Lost in Magadan: Extraterrestrials on Earth

by William Lee

  The pistol was almost difficult to hold; it was tiny compared to the size of Nox’s oversized fingers. Nox walked past the three of them and into Hitler’s chambers. A single shot was heard. A few minutes later, Nox walked back into the room. “I forced Eva’s look-a-like to ingest cyanide.”

  Nox pointed at Goebbels. “Take pictures, burn the bodies in the garden.”

  Nox then turned to General Krebs, “Wait two hours and notify the Generals in the field that the Fuehrer is dead.”

  Nox then reached into a hidden compartment within his body armor and pulled out a small container. Handing it to Krebs, he said, “A gift for you. This contains enough cyanide to kill both of you. I suggest you use it before the Soviets take this bunker.”

  Nox then turned to Hitler, “Your U-boats were launched for Argentina a few days ago. All your belongings will arrive as planned. I personally saw to it that your instructions were followed. You and Eva will live out your days in a villa in the Andes Mountains. Go get Eva now; we need to leave.”

  Lying was easy for Nox. The trick was to shroud your lie in a believable truth.

  Nox turned to Goebbels and Krebs. “You both need to ingest the poison before the Soviets get here. I expect absolute secrecy about Hitler’s whereabouts.”

  “I will take this secret to my grave,” Krebs assured Nox.

  Hitler and Eva emerged from one of the back rooms, each carrying a small travel bag.

  “Follow me,” Nox said.

  As they exited the bunker, Nox shot each one of the German guards with his thought-controlled particle beam incinerator. Less witnesses.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  May 1, 1945

  The Kremlin, Moscow

  As Nox entered Soviet airspace, he disengaged his optical stealth so that his flying saucer could be seen by the Russian military. He intentionally slowed his craft so that the Russians would be able to fully take in what they were seeing; he needed to demonstrate his superiority to Stalin long before they met.

  As expected, Soviet air defenses began firing into the sky. Nox was not concerned; there was no possibility of them striking his craft.

  Nox wanted to make certain that Stalin and the Soviet commanders were watching. He did not take a direct route to Moscow, but rather, intentionally flew his craft over known military installations to draw as much fire as possible.

  After two hours of spectacularly evading Soviet air defenses, he had attracted three Russian military planes. They seemed to be following him at a distance. Nox could have easily shot down the Soviet planes, but his goal was not to kill Russians, only to clearly demonstrate his military superiority.

  As Nox approached Moscow, the anti-aircraft weapons stopped. Nox assumed they gave up and decided to stop wasting ammunition. He had not shot a single Russian plane or engaged a single Russian anti-aircraft position, he had simply allowed them to shoot at him.

  As Nox approached the spot where he believed the Kremlin to be, he was shocked. The Kremlin, which had been built hundreds of years earlier as a walled city, sat on a 68-acre parcel that was completely enclosed by ten-foot-thick brick walls. Along the 7,332 feet of red brick walls stood 20 towers. Inside the huge governmental complex were numerous structures that housed ornate governmental and administrative offices, lavish churches with golden onion-shaped domes, and extensive ammo depots.

  A couple of years earlier, in the Moscow campaign, Hitler had expended considerable resources bombing Moscow and the Kremlin. Nox knew what the Kremlin was supposed to look like because of the numerous pictures he had seen. Nox made it a point to study the great cities of all the major countries on Earth, especially those of his enemies. Nox was expecting to see shiny golden domes atop buildings that had miraculously been spared by the many bombing runs Either that, or burned out ruins.

  To Nox’s surprise, where the Kremlin was supposed to be, stood a row of tenement apartment buildings. It looked like government or army housing, certainly not the elaborate Neo-Classical architecture that was supposed to be the Kremlin.

  Were his instruments off? Was he in the wrong place?

  As he sat in the cockpit of his antigravity fighter, trying to reconcile what he knew to be true against what he saw before him, his focus shifted, and the Kremlin he knew to exist appeared before his eyes.

