Upside: Book 1 - The Early Years

By Peter M. Emmerson

After almost five thousand years, the inhabitants of Castra City are growing restless ... The Upside beckons; Castra city, once an incredible underground refuge for One million souls, protecting them from the end of the world, is now crumbling and decaying around them.
What awaits them after five millennia? How much has the world changed?
Plans are made to escape their tomb and discover Upside.
But plans can be frustrated.
Book 1 follows the development of Rob’s young life, and his subsequent opportunity to lead a team of thirty troopers, as he is tasked to explore the Upside.
What he finds is not what they deserted all those years ago. Disaster and destruction await Alpha troop. Until vastly diminished in numbers, the survivors are rescued by The Tirnano Clan. Rob after being captured by horrific creatures escapes, and continues with two female companions, battling to find a solution to the problem which threatens to destroy the reborn planet.
But he needs more than human assistance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter M. Emmerson
• Release date: Mar 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370908394

Peter M. Emmerson

Photo: Pete EmmersonBorn in Brentwood in Essex. The only son of an English Father and an East African born German Mother.Father of 5, Step-father to 2, Grandfather to 12. Retired, and Living in the 1066 county of East Sussex on the South coast of England.I joined the British Army as a boy-entrant in 1961, served in a number of countries around the world until 1973, picking up a few strange habits along the way, including ‘people watching’ which has become an invaluable aid to me in character creation.I retired from my long time profession as an IT Tutor in 2008 and began writing in earnest.

Book preview

UPSIDE BOOK 1

THE EARLY YEARS

Copyright: ©Peter M. EMMERSON 2020

ISBN:9781386133551

Fiction, Fantasy, Apocalyptic Themes, Dystopian Science Fiction

This is a work of fantasy/science fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this eBook or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased or gifted for your use only, then please go to SmashWords and purchase your own copy.

Your feedback is most appreciated, as it helps me to improve my writing.

~

I’d like to mention all those who gave support through the last six months of lock down but other than my wife Mary and stepson Darran, sadly there weren’t many from outside my bubble.

However I must give a special word of thanks to my Number 1 Beta reader, Jon Sherwood, for invaluable comments, corrections and suggestions.

Part Four is a WIP as I type. Thanks, Pete Emmerson

Book One focuses on the life, and frequently the loves of Rob Clitheroe, (after all how many red-blooded teenagers aren’t continually thinking about it?...) 5,000 years is a long time for anything to survive, the underground city Castra is failing, Will its remaining inhabitants make their way to the surface, once there what will they find?

Book one continues with Rob’s life on the Upside as a commander of a group of misfits tasked with reconnaissance. The Upside with its terrors and dangers, are not kind to Rob and his troopers. Finally he and the few survivors are rescued and adopted by the Clan Tirnano. Will Rob, who through destiny becomes the companion and rider of the Purple Queen of the M’ntar, joining with a smattering of Brosynans and the powerful Tirnano clan, be sufficient to face the Adversary and the Anakim giants?

Author’s note:

This eBook contains some sexual scenarios and violence, along with adult language which could be considered unsuitable for sensitive readers.

After almost five thousand years, the inhabitants of Castra City are growing restless … The Upside beckons; Castra city, once an incredible underground refuge for One million souls, protecting them from the end of the world, is now crumbling and decaying around them.

What awaits them after five millennia? How much has the world changed?

Plans are made to escape their tomb and discover Upside.

But plans can be frustrated.

Book 1 follows the development of Rob’s young life, and his subsequent opportunity to lead a team of thirty troopers, as he is tasked to explore the Upside.

What he finds is not what they deserted all those years ago. Disaster and destruction await Alpha troop. Until vastly diminished in numbers, the survivors are rescued by The Tirnano Clan. Rob after being captured by horrific creatures escapes, and continues with two female companions, battling to find a solution to the problem which threatens to destroy the reborn planet.

But he needs more than human assistance.

~

The Lovers

Anubis and Sekhmet

IN THE BEGINNING

In the year AD 2033 a comet entered between the orbits of Pluto-Charon, a minor planet and its moon, the furthest out of Sol’s system. A trillion, trillion tons of rock and ice crashed into Charon. This resulted in Charon being pushed into a wider orbit, causing violent earthquakes, lasting for years on Pluto. The gravitational upheaval and the collision caused a massive crack and a change the moon’s orbit of Pluto; the piece of Charon broke away, calculated to be almost a third of its mass, leaving the moon with a constant wobble, threatening to tear it free from Pluto’s weakened gravitational hold. The comet, its orbit altered careered back out into the Oort cloud from whence it came.

