Escape From Desolation: Book One

By Robert F. Glahe

When an earth exploration vessel explodes, the captain takes an escape pod with a handful of his crew. The pod goes off course and crashes on a desolate, uncharted planet. After a cataclysmic clash with locals, the captain is the only survivor. He encounters an ancient alien society who has forgotten their history and relies on strict laws to protect marginal natural resources. Those laws doom his shipmates but lead him on an ironic path toward integration within their society. Although they regard their world as utopian, he struggles to accept the sterility and stagnation of their everyday life. While he is welcomed into their world, not everyone is happy he is there. Something is not right, and his arrival has begun a change of events that threatens the entire society.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350902839

Robert F. Glahe

Rob is a former scientist, corporate lawyer, and systems manager who retained his passion for art and writing throughout his many careers. Writing was a way to pass the time on long train commutes, where he wrote a full-length novel (but not about trains). His artwork intensified after becoming a stay-at-home Dad, and he began participating in art shows around Chicago. His creative energy largely concentrates on writing, but he also paints and sculpts, focusing on whimsical penguins.

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ESCAPE FROM DESOLATION

Book One – Inclusion

By

Robert F. Glahe

BookBaby

Copyright 2023 Robert F. Glahe

Print ISBN: 979-8-35090-282-2

eBook ISBN: 979-8-35090-283-9

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Other Books

Book Two – Resolution

Book Three – Emigration

For Linda

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One - Abandonment

Chapter Two – Dual Recon

Chapter Three – Summary Justice

Chapter Four – Towering Inquirer

Chapter Five – Blind Awakening

Chapter Six – Nine Months Before

Chapter Seven – Adjustment

Chapter Eight – What’s in a Name

Chapter Nine – Discharge

Chapter Ten – Reparations and Deceit

Chapter Eleven – Legal Mumbo Jumbo

Chapter Twelve – Home Cooking

Chapter Thirteen – Work shift

Chapter Fourteen – Those Who Watch

Chapter Fifteen – Returning Home

Chapter Sixteen – New Duty

Chapter Seventeen – A New Friend

Chapter Eighteen – Confrontation

Chapter Nineteen – Old Friends

Chapter Twenty – Loyalty

Chapter Twenty-One – Twist of Fate

Chapter Twenty-Two – Freedom Reigns

Chapter Twenty-Three – Raise the Ante

About the Author

Prologue

In the cosmos, the space that appears black to the naked eye teems with radiation and super-hot gas. What appears empty is occupied. A black hole is not empty; something lies at the bottom, massive enough to generate gravity that sucks even light into oblivion. But there are places truly barren of everything.

One such place relinquished its solitude and turned into blazing light for a moment before sleeping again. In the year 2346 C.E., a scientific exploration ship, the Populus, a silver needle in the night, exploded in a vacant sector of the Milky Way galaxy. The ship, an insignificant grain in the empty heavens, cried out once with vigor as a small nova burst through its engines. The decaying stellar drives which no longer possessed the capacity to control the laws of quantum physics vomited a scorching blaze that incinerated the fragmenting ship.

From this madness, one escape pod dropped away moments before the mini apocalypse. Waves of an expanding corona of radiation and heat thrust that tiny craft away from point zero. Nine humans, from a crew of fifty-seven, rode in a lifeboat, enduring jarring pulses of energetic ripples and pulverizing shock waves.

The captain provided this chance for survival with the push of a button. A finger applying a slight amount of pressure against a release switch is all that had separated survival from oblivion. Whether a good man or a bad man, a hero or a coward, a dutiful officer, or a deserter, he had saved part of the crew while the rest died without him. Does the success of survival fill the hollowness in the heart born by the memory of the dead?

Chapter One -

Abandonment

Space Mariner Code of the Galactic Realm … ship’s captain must be last person to leave vessel during an emergency.

Captain … nearly fixed… The chief engineer had a husky voice which crackled over the intercom. As words mixed with static tones and phrases reduced to a narrow range of base, Bill’s speech degraded into a brassy groan. …breach sealed … plasma stream ebbing … no … breach open … must close again.

Waiting in the only functional evacuation pod, the captain shook his head as though his engineer was in front of him and not a voice on the com. I saw the readouts. It’s hopeless, Chief. The pod must drop off. Now! I’m saving who I can.

