Begin Anew

By Richard Brant

In the aftermath of war that casts humankind out of paradise, a force awakes deep underground possessing ability to redress the balance of power. The prize? Nothing less than planet Earth herself.

In a group of genetically engineered children we find our heroes. Cassiopeia and Caesar discover love not only for each other, but for the very forces hell bent on destroying themselves, and they along with them..

With the help of an Artificially Intelligent Computer, the Admiral's daughter, and an ancient member of the alien race they've been created to destroy, these unwitting weapons of war fight for the salvation of all.

Rising like a Phoenix from the ashes of a burned out world, it’s an all-out battle to Begin Anew.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Brant
• Release date: Jun 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311564955

Richard Brant

Richard Brant is a native born Canadian. His loves are his son, his animals, music, literature, his friends, pretty much anything to do with solitude and nature, and, of course, writing. To quote Mr. Brant: ‘I don’t want to be famous; I just want to be in Wikipedia.’For those who would like updates on the release of future work currently under development, or to correspond with the author directly, please feel free to visit his Facebook page: Richard Brant's Facebook page.Alternatively you can email him with questions, comments, etcetera, at: [e-mail] review my books. Ratings help authors become known, which in turn supports our ability to have a bit of protein in our diets every once in a while.

Book preview

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 Richard Brant

Brant Publishing Inc.

ISBN 978-1-365-85663-1

ISBN 978-1-365-85675-4

Edited by Pam Ormerod

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Due to sexually suggestive situations (non-explicit), the author recommends parental discretion be exercised.

Jacket design by Allecia Robb Copyright © 2016

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my son, Benjamin.

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

One

We’ll be there in seventy-two hours, Mr. President, the officer said, the five golden clusters on his epaulets betraying his rank as Admiral of the Sixth Fleet. We’re readying our ships for departure now.

You’ll do no such thing, the silver-haired man seated behind the antique desk said tiredly. His face had aged ten years in twenty-four hours, owing primarily to the strain of watching the unfurling of a history he wanted no part of, yet was powerless to prevent. The symbol of the Interstellar Planetary League was mounted proudly on the wall behind him -- twelve stars arranged in a circle with a perfect blue marble in the center. You have your orders. You’re to take the Sixth to the coordinates we’ve sent, and follow our instructions to the letter.

Quite frankly, sir, the man said, an expression of fierce defiance etched deeply into the creases of his battle worn face, you can go to hell. I’ve got six battle cruisers, twelve destroyers, seventeen frigates, and over two hundred fighters in my command. You can court martial me after if you really want to, but we'll not be denied the fight.

You may want to reconsider that course of action, Admiral. The President rose from his chair, straightened his tie, and pushed the button on his desk.

The vid screen changed to display the battle raging at that moment above Earth. There were no words to describe the carnage. Hundreds of IPL cruisers, destroyers, frigates, and fighters had been reduced to nothing more than a twenty-five-thousand-mile wide debris field of twisted and torn metal. The few ships still left in the fight were hanging on by the thinnest of threads. Half the plasma cannons on their foredecks were gone, giant craters the only indication they’d ever existed at all. Explosions rocked their superstructures, sending mile long plumes of plasma shooting deep into space. From gaping holes in their hulls the bodies of fleet soldiers were sucked into the lifeless vacuum like blood spewing from a severed artery.

Tens of thousands of wasp-like alien fighters darted in and out of the debris like children playing a game of catch me if you can. As they looked on, a group of a hundred alien craft converged into a formation that looked eerily like a prehistoric arrowhead in flight. Pivoting like a well-oiled machine, they changed direction towards a crippled battle cruiser. The scorched name across her bow identified her as the Orion. She was new, the pride of the Third Fleet, named after the recent addition of the twelfth colony to the IPL family. A second later the guns on the small fighters began firing, a blinding explosion of a hundred plasma bursts merging into a single unified beam. In the blink of an eye, the Orion was no more.

Considering what you’ve just seen, the President said, I hope you’ll reconsider. The image of the admiral of the Sixth Fleet again filled the screen, and he could see by the solemn expression on the old soldier’s face, his point had been painfully made.

