Planet of Gods: Book 1 of Enigma

By Bill Bryson

3,500 A.D.--LET THE GAME BEGIN . . .

Professor Peter Blackwood, a former Space Marine turned scientist, looks forward to retirement on a paradise resort planet.

A powerful alien intelligence in the form of a vast red energy cloud cuts Blackwood's plans short, snatching him from the hyperspace highway, and catapulting him light years away to a remote planet in an unexplored region of space.

With his ship damaged and unable to escape, Blackwood encounters a distant human colony on planet Enigma, a world controlled by the red cloud and populated by mortals and powerful overlords--immortal human beings with godlike powers.

When Blackwood's desire to escape is replaced by his intense scientific curiosity, he becomes a player in a dangerous socio-political game designed by the red cloud. It's a game Blackwood cannot afford to lose--for on his shoulders rests the destiny of millions of people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Foremost Press
• Release date: Feb 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781936154746

Bill Bryson

Bill Bryson's bestselling books include One Summer, A Short History of Nearly Everything, At Home, A Walk in the Woods, Neither Here nor There, Made in America, and The Mother Tongue. He lives in England with his wife.

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Book One of Enigma

David Crane

Published by Foremost Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 David Crane

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CHAPTER 1

It came out of nowhere.

The ship’s sensors should have been able to spot it hundreds of miles in advance, but this time they didn’t. I was relaxing in the pilot seat, nursing my exotic fruit drink, listening to pleasant music, and dreaming of the exotic forests and legendary beaches of Planet Caledonia. After thirty years of working in space, I decided to retire there. I was a seasoned space explorer and a former officer of the Confederation space forces. I’d fought many battles, studied many new planets, and met some interesting people during my travels as a planetary prospector and a teacher. I survived asteroid storms, energy leaks, and confrontations that killed many others. I didn’t scare easily. I’d seen people die horribly in combat. I saw stars die. I had nerves of steel forged in a desire to survive and prevail. I thought I’d seen it all.

But what I saw on the screens of the main pilot console made me drop my drink and stare. The red monstrosity appeared before my vessel like some kind of grotesque bird from hell. The sight that unfolded before my eyes froze me into a stupor. The massive, red energy cloud pulsed before me like an enormous living heart. I could not effectively judge its dimensions, but it was colossal, bigger than any Confederation battleship, larger than any asteroid. The moment it blundered into my hyperspace highway lane, the ship’s gravity wings were forced to shut down to prevent the hull from being torn apart by conflicting gravitational forces.

The red cloud held me in its invisible grasp and refused to let go. Primal terror gripped my heart with iron fingers. The hair bristled on the back of my neck, and every hair on my body crackled from the buildup of static electricity. I just sat and stared at the phenomenon until my survival instinct kicked in. I tried to regain control of the ship, but to no avail. All instruments worked fine, but when I tried manual override, I received an electric shock of such force that it threw me out of the chair and into the padded wall.

I swore mightily and struggled to my feet, feeling my muscles trembling from the shock effect. The ship weighed ten thousand standard tons, but it shuddered and shook like a small boat on stormy seas as the red energy fields coalesced and solidified. I could no longer see the stars. Behind the thick glass ports there was only a sea of red. No, this can’t be happening, I said aloud. What the hell is this thing? Where did it come from?

My desperate questions went unanswered. The red anomaly could have been a natural space phenomenon, but there was nothing natural about its behavior. Its massive, smooth red walls were all around me, reflecting my tiny vessel in thousands of mirrors. Crimson tentacles of pulsating energy flowed gracefully around the ship, flowing around the hull in an almost sensual caress. I shut my eyes and opened them again, then pinched myself very hard to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. My brief pain was real, and the cloud remained. This was not a dream.

I was looking at alien intelligence unlike anything I had ever seen in my life. Until today, the prospect of encountering intelligent life in the known universe held far less probability than winning the Take Ten Interstellar Lotto jackpot. The human race wanted to meet intelligent alien life, and at the same time, deeply feared the consequences of such an event. Logic dictated there was intelligent life in the universe, and that it was as diverse as the species from planet Earth, the birthplace of mankind. There was little doubt that alien life would be different from ours, due to its unique evolutionary patterns. This time, I witnessed the ultimate proof, but I was in no mood to celebrate. I was scared because, at that moment, I was completely at the alien’s mercy.