  Had the Russians invented active optical stealth? How could his estimates of their technology be that far off?

  Then he realized the truth. The Russians had not developed optical stealth; they had used a 1,000-year-old ploy. They had painted the Kremlin to look like a series of unimportant apartment buildings. The once elegant gold domes were painted brown to deceive German pilots looking down to drop their payload of destruction. The impressive brick walls of the Kremlin were painted to look like the sides of buildings with rows of nondescript windows. False shells of buildings were built up around the Kremlin, like a Hollywood movie set. Nox realized immediately why the Nazi pilots could not accurately target the Kremlin, they could not see it from the sky.

  Those clever bastards.

  Nox looked for the perfect place to set down the AG Fighter. Red Square was directly outside the walled Kremlin. Running along another side of the walled compound was a river. The walls came together into a triangular shape. If he landed in Red Square, then the people that mattered most would have to leave the walls of the Kremlin to meet him. That would be okay, but would make for an anticlimactic moment. Nox knew this was a time for diplomacy. He chose to set his craft down in Cathedral Square in front of the Assumption Cathedral. Cathedral Square is an open space that is centrally located within the complex and visible from many important buildings.

  Nox sat in his cockpit for a few minutes, simply for effect. He knew exactly what he was going to say. Waiting to exit the fighter was for the human’s benefit, just like the blood sacrifices. Nox did not really like the taste of blood, nor did he derive any energy from killing certain people. He just knew that it solidified his control over them. Nox was certain Stalin and his top advisors would have already been gathered and discussing the situation. There was not a battalion of Russian soldiers in front of his craft. Instead, Joseph Stalin walked out from the Soviet Senate building with five soldiers and began to make his way towards Nox’s craft.

  Both Nox and Stalin had played their roles perfectly. Nox had telegraphed his position of power. Stalin knew he was powerless against Nox’s superior technology; so, he chose not to embarrass himself by surrounding the ship with impotent guards.

  This guy is a true leader, a vicious, murderous leader, but someone I can work with.

  Stalin stopped about 30 feet from the disc-shaped craft that was resting on its landing gear. He was wearing his iconic long, gray trench coat, shiny black boots, and military cap. The five soldiers were standing a few feet behind him, with submachine guns ready at the hip position, but not aimed at the craft.

  Nox walked down the ramp that had extended from the bottom of the craft. He was surprised at how little damage the Kremlin had sustained during the war, unlike Berlin, the Kremlin was in good shape. One could no longer see the sumptuous elegance of the Neo-Classical design through the façade of scaffolding and paint, but Nox was sure it would shine again soon.

  “Welcome to the Soviet Union,” Stalin said. “My apologies for the barrage of anti-aircraft fire earlier.”

  Stalin was a talented politician. One does not rise to that level of power without knowing when and how to use diplomacy. The fact that he was personally in the square, demonstrated to Nox that the leader of the Soviet Union was giving proper deference to the situation.

  “I have come in peace. I do not wish to harm you or your people.” Nox made his first communication to the Soviet leader very simple and clear. He was aware that the demonstration of superior air power would cause the Soviets to be concerned.

  “I am Joseph Stalin. I am the supreme leader of the Soviet Union. May I ask to whom I am speaking?”

  “I am Nox Bellator. I am from the pla
net Botacoure, far from here. I have a proposal to make; one, I think will be mutually beneficial.”

  “Would you like to come into the Senate Conference center to discuss your proposal?” The Soviet leader raised his hands, palms up, to signal peaceful intent.

  “If you have your men lower their weapons, I would be happy to sit and discuss my concerns,” Nox said. He was not concerned that the soldiers could harm him. Five men armed with machine guns would be no match for his armor and particle beam incinerator.

  With a hand motion from Stalin, the men lowered their weapons. “Please come this way,” he said.

