The Noah Satellite

by Allan E Petersen

  Instead of marching to her desk, he turned and went to the table and urn of coffee. It wasn’t for him, rather for her. Placing the full cup beside her, he sat and watched something that had always amazed him. He never understood the function of the so-called magic elixir of coffee but knew that to some people, like his boss the caffeine worked wonders. After a slight ‘thank you’ nod she swallowed a great gulp that was followed by a deep revitalizing long breath. She was now fueled and ready to listen.

  He started,

  “Well, it looks like you were right. There is collaboration between the Russian Federal Security Agency and the aliens inside the dome. The Russians were told that the aliens are waiting for some sort of rescue from the home planet but they are not sure how that was going to happen.”

  “Apparently in exchange for privacy and help in sustaining them, the aliens have offered the military advanced technology. The scary thing is that some of it is weapons of mass destruction. And get this, those bombs along with some flying saucers are stockpiled on the moon.”

  With eyes glued to the cup, Maria proposed,

  “Maybe that’s why the Anunnaki ship we took to the Black Knight satellite was diverted there.”

  “Yes,’ agreed Waldorf, “I was thinking the same thing. Perhaps the weapons the Atlantians are so willing to give up belong to an ancient Anunnaki armory.

  Both sat in silence for a while and reflected on the ramifications of such weapons coming back to Earth. Maria slowly looked up and said,

  “The type of weapons used in the Great Earth War massively altered the history of this Planet. The war either killed off most of the twelve alien tribes or devastated the planet enough for the survivors to leave. It was after the war that humans were able to dominate this planet.”

  Nodding his agreement he added,

  “I wonder what our history would have been like if such devastation did not happen?”

  She added,

  “Or what we would look like if the aliens had stayed and ruled over us.”

  Thinking that the meeting was over, Maria started to get up. A sore back and weak legs made the effort difficult. What Waldorf said next stunned her. Legs gave out and she sank back down and stared at him in disbelief. He said,

  “With great remorse, I must report the death of a member of the House of the Nazarene.”

  As she heard what happened to Professor Vlad Novokoff, frowns formed and sorrow appeared. He thought it best to omit from his report a bullet hole in his jacket collar. With great concern and compassion she asked,

  “Did he have a family? Can we at least help financially?”

  He shook the question off and explained the Professor’s lonely life. She said,

  “I greatly underestimated the intelligence capability and ruthful ways of the Russian Federal Security Service. From now on greater care will be taken when dealing with them. I am so glad that nothing happened to you and Santo when I sent you there for that Intel mission.”

  Waldorf’s experience in the game of spying and secrecy prevailed. He managed to keep a bland expression not showing how close both came to being killed on that mission. He was glad the bullet in his jacket collar was omitted from the report.

  Weighed down with exhaustion and now the report of Professor Vlad Novokoff’s death, it was much harder to push away from the desk and stand. While walking to the door, she said to him,

  “Waldorf, we can’t allow the Russian Federal Security Service to get their hands on those weapons. It’s a volatile government at best.”

  He agreed and said,

  “I will try to come up with a plan to stop that from happening.”

  Stopping at the bottom of the great staircase and looking at him she said,

  “No, don’t bother. I already have something in mind.”

  With the report over and nothing else to reveal, Waldorf nodded a ‘good night’ and Maria watched him bound up the grand staircase to his apartment and Helga.

  Like Maria, Waldorf was exhausted from his long day. He just wanted to get upstairs and lay down. Opening the door and walking into the living room he was surprised to see Helga sitting at the dining room table staring at the chess board. Suddenly he understood that going to bed was not possible. He had promised to be home in time for a game and apparently, although late, she was holding him to that promise. Approaching with a pretend smile, he knew he was in trouble.

  Now that Waldorf was out of sight, Maria sucked in a deep breath and prepared to struggle up what might as well have been steep steps to the top of Mount Everest. It was not until struggling halfway up the stairs that she realized not only her mind was exhausted but body as well. She always took great pride in setting a quick pace up those long stairs and if anybody was looking, bounding two at a time. At least to her, it proved what she had always believed, that she was fit and able.

  At times when she and Santo were walking up the stairs together she always deliberately set a quicker pace. He would have to run to catch her. The only person she never competed against was Waldorf, what with his bad leg and age. Now for the first time an exhausted body and rubber legs needed the assistance of the railing and she sadly gripped it tight. Her only consolation was that it was late at night. Santo was already in bed and would not see her weakness.

  She was so exhausted that she feared taking a shower. She knew she would fall asleep when the soothing water started to relax achy muscles. Brushing her teeth was a ritual never excused all though now greatly hurried along. As silently as possible, she slid under the covers and gently slipped an arm over Santo’s bare chest. It was always her way of saying ‘goodnight’ to a sleeping Santo. After a heavy heave, she knew sleep would overtake her before another breath.