How many … pod?

Eight.

…still time. …get more… The chief’s voice faded amid the static.

No time. I’m taking the eight.

…you … on the pod? …coward…

I’m sorry, Bill.

The captain had more history with the chief than the rest. They were family. Bill was right. Yoni had an impulse to re-open the doors and allow more personnel to find their way to his starboard pod the crew had named Eve. The status of the second escape vessel, the portside pod known as Adam, remained unknown. His finger had rested over the button while he hesitated. It trembled and he ached for clarity. A surprise quake from the Populus thrust him into the console. Large hisses boomed while Eve swayed. The captain choked on the last words to his engineer when the escape vessel dropped away from the doomed vessel. Life and death in that little pod had depended on the press of a button, a finger that lay over a piece of sleek plastic, a human digit whether by volition or by chance activated the escape sequence. He had not remembered pressing the release, but something happened. In any event it did not matter; nine survivors had ditched the others.

He retreated into a command chair, one of three, with access to the consoles in the nose of Eve. The conversation with the chief, uttered only moments ago, echoed like an unbreakable loop.

The executive officer, Benson, sat at his right, and right of her was the flight officer, Ridge. They did not speak to him, focusing on the pod’s flight path away from the Populus, desperately trying to create significant distance. The additional crew, six others, were secure and spaced sporadically throughout the two banks of fifteen seats that lined the lateral walls of the main cabin.

The captain Clung to his seat, remained silent and dwelled on the chief’s last words. Before the pod turned, he caught one last glimpse of the Populus as the pod jettisoned away.

The first shock wave hit them hard like a sledgehammer in the face. He, Benson, and Ridge had managed to strap themselves into their seats. Eve nearly broke apart as the Populus released its power, confirming that the captain could not wait a moment longer to break away. The escape was a hollow victory as Bill’s condemnation boomed and he imagined the sight of the ship dispersing into atoms, drifting in vacuous space forever. Now, memories of those abandoned would have more form than their dispersed remains.

What have I done to their souls?

Eve was alone among a peppering of stars against the blackness of space, outside the boundaries of human expansion, known as the Galactic Realm. The captain, Yoni, allowed his officers to stabilize their vessel. He remained silent as he peered out the viewing port. The chief’s final judgement played in his mind.

Coward!

Another energy wave struck and thrust Eve into a tumble. Yoni watched the stars appear to streak past as the ship spun. Benson and Ridge scrambled to regain control, barking orders at each other while attempting to coordinate their maneuvers. The captain let it pass as fog.

He wanted to release his restraints and allow Eve’s wild rotation to batter him to a pulp, as a form of contrition. If the stunt did not kill him, the physical pain might end the voice of the chief in his head. Yet, it was only an urge, a noble but empty impulse which yielded to self-preservation, an automatic habit. He remained secure. Life was preferred to death, the nausea of guilt his penance.

Coward!

Atonement came and he spilled gastric juices over his chest. The energy of Eve’s gyrations sprayed the mess onto the console. He could do nothing about it. Benson glanced over, frowned, but returned to her work.

She activated Eve’s systems to analyze the ship’s condition and scan the region. She told the captain she was calculating their range based on available fuel, plotting trajectories to the Realm boundaries or other planetary systems. Her effort was commendable considering the constant bouncing of the ship as shock waves battered them. She said she had readouts, but the ship was shaking too much to read them.

The news would be grim. Before the accident, the Populus computers reported their position in a void, about six light years across. When the aftershocks ceased, if they ceased, the survivors would face a long, quiet ride in empty space beyond the reach of any planetary system. The turbulence persisted without a sign of abating.

Some shock waves were worse than others. Eve shook so hard, and the consoles became blurs. The head cushions impeded a full view of Benson or Ridge, while the deafening crackles and sputters of the tumbling pod quashed conversation. Ridge was partly visible. She was busy trying to use the thrusters to control the ship, impeded by the security of her seat.

What happened to the inertia dampening? Who forgot to turn it on?