The gigantic lump of Charon began to drift towards the centre of the solar system. Astronomers calculated that within fifty or so years its erratic path would bring it close to Earth. Because of its unpredictable progress, there was initially an uncertainty as to whether it would approach close enough to be captured by the Earth’s gravitational field or miss entirely. 

Try as they might there was no way that the Leaders of populous could keep the approaching monster hidden. Once it became obvious, a streaming mass crossing the void accompanied by millions of smaller pieces, billions anticipated impacts which would create an extinction level catastrophe, wiping out all life on earth forever. The world’s human populations did as expected: degeneration followed by despair, both signalling the death of every living creature. 

Evacuating Earth, or sitting and waiting for the extinction of the human race was the only two possible scenarios, the first was impossible and the second seemed inevitable. 

In the late twentieth century there had been a number of cinema blockbusters which had predicted the end of the world through a number of fictional scenarios, showing heroic saviours battling against impossible odds to save the planet’s inhabitants.

This time it was for real. 

Even if nuclear bombs could have been planted on, or fired at the wildly spinning immense conglomeration of rock and ice, it would have been impossible given the technological ability of Earth, to stop any of the resulting huge chunks of debris, which would be the result of blowing up the original piece, from following even more erratic paths, and themselves causing irremediable damage to the home planet.

From the moment it became obvious that a collision was inevitable, clandestine preparation was begun to create massive underground cities, each capable of holding up to a million inhabitants. By the closing decades of the twenty first century, the regressed human race had an opportunity, at least the rich and influential members who contributed towards the construction, were able to move into the magnificent sanctuaries built deep within the Earth’s crust.

Those left behind, abandoned to their fate, had relapsed into total self-annihilation. Clans and sects, religious communities, political anarchists and sexual deviants had fashioned their own assemblies, many of them in open and bloody warfare with each other. 

Law enforcement agencies and the militia were as divided; they had been reduced to protecting their own communes against other querulous groups, acting as the enforcers of new laws. For each assemblage had created a multitude of authoritarian dictates, disobedience of which was severely punished.

TAM

2099AD

‘Fet ye dooin’ yon lassie? Tam asked hesitantly as he turned the corner in the walkway, and stumbled upon an appalling scene.

‘Naffin’ frryer ta fass yesel aboot ye ald git, we’s jess haain a wee wordie. On yer way, there's naffin’ here frr yer.’

The speaker brought a length of iron pipe from behind his back and made a shaking motion with it towards Tam, ‘Naafin’ yer hear?’

His companions; one a tall gangling youth with greasy shoulder length hair, that in some other time or place might have passed as blonde, the other shorter with dark swarthy features, his head closely shaved in the current style. A long white scar snaked its way from his cheek bone up to his just visible hairline, puckering the skin around his left eye. The misty blue, unseeing orb sat at a grotesque twisted angle. Both of them looked up from where they crouched over the girl daring him to respond.

The girl he recognised as Shona McLaughlan, her mother used to be one of his dearest friends; he winced internally as the words ‘used to be’ crossed his mind, she had died a year past, battered to death by her jealous husband. Some said the rumours were true, and not a few were the fingers pointed in his direction.

The trio must be incomers; a few had appeared in town over the last few days; from another district, perhaps the south, for their accents were not local.

Shona was lying face down in the dirt of the alleyway, her back, buttocks and legs were bare, he could see deep cuts and wheals which criss-crossed her fair skin, mind you there was not much of her fair skin left to expose, she gave a moan and gulped a ragged gasp of air.

‘Wat yer gawking at now gwan, I talt yer ta piss off!’

‘Pipe wielder’ made another gesture with his piece of conduit, the length of which had probably been the cause of most of the physical damage sustained by the girl.

Tam could do nothing but abandon his intention to continue the way he had been heading, pipe wielder blocked his way through the cutting. He had only wanted one last quick walk through his old neighbourhood. As he turned about and walked hesitatingly back, retracing his steps, he heard the unmistakable ‘whack’ of yet another blow being struck; there was a short strangled scream, then silence.

