The Messenger

by Eugene Wilson

  THE

  MESSENGER

  Eugene Allen Wilson

  www.facebook.com/eugene.wilson.5477

  eugeneallenmarshall@gmail.com

  The Messenger

  Copyright © 2018 by Eugene Allen Wilson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means; graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except for brief quotations inserted in critical review articles.

  This story is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, organizations and dialogue in this novel are purely imaginary or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Introduction

  Chapter 1Deception

  Chapter 2A Dark Past

  Chapter 3Clash

  Chapter 4The Painful Truth

  Chapter 5An Ominous Journey

  Chapter 6Reconciliation

  Author Bio

  INTRODUCTION

  Three high school teenagers-Nathan Clark, Tyrone Clark and best friend David Williams-are searching for answers to a dark and troubling mystery. Earlier, as they were exploring long-abandoned mining tunnels for gold, they had inadvertently stumbled among the skeletal remains of three individuals, of which one was an extraterrestrial. The teenagers had also found two alien devices.

  Their possession of these two devices is slowly gaining the attention of Air Force officials who are determined to take these devices regardless of the means used. The situation becomes more perilous as two powerful, yet opposing alien forces are on their way to earth to reclaim the second of these devices, a weapon far more powerful than any weapon known to earth science.

  In a series spanning 400 years (1858-2258), an amazing journey across the cosmos continues.

  Present Point in Story Timeline:

  1858...1900…1950…1974…2000…2050…2100…2200…2258

  1 DECEPTION

  Six high-speed missiles streak past the shuttle. Everyone within the shuttle is shocked as bright light from multiple explosions illuminates the control section. “They are attacking!” Trovis screams. “Alert the Sepprin’s commander to veer off! We’re transmitting a distress message to the Falosian Defense Force.”

  Unfortunately, Jathan suddenly realizes that there will be no such alert. He motions Trovis to look out of the forward window. All watch, in sheer horror, as the heavily damaged interplanetary transport Sepprin, along with her crew of 27 menosian people, plunge deeper into Akrosia’s atmosphere.

  The fiery disintegration of the large roughly spherical ship as it is hurtling uncontrollably through the lower atmosphere is a horrific sight. There is a look of shock and disbelief on everyone’s face. “Those filthy murdering cowards!” Jathan screams. Trovis orders Moy to initiate a fast descent toward the Sabovian mainland. Trovis transmits an emergency distress call directly to the Falosian Defense Force. “It is our only chance!” He tells Jathan. “We are not through yet!”

  The lead fighter pilot locks a missile on the fleeing shuttle and fires. As the deadly missile streaks toward its target, Ankis Trovosk smiles.

  However, a few seconds from target impact, an extremely bright energy beam from far above strikes the missile, thus causing it to explode prematurely. Before Ankis can determine what happened, two separate and highly focused energy beams impact both his support fighters. Both fighters are now high-speed fireballs. Two minutes earlier, the attacking ship, Phesavius, had emerged from a quantum jump sphere.

  “All units! I am under attack!” Ankis screams into the transceiver. “I have lost both support crafts. Repeat! I am under attack! Need immediate help!” Nine other fighters in attack formation quickly maneuver to converge on the Phesavius. All fighter pilots prime their missiles for immediate release.

  The Phesavius is seconds away from being in weapons range of the fighters; each equipped with six wing-mounted missiles along with two pulse laser cannons. “All units! Launch missiles! Fire on that vessel,” a commanding voice comes over the channel. A few moments later, each of the nine fighters launches two of their high-speed missiles.

  “Commander! Incoming missiles!” Raddock yells.

  Ularik immediately yells orders. “Weapons Officer! Destroy those missiles and the fighter vessels!”

  “Acknowledged Commander!” Within seconds, Raddock programs the tracking computer to lock on to all enemy missiles and enemy fighters. The Phesavius’ tracking computer immediately scans and begins tracking the approach of eighteen enemy missiles traveling at ten miles per second, a speed that would cause the missiles to burn up within the planet’s atmosphere. The Phesavius has less than twenty seconds to act before the first missile impacts her hull. In the first eight hundred nanoseconds, the path of each in-coming missile is plotted on a three-dimensional virtual grid in relation to the Phesavius’ position.

  While continuously updating the Phesavius’ changing position, the tracking computer analyzes, processes and feeds the data to the targeting/fire-control computer.

  With this information, the targeting/fire-control computer begins firing both peshon beams independently of each other. Two ten-terawatt, narrowly focused peshon particle beams are fired in short rapid pulses. Within six seconds, rapid pulse peshon beams impacts and destroys each missile. “Commander,” yells one pilot, “all missiles have been destroyed.”

  “All pilots!” Ankis screams, “target that ship and open fire!”