Motion controls, usually set as active by default, could be disabled if a maintenance check were in progress. Usually, the commanding officer does a flight check before departing. Even in an emergency, the one in charge should verify the inertia controls. Benson was effectively captain while preparing Eve before Yoni arrived. Her lapse could not be reprimanded by the captain who was not rightfully on the Pod. In any event, the inertia systems remained inactive, and the crew shook like salt and pepper.

Benson had bravely loosened her restraints to get a better view of the consoles. Near the peak of the mayhem, she strained and was able to sputter a brief report from her shaking mouth. Captain. Eve … located … a planet … We’re … ‘re about to land but …’re going down … down rough.

The executive officer’s report, although good news, could not be true. Benson, that’s impossible.

Say again, Captain.

The Populus had detected a binary star system on its long-range scanners, a system too far away to be what Benson reported. A course their primary ship, with full hyper-drive, would require hours to traverse. But Eve could never navigate it. A new factor was needed, allowing the extraordinary, a distortion in space or an extraordinary boost from the shock waves, allowing them to bridge the impossible distance.

Are you sure, Benson?

No, Captain.

If you’re right … we’ve got to level out … or we’re going to burn up in the atmosphere.

I’m trying, Captain. Ridge … hit the dampeners. We’ve got to stop spinning.

I got it.

The image of a tan horizon stabilized in front of them, but Eve continued to rock and shake.

That can’t be. Yoni rubbed his eyes to double check the image on viewer. The pod was free falling unless the automated systems engaged. His officers were moving frantically, pushing buttons, and checking data readouts. He braced for a tough landing.

They had a modest measure of control, but the ship descended too rapidly. They were heating up too fast. Their trajectory may cause them to burn up in the atmosphere.

He nodded at Benson amidst the rocking and arrhythmic jolts. The first contact was hard. His chin slammed into the restraint. He was convinced he snapped his neck but verified he was all right by moving fingers and toes.

Sorry, Captain. Benson was always mindful of her commander’s comfort.

There were moments of weightlessness as the ship hit and bounced off the surface while it skipped along the surface. The noise of scraping outside the ship drowned out cabin sounds, while Eve shook constantly. Benson had loosened her restraints again for more control, but it caused her to body and arms to flip about like a doll. She was in trouble, but powerless to protect herself. Each impact was less severe until Eve came to rest. The pod was down.

Amid coughing in the cabin and crackling of electrical shorts, Yoni checked himself over for injury. He found Benson. She was slumped over but moved when the captain placed his hand on her shoulder. Ridge was checking the consoles. There was movement along the central aisle where the rest of the crew endured the flight. Hazy air and failing lights obscured who was moving.

Is everyone all right? The captain’s voice cracked with a low baritone. He cleared his throat. The air was smoky and dry.

Someone in the crew complained louder than the rest, cursing Benson’s flying, cursing the engineers who allowed the Populus to explode, cursing his crewman who sat next to him. He cursed at the pod, the smoke, the heat and finally the captain. The voice was one of a kind, the edgy shrill of the Fourth Engineer, Austin Judge, the sanitation engineer, the only engineer not with the chief trying to fix the engines before the explosion.

Okay. That’s enough. The captain’s voice boomed through the cabin.

Judge shut up.

The rest of the crew were mumbling because no one could find the breathing equipment. The masks were missing. Circuits threw sparks and the cabin reeked of electrical smoke. Coughing and choking impeded conversation. It was risky to go outside until the atmosphere could be analyzed.

Ridge … can you clean up the cabin air?

Negative, Captain. The environmental console is fried.

Benson. What’s the atmosphere out there?

The executive officer held a bloody rag over her forehead while manipulating the flickering consoles. Captain. Yes. Twenty-three percent oxygen. The rest is mostly nitrogen. It’s a little rich but we can breathe it. The temperature looks like 79 Fahrenheit. The gravity resembles earth. We have standard one G, plus a fraction. Wait … there’s unusual flux in the readings. That’s odd. No, it’s two standard G. No back to one. I’m sorry, Captain, the equipment is on the fritz.

Is the air safe, Benson? Let’s worry about that first. The air got thicker and burned the nose. The anomalies in gravity had to wait.

Roger, Captain. I don’t detect any toxins present in the readouts. I think we can breathe it.