Sickened, Tam looked back, pipe wielder’s filthy pants were around his knees, his white buttocks exposed. Tam began to run, his hands clasped across his mouth, vomit spewing from between his fingers.

~

The doomsayers had confirmed it; Satan was about to slay the human race. In the sky Tam could see The Destroyer, its tail stretching from East to West.

Two more days they said, two more days to live, or two more days before we die, take your choice.

The Destroyer

THE COUNCIL CHAMBER

YOC (Year of Castra) 4809

Voices clamoured…’How can you be sure?’

‘It's not safe!’

‘There's no need, we have all we could wish for here.’

 ’You will let disease into the city.’

 The multitude continued to bay at the General.

‘Why must you always want to meddle in what you don't understand, hasn't losing one leg taught you that? You're after the glory of always being first.’ Colonel Richard Alfred Seamus McPherson yelled over the shouting in the council chamber.

General Mike stood waiting as the tirade flowed over him. His eyes scanned the chamber marking the vocalising dissenters. His supporters sat silently, their desk lights glowing neutral beige. He made a quick calculation, 'if I call for a vote now, I should pull an ‘Aye’, but it'll be tight.' He thought. Holding his hands above his head, he called for quiet, it took a minute or two before order returned to the chamber.

Singling out his most vocal opponent he snapped, ‘Well Dicky, what would you suggest?’

The Colonel stood, eager to take the floor, he launched into a personal attack on General Mike, ‘You never allow me to take the lead, and you continuously put me down, always snatching the limelight away from others as deservingly. Why should we agree because you say so? ...’ His voice trailed off as he realised his mistake.

Unwritten rule #31: Do not verbally attack one's superior in public.

‘You were saying Colonel...’ General Mike's voice was as cold as his ice blue eyes; it cut through the silence and froze the Colonel, who slumped into his seat, his face reflecting his mistake.

With no answer forthcoming, Mike continued, ‘The time has come, More than forty eight hundred years have passed since the world outside was locked away... It is time for us to reclaim our world; no longer should we hide away like rats in the dark. There is a whole world waiting for us out there. Once we reach Gate Juliette, we’ll have access to the 'spy-hole.' From there we will be able to see the world Upside, and make our decisions. It’s ridiculous to assume that we will press on regardless, nearly five thousand years under the ground have taught us one thing and that is caution. We shall proceed with caution.

‘We are all aware that Castra is failing, our population is now down to less than one hundred thousand, men, women and children. We have some ten thousand miscreants living in the south, where they control large numbers of properties and areas of open space. We are unable to efficiently police, maintain and repair those areas, and the amenities within. Vast areas have become desolate, housing blocks stand empty and decaying, even close to the city centre, inviting nefarious persons both known and unknown to us authorities, to claim them. There is nothing we can do about them for they disappear into those areas they have claimed for their own as soon as we appear. It would be more than foolish for us to attempt to eradicate them as precious lives will be lost on both sides in any confrontation. But today we have another decision to make.

‘The first gate, Gate Alpha is waiting, I request a vote... Do we open it?’

General Mike pulled an 87% 'Aye' vote, lights turning green all around the auditorium. That'll do, he thought with a smile of satisfaction, well done Dicky, you swayed them fine.

 It was agreed, the opening of the gates would begin on day one of the New Year.

Accommodation Level One, Station concourse.

BREAKOUT

YOC4810.

A new decade.

A year of release.

A year of hope.

Even so it would take years before they stood on the outside, or retraced their steps back into the depths, and locked themselves, the survivors of the human race away forevermore.

COWBOYS AND FEMS

YOC 4808

It was a soggy wet Autumn Seventhday. The Central Delfin sun hadn’t bothered to turn up obviously assigned a duvet day. The Maint Corps did that sometimes to echo what they imagined it was like 'Upside.' The dim, chilly morning reminding me of where I should be; nicely snuggled up in the warmth of my duvet. The rain... that thin wet rain that manages to work itself through even the most waterproof of clothing, was relentless.

A thin mist hung between the bent and buckled boles of ancient ash, beech and oaks, giving the old Sherwould forest, being our chosen battlefield, a creepy furtive feeling. We crept forward with much shushing and hissing for quiet. Somewhere behind the little knoll ahead of us, they were waiting, hiding...

