Lost in Magadan: Extraterrestrials on Earth
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LOST IN MAGADAN
Extraterrestrials on Earth
A Science Fiction Novel
William Lee
Lost in Magadan: Extraterrestrials on Earth by William Lee
Published by: William Lee
© 2017 William Lee. All rights reserved. No part of this eBook or 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 written permission from the author, except as otherwise permitted by US Copyright law. For permissions, contact:
WilliamLee73@gmx.com
This is a work of fiction. While some of the places, agencies, institutions, organizations and historical events are well known; any names or characters, businesses, events or incidents, and conversations between characters, are completely fictitious. Characters interactions with historically significant persons, such as Stalin and Hitler, are completely fictional as imagined by the author. Any resemblance to actual persons or actual events is purely coincidental. The opinions and beliefs expressed by the characters belong to them alone, and not the author.
Editing by Shanna Harris.
Cover Design by James, GoOnWrite.com
ISBN: 9780999531303
ISBN: 0999531301
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Postscript
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
Central Virginia
Last Summer
Snap felt a bit of nostalgia as he drove through the rolling hills of Route 29, an endless army of trees lined the highway; their ranks broken only by an occasional country store. In the distance, stood the Blue Ridge Mountains and a clear blue summer sky. Despite it being a warm day, Snap was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a green t-shirt. His black ball cap simply read: DELTA. Turning off the main State highway, he drove for several miles down unmarked winding roads, passing the occasional barn and field of corn.
Snap drove down the long dirt driveway leading to the old farm house. The unyielding summer sun caused him to squint to navigate the once familiar turn that led up to where the dense trees opened into a small field. The field, which once yielded crops, was now overrun with weeds and encroaching saplings. As the house came into view, he noticed the roof and shudders were in disrepair. A feeling of Deja vu washed over him as remembered playing on a tire swing and drinking lemonade near the large old tree in the front yard.
Dust swirled around the Dodge Challenger as it ground to a stop before the large covered porch that surrounded the two-story home. As he approached the deck, an old man struggled to stand, leaning on a wooden cane.
“Sit down, Pops,” Snap hollered as he sprinted up the steps, removing his aviator style sunglasses as he approached the shade.
“I thought that was you, Morgan,” the weak voice responded with a chuckle; “You got yourself a fancy new car, I see. A real panty dropper, hey?”
“I don’t need any help dropping panties, Pop. That’s just an added benefit,” Snap said as he hugged his grandfather.
“I see you are wearing your old Army cap?” Snap asked in jest; “I thought you were an Air Force man.” Snap gently push down the brim of his grandfather’s tattered black ball cap which proudly displayed the slogan ‘Army Strong.’
“It reminds me of a simpler time. When good guys were good guys, and bad guys got shot.”
“I know Pops, do you ever wear your Air Force cap?”
“Sure do, if it weren’t for the Air Force, I wouldn’t be a triple dipper,” the old man said with a grin.
Snap laughed; “That’s something I’ll never see.”
“It’s good to see you, Morgan. What brings you to this part of the country? Aren’t you stationed in Utah?”
“I’m at Hill Air Force Base.”
“I thought you were Delta?”
“I am. Just on loan to the Air Force.”
“So, what they got you doing for the Fly Boys?”
“I’m part of a special unit, testing new battle armor and weaponry.”
“Interesting, can you tell me about it?”
“It’s mostly classified, but I know you can keep a secret. I’m testing a new combat armor called FALOS. It stands for Fusion-powered Armor Light Operator System. Basically, it’s full body armor supported by a titanium exoskeleton. The built-in fusion reactor powers a 100-kilowatt laser rifle, also referred to as a DE Rifle.”
“Wow. It’s come a long way since I was in the service. Guess you will be getting an Air Force cap soon too, eh?” The old man said with a grin.
“Anything seem off to you about the new equipment? Like something just doesn’t seem right about it?” Pops asked.
Snap pondered for a minute, thinking that was an odd question for his grandfather to ask. “No, not really. I can’t really say anything else, you know, national security stuff.”
“So, what brings you all the way out to Nelson County?” Pops asked, obviously changing the subject.
“I’m in DC for a few days, Pentagon stuff. So, I thought I would come by and visit. Say, what’s wrong with your phone?”
“Got a new provider. Now, I hardly get any service out here in the sticks. Think I need to switch back.”
“Yeah. I’ve tried calling you several times. At your age, living alone, you need a phone that works all the time.”
“Roger that Major,” The old man gave a half-ass salute to his grandson.