  It was a short walk to the Senate building. The magnificent structure was a mustard-colored, 18th century neo-classical building, with engaged columns partially built into the walls. Stalin led Nox into a large conference room. Unlike the outside of the building, which had been disguised to look unimportant, the conference room was a display of gaudy opulence. The walls were covered with thick, hand-carved wood, paneling arching up towards a vaulted ceiling. Gilded lamps sat upon marble-top furniture stationed against the walls. A large mahogany conference table sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by an army of high-back well-upholstered chairs. On the far side of the large room was a massive stone fireplace that reached up to the decorative ceiling. The floors were white marble, and the ceiling was hand painted with whimsical geometric shapes and colors.

  Stalin walked to a chair near the door and pulled it out, “Please have a seat.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Nox said. Maybe this would be easier than he thought. Nox sat in a chair, it was a large with a high back and luxurious embroidery. The chair had to be strong, if his seven-foot frame clad in battle armor weighing nearly 500 pounds did not crush it.

  Stalin sat in the chair directly across the conference table from Nox. Two guards with machine guns stood in the doorway, but the rest of Stalin’s entourage left the room.

  Stalin, unaware of exactly how powerful Nox may be, was trying to be as polite and diplomatic as possible. “May I get you something to drink?”

  “No, thank you,” said Nox, unsure as to whether Stalin would attempt to poison him. Nox’s battle armor could detect all known poisons, but there was no need to put that system to the test.

  Nox continued, “I would like to form a treaty between your people and mine, a trade agreement of sorts.”

  “I’m interested.” Stalin was sitting straight up, hands folded on the table, looking directly into Nox’s black eyes.

  “I come from a planet far from here. I have technology that allows me to fly through space at incredible speeds. I possess weapons far beyond your wildest imagination. I can help your people build communication devices that will make your best radios and radars obsolete. I can assist you in rebuilding and advancing your infrastructure in a fraction of the time it would take you with your current equipment.”

  Stalin nodded, “And what do you want in return?”

  “I want to be appointed as General of the Russian Armed Forces, with access to all systems. I want to be the commanding officer over all the military installations in Moscow and I want all research and development under my command. I will operate in full secrecy; only a few of your highest-ranking officers will know of my existence. I will need to triple your research and development budget, and I will have sole discretion as to how to use it. My orders will be carried out by staff generals, so the rank-and-file are not aware of my existence. I will answer only to you, the supreme leader of the Soviet Union.”

  Stalin took a deep breath. “You are asking me to turn over all control. You want to install yourself as supreme commander and make me a puppet. How can I trust you? How can I know that you will not overthrow me once I give you so much power?”

  “A very good question, but there is a simple answer. I cannot rule your people. They would never trust or accept me as a leader. If they knew of my existence, they would revolt. That is why I must be kept in the shadows. I have no need for a regime change. I have no desire to enter into a world war. Hitler went against my wishes by pushing the world into a destructive war that destroyed much needed infrastructure. I want to build your planet into something new, something better, not decimate it with bombs.”

  “How do I know you can deliver all of this?”

  “For two hours, your air defenses were unable to stop me as I flew through your skies. What more demonstration do you need?”

  “Your plane is impressive. I have no doubt that your craft is advanced far beyond anything in my air force. I can see your body armor is made of a substance unknown to me. I assume you did not walk into my Senate chamber unarmed, and yet, I see no weapon. Clearly, you are who you say you are, and I assume you have the means to inflict massive damage to my military. Yet, you are promising to deliver this technological advantage to me. Why?”

  “It is true that I can assist you in rapid technological advances. But, I offer technology to you, not as a gift, but rather in trade. Botacoure is very far away, which makes resupply difficult. I have many craft, like the one sitting in your Square, but finding fuel and replacement parts is burdensome. I need to advance human technology and industry so that I can have the resources I need to maintain my equipment.”

  Nox continued, “I am not asking for control of your military to take over your country. I am asking for control so that I can direct the research and development to create the technology I need. Your scientists and engineers are not advanced enough to handle this on their own. As I develop the technology I need, I will share it with you and your scientists. You will get better armor, better rockets, better warheads, better communication devices, better infrastructure, and equipment that will make it easier to spy on your enemies. I will give this to you because I need your cooperation in this partnership.”