I was sure they weren’t aware of us yet, but who knows? I moved forward as quietly as possible my rifle held to my chest to keep the rain off the caps. A rivulet began making its way down between my shoulder blades. ‘Whose ridiculous idea was this? Oh yeah, mine.’

They should have broken cover by now, howling their death threats, soggy feathers adorning youthful nine and ten year old heads. Home-made bows and arrows threatening mayhem… silence, where were they? I raced up the last few slippery steps to the top of the mound screaming my battle cry; still nothing.

Something moved to one side of me... I spun round, had they managed to get behind us? Once again naught; could've been a Coney or some other critter skittering away startled by my war cry.

My heart fell, I realised the worst, our enemy, the local townies had gone home. The greatest showdown scheduled for the school term end, an absolute failure. The enemy had gone... defeated by the drizzle.

‘They’ve gone, chickened out,’ I shouted.

‘What now Rob?’ chimed in Alfredo, tall and swarthy…

~

’Would you like some tea?’ A girl’s voice.

We didn’t respond - hoping she’d go away. She didn’t. They never do. 

 ’Well, wevea plenty, don’tcha knows.’ She added with a smile.

 Joey jumped to his feet. ‘Aw, man... Timeout everybods.Timeout!’

 ’You can’t call timeout, only when yous dead. Only when yous dead you can call time out,’ came from behind a tree. Danny wasn’t falling for it.

’No, really... timeout yous guys... timeout, we’ve got fems.’ The disgust in Joey’s voice was genuine enough to bring kids out from behind rocks and trees, out from under smelly tarps - some great hiding places, positions of superiority. Sadly this ‘Timeout’ was for real.

’Aw, man... who brought fems???’

‘I din’t bring ‘em! They just showed up,’ Joey shouted.

‘Do you want some tea?’ Carla repeated.

The question was met with a chorus of, ‘No! We don’t want no fuckin’ ‘tea’! You don’t have tea in a war. Duhhhhh.’

‘We figured a little tea might help,’ Beverly added.

‘Help what? It’s fake tea anyhows‘s only water. How’s that supposed to help anything?’

Fighting back tears, Carla stammered, ‘Well, we thought it would, that’s all.’

‘Ha! fems are sooooo dumb.’

With that, us boys all ran off over the little hill and were gone - leaving Carla and her best friend Beverly standing in the middle of ‘No Man’s Land’, holding their serving set - sporting blank expressions.

‘Boys are mean.’ Beverly observed.

Carefully setting her cups on the ground before standing up straight, fists balled at her sides, Carla agreed. ‘Yeah, ‘specially Joey.’

GATE ALPHA

YOC 4810

‘It's time Sir,’ said his Aide.

‘Lead on then lad, best not keeps ‘em waiting.’ The General stood resplendent in his Dress Blues, the braid on his chest and shoulders attesting to his high rank.

He strode confidently to the waiting diplo vehicle, a minuscule single click, as he took his first step, the only clue to his prosthetic leg. His shoulders back, his head held high. His skull cap clipped firmly onto the back of his head, into his steel grey hair, its electrodes nestling firmly onto the recesses in his implants.

Sitting in the rear of the two seater diplo the general relaxed while his Aide, Captain Charles Douglas Winthorpe, tapped their destination into the vehicle's input pad. The interior of the ancient vehicle dimmed and five point harnesses automatically clipped into place securing the two military men into their seats. There was a sharp beep, the air in the cab buzzed and with a slight smell of ozone the electric motors surged into life; there was a moment of discomfort as they accelerated almost instantaneously to maximum speed.

‘Be about eight minutes, Sir.’

‘No problem Charlie, give me a heads up at thirty seconds.’

‘Aye, Aye Sir.’

Michael Thomas Andrews, General in command of Fourth Protection and Exit Corps and City Elder, was a taskmaster. He would not command any man in his division to undertake a duty that he was not prepared to do himself, and he could perform it better than most of them. One hundred and seventy eight years old, his command had taken up every day of the preceding eighty two years. It was expected that within four years when gate Zulu was opened he would still be in command of The 'Buzzing First, meaning the entire city,' and be the first to open the gate to ‘Upside.'

‘Thirty seconds and counting Sir.’

