Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
About the Author
THE GOD CLASS
By Ross H. Henderson
PUBLISHED BY:
Black Capsule Publishing
Copyright 2016
http://rosshhenderson.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real names, places, or events are purely coincidental, and should not be construed as being real.
No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner, except as allowable under “fair use,” without the express written permission of the author.
Chapter 1
Newton Paxson was alone at 2 a.m. on Friday, April 20, 2140, when the giant spaceship landed in West Kansas, outside of the small town of Healy. It was one of the few places left in North America with hundreds of miles used just for farming, with no buildings and few nearby inhabitants. Paxson sometimes liked to go to the area to look at the night sky and to be alone with his thoughts. Mostly, he liked to get high and lay down in the back of his beat-up pickup truck without worrying about anyone seeing him.
At first he thought it was a meteor as it came down from the night sky, because it looked like a large rock. But the comet tail that would normally have followed the giant rock was under it, and at times in front of it. Like rocket thrusters, but they were quieter and more elegant. More like pale blue lights than fire, there was no question these lights were propelling and halting the craft. Even after smoking a larger-than-usual amount of weed, it didn’t take Paxson long to understand this was not a meteor. No, this was something else. It was … a spaceship. It didn’t look like a spaceship. At least not like what Newton Paxson—or most people—grew up thinking a spaceship should look like. It wasn’t metallic and smooth, with lots of lights. This one had lights, but they were more like headlights or spotlights coming down from about the middle of the structure.
Now that it was closer, the structure looked like a floating mountain, about 300 feet tall and miles across. The bottom third of the mountain looked like it had been suddenly and violently detached from the earth. The mountain came to rest gently in a vast expanse of land about a half mile from Paxson and his truck. Despite the softness of the landing, there was a deep rumble in the earth as the mountain settled in. Paxson could see a large part of the ship collapsed inward. This ship has seen some kind of action, thought Paxson, but was this damage sustained in space or here on Earth?
He was a little scared, but this was the most extraordinary thing that had ever happened to 24-year-old Newton Paxson, and he felt compelled to walk toward the ship. It was obviously controlled by something, but was it on some kind of autopilot, or were there alien life forms at the controls? It made him feel better to believe the autopilot theory, since he had no idea how he would handle an alien invasion.
He came up to the structure and was surprised to see a metallic door in front of him. He walked away from it as he gathered his nerve. He lost his nerve as he realized the door was following him as he walked. He was startled, fell backwards, and scraped his hand badly on rocks as he landed. After a moment, he chalked it off to the marijuana, and finally walked toward the door. He was not surprised as it opened for him before he could touch it.
Paxson walked in and could see the first half of a cavernous room, which looked spherical around the edges where the light reflected. He thought he could feel the floor shift slightly back and forth until it finally settled. The liquid-filled cylinders and scientific-looking equipment were tidy and apparently undamaged. In fact, the room looked pristine enough for the most delicate operation. He guessed there was a sort of gyroscopic force keeping the room upright no matter the position of the ship itself.
By now it was almost 4 a.m. and Paxson was a little tired. He sat down on one of the surprisingly Earth-like chairs and leaned back, dreaming of the glory and notoriety that would surely be his for discovering and exploring this alien craft. He dreamt, fell asleep, and dreamt some more.
Before witnessing the landing, Newton Paxson was alone. He was a student at the local university, majoring in English literature and working part-time at the campus library. He had had a few girlfriends over the years, but nothing that lasted as long as he wanted it to. Invariably, his need for attention and reassurance grew to be too much for any woman or relationship to bear.
He wasn’t bad looking, but was not as attractive as he thought he was. He was tall, but about 30 pounds overweight and he slouched. He had thick, straight brown hair, parted on the side, but long enough to fall into his face. He wore an army parka, which he thought hid his paunch, but actually made him look even larger than he actually was. In the shadows it made him look like a large, shapeless mass with legs.
Paxson was lonely and often resentful of the power of others. He thought about how he might better himself and his station sometimes, but never dwelled on it long enough to make any meaningful changes in his life. It was easier to blame the rest of the world for his troubles.
All of this was about to change.
He woke up in his own apartment on the morning of Sunday, April 22, about two days after falling asleep in the ship. He remembered the events of Friday morning, but only vaguely, as if the whole thing had been a dream. Still, he could not account for the lost time. Paxson turned on his news feed to see if anyone else had discovered the ship, but there was no mention of it.
He noticed his hand was completely healed and, overall, he felt pretty good. He looked in the mirror and looked as good as he could remember looking. His slouch was gone, and his clothes were even a little loose.
“I guess two days without food will do that,” he chuckled.