We’ll die in here if we stay much longer. He directed Benson and Ridge to pass him and head to the mid-section of Eve where the main exit would lead them out. Okay people, open the door and get fresh air.

Benson and Ridge passed him. The door resisted. Two of the crew helped Ridge force it open. When the fresh air rushed in, smoking consoles erupted into flames. The fire controls had failed to start automatically.

The captain went to the command consoles. When the pod was evacuated, he activated the fire retardants that spread through the pod with thick clouds. Eve may no longer be flight-worthy, but it was worth saving for its supplies and shelter. He ran ahead of a white wall of inhibitor. He hesitated in the thick haze, as the retardant approached, giving it a chance to engulf and possibly kill him. Before he succumbed he continued to the door, pausing, as light shined in his face and the crew recuperated outside. Ribbons of smoke passed around him. He stepped off the pod.

At least this time I’m the last one to leave the ship.

Still a coward!

He stepped out from the ship, a metal shell with a skin of white paint marred by charred streaks and deep gashes across the titanium composite hull. He stumbled when he misjudged the distance to the ground. He lunged forward but managed to land on a knee to prevent flopping on his face. The ground was soft. Forest litter cushioned his knee. He closed his eyes, like his crew, due to the bright sunlight. He held his hand to the sky to shade his face. The crew were waiting for him.

Are you all right, Captain? His executive officer was a solid woman with brunette hair and chubby cheeks. She offered her hand and pulled him up.

I’m fine. Yoni stood up easily with the boost. Yoni rubbed the smoke from his blue-eyes and grit from his sandy hair. He was slender, a year before forty, and an inch under six feet tall (designated one point eight meters in military metric). The others formed a semicircle waiting for reassuring words from their commander.

Benson handed him a handkerchief. She nodded toward his soiled chest. He glanced down and wiped at it a few times but downplayed his actions. The group stared elsewhere and avoided eye contact, except Judge who shook his head.

A forest surrounded them, stands of trees resembling conifers, like spruce and firs, which resembled the Pacific Northwest. The trunks were solid but no thicker than a person’s body. The trees were evenly spaced as if cultivated and not naturally grown. Thick clusters of narrow and long blue-green needles interrupted the russet brown of the ascending trunks. Branches arched outward like spokes of umbrellas which diminished the light that reached the forest floor except where the pod had destroyed them, creating spots of full light. The edge of undisturbed forest lay about ten meters from the ship. Getting lost in that foliage was more appealing than facing the crew.

His crew waited, still like gravestones, the faces of stunned lambs, happy to be alive and standing on firm ground, gratified they escaped becoming cinders like the crewmen who did not make it. The crew initially let time pass without a word from their captain but fidgeted as he remained quiet.

Benson, who was on duty when the disaster struck, wore her full-dress emerald-green uniform with jacket zipped. She maintained an officer stature and performed as though it was business as usual. Spots of blood on her shoulder insignias revealed the trouble they had all endured. She ignored her wounds and fidgeted with a hand-held meter, scanning the area, and reviewing readings on the planet’s features.

The flight officer, Amanda Ridge, who was not on duty, wore a dark sleeveless cotton shirt and lighter shorts, dyed in military khaki, a hue that highlighted her delicate tan. She opened a medical pack and dressed Benson’s wound. As the others moved around the ship, Yoni requested Benson’s assessment.

What’s your impression, Terri?

Earth like, sir. The atmospheric layers are thinner than home. Higher radiation levels but not dangerous. We will survive in this environment providing we find food and water. Benson moved about, engrossed in her measurement taking while Ridge shadowed her, attempting to apply a better bandage. Ridge finally had enough.

Stand still, for a second!

All right. Benson fiddled with her equipment while Ridge worked on her.

Hal Jones, one of the biologists, was close to the backend of Eve shaking his head.

What is it, Jones?

We did an enormous amount of damage coming down, Captain. It’s a shame.

How long is the crash line?

A few kilometers at least. Do you mind if I survey the damage?

Not yet.

Erwin Johnson, the metallurgist on the science team and born on one of the Galactic Realm colonies, wore dark pants and a beige turtleneck. He had squatted down and scooped a hand full of soil; he let it drift through his fingers. After scooping up a second handful, he waved his hand over it and sniffed air. The scent puzzled him.