The Admiral dug his fingers deeply into the armrests of his chair. The fraking bastards! Those were my friends.

Were, sir, the President shook his head, would be the operative word. Even if you could get here, by the time you did there’d be nothing left. It’s a stroke of luck the Sixth were in engaged in deep space maneuvers when this all went down. You’ve got over half a million men and women under your command. I shouldn't have to tell you this, but that’s half a million citizens who can live to see another day. And if you don't appreciate the significance of that, let me acquaint you with some very unpleasant facts. The twelve colonies are gone. That's twenty billion dead. And in a few hours, you'll be able to add another seven billion to that number when Earth falls. And I have no doubt I’ll be among that number.

But our families are there, the old soldier exclaimed. You can’t expect us to sit on our asses and do nothing.

I’m not saying you have to do nothing Admiral, the silver haired statesman gave him his best political smile, the one responsible for getting him elected into the office in the first place. It struck him as ironic this was probably the last chance he’d have to use it, and we’re not without hope. Follow your orders and the IPL will live to see another day. I know I can't force you, but I'm not proud. I'll beg if I have to.

You do understand, Mr. President, the officer said, the stern expression on his face masking the emotional storm that raged inside his mind, how much time...

Time is exactly what we need. the politician cut him off. Time is the only thing that will save humanity. Now, are you going to follow orders or not?

The Admiral stared out blankly from the screen while he digested the facts. While he did, the President sat quietly, his hands folded neatly across his lap, and waited. He knew the man behind the uniform. He had personally granted him his commission after all, and he knew he couldn't be pressured or intimidated. You didn't become a fleet Admiral by being a spineless wimp. He was confident once he weighed all the pertinent factors, he’d reach the right decision. Minutes passed with neither saying a word. At last the Admiral raised his head and spoke.

Lord help me, I’ll follow orders.

The President let out a sigh of relief. I wish I could say we’ll meet again, but I’d be lying if I did. May God bless you and keep you safe. I leave the fate of mankind in your capable hands.

The Admiral leaned forward until his face filled the screen. If you’ll permit me to say one last thing, sir. There will come day I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done, I give you my word. I won’t rest until I’ve wiped every last Saurian from existence.

I’m counting on it, Admiral. The President placed his finger on the button to terminate the transmission. I’m counting on it.

He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and slowly exhaled. It’s done. Is everything prepared?

Yes sir. The man nodded. For the duration of the conversation between the Admiral and the President, he had sat quietly in the corner, patiently waiting his turn.

And after... He struggled to find the least distasteful words to finish his sentence. Assuming it’s successful I mean?

It will be. And once it is, it will be taken care of, don’t worry. Everything will be exactly as it was.

Putting it simply, the President didn’t like the man. Oh, he was brilliant. The greatest geneticist of his generation, at least that’s what his advisers told him. Still, he gave him the creeps. Especially in light of his proposed solution to their dilemma. On top of that, he’d heard things. Dark, disturbing things. He'd recently been suspended from his post as Head of Genetic Research because of ethical concerns over the methods employed in his research. Normally the Present would have had nothing to do with an individual such as him, but current circumstances were anything but normal. The geneticist was the best, and they needed him. He was, sadly, their last hope.

You’re sure you don't want help, Professor Adams? He opened his eyes and looked at him intensely. It’s a great responsibility to ask of one person.

He shook his head firmly. No, Sir. It’s best I operate alone.

Operate... the President chuckled, all too aware of the morbidity of the joke. Now that’s funny. You’re sure it’ll work?

Positive. The room shook with the vibrations of distant explosions. The Saurian bombardment of the planet had begun. But I do need to get going, Sir. I don’t want to be on the surface when they arrive.

Go. The President gave a brusque wave of his hand. It almost seemed as if death itself would be preferable to spending another minute alone with him. On behalf of the IPL, I suppose I should wish you luck.

Luck has nothing to do with it, Mr. President. The geneticist opened the door to leave. He’d gotten what he wanted, the need for false humility had passed. I’m the Savior of the human race now.