  The two fighter vessels closest to the approaching ship fire their dual twenty-megawatt blue laser canons. The Phesavius’ special protective surface coating coupled with high-speed evasion maneuvers minimizes the effects of multiple laser impacts.

  Ularik, now angrier, makes sure that the enemy fighter vessels never fire off another laser shot. Raddock hits one contact. One half-second later, the Phesavius’ targeting/fire-control computer directs an extremely powerful, narrowly focused peshon beam to hit the nearest fighter vessel. The peshon beam slices two-thirds the way through the vessel before the vessel explodes in a brilliant flash of light. At one-second intervals, the Phesavius’ targeting/fire-control computer redirects the powerful beam to hit subsequent fighter vessels. The destruction of four additional fighter vessels throws the remaining fighter pilots into mass confusion, forcing them to take evasive action.

  Braax continues to maneuver the Phesavius into various attack positions. Two fighter pilots have only moments to lock on and fire their lasers at the Phesavius. One beam misses while the other beam strikes an aft structure on the Phesavius. Burn damage is minimal. Both fighters are never able to fire again as a separate harrion missile destroys each fighter. The Phesavius has launched four of these extremely fast, self-reprogramming missiles.

  Each missile, in constant communication with each other and guided by sophisticated intelligence-based programming, selects and homes in on a specific enemy target. Once fired, these missiles never miss. Within several seconds, two additional fighters are destroyed.

  “All vessels! Respond immediately!” Ankis screams. No response, though, is forthcoming. Save for himself, the Phesavius has obliterated the other nine members of his fighter squadron. Ankis forces his fighter into an immediate escape maneuver. His only chance, he decides, is the safety of his home planet. However, his sensors detect the approach of one thermal object.

  An extremely high-speed and searing heat source is approaching aft of his fighter. As the bright energy sphere is closing in on his fighter, Ankis initiates a full thrust evasion maneuver in an attempt to escape the oncoming sphere. Whatever internal guidance system the energy sphere is using, it has already
acquired a lock and has closed to within one hundred miles of his fighter. Out of desperation, Ankis attempts to initiate a weapons lock on the approaching sphere to fire his aft lasers. High intensity jamming signals from some source is interfering with his equipment. Ankis screams just before weapon impact. His vessel is now into a fast-moving gaseous cloud.

  “Commander! All enemy vessels are destroyed!” Raddock states.

  “Good! Send Morvanyic our condolences,” Ularik responds.

  Planet Earth

  The Northern Californian city of Anonwood

  The Phillis Wheatley Branch Library

  33 Dr Samuel McCree Way

  Friday, 2 August 1974 (10:00 AM)

  Shanté Richardson nervously eyes David sitting at a table a short distance away. After looking around, she casually walks toward him. Stopping just a few feet from him, she glances at the book in his hands. “Back again for more, I see. What’s with the star map book?”

  After a brief sigh, David lifts his head up out of the second edition of the library reference book, Peterson Field Guides: Stars and Planets. I’m just doing some research, that’s all,” he tells her before returning his focus to the book. Shanté carefully looks around the library again before sitting opposite of him. Looking up at her again, David is puzzled. “Is there a problem?”

  “Yeah, we have to talk. It’s important.”

  “I see,” David responds after noticing her strange behavior. “What is it that you and I have to talk about?”

  “Tyrone’s latest girl friend.”

  Placing the opened book face down, David looks her straight in the eyes. “You mean Verónica Poderes?”

  “Yeah, she’s the one. But first, I need to ask you something.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Did you talk with Mr. Weiss about the language thing that you wanted to know?”

  “Yeah, despite the fact that you bawled me out at first.”

  “You interrupted Gareth and me in our fun,” she protests mildly.

  “Okay. My bad. Next question?”

  “How’s your research going? Was Arlene Vaughan helpful?”

  “Yeah, she was helpful. Still, I found it odd that she kept asking me a lot of unrelated questions. Now, why are you suddenly interested in this and what about Verónica?”

  Shanté reaches up and briefly scratches her forehead before answering him. “What kind of questions did Arlene ask you?”

  “She wanted to know if I found anything and…why are you acting so strange?”

  “I think that you might be in trouble.”

  “Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

  “Let’s just say that I found something out a few days ago.”

  “Shanté, you’re losing me. What are you getting at?” David closes the book and sits back in his chair with a puzzled look on his face.

  “How much do you know about Verónica?”

  “Not much. Still, she’s quite a woman though. Tyrone has a hard time keeping his lips off her.”

  Shanté finds David’s answer disappointing, if not entirely accurate. “Have you noticed anything else about her?”

  David thinks a moment. “Well, she does have that Spanish accent.”

  “David, her real name is Verónica Leticia Powers.”

  “Powers? I thought her last name was Poderes.”

  “Poderes is Spanish for Powers. I thought the great research and linguistic adventurist would have known that.”

  “Very funny. However, my language major is French, not Spanish. So what about Verónica?”