  However, sleep was evasive. Mad thoughts raced through her head and dancing computer computations reeled around like a drunken Tango dancer. When she finally managed to force her eyes closed, they somehow slowly crept wide open again. Only in bed for an hour, she understood that despite beckoning it forth, praying for it, sleep and rest of mind was not going to happen. There was too much noise in her head.

  Santo slowly opened his eyes and watched her slip into a pair of jeans and shirt. He felt the peck on his cheek and watched as she silently snuck out of the room. He knew where she was going and where she would be until the craving for ‘need to know’ was content. Knowing that such a curse was a ravenous hunger, he felt her pain. He knew it could never be satisfied. Once understanding something, other questions from that discovery always sprung forward. Such are the sufferings of a brilliant mind. Knowing that he was on early security duty and his alarm clock would rudely wake him in an hour, he slowly closed his eyes.

  Chapter 60

  When Santo woke up with a cold pillow beside him, it was still dark outside. Once again he was up before dawn. Such are the trials and tribulations of his turn to go through the morning security checks. Albina, their new cook was not expected to start making breakfast this early. Santo understood that if she was expected to make breakfast for the varied and staggered times they got up, Maria would never be able to hire a cook. Not one for struggling with pots and pans, Santo’s breakfast consisted of an orange juice and toast. It will have to do until his shift is over and he can get a decent breakfast in the cafeteria.

  Two hours later, he sat in the cafeteria next to the window looking out over the estate. Pretty well everybody knew this was the favorite table of the Head of Security and not to sit there. When scrambled eggs, bacon and another orange juice were munched down, he went back to the buffet with the empty tray. Knowing that he had already eaten his Spartan breakfast, the cook wondered why he was again filling up with another serving. Santo cast her a wink and said,

  “It’s not for me.”

  When entering her office and she saw the kind offering on the tray, he was rewarded with a smile. Normally he enjoyed watching her hunt and peck at her food but when she was ravenous, it was not a pretty sight. He watched in amazement as a stern thumb pre
ssed the rest of the sandwich into an already full mouth. When the coffee cup was raced up to her mouth, he pretended to be interested in his shoes. He didn’t need to see that slaughter of etiquette. When the tray was empty and she returned her attention to the computers, he knew that unless he acted quickly he would be ignored and so promptly asked,

  “So, can you enlighten me with what you have discovered so far?”

  In order to offer up a visual, she turned the monitor in his direction and said.

  “A lot actually. Keep in mind that the computers confirmed everything.”

  She then glowed with pride and continued,

  “Okay, here it is. From the DNA found in the satellite, and the sample Helga managed to get for me from one of the sleeping aliens under the Siberian Triangle, my computers confirmed that they are identical. By that discovery, speculation allows for those aliens to have constructed the satellite. Also, the likeness that the computer program formed from the DNA was confirmed as accurate by both Helga and Pia.”

  She then pressed a key and an image appeared on the monitor. Aside from being slender with a normal humanlike mouth and eyes, when seeing the cone shaped skull he was reminded of the similar Egyptian images and their many gods. He wondered if there was a connection to these aliens and ancient Egypt in the time of the pyramids.

  She keyed in a computer command and explained,

  “And when I placed their DNA sequencing in the dimensional keyboard that we took from the satellite, this is what I saw.”

  Another image appeared and Santo saw a planet looking much like barren farmland of the infamous American ‘dust bowl’. Tracts of farmland as far as the eye could see were nothing but dust and swirling winds. There was nothing in sight, no forests, animals or birds. If they are waiting for a rescue from their home planet, clearly that is not going to happen.”

  Great apathy for a stranded alien species that just want to go home filled her. At least in this case the time honored adage rang true and cruel, ‘you can never go home again’.

  It was clear that whoever those mysterious Atlantians were, their planet had been dead for a very long time. She said,

  “It is impossible to tell just by looking but when compared to the land, I’m betting there are no fish in that ocean either.”

  She then looked to Santo and added,

  “It is easy to understand why the Atlantians left that world for a better one.”

  When she turned off the monitor and the stark image faded to black, she gulped another coffee and stunned him by what she said next. She explained that Waldorf had found out the Russians were soon going to retrieve weapons of mass destruction from the moon. He commented,

  “From the start, I wondered why the Russians had an air force Base in the Siberian Triangle acting more like an Area 51. This explains why that Base is located pretty well in the middle of nowhere.”

  She added,

  “Yes, and because they are giving the Russian Air Force advanced technology that also explains how their MiGs were able to locate our D-wing while in full stealth and radar avoidance.”

  Santo then firmly said,

  “Under no circumstances must they retrieve those weapons.”

  With suspicion, he looked across the desk and asked what he knew had already been planned.

  “Do you have something in mind?”