  “I would like a demonstration of what you can do for me.”

  Nox stood and turned toward the door where they had entered the opulent room.

  With his back to Stalin, and his hand on the chair that he was just sitting in, two shards of bright light flashed from the square box on the breast plate of his armor. Both guards at the door fell to their knees, and toppled to the floor; both were dead before their faces smashed into the fine marble tiles.

  Stalin leapt to his feet, trembling with rage. Nox turned to him and said flatly. “You asked for a demonstration.”

  Nox held his hands up to Stalin, “I mean you no harm. I thought his would be an excellent way to prove what I have to offer.”

  “Those were two of my best men,” Stalin stammered.

  “I’m certain you saw that I did not raise either of my hands to your men. The weapon attached to my chest is controlled by my thoughts alone. I have demonstrated my ability to produce results. Now I will demonstrate my willingness.”

  With an ever-so-slight whirring sound, a pistol appeared at Nox’s hip. Nox rarely used a particle beam pistol; it was overkill when paired with his thought-control weapon. Nox withdrew the pistol from its hidden compartment and placed it on the table before Stalin.

  “A gift for you,” Nox said.

  Stalin lifted the weapon; it was slightly heavier and larger than the U.S. 1911 pistol.

  “Fire it,” insisted Nox.

  Stalin took aim at an innocent vase filled with lovely lavender flowers sitting on a marble-top table. He squeezed the trigger. A flash of light left the barrel of the handgun; the vase exploded, leaving a burnt smoking hole in the wall behind the where the vase once stood. Stalin smiled.

  “Thank you for the gift. What shall I call you?”

  “Nox Bellator, Marshal of the Soviet Union,” Nox replied.

  Stalin stood for a moment, pondering the proposed arrangement.

  “I almost forgot. I have another gift for you,” Nox said. “It is still in my fighter. Shall we walk back to the craft?”

  “Of course, I would love to see the inside of it.”

  “Would you like for me to take you for a ride in it?” N
ox’s highest priority was ensuring that Stalin would appoint him as the General responsible for Soviet research and development.

  “I would like that very much,” the dictator replied.

  A handful of soldiers accompanied them back to the square where Nox’s craft was waiting. Nox disappeared back into the craft, “I’ll be right back.”

  A few minutes later, Nox reappeared beneath the craft with two prisoners, one male and one female, hands tied behind their backs, with black hoods over their heads.

  Stalin chuckled, “What makes you think I need two more prisoners?”

  Nox pushed the two, bound prisoners toward the dictator. When they were five feet from the dictator, Nox ripped the black hoods off their heads. Stalin roared with laughter. It was Hitler and Eva Braun.

  “This is the best gift I have ever received, Marshal Bellator.” Stalin nodded at Nox to emphasize the word ‘Marshal’.

  “I’m glad you like it, Sir. I think it would be best if we keep this gift a secret, just between you and me,” Nox warned. Nox emphasized the word ‘Sir.’

  “Of course. The Fuehrer and his bride will receive my undivided attention for the remainder of their lives,” Stalin said with a wicked grin.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Moscow, Russia

  Present Day

  It had been over 70 years since Marshall Bellator and Stalin had struck a deal. Nox sat at the head of a long conference room table in an underground facility, 29 levels below the surface. Underground facilities had come a long way since WWII. The conference room looked more like what you would find in a corporate headquarters in New York City than the old concrete walls of yesteryear. The table, surrounded by high ranking Russian officers, was closer akin to a board room table than the hand-carved gilded tables of the past.

  Even though they were deep underground, there were faux windows that glowed with artificial sunlight. Instead of nautical charts and maps on the wall, behind him was a huge display monitor. Built into the conference room table before each of the chairs was a display that could control the big screen at the head of the room.