Lost in Magadan: Extraterrestrials on Earth

by William Lee

  Thanks to their powerful exoskeletons, they effortlessly jumped out of the transport vehicle. Ater’s SUV pulled up beside them, and he stepped out, displaying the matte black finish of his impressive armor.

  “I want his armor,” Williams said.

  “He can hear you,” Davis replied.

  “Why are all the Airmen lying face down on the tarmac?” Snap asked Ater.

  “They are not allowed to see me or the FALOS armor. They are required to lay face down and cover their heads with their hands when we pass,” Ater said. “Security protocols. If one of them sees us, then they are threatened and forced to sign additional nondisclosure agreements.”

  Lightning Squad entered the C-17 Globe Master III cargo plane from the rear ramp. The rear cargo ramp had been extended down so that trucks or tanks could be easily driven up into the cargo compartment. The squad sat in the integral sidewall seats; the center seats had been removed to make room for cargo, in this case, the fixed wing jets. The FIGAS units were suspended from the ceiling waiting for the squad to step into the harnesses immediately prior to jumping.

  After several minutes had passed, Snap peered out onto the tarmac and noticed that the Airmen were still lying face down. “Ater, why are the men still lying on the ground?” Snap asked.

  “They are not allowed to stand up or look around until all top-secret equipment and personnel are onboard.”

  “But we are all here.”

  “No, we are still waiting for the last member of your team.”

  “My whole team is here,” Snap replied.

  “Just wait.” No sooner had Ater spoke, then a troop transport raced past the face-down men and up to the rear cargo ramp. A nine-foot-tall man emerged from the rear of the transport and ran up the ramp toward the squad.

  “Holy shit!” Snap exclaimed, as he leapt to his feet. The rest of his squad jumped up.

  “What the hell is that thing?” Neal West asked, as he reached for his laser rifle.

  “At ease men, do not touch your weapons,” Ater commanded. The men stared at the nine-foot-tall man who was built like a football linebacker.

  “Is he human?” Neal West asked. The question did not sound absurd to Snap.

  In seconds, the huge man closed the distance between the ramp and the squad and was towering over them.

  “Meet 028,” Ater said.

  “028, are you fucking kidding me? His name is 028?” Williams said into his HUD, before realizing everyone could hear it.

  “028 does not speak much, other than to give and receive commands.”

  “How do you know if he likes you?” Neal asked.

  “If you see him and live to discuss it, he liked you,” Ater said.

  “I’m not calling him 028,” Ryan Taylor said. “That’s not a name.”

  “What do you intend to call him?” Snap asked, glancing over at Ater.

  “Well, anything is better than 028, how about we call him Bob?” Ryan asked.

  “Bob would be a lot easier than 028. What do you think, Ater?” Snap asked.

  Ater paused for a moment, as if the thought of naming the giant had never crossed his mind. “That’s fine. You can call him Bob. You hear that, 028, for this mission, your call name will be Bob.”

  “Bob is not wearing armor,” Snap pointed out. Bob was wearing kaki canvas cargo pants, a black t-shirt, combat boots, and a black watch with a large combat knife strapped to his belt.

  “Bob does not need armor. He is an even match against a FALOS armor.” Ater said.

  The men took their seats. Bob took two seats.

  “Snap, I bet he weighs over 500 pounds,” Neal whispered.

  “Neal, Ater never answered the question about whether Bob was human,” Snap said into the HUD com system.

  “Snap, he looks mean, shell shocked, or something.”

  “Neal, he has a thousand-yard stare, kind of like he is a robot. He only takes orders, but from who?”

  “Snap, I hope to God he takes orders from you,” Neal said into the HUD.

  The pilot announced that they were above the drop zone, not that drop zone was the right term since they were going to be flying out the rear of the plane on jet packs.

  “Is Bob coming with us?’

  “Yes.” Ater replied. Bob leapt up from his seats, grabbed the only yellow, fixed wing jet pack, tossed it on like a school boy slings a knap sack over his shoulder when heading off to the bus, and jumped from the open ramp.