The ship’s computers went dark and then flickered to life again. I tried to regain manual control, but received another electric shock for my efforts. I gritted my teeth and watched as computers were spurred to expose every scrap of data.

The red cloud was accessing technical information, as well as my private files. I was forced to watch as it greedily learned everything about me and my ship, then effectively shut down every system, except for a single data screen and life support. I felt a familiar sense of vertigo as the ship rotated around its own axis. The artificial gravity switched off, and I felt my body rise off the floor, floating weightless and helpless.

Goddamn you! I shouted. What the hell do you want with me?

In response, the lights behind the view ports flickered almost playfully, and the ship’s computer came on line. Prepare for hyperspace jump, it announced in a smooth female voice.

You have got to be kidding me, I said. Computer, restore manual control. Authorization Omega One, execute.

Unable to comply, the override command is not valid.

Computer, I barked, emergency override, activate anti-meteor cannons.

Unable to comply, the override command is not valid.

I clenched my fists at my sides and suddenly my stomach dropped. I watched the speed indicator on the console change from conventional to hyper-light propulsion mode. The green light switched to orange, and against all logic and reason the ship plunged into hyperspace. No, I corrected myself, the cloud had plunged into hyperspace, with my ship inside it. I was going somewhere, but I had absolutely no idea where that might be. The single active monitor showed me only darkness, devoid of any light. Hyperspace jumps tended to bend time and space in such a way that it was impossible to see any source of visible light for the duration of the voyage. All I could do now was wait and pray.

My prayers were soon answered. I wasn’t molested or harmed by the cloud in any way, but I was still its prisoner. The gravity suddenly returned and I fell painfully on my butt, thanking the heavens that I didn’t break anything. The red walls around the ship began to part like the petals of an immense flower, and once again I was able to see the familiar velvety blackness of space studded with glittering stars. Light abruptly flooded into the cabin, and the forward filters darkened to protect my eyes. The red energy fields receded further, and the crimson shroud surrounding my ship was immediately replaced by an immense field of blue and green. An orb appeared above the ceiling windows, and my eyes opened wide. I was looking at the planet that spread before me in all its alien glory. It was magnificent, and under different circumstances, it would’ve made me smile with joy of the discovery.

Warning, the computer announced without emotion. The ship has been caught inside the planet’s gravity well. Secure all stations and prepare for atmospheric reentry.

On the screens and behind the armored view ports, the red cloud finally loosened its invisible grasp on my vessel and moved away, morphing into a huge disk that smoothly sailed away from the planet and toward higher orbit. My hands itched to give it a taste from my anti-meteor cannons. The electromagnetic guns, firing solid slugs at supersonic speeds, were capable of immense destruction. But after what the cloud did to me, I realized it would be no contest. In direct confrontation, it would squash me like a bug. I should feel very lucky it let me go.

The unknown planet spread before me like an enormous carpet. By the time I plopped into my seat, secured my harness and tried to escape, the ship began to enter the planet’s upper atmosphere. The manual controls were restored, but then I realized to my anguish that the main engines were off-line and no amount of swearing and pushing on the buttons would bring them back to life. Orange flames enveloped the ship, and the gravity relentlessly pushed my body into the pilot’s chair. I was falling like a meteor and prayed that the electromagnetic shields and the lower carbonized hull metal would save me from a fiery death.

Below, the unknown world waited. I gritted my teeth and prayed like I’d never prayed before in my life. Please, God, let me survive the landing. Please, God, save me and I shall sin no more . . .

CHAPTER 2

In the Space Marines, we called the planetary drop capsule the Hell Elevator. They never fed you solid food before the mission, just water and energy pills. This way, there was less chance of you and your buddies puking on each other. I personally never got used to drops, but there were daredevils who actually enjoyed them. The control stick felt sluggish in my hands, and until I entered the lower atmosphere, there was nothing to do but ride it out. I glanced at the screens and readouts. This planet had a thick atmosphere, and the orange flames around my ship continued to roar outside the windows.