“Pops, you know Mom and I worry about you. Out here alone on the farm.”
“Speaking of my daughter, how’s your Mom doing. I haven’t heard from her in a while.”
“Well, maybe if you had a . . .”
“Don’t be a smart ass to an old man,” Pops cut him off with a twinkle in his eye.
“No seriously, Mom is doing fine. She moved to Florida a while back.”
“She found a new man, yet?” Pops asked.
“Ever since your father died, when you were knee high to a grasshopper, I been telling her to find a new man – get married.”
“She would probably be happier,” Snap agreed. “But after all these years, I don’t think it’s going to happen.”
The rocking chair squeaked against the uneven floor boards. White paint was peeling across the exterior of the house. Snap knew his grandfather did not have the strength or energy to keep up this house from a bygone era.
“Could I get you something to eat, a sandwich or lemonade?”
“Do you still have that homemade root beer?” Snap asked.
The old man chuckled and said, “I don’t make it myself anymore, but my neighbor brings me some every now and then. Got some in the fridge.”
“I’ll get it,” Snap said as he leapt from the rocking chair. For a moment, Snap felt like he was five years old again. “Do you want one?”
“Sure, I’d love to share a beer with my only grandson.”
Snap walked into the old farmhouse. It was much like he remembered, except messier. How long had it been since grandma died? Was it ten years? Longer? As he rounded into the kitchen, he noticed the dining table was buried beneath hundreds of papers, documents, files, and books. The hand-bottled root beer stood in the old-fashioned refrigerator, ice cold. Snap returned to the porch; a cool breeze pushed through the worn screens. Pops was reading a hand-written leather-bound journal.
“What you got there, Pops?” Snap asked, as he set the brown, glass bottle down on the small table.
Pops leaned back in his chair and took a sip from the bottle. He appeared to be in deep thought. Pops said, “You know I won’t be here much longer.”
“Come on, Pops. You’re in great health,” Snap protested.
“No really, I’m ninety-five; every day I wake up is a surprise. Seriously, I have something important to say. So, listen.”
Snap shrugged and said, “Sure, Pops, anything you want.”
Pops took another sip of the sweet root beer and said, “I’m not the man you think I am. I’ve done a lot, seen a lot. Everything is recorded, right here in this journal. When I die, you need to come back to the farm and retrieve this journal. It will be here, waiting for you.”
“I may not be able to, I could be deployed to the other side of the world.”
“Doesn’t matter. This house will still be here. It’s not in my name; a corporate trust pays the taxes on it. When you get back, the journal will be here, hidden. It won’t be easy to find.”
“Why hide it?”
“When I’m gone, people, lots of people, will be looking for my papers. It will take them a while to find this place; it is well hidden in shell companies. But they will find it, given enough time.”
“What’s in the journal, Pops?”
“All the secrets.” The old man smiled. “I was in the Air Force, in the beginning, when it all started.” The old man smiled as he gently closed the leather-bound journal and patted it with his crippled hand. Snap was sure he saw a twinkle in the old man’s eye.
“So, I hate talking about this, but it’s obviously important to you. How will I find the journal if it’s hidden?”
Pops grinned, “You know how people say, ‘if these walls could talk.’”
“Sure Pops.”
“Well, mine actually do. You still like plinking cans?”
Snap shook his head and laughed. “Of course.”
“Well, why don’t you go set some up under that shade tree,” Pops said, pointing to a tree about sixty-five yards away from the house.
“Just like when I was a kid.”
“Yes sir. Except this time, we don’t have no woman folk to tell us we can’t shoot from the porch.”
When Snap got back from setting up the rusty old tin coffee cans, the leather journal was gone from the table and had been replaced by an old pump-action twenty-two rifle.
The afternoon flew by and Snap had to head back to Washington DC. As he was driving back down the long dirt driveway, he wondered, had just seen his grandfather for the last time?
CHAPTER TWO
Present Day
Milky Way Galaxy
Commander Forte coughed and gasped for air. He tried to focus on the objects in front of him. Slowly, his vison adjusted, and the cold, gray, sterile environment came into focus momentarily. He was shivering, cold, and naked. Hordes of tiny goosebumps lined his body, and he coughed up a pink, slimy, liquid substance; his lungs frantically grasped for air, until the fluid was expelled from his system and he could breathe normally. His thoughts began to sharpen, his legs gave out below him and he fell to the metal floor. He looked up and saw an attractive blond rushing his way.