Two

The young woman dropped to her knees, removed her glove, and took the spore in her hand. Rolling it firmly between her fingers, she watched as the frozen outer layer crumbled away to reveal the still steaming interior.

Ten minutes. She let the droppings fall and wiped her fingers clean on the snow. Maybe less.

She’d been tracking her prey for three days, driven on by the all too familiar ache of a stomach that hadn’t seen food for just as long. Few thoughts filled her mind other than the hunt, preferring instead to keep her focus on the Stag that had eluded her for far longer than her wounded pride wanted to admit. She’d never tracked an animal for this long. Typically the hunt was a day, sometimes two, but she’d never been out for three days before. A sign of the times she supposed. The winters were becoming colder and more and more animals were migrating south during the cruelest season. Mother said without the billions of humans who once resided on it, the planet was slowly reverting to its natural cycle of ice ages. The tracks were fresh, not yet filled by the dry powder that swirled like dust across the windswept plains.

He's heading for the ravine, Cassie thought excitedly, a burst of adrenaline surging through her tired body. If I can keep my scent hidden, I've got him.

She picked up her pace and broke into a steady jog, tightening the straps of the bag on her back as she went. Glancing down at regular intervals, she checked to make sure she was still following the tracks of the Stag. Unlike her, his weight was a disadvantage, and his cloven hooves regularly punched through the icy crust. He was heading to a narrow canyon in hopes of finding summer grasses safely preserved beneath the cover of snow.

She kept her eyes on the horizon as she went. It was midday, the rays of the sun shone weakly in the sky above, offering little warmth for her cold body. It was twenty below, and her environmental suit was malfunctioning. Worse, based on the grey clouds in the distance, there was a storm on its way. Less than four hours if she knew her weather, which, of course, she did. You didn't last long out here if you couldn't read the sky. Her prey was close, but she knew full well there were many things that could go wrong and steal him from her. Her one chance of success was to get ahead of him, stay downwind, and position herself on top of the canyon walls from which she could initiate the attack.

Come on you bastard, she swore, the rapid expulsion of humid air from her lungs leaving sparkling clouds of vapor trailing behind her as she ran. It's me or you. Don't you dare do a runner on me! She left the open plains and weaved her way between the giant pines of the forest, the moccasin style footwear on her feet caressing the surface of the snow with barely a whisper as she went.

If it had been up to her, she wouldn't even have been out here. The problem was it wasn't up to her. Her brothers and sisters were already home, having finished their hunts and now safe and warm back in their barracks. While Cassie didn’t give a rat’s ass for the hunt herself, Father did. And what Father wanted -- Father got. The hunt, as had been drummed into her since she first ventured out, taught them to expect the unexpected. It reinforced endurance, encouraged creative problem solving, toughened their bodies and minds, and forced them to confront their fears head on. It was an honorable pitting of their formidable abilities against those of their prey, in a battle from which only one would emerge victorious. And, in the world they inhabited at least, honor was everything.

The stiff muscles in her thighs stretched and loosened as she ran, and she increased the length of her stride until she was running full out in a bid to reach the ravine before the Stag. Looking down to make sure she was still following his tracks, she suddenly saw something that sent a colder shiver through her than the harshest winter wind ever could.

I can't catch a break, the young woman groaned and knelt to examine the distinctive five toed prints in the snow, the crusty outer layer pierced through by the claws of the beast that made it. A freaking Taq! The second tracks merged with the first, the prints of the beast following those of the Stag as it made its way to the ravine less than a mile away. At least it hasn't caught my scent, she sighed as she considered what options remained for her. If it had, I wouldn’t be here to complain. I guess I should count myself lucky for that.

Cassie scanned the forest around her. The Stag had probably entered the ravine by now, already gorging itself on the sweet grasses hidden beneath the snow as they waited patiently for the arrival of spring. Her prey represented the successful fulfillment of the hunt. She couldn't return home without securing proof of the kill. No kill equaled no home. It was as simple as that.