After two minutes of fiery descent, the ship began to shake and shudder as if it were a cart rushing down an ancient cobblestone road. I had entered the range of sonic speeds, and as if by magic, the fire around my ship disappeared, and was replaced by frigid streams of howling wind. With the ship’s gravity wings secure, I deployed the ramjet engine and the shaking stopped, replaced by a steady whine. Twice I plunged through the thick cloud cover, and twice I broke into the clear sky and under the rays of the planet’s sun.

Altitude one hundred thousand feet, the computer reported. All systems nominal, outside temperature is minus seventy degrees Celsius.

Atmospheric analysis, I commanded.

Scanning, the computer replied. Atmospheric content is similar to standard Earth-type planet. Oxygen levels are at thirty percent with traces of nitrogen and various neutral gases.

Check the gravity and magnetic fields.

There was a brief pause, then the computer responded, Magnetic field fluctuations are in balance with normal planetary rotation, gravity is 1.5g.

I rolled my eyes. I weighed two hundred standard pounds. On the surface I would be carrying an additional fifty pounds of my own weight. The thought brought me back briefly to my adventurous days in the military, when I, along with hundreds of grunts, endured long marches in every possible type of terrain carrying seventy pounds of weapons, food, and survival gear. Not only I was abducted by an unknown alien intelligence, I was also being thrown onto a planet where I would be huffing and puffing until my muscles and bones got used to their increased weight.

But I had little time to ponder over what condition my body would be in after I landed. I had to land somewhere. If this planet was colonized, I would contact the local authorities, rest for a day or two at the local hotel, repair my ship, tell the people in charge about the red cloud, and be on my way to Caledonia. I wondered where to land. There were high and flat plateaus, vast green fields, and thick green forests, through which I could occasionally detect the flow of a freshwater river. I could see no sign of human habitation. Still I had to try and raise them on the radio.

I flipped the transmitter switch to broadcast on all frequencies and cleared my throat.

This is private ship Epsilon calling on all channels. I need assistance. Can anyone hear me? Please respond.

I repeated the message five more times and each time I received static in reply. Great, I thought bitterly. If this planet hasn’t been discovered, then no one is going to hear me. Then, another thought struck me, and I smiled grimly despite my predicament. If this planet is empty but can support human life, I could lay claim to its discovery under the rules of the Colonial Planetary Survey Act. As a planetary prospector, I collected fat bonuses from several companies for several unclaimed worlds. I was already reasonably wealthy, but I could be even richer . . .

Ramjet engine is overheating, the computer reported.

Switch to turbofans.

Turbofans are not responding.

Diagnose the problem.

Detecting electrical failure in the turbofan engine ignition system, recommend deploying glider wings to slow down the ship’s velocity to avoid the crash.

Shit, I said. Do it.

I heard the whirring of hidden mechanisms, and the ship’s glider wings deployed with a snap. The ship leveled at thirty thousand feet, and the only sounds I could hear were the purring of the air-conditioning systems and the humming electrical noise of the ship’s navigational instruments. As the ship descended, I picked out what I thought as a perfect landing spot, a flat field near the forest. Just as I was about to make the necessary course correction, I heard a blip on the long-range scanner screen. Curious, I adjusted the instruments to follow the intruder. It was big and was approaching rapidly.

The ship’s computer could not identify the approaching aircraft type and as the unknown vessel entered visual range, I realized why. I was looking at something that resembled a giant manta ray measuring no less than twenty feet from wingtip to wingtip. I could detect no engine nacelles and no canopy for the pilot. The gray manta made a wide circle around me, then another tighter circle and then, without warning, it attacked.

The creature slammed into the ship and bounced back in fury. It apparently realized its prey wasn’t organic and was much tougher than the predator. I banked to the right and then to the left, taking evasive action. With engines inoperative, I could not outrun the creature, but I didn’t want to kill it unless there was no other choice. The intruder stayed with me, and when I tried to change course, it would easily match the ship’s velocity. The ship’s ramjet could not function at this altitude and the turbofans were inoperable.

