple-spotted skin glistening in the reflection of the overhead light.

  Adai held his, clearly waterproof, translator and gurgled some of his alien tongue. “Stephen and other humans, this is General Rafai, one of our most senior officers. This is his home. He will welcome you.”

  Rafai arose awkwardly, approached the human group and stopped a short distance away. Adai passed him the translator machine and he spoke, looking at each of them in turn, starting with Powell.

  “I am General Rafai.
I welcome you Stephen Powell, Diego Romero, Fred McIver, Christina Frewer, Jake Sorensen, and Bill Wilke.”

  Several of the group looked at each other surprised that he knew their names. They’d only told Adai a short time ago and, unless they had been spied on or the guards had come here specifically to tell Rafai, there seemed no way.

  “How did you know our names?” asked Christina, her scientific repertoire genuinely devoid of an explanation.

  “I know your names because Leader Adai told me,” he said via the translator. He did not say how.

  “I’m sorry...maybe I missed that. When did he tell you? We only introduced ourselves upstairs and we’ve been with him the whole time since.” she replied.

  “He told me a moment ago. Not with words, but by his thoughts.”

  “How are you able to do that?”

  “We can explain in some more detail later, when we have defeated the Korgax. But in short, it uses a magnetic field that all Outcasts can generate and receive in the basal part of the brain. It is short-range and for communicating underwater. It evolved before our species was amphibious, when we spent all of our time in water. We supplement it with some sign and body language.”

  Christina Frewer, Deputy Chief Scientist at the now-destroyed WGA Research Centre shook her head in wonderment. Although she did not specialise in exobiology, one Professor Ken Dawkins, who did, would desperately love to study this ability should he ever get the chance. She herself had a list of questions as long as her arm, but they’d have to wait. General Rafai was right, they needed to get back on task and focus on the perilous Korgax threat. It was difficult not to be curious though, and the others had their questions too.