A Taq, on the other hand, was roughly the equivalent of having a hand grenade thrown into her plans. A six hundred pound genetically enhanced killing machine. Six-inch-long serrated claws that could slice through flesh and bone like a red-hot knife through butter. And even, if by some miracle, the claws didn't kill you, the poison that oozed from their tips would. Once it entered the body, it insipidly worked its way through the central nervous system, until, assuming you didn't get the antidote in time, you died an agonizing death, although not before you’d gone deaf from the sound of your own screams.

Father said Taqs were once Siberian Tigers, but of course that was before the Saurian’s got their hands on them. The tigers Cassie had seen on her holo pad looked like adorable little kittens compared to the nightmarish killing machine that was a Taq. In winter its fur was pure white, blending it in perfectly with the snow covering the land from early October until late April. In summer, it turned a mottled brown, making it almost impossible to see in the tall grasses of the plains. A set of eight inch fangs protruded from both its upper and lower jaws, capable of punching through the toughest protection to shatter bones and get to the vital organs beneath. Their muscular hind quarters could propel them to a top speed of fifty miles per hour, and they could run a steady lope of twenty mph for hours on end without tiring. They stalked their prey silently, never being seen until it was too late. And if all of this wasn't bad enough, their preferred meal was the two-legged variety. Human. The fact this one was tracking the Stag was an indication of both its hunger, and the lack of availability of its favorite food group.

The Taqs were only one of the dozens of predators genetically tweaked by the Saurians, engineered to become exterminators of the species that once held the highest rung of the planets evolutionary ladder. They held that spot now, and their monstrous creations ensured they wouldn't be letting go of it any time soon.

What's it going to be, shrimp? a voice asked as she scanned the forest, looking for something that was about as easy to spot as a black cat in a pitch-dark room. You going to keep going, or not?

There was no doubt it was, at least in part, the combination of hunger, fatigue, and stubborn pride that ended in her making a decision she shouldn’t have. Most would have considered it unwise, if not outright insane. The bulk of the blame, however, could be firmly placed on the voice in her mind at that moment.

I don't suppose, she thought angrily as she left the tracks behind and headed west to the ravine, you’d mind asking before you go popping into my head?

The voice laughed. Sure. I can ask now if you really want me to. May I come in, shrimp?

You’re such a smart ass, Caesar, Cassie sighed as her mind reached out and merged with his. They were linked now. It wasn't just him in her mind, she was in his as well. Through his eyes, she saw the surrounding barracks. He was lying on his bunk. She could see the downy blonde hairs of his long legs stretched out in front of him. And you call me shrimp one more time, she added, the next time we’re in CP together, I’ll make you regret it. You know Father says we're not supposed to link while we’re on the hunt, anyway. How long you been back?

Two days, he answered. She could almost feel the smugness of his reply in his thoughts. I got me a Warg. Everybody’s back but you. What the frak’s taking you so long, anyway?

Oh, I don't know. She pulled a three-foot-long metal tube from her pack and clutched it tightly in her hands. She once again began making her way to the ravine, but this time in a more controlled jog. How about the fact I'm hungry, tired, and freezing to death? Not that that would make any difference to you I suppose?

You're right, he laughed, it wouldn’t. And why are you cold? I was as snug as a bug in a rug when I was out. Is your Viro suit malfunctioning?

What do you think? she barked, knowing full well he’d pick up on both the iciness of her reply, along with that of her body. I like it this way, Caesar. It’s a lot of fun. Why don’t you just do us all a favor and try it sometime?

Calm down C-ass-i–o–pei–a. He intentionally drew out her name to irritate her even more. Let me look.

They were still linked but she no longer saw the surrounding barracks. Instead the scenery was replaced with computer pathways as he navigated his way through the systems of the AI. They all possessed the ability to link with the artificially intelligent computer, but some were simply better at it than others. Cassie was good at combat, one of the best, but she couldn’t hold a candle to him when it came to his adeptness at interfacing with Mother’s organic core.

He left the complex diagnostic routines behind and returned to her. How’s that?

Better, she grudgingly admitted as she felt the heat immediately begin to seep from the fabric of the suit into her frozen bones. She might even have been grateful if it wasn’t for the fact it irritated her he could do things she couldn't. Thanks.