  “Her mother, Juanita Roberta Hernandez, is a white Latino. Her father was black.”

  “Was?”

  “Yeah, he’s dead.”

  “I am so…totally not surprised. So what’s your point?”

  “Her parents are originally from New York East Harlem.”

  “Okay, you mean Spanish Harlem.”

  “Same difference. Her father, James Earl Powers, was killed when she was seventeen. Later, she and her mother moved out west to escape some threats on their lives by some Dominican drug dealers.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but why South Central LA? It’s just as bad as East Harlem,” David surmises.

  “She has relatives down there, but that’s not the point though.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “For two years, Verónica had attended Crenshaw High School before dropping out. That’s when she decided to go into her own profession.”

  “Profession? As in?”

  “As in…hooker for hire.”

  David’s eyes widen. “Shanté! Tell me what I’m thinking is wrong.”

  Leaning back in her chair, she shakes her head affirming his suspicion.

  “Okay. So who hired her?”

  “Arlene Vaughan did. It gets crazier though.”

  “Whoa! Hold on!” David yells, interrupting her while extending his hands partially up. “Why would a UCA associate history professor hire a street ho? And where are you getting all of this information from?”

  “My mom! That’s who! Now keep your voice down. Will you?”

  “Okay, so where is your mom getting this information from?” David asks in sharp protest.

  “Dennis Young.”

  “Who’s Dennis Young?”

  “He’s my uncle. He’s a vice cop at the LAPD Southeast Division Police Station. Verónica has a serious arrest record.”

  “Arrest record? Woman! Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious and I told you before to stop calling me your woman! LAPD cops had arrested Verónica four times for prostitution and twice for cocaine possession. After her last court arraignment, she was released on her own recognizance. She moved up here after failing to show up for her day in court.”

  “Okay, so she jumped bail!”

  “Yeah,” Shanté responds dryly.

  After adding two plus two, David does not like the sum total. “Okay. So let’s get this mother straight! Some two-bit tramping whore is playing her game on Tyrone! What for?” His yelling causes several nearby patrons turn to face him.

  “Will you calm down before you blow up? You, of all people, should know the answer! Apparently, you and your friends found something that he was looking for.”

  “He? He who? I thought you were talking about Arlene Vaughn!”

  “I am! I’m also referring to her ex-husband.” Briefly, she looks away before continuing.

  “Ex-husband?” David asks with a hard frown.

  “Yeah! I guess you don’t know about Arlene’s ex-husband.”

  “Well…no! I mean, what does her ex-husband, whoever he is, has to do with any of this?”

  “David! Arlene’s ex-husband is Anthony Weiss. My mother said that they divorced eight years ago.”

  Shanté watches as David’s eyes widen again in shock. He closes his eyes briefly as he lowers his forehead into his right hand. “No wonder he was asking those same questions that Arlene was asking me! But, that still doesn’t explain why I’m in trouble, as you mentioned.”

  “I’m afraid it does. But I’m not the one to tell you how,” Shanté concludes, as she has an idea as to his next question.

  “Shanté, did you have any idea of this when you recommended that I go and see Weiss?” David awaits her answer with keen anticipation.

  “Well…not really,” she replies sheepishly. She sees the disbelief on his face. “Look! I don’t have all the details right now. You need to go and see someone who can explain this much better than I can. Actually, it’s my mom’s idea for you to go and see someone about this.”

  “Why would Mrs. Richardson want me to go and see someone else about this? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I respect her and all. She was one of the office assistants back when I was in the fifth grade.”

  “That still isn’t the point. My mother has known Arlene for years. She was eating at Piccadilly’s Restaurant when she overheard Arlene and Verónica discussing their plan in the next booth. Mom said that
Arlene is one scheming woman.”

  “From what you have just told me, I can see why.”

  “Anyway, Anthony and his wife are up to something dirty. You need to go and see this guy. You may want to bring a friend along for protection.”

  “Protection?” David is finding it difficult to believe what he is hearing. The present situation is now taking on a new and potentially dangerous dimension. If Shanté is telling him the truth, he reasons, then he wants to know all the details-after he has finished strangling Tyrone.

  “Okay, I’m convinced. Now, who is this person that I need to see?”

  “He’s a good friend of my mom’s, a retired dock worker by the name of Harold Lee Tanner.”

  Fifteen minutes later, David is knocking much harder than usual on the Clark’s front door. He knows exactly what he wants to tell Tyrone before he would do something that both of them would regret. “Someone open this freakin’ door!” He yells. The door swings open.

  “What is your problem?” Sylvia demands after forcing the door open.

  “Oh,” David responds softly watching the face of the young woman for which he has found himself deeply in love. Sylvia stands in the doorway with a seriously angry look on her face. David’s own anger diminishes slowly as he stands face to face with her.