More blips suddenly blossomed on my screens. I counted six of them, and they were approaching rapidly. I hoped against hope that they were human aircraft. No such luck. The gray mantas screamed at me from the sky. A stream of what looked like large black needles projected itself from their bodies and bounced off the thick forward armor glass leaving scratch marks and sprays of yellow fluid. Whatever the hell it was, I didn’t want to find out, but I had to get them off my back even if it meant taking one or two of them out.

Computer, I commanded, activate anti-meteor cannons.

A glowing targeting display appeared over the main navigation screen.

Guns are ready and loaded, the computer replied.

Automatic fire, I said.

The computer obeyed. But in its obedience it went beyond my expectation. Streams of ultra high-velocity slugs tore two of the creatures apart, and the computer proceeded with the methodical slaughter. Two more mantas went down before the predators realized they could not win; they turned and flew off. The guns fell silent, and the sky around me was clear again.

I wiped my sweaty forehead with a sleeve and grasped the flight stick, returning to the previous course. The computer could easily land the ship, but after the encounter with the red cloud, I decided to land using manual controls. The red cloud had no doubt hacked and possibly corrupted my systems. The only way to be sure was to land and do a thorough systems check. Maybe the damage was not serious, and I could make repairs on my own.

Altitude ten thousand feet, the computer reported.

Switching to manual control, I said. Deploy inertial dampers.

Dampers deployed. Airspeed is five hundred fifty miles per hour.

The land grew in my field of vision as I bled off the speed and watched the screens for any sign of intruders. I’d had enough for one day and looked forward to at least an hour of peace and quiet to get my head together and check the ship’s status. In gliding mode, the ship was a pleasure to fly, and I actually smiled when I saw the ground rushing toward me.

Airspeed is two hundred forty, altitude two thousand feet.

Thanks, Mother, I said to the computer. Deploy landing gear.

I heard a loud metallic click and then something snapped inside the ship.

What the hell was that? I demanded.

Landing gear is inoperable. Recommend dumping fuel to avoid explosion during landing.

What? Shit! I don’t believe this!

I grasped for the manual landing gear control and received a familiar electric shock. My fingers went numb, and I experienced an urge to smash the controls with my left hand. It would not do any good under the circumstances, and the console was designed to take punishment.

Dump the fuel, I said through gritted teeth.

Dumping the fuel and shutting down all nonessential systems except life support.

Execute, I said.

The ship bled off the fuel gliding toward the ground. Holding the flight control stick, I bit my lower lip and waited for the impact. The numbers were steadily counting down and when the ship’s belly finally contacted the ground, the ship shook and trembled as it rolled and tumbled, raising clouds of dust.

I mentally crossed myself and brushed the sweaty hair out of my eyes. I leaned back in my flight seat and waited until the dust around the ship settled, allowing me to look outside. I had landed at the edge of a forest, maybe two hundred feet from the thick tree line. The trees were large, thick-crowned, and brilliant emerald green. I initiated a passive radar sweep and sighed with relief. There was no one within a ten-mile radius.

I switched the computer off, unbuckled my harness, and stood up. The planet’s higher gravity almost dropped me back into my seat, but I forced myself to stand and grasp one of the hand holders for balance. One glance at the screens told me that hull integrity was intact, but there was some damage to the left wing, propulsion, and landing gear. The hyperspace reactor and gravity wings were secure. I inspected the ship for leaks, then checked my stowed gear. The mesh nets protected my cargo well. My small private library of one hundred precious collected books, my bags, memorabilia and souvenirs were safe and sound.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was very lucky. I survived the encounter with the red cloud that brought me here. I survived an aerial attack, by some nasty creatures whose species I had yet to identify, and I survived a landing without the landing gear.

After inspecting the ship in higher than normal gravity, I felt totally exhausted. My muscles ached and my bones protested but held. I wasn’t twenty anymore, but I was a tough son of a bitch. Long after I resigned my commission with the Space Marines and the planetary survey agency, and started teaching at the University of New California, I kept myself in shape out of habit. Good muscle tone kept you healthy, and the ladies loved it.