Chapter 2
Invigorated from a few days of sleep and seemingly reborn, Newton Paxson was ready to attack the rest of the day and get things done. First and foremost, he resolved to go back out to the spaceship and make sure no one else had discovered it. Then he would decide whom to call first: the media, the local police, or maybe the military. He hadn’t figured that part out yet, but he was sure he needed to get back out there.
Even in the middle of the day on a Sunday, the feeling of isolation in this part of the country was a unique thing. There just wasn’t anything out there, and most people were either too content to live and play in the city and suburbs, or too scared to venture very far out. Many didn’t even see the point of owning cars since there were trains to take them wherever they really needed to go.
Paxson was in the middle of congratulating himself for being the last of the pioneers who owned independent transportation when he pulled close to the landing site. Everything looked normal, at first, as if the ship had never landed. This did not deter Paxson, who knew somehow the ship was still there. It was more than a feeling, more
like a true sense that it was still there. As he walked closer, his feelings were confirmed as he saw the reflection of the now-familiar metal door sliding around a smaller looking version of the mountain he saw the other night to meet him.
“Of course,” murmured Paxson, “the ship is embedding itself to become a part of the Earth.” He knew then it would be pointless to try to tell anyone about the ship. This ship would not be found unless it wanted to be found. He still had not met whoever was running the ship, but by now he knew whoever or whatever it was, it was communicating with him. It trusted him. Newton Paxson had never felt so deep a connection with anyone in his whole life, and there was no way he would betray that trust.
He walked closer to the door and it opened. Newton walked in and sat, knowing he was welcome.
“I know you have things for me to do, but do I have to leave so soon?”
The presence communicated directly into Paxson’s brain. Paxson’s words, spoken aloud sounded like a one-sided conversation between a child and his imaginary friend.
“No, I really would.”
“I want to learn more.”
“But I don’t have anyone else.”
“I would like that.”
“I understand now. Okay, I’m going. Thank you for choosing me. I won’t let you down.”
He stopped short of expressing his love for the presence. He wanted very much to say it, but he didn’t want to look weak and disappoint it.
Newton Paxson walked out of the mountain with a purpose in his stride, and quickly made his way back to the truck. Now, more than ever, he knew he was a changed man. He even started thinking of himself as a man, as an adult, as opposed to using close-but-no-cigar terms like, “guy,” “dude,” or the simultaneously infantilizing and asexual term, “student.” It made Paxson feel a little sick and embarrassed that he had thought of himself like that only a few days ago.
It didn’t matter now. All he had to do was say yes and Paxson was a man now, with a job to do and a higher purpose. He would fulfill his destiny and become a great man, but for now he just needed to go home and prepare.
Chapter 3
Nick Wolfe was getting ready to board a plane bound for the United States when he received a call from Tristan Evans, his employer, partner, and occasional rival. Wolfe and Evans had a long history of fighting privately funded battles in secret little wars. Wolfe and his team were an elite group of mercenaries, and Evans was their leader and financier, developing weapons and giving cover with his company, BioMek Horizons.
Evans started, “I got your message about Pangaea breaking up and flying off and I thought you had lost your mind, but our stations in New Seattle and in Atlanta both tracked a mass from the South Pacific—presumably your flying island. It started at about a hundred square miles, but seemingly could not stay together. It shrunk consistently in mass as giant chunks of it fell into the ocean, like a giant, over-dry, flying cookie. By the time it reached the United States it was close to the size it is now. The last of the big pieces, about a 5-mile wide mass, fell harmlessly in the Mojave Desert.”
“Harmlessly? How? If a meteor that size fell back into the atmosphere it would be like a nuclear strike.”
“Except it never left the atmosphere. It flew at about three or four hundred feet, and less once it reached land. It flew under the radar, so to speak. The US Air Force saw it, but couldn’t explain it, except to say they thought it caused the mid-sized earthquake very far east of the San Andreas Fault. They can’t afford the technology we have at BioMek, nor can they afford the human intelligence. We have people working for us almost everywhere. They do so willingly, and make it their business to be excellent at their work, because I pay them well. They actually spotted the island before you told me about it, but had no idea what it was before we talked.”
“Have you seen the rock in the Mojave?”
“I have a team out there collecting samples, but besides some unusual metals making up the rock, they haven’t revealed anything. The metals alone would be the discovery of a lifetime if I didn’t know what else had happened on the island. Rik Kronos was full of secrets.”
“So you haven’t found any of the buildings or control areas?”
“No, but we think those are in Kansas, just outside a small town called Healy. That’s where we last saw the main part of the island-ship. We haven’t detected any activity in a few days, but it slowed up in mid-air and made a gentle landing, rendering about .2 on the Richter Scale. Really, it wasn’t bad for a 20-mile wide structure of any shape.”