  “Yes, I want to go there and talk to the aliens. There might be a way to change their mind on the deal they struck with the Russians and a way to help them get back to their planet.”

  Surprised, he asked,

  “Why would they want to get back to a dead planet?”

  “I don’t know but they told the Russians that they are waiting for a rescue. I of course presume that they mean rescued from this Planet.”

  She then told him of the entry frequency Waldorf now had in his phone, adding,

  “I can send one of our D-wings to our laboratory in Denmark and have that disrupter frequency installed. It would give us free and safe entry through the dome.”

  At least to Santo, aside from the great danger of the unknown, there was still the problem of languages to be contended with. It was easy to say ‘I want to talk to them’ but by her admittance it was a language with no human links, let alone to what Zak had compiled in his alien languages file. He understood that talking to them was not going to be easy. She saw his frown as a visual objection and so held up a children’s picture book.

  “By matching their words to the pictures in here Jessika has been able to formulate a rudimentary language, one I’m pretty sure they will understand. I can enter it into our alien translator. It will work, I promise you.”

  As he sat there shaking his head, clearly not approving of her desire to communicate with an unknown species, he tried to deter such dangerous thoughts. He said,

  “You understand that anybody willing to hand over terrible weapons of mass destruction to the Russian Air Force is probably not a peace loving species, right?”

  She defended,

  “According to what Waldorf found out for me, they are not aggressive. They have lived under the Siberian Triangle for generations and generations without violence to the locals.”

  He defended his objection by countering,

  “But they have also kidnapped humans for generations. Helga and Pia said there were hundreds of them under the dome.”

  “Yes, but they also said that they didn’t seem like slaves or prisoners, that they looked happy and content to be there.”

  She then made sure that it sounded important,

  “Santo, we have to stop those weapons from coming to Earth. They also have answers for things that I need to know.”

  He knew she was not asking his permission but rather telling him what she was going to do. There was no stopping the freight train speeding out of control of her ‘need to know’.

  Chapter 61

  Just to the east of Copenhagen on the shore of the Oresund Sea are many buildings known worldwide as The Royal Danish Fish Habitat and Hatchery where the migration and transplantation of the Baltic Cod are studied. However and in secret, the buildings are much than just that. To the far end of the many low building but well within the bounds of the secured property are also House of the Nazarene secret laboratories.

  Lars Nielson, a handsome young man whose Danish heritage goes well past the age of the Vikings and lets everybody know it, now heads the new Nazarene laboratory for the study of dimension harmonics and frequencies. Maria had sent him the frequency given to Waldorf capable of penetrating the Siberian Triangle and asked him to install such a transmitter on one of their D-wings.

  He is currently communicating with her on a secure link coded and bounced between three of their satellites. There was frustration in his voice.

  “No Professor, the hull of our D-wings is atoned to gravity wave harmonics. The frequency you sent me will only disrupt and indeed cancel out all the hulls ability to utilize gravity as a power source.”

  She was not an expert on gravity fields and so said,

  “Give me that in little bites Lars, what does it mean?”

  “Simply put Professor, you can have one functioning frequency but not both.”

  She was quick to understand that Lars could run the alien disruptive field through the hull of the D-wing but it would cancel out gravity control. Without gravity wave functions they could not fly to the Triangle. The perplexity being, without the disruptive alien frequency there was no getting through the shielding. She was stern in her reply.

  “You are new to the House of the Nazarene Lars and I understand that. However, the first thing you have to learn about me is that I do not accept ‘can not’ but will consider alternatives.”

  There was a long pause, all the while she heard a keyboard viciously pounded and then finally,

  “Yes, perhaps an alternative. Although we cannot vibrate the frequency through the hull, we can maybe install aerials on the outside enabling the frequency to blanket the ship. I
t will not be a pretty sight and you could not go up into the stratosphere or even attain great speed or the aerials would just tear off. However, if you stay under three thousand miles an hour and go no higher than 20,000 feet, I believe the aerials will stay intact and the frequencies remain operative.”

  She mulled the alternative over. Eventually her ‘need to know’ stayed to the forefront and accepted the limitations. One saving grace was that the Siberian Triangle, relative to the world, was not that far away. She supposed that she could tolerate a long slow flight from Denmark into Russia. She said,

  “Very well Lars. I’ll remotely send you one of my D-wings and you do whatever is necessary to install those aerials and that frequency.”

  Before she ended the call, she exercised her right as a leader of the House of the Nazarene.

  “And I want it done right away.”

  “Yes of course but I will still need a few hours to install and check everything.”

  Soon after her demand of a near impossible installation done that fast, she was in the hangar supervising the loading of the D-wing to be sent to Copenhagen when Santo walked in. He approached and asked a busy Maria,

  “What are you loading?”

  She held a clipboard, checked an item off and said,