I wanted to sleep. I was safe inside the ship, and no predator could get inside unless it had teeth and claws that could cut through five inches of molecularly-altered titanium and beryllium alloy and another ten inches of thick, anti-meteor, self-healing smart gel. I crawled back into my flight seat and adjusted it for maximum comfort under the current conditions.

Behind the thick armor glass, I could see the rising sun and realized that I was about to close my eyes at dawn. To hell with it, I thought. My eyes gazed at the yellow splotches on the front armor glass, and I scowled in disgust. The damned flying mantas, I thought. Probably figured me as an easy snack for breakfast. No matter. I will sleep, then I’ll wake up and claim this planet as my own . . . I smiled at the thought, but my heavy eyelids closed, and I allowed myself to fall into the pleasant abyss of deep and dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER 3

I slept without dreams and woke up refreshed, part of my mind still believing that what happened to me was nothing more than a dream. But the dream was real, and the yellow splotch marks on the forward armor glass and the groan that escaped my lips as I tried to get up and stretch brought me back to reality with a snap. I had overslept and my head was spinning.

Cursing under my breath, I reactivated the ship’s computer and ordered it to brew me a cup of extra strong coffee. I peeled off my clothes and struggled into the shower. God, even the water felt heavy on my skin! But higher gravity or not, I took a decent hot shower, then cold shower, dried my body, and changed into a soft light jumpsuit.

Initiate full systems check, I said to the computer.

Affirmative, the machine replied.

I fixed myself a couple of thick cream buns, sat on my sleeping bunk and wolfed down the meal as the computer ran the diagnostic. Fortified with coffee and food, I returned to the pilot seat and scanned the data screens. My vessel had sustained some minor structural damage to its left glider wing and some medium damage to its carbon underbelly. The antigravity drive would still lift the ship, but I needed fuel for the engines and the turbofans required professional inspection. My signals went unanswered, but that didn’t mean no one was here. Someone must have heard my call, but they were too far away.

No matter, I told myself. You just crash-landed on an unknown world. Might as well go outside and take a look. Right, I wondered, what about the germs you might contact the moment you leave the ship? What about the predators like those damned flying mantas? The thought of mantas sent a shiver down my spine. I raised my eyes to the yellow splotches on the armor glass and recalled what looked like black needles shooting from the predators’ bodies. I tried not to think what one of those needles could do to an unprotected human body. In the end, my curiosity outweighed my fear, but not my sense of self-preservation.

My ship had three specially-designed EVA suits onboard, the light scout suit, my Marine armor suit minus its lethal gadgets, and a zero-gravity heavy repairman’s suit. The Marine suit had built-in joint actuators that gave the wearer increased strength. In essence, it was a tough, hard impact and bullet-resistant shell that saved my life on numerous occasions. In this type of suit, I’d survived a direct close-range, flame-thrower blast from a crazed insurgent. In another instance, a rock had fallen on my head, and if not for my suit helmet, I would have been dead.

I sweated profusely when I put on the suit, but the air-conditioning system quickly cooled me down. I picked up my suit helmet, put it on and heard the familiar hiss. A tiny green light appeared on my helmet’s inner display. Satisfied, I picked up several items from my explorer’s pack such as my Marine knife, a geological hammer, universal bio scanner, and a pair of high-powered binoculars. I checked my suit’s water bladder and thought about taking some food, but decided against it. I was only going to scout the immediate area, no more than a mile or two in diameter. The last item I picked from the explorer’s pack and strapped to my belt was a ten-round, high-caliber pistol with two spare magazines. I had no desire to be caught off guard. In the air, I was attacked by predators. If there are predators in the air, then there are sure to be predators on the ground. It was a planetary prospector’s axiom.

I entered the airlock chamber, then closed the double door and waited until the air was pumped out. Then I commanded the computer to open the outer door. Bright sunlight poured inside and my helmet faceplate darkened, shielding my eyes. A steel ramp extended from the hatch to the ground, which was only ten feet below the