“So are you going to send a team out to Kansas?”
“Not just yet. You barely made it out with your life when the island was whole. I would like you to go out there, investigate, and report back. If you would like, you can assemble your own team and secure the ship, but for now you are only to report back. Do not engage anyone you find from the ship. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir, my orders are to gather intel, and report back.”
“Good, I’ll have you flown in from New Seattle, and you can drop in under cover of darkness. I’ll see you in 24 hours.”
***
Newton Paxson was getting ready to reconnect with Beverly Beckett, a young lady he dated briefly a year ago, one of his few relationships that ended on somewhat friendly terms. The decision was mutual, which helped. At the time she was almost as awkward as he was, and about as needy. Now Newton felt like he was ready to give Beverly the strength and assurance his new friends had given him. How could she say no? He was walking taller and feeling better than ever.
He also decided to leave the olive drab military parka at home. It was the middle of spring with no need for arctic protection, and certainly no need to hide his new lean physique.
He had called earlier in the day, and asked Beverly to meet him at the local coffee shop. One of the only locally owned stores in the area, Down in the Perk was a small place that owed most of its business to people on their way to or from somewhere: work, the movies, shopping, the library, wherever. Usually, no one stopped in to stay for a cup of coffee. Healy was a small town in size and population, but in its technologically-oriented lifestyle, the culture and habits of its inhabitants were indistinguishable from a big city like New York or New Seattle. As a result, Down in the Perk got by with eight tables in a small, dimly lit room. It looked like it might rain, and Newton had hoped Beverly would not get caught in it.
Beverly Beckett arrived shortly after Paxson did, stopping long enough to frame herself inadvertently in the doorway. With the rain picking up behind her silhouette, Paxson could have been looking at a still from an old movie or a panel from a graphic novel. She was mostly covered by a long black coat, with a gray blouse and black pants. She did not wear much makeup, but there was enough mascara to run down one of her cheeks from the rain. Her dyed-black hair was wet and had curled up, but looked like it could have been intentionally curled. Usually her hair covered her face, but since it had curled up, it framed her round face nicely.
She was a normal size for a young woman her age, 5-feet, 4-inches tall, and thinner than Paxson remembered. But Beverly was still self-conscious, still not comfortable in her own skin. He thought she reminded him of himself a few days ago, but the truth was that she was much more organized and driven than he was. One would not catch her smoking marijuana in a field when she could be studying Japanese, networking, or otherwise moving ever-closer to her goal of being a high-powered executive at a company like BioMek Horizons, or KronosKorp, or some other major player that had yet to be named.
Beckett was driven to succeed. She wanted to leave Kansas to make a great living and to have an interesting life, but she also wanted to leave because she hated being around the people in the small towns. They didn’t appreciate what they perceived as her “big city” attitude, and she believed she was being judged all the time. The people of Healy didn’t judge her all the time, but most of it. Anger was as much of a driving force as a desire to succeed.
; She enjoyed being around Paxson since he had a similar disdain for people who didn’t share his love of literature, and together they made fun of the locals. The main problem with their relationship was that Paxson could never match her intensity, and as an English Literature major who wanted to teach, she knew he could never be the alpha male she dreamed about ruling her corner of the world with. In the last few hours, he came to understand this, but also knew he had changed and could be the kind of man she was looking for: strong, smart, driven, and ruthless.
Beverly smiled as she walked up to Newton. He stood as she came closer, which surprised both of them. Newton Paxson had never stood up for a lady in his life. He didn’t mean to be rude. He just never thought of it … but yet he did it tonight, and Beverly was taken aback by the show of respect. As many young men as she shared her business classes with, none had ever done the same. Like Paxson, they were still boys, and were never shown how to act around a lady.
“Newton Paxson, you have changed,” she said with a sly smile.
“Yes, I have. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking in the last few days, mostly about you. We got along well together, but you wanted more. I want to be more, and now I know I can be more. I want us to get to know each other again, and I’ll let you be the judge. I believe we can help each other.” Paxson realized he had been looking into her big, brown eyes the whole time.
Eye contact was another social grace he lacked until tonight. He enjoyed the rush of adrenaline and did not look away until he was done speaking. He also did not wonder how long he could keep up the act. It wasn’t an act. This was who Newton Paxson was now, and he knew it. He completely embraced it.
Beverly Beckett’s gaze met his and locked, “We might be able to, at that.”
The God Class: The Third Nick Wolfe Sci Fi Adventure (Nick Wolfe Adventure Series Book 3) Page 1