Dodge, a cartographer, Mendel, the communications officer, and Ensign Scott plodded about aimlessly, as though they were waiting for instructions. Scott made his way over to Johnson and crouched down to see the soil. The mission was the ensign’s first deep space assignment.

Bad luck.

Seven of the crew were in view. Judge was out of sight. He had been the first to break the circle and wander around the ship. When he returned, sweat drenched his black shirt. It was not hot, but Judge either had no tolerance for warm temperatures or had been exerting himself by exploring. His act was defiant because the captain had not instructed anyone to leave the group. Judge removed his shirt to wipe his face, a stunt to show off his perfect physique. Glistening skin accented Judge’s overdeveloped muscles and olive tone. He wore a ponytail down the middle of his back that controlled a mop of thick black hair.

Yoni hesitated to issue orders.

Why did I get on the pod?

The crew grew restless. Action could no longer be avoided.

Listen up. The captain wiped sweat from his face.

Ensign Scott jumped up in response. The lad was stiff with eager attention, wearing an unnatural and overexaggerated grin that would become permanent if he did not loosen up.

It was time for the captain to focus the crew. Okay people. We need a plan while we have light. The group gathered around him. Benson, do we have a fix on this planet?

No, Captain. Benson’s head was bandaged. She was sweaty and opened her uniform jacket.

Are we in the Realm?

Unknown, Captain. Not likely. It’s not plausible that we were flung back to our space.

Yoni responded. We got somewhere … fast. We were not close to any systems nearby before the accident.

That’s correct. I’m at a loss. I’ll check my data again. Benson poked at her device.

Yoni nodded and he faced Mendel. Communications?

Mendel perked up and wiped sweat from his face. We have the short-range handsets, but Eve is deaf and dumb, Captain. All her arrays were stripped clean in the crash.

Yoni nodded. Have you picked up anything that sounds like a civilization on your scanner?

Not exactly. He brought out his device reviewing the data he collected.

What the hell does that mean, Mendel? Judge grabbed the device from the communications officer. He darted away to prevent Mendel from re-appropriating his device. Mendel’s arms flopped about as he groped towards the engineer, but Judge was too quick.

Judge! Give it back to him. Yoni barked out the order.

Ridge glided behind Judge and plucked the unit out his hand as he waved it over his head.

Hey … Ridge.

The flight officer planted it firmly on Mendel’s chest. She smiled at the captain.

That’s enough, people. Mendel, do you think you picked up signs of intelligence or not?

I get mostly static, Captain. Nothing noteworthy, except I did get a few bleeps. I wouldn’t call it language.

Then what do you surmise it was?

Yes, Captain, it was artificial. A ping that responded to my scanning.

Hell, Mendel. Now … they know we are here. Nice job! Judge was annoyed.

Ridge defended the communications officer. It doesn’t matter if they’re friendly.

It does matter if they’re hostile. Judge snapped back, one of his unpleasant habits.

That’s enough. Judge, if you want to offer something, tell us about the pod. Can we fly it again?

Captain? He acted stunned. He clearly thought the question was stupid.

Yoni rephrased his question with a hardened tone. I noticed your inspection. What is … your assessment of Eve?

Judge stood with an arched back and cocked head. He rubbed his right forearm as if he had all the time in the world, having center stage.

So, what is it? The captain grew impatient.

We’re stuck here. The port engine is smashed and nearly ripped out of its carriage. The starboard is burned out. The hull has a half dozen serious fractures. Even if we made repairs and launched, she would break apart. But, if by a miracle we did not break up, we couldn’t maintain cabin pressure. There are holes all over this thing and more hidden fractures than visible ones. She’s grounded. He directed his attention past Yoni and through the doorway. Smoke no longer poured out of the interior. He pointed at the pod. The retardant system put out the internal fires. Hooray, we have shelter and supplies.

The assessment was not a surprise, but it had to be reported. The crew needed to hear it. The hard facts would open the way to accept the situation and find inhabitants intelligent enough to assist in communicating with the Realm. Yoni paced, rubbed his head, massaged his eyes, and stared at the ground. Benson approached him with a wobbly stride, but she tried to hide it.

"Captain, I’ve been analyzing the environment. It’s breathable