Forget about it, Caesar said. Let’s get back to your problem. Pull out. Nobody’s ever taken on a Taq before, Cass, and for a fraking good reason. It’s suicide! Back off and find yourself another prey before it’s too late. Better yet, just come home. You tried, it's only rotten luck you crossed paths with a one of those monsters. I'll tell Father your Viro suit went on the fritz. He won't give you too much grief.

You got yourself a Warg, the girl grumbled. They’re not exactly puppy dogs you know.

A Warg was a mutated timber wolf. Not as bad as a Taq, maybe, but pretty darn close. The worst thing about Wargs was they travelled in packs. Isolating one by itself was unheard of, which annoyed Cassie even more. It was just like him to go upping the ante on her. He was always doing things like that, and the fact he did, made her take risks she wouldn’t normally have taken.

And Taqs might be killers, Cassie growled as the anger built, until, like a geyser, it erupted and she pushed him from her mind, but so am I.

The ravine was less than half a mile away when she stopped, crouched down, and slowly began making her way to the cliffs that surrounded it. Caesar was gone, and a part of her regretted what she’d done. Telling him to shut up was one thing, kicking him from her mind, another. And as much as she would have liked to blame the competitiveness between them for being responsible for her actions, she recognized there were probably other factors in play. She’d never been alone for this long before, and it occurred to her she might not be thinking so straight anymore. Her brain wasn’t wired to operate on its own for extended periods of time, none of theirs were. She’d spent her entire life being linked with the others, always knowing there was someone there. A part of her desperately wanted to reach back out him, to tell him she was sorry, but she couldn't. She had far too much pride to admit she needed anyone, especially him.

Beads of nervous sweat trickled down her body as she began to question what she’d gotten herself into. Just keep calm, she said to herself as she lay on the frozen ground, the three-foot-long metallic tube clenched tightly in her hands in front of her, and whatever you do, don't screw this up. Undulating over the snow on her belly like a snake, she quickly closed the gap to the cliff’s edge.

Cassie, no! the voice of a scared young woman suddenly exclaimed. Come home this instant!

Oh, for frak’s sake. She stopped her forward momentum and froze in place. You’re almost as bad as him. How long have you been spying on me, Renee?

You can't make me go. She sent an image into Cassie's head of herself with her arms folded stubbornly across her chest. Come home right now! Something awful is going to happen, I can feel it.

That’s low, Caesar. Her mind reached out and found the boy. Using a child to make me give up. You should be ashamed of yourself.

Who said I put her up to it? he said as she initiated the link that tied their minds together once more. You always blame me for everything. And you should talk. You pushed me out! You've never pushed me out before, Cass. That’s not nice.

It's because you annoy the fraking crap out of me! she swore as she initiated a second link between her mind and Renee’s, so the three of them were now joined.

Attaching was something they could all do, and you didn't require the permission of the person whose mind you were attaching to, to do it either. Attaching, however, gave you access to only one sense -- sight, as well as the ability to mentally communicate with each other. Linking, though, gave you access to all five senses and so much more. They could feel each other’s emotions. See each other’s thoughts. Review each other’s memories. They had complete access to each other’s brains, providing the participants hadn’t taken steps to lock down the sections they didn’t want others to see. There were always some secrets you just didn’t want to share.

She reached out and soothed the sections in the young girl’s brain responsible for anxiety and fear. You know you’re not supposed to be with me when I'm on a hunt, Renee. It’s not allowed. Where’s Will anyway, hun? Aren't you supposed to be in Combat Training with him right now?

I'm sick, she giggled and projected a picture into their heads of a thermometer with mercury bursting from the tip. Mother excused me from CT today. Besides, she sent another image of herself with a green face and a very sour expression on it, he’d rather be friends with Little Miss break–it–all, anyway.

Little Miss break–it–all was the rather unflattering nickname Renee had given to a girl named Florence. She came from the same birthing batch as both her and Will, and over the years had earned a bit of a reputation for breaking things. Ironic, especially considering she was named after a woman in history by the name of Florence Nightingale, a nurse famous for her ability to heal. They were all named after historical figures, literary characters, or constellations. Will was