“Commander, I’m so sorry. We have so much going on; you woke up before I expected.” Forte stood up, twisted his head from side to side, stretched his aching neck, he was not shy about being naked in front of the female medical officer. Standing six-foot-two, with a slightly graying beard, he was well-proportioned and fit. Unfortunately for him, it did not help with the ladies because every member of his crew was genetically predisposed to being nearly perfect.
“No problem, Officer Telnecki, what’s our situation?” Forte asked, as he cleared his throat of the last bit of pink slime.
“We just came out of the time-space bubble a few hours ago; I am working on getting the crew out of LTS mode,” Telnecki responded, turning towards another Long-Term-Sleep unit to release the next crew member.
Forte had entered the coffin-shaped, metallic container 300 days earlier when his last duty had ended. Each of the crew served two-month shifts, monitoring the ship’s functions, before returning to the LTS unit. The journey through space lasted thirty years, but the crew slept through most of the trip, only waking to serve their watch. Forte stretched one more time, listened to his joints crack and pop, and walked into the shower room. The LTS chamber was large, it housed over 100 units standing against the walls facing each other. Medical Officer Telnecki had only opened ten LTS units so far; each LTS unit stood against the wall with a door facing the middle of the room. As Forte walked past the units, he recognized almost all the crewmembers’ sleeping faces.
Passing through the LTS chamber, into the shower room, he noticed two men and one woman showering off the slimy residue in which they had just been submerged. The shower room was one large open space with shower heads protruding from the walls. All three of the crew members in the shower room were tall with blonde hair.
“Good morning, Commander,” said one of the showering men, as he wiped the soap from his eyes. Of course, they all knew it was not morning, but it was common for crew to greet each other by saying good morning after waking from a long sleep.
“Morning, Lieutenant. Did you sleep well?” asked Forte, smiling, as he was becoming more like himself by the minute.
“Yes, Commander.”
Forte lingered under the hot water for ten minutes, thinking about the many tasks that would have to be completed in the upcoming days.
Commander Forte, while having the appearance of a human, was not from Earth. His planet, Vitahic, circles a star located in the Cygnus Constellation – 620 light years from Earth.
Forte finished showering and headed into the dressing room, where there were several officers putting on their utilitarian uniforms. The navy-blue uniform was a synthetic, form-fitting material, thicker than spandex, which protected the crew member from extreme weather conditions. The uniform contained millions of nanobots that would activate to protect the crewmember in hazardous situations, and it was capable of being powered by multiple sources, including solar, kinetic and thermal energy. The uniform was made from a ballistics resistant boron carbide fiber, and had a built-in forearm display that allowed the crew to communicate and remotely access critical data.
As Forte finished putting on his uniform, he attached the small star-shaped pin over his heart – one of only two distin
ctions between his uniform and the other officers’. The other difference was that commanding officers were to wear a holstered, laser pistol. The laser pistol, while fully functional, was mainly symbolic, as no commander in recent memory had found cause to use it. At one point, Fleet Command had even discussed discontinuing the practice of commanding officers carrying side arms.
Much like humans, Vitahicians were hungry after sleeping for long periods; so Forte decided to walk to the galley in search of food. As he left the LTS chamber, he noticed that more of the crew were stumbling out of the LTS units with the assistance of Officer Telnecki.
CHAPTER THREE
Forte stepped into the elevator, and it smoothly glided along an electromagnetic force field, up five levels, to the Galley. In the dining facility, Forte walked up to three officers sitting at a round table.
“Good Morning, Commander,” blurted one of the younger officers.
He could not remember the officer’s name, as he was the newest edition to the ship. Forte forgave himself for not knowing his name, after all, he had been asleep for most of the last decade.
“Good morning,” responded Forte, hoping one of the seasoned officers would use the kid’s name.
“Yes Sir, I’m ready to get back to work. I feel like a slacker having slept for all those years and not even producing a dream.”
Captain Cordatus, a veteran officer grumbled, “You get used to it after a few centuries.”
“You must feel like Rip Van Winkle, you know, the character from that human story where the guy slept. . .”
Cordatus cut off the young officer, “Stop talking about human fairy tales. The rest of us don’t care about their fiction,” Cordatus snarled, with a scowl on his face.
The young officer, not picking up on Cordatus’ lack of amusement, insisted, “We need to understand humans as much as possible, we are going to be living among them soon.”
Cordatus glanced over at Forte and said, “We need to understand their technology, physiology, languages, strengths, and weaknesses, both mental and physical, we don’t need to know their fairy tales!”