The General tongued a switch at the back of his front teeth, a surge of Adrenosynth flowed through his veins, he sat up straight in the seat and waited for the harness to release him. The brass band of The Fourth struck up a marching tune; 'The Driller's Canter' as he stepped from the cab he snapped to attention, returning the General Salute from all ranks. ‘At ease, and back to your duties men, we've got a lock to open.’

‘This way Sir,’ Colonel Richard McPherson said, and directed the General to a concrete bunker to one side,

‘No way Dickie, I'm out here with the grunts, I wanna see first-hand what we got behind old Alpha.’

‘That's against protocol Sir, General Staff officers must be protected at all times. You must observe the opening from the bunker.’

‘Are you arguing with me Colonel?’ The General turned, his face inches from the other man's.

‘No, No, No Sir.’ that worthy stammered under the unflinching gaze.

‘Good, because if you are, I might be inclined to bust you down to private, do you understand me?’ His question, no louder than a whisper.

Colonel Richard McPherson, his pale face already a deathly sallow, blanched even more as he scuttled backwards away from his commanding officer.

‘Let's get this darn show on the road boys!’ He shouted, taking a pick from the pile of tools and making his way across the grass to the concrete surrounded gate.

There was a cheer from the troopers around him. Removing his dress jacket and throwing it to Richard McPherson, he shouted, ‘let’s get moving Charlie, we got a gate to open.’

‘Aye, Aye Sir, I'm coming,’ the young man called back, stripping off his white high neck jacket to expose a brawny pair of shoulders and arms. Grabbing a shovel he shouted back, ‘You dig boss, I'll shift the shit.’ There were gasps of horror from the assembled dignitaries and officers at his Aides’ lack of protocol and respect.

It was four hours later that the locks succumbed to their ministrations. Covered in dust and sweat the labouring grunts stood back near the bunker with satisfied smiles on their faces as General Mike spun an exposed wheel. A loud protracted hiss sounded as the vacuum behind the door was filled with air. Mike stepped back to be with the grunts, then with a harsh screech of tortured metal and the remains of the concrete covering smashing on the ground in front of it, the huge door began to move automatically on rollers the size of forty gallon drums. Slowly, inexorably it swung outwards, exposing a dark tunnel.

‘Lights!’ The General called. Grunts ran forward carrying banks of floodlights, trailing cables behind them. Mike walked forward, Charlie detaching himself from the gang of workers, ran bare-chested after his commander...

‘Hold on Boss,’ he called. The General paused, waiting for the young man to catch up; together they walked into the tunnel. Behind them lights sprang into life, illuminating a concrete lined tunnel. It stretched in a straight line for as far as they could see.

‘What's that over there Boss?’

‘Nip and have a look.’

 It’s like a little lead box Sir.’ Charlie said, and lifted it from a metal table standing directly in their path,

‘That thing's been there for five thousand years son, don't go dropping it now.’

‘Aye, Aye Sir, do you want to carry on to the end?’ Charlie asked, placing the weighty item in a hip pouch.

‘No, we'll leave that for the plebs, it'll make Dickie's day to be first to reach Bravo, be about three klicks along if the plans are to be believed. Let's go take a shower, grab some victuals and see what's in that box. Suit you?’

‘Darn tootin Boss.

THE VID CHIP

YOC 4810

The only item making up the contents of the lead box was a tiny blue computer vid chip.

‘Slap that baby in the console Charlie; let's see what it's all about.’

A shape, a face, grew from a grey mist on the wall screen, white faced and brown haired, the lower part of his face covered in a mass of hair. A face much like those in the teaching vid chips that gathered dust on the shelves in the depths of the cellars below the main 'Libro-class building'.

The focus pulled in to reveal a face they both knew well; Admiral Johnson deSouzernak-Williamson, President and Commander in Chief of the initial one million residents of Castra City, a city built four millennia beforehand, twenty five miles beneath the surface of the earth, in a mountainous granite area once known as The Grampians in Scotland. His fifty foot tall statue stood with its right hand held almost in a salute across a craggy forehead, protecting his eyes from a long forgotten sun. The eyes were fixed, staring down the length of the wide open plaza, three miles long by one mile wide, a place of countless meetings, demonstrations and even open warfare, known to all as Central Park.

ADMIRAL JOHNSON deSOUZERNAK-WILLIMSON

AD 2080

‘All hail to you our children, he began, after