  “He did that in 10 seconds, flat” one Williams said in astonishment.

  “He has no FALOS suit. What powers his jet wing?” Snap asked.

  “The MMFR on your FALOS suit powers your wing. His is powered by four micro turbo diesel engines,” Ater said, as he stepped into the harness of his own fixed wing jet. “The landing zone coordinates will appear in your HUD.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Far East Russia

  Magadan Oblast

  Present Day

  Commander Forte stepped from the rear of the ten-man shuttle onto the rocky terrain. All seven shuttles were sitting in a row beneath an overhang that would hide them from any Russian planes flying overhead; and shield them from the cold winds. The crew were pouring out of the shuttles and exploring the shallow cave-like shelter.

  Commander Furier exited the shuttle, shivering. “Damn, it’s cold out here. I thought our uniforms were supposed to protect us from all weather.”

  Commander Forte looked at her, smirked, and said, “They are helping. It’s minus forty-seven degrees outside. We would be dead if they were not working.” Forte glanced down at her shapely figure, she crossed her arms over her ample chest. Forte was pissed at her for not fully disclosing the nature of the cargo. “You know we are going to have to talk about the Element 115.”

  She stared at him through her curly mane that was hanging down in her face. Her ice blue eyes fixed on Forte. “You know, you don’t outrank me here.”

  Forte could see she was still shivering, the platinum streaks in her hair stood out even more in the natural light. He didn’t want to fight over this point right now; he had more important problems to solve. “You are a supply officer; I am a commanding officer. I may not have a ship, but you don’t have a cargo. As this is a tactical situation, I am the ranking officer. That aside, we should work together to get the remaining cargo to the Americans safely.”

  Commander Furier nodded her head in agreement.

  The seventy survivors of the crash gathered behind the shuttles under the shelter of the overhang. Commander Forte stood on a small rock so he could see the remaining members of his crew.

  “Crew of the Impegi, I want you to know that we are going to survive this tragedy. I know many of you are grieving the loss of some of your friends. There will be time to mourn them soon enough. Now, we must focus on survival. Our mission is not complete.” Forte surveyed the group, they were all cold, shivering, and scared.

  “I have been in contact with the Americans. They are working on a rescue mission. We have crashed in hostile territory. The enemy has advanced weaponry; so, we need to stay hidden until the Americans come to retrieve us.”

  “We are going to break up into small groups to set up camp. Captain Pilosus, take 10 crew and start to devise a camouflage for the front of the cave entrance.”

  “Yes Sir.” Pilosus replied.

  “Captain Cordatus, start formulating a plan for food, water, and heat.”

  “Commander Furier.”

  “Yes, Commander Forte.”

  “Figure out what we have in the way of armor and weapons. Take a team to the crash site and monitor it. Report back all activity.”

  “I thought we were told to stand down?”

  “We were, and we are. I just want INTEL. We need to know what we are facing. Just report back activity, do not engage.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Granite Peak Installation

  Present Day

  Snap and Neal
West sat a table waiting for Chef to bring them their dinner after the FIGAS training exercise. Most of the squad was relaxing in the mess hall or finishing up with their showers. Snap had ordered a bacon cheeseburger, rare with a side of something Chef called wilted lettuce. Neal had ordered a Santa Fe chicken sandwich. Both were wearing civilian gym clothes.

  “So, what about Bob?” Neal asked with a snicker.

  “He looked human, sort of. Aside from being nine feet tall, not talking, and having an expressionless face that only a mother could love, I suppose he was okay,” Snap replied. “I thought you were going to draw down on him there for a second.”

  “He startled me. Good thing I didn’t. Ater said he is competitive against FALOS armor. Can you believe that? How can flesh compete against a titanium exoskeleton?”

  “Nothing surprises me anymore,” Snap said, shaking his head. “I guess we will find out soon enough.”

  Chef walked up to the table holding two steaming platters. “Evening gentlemen. Here are your entrees. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  “Thank you, Chef,” Snap said. “I think we have everything we need here.” Snap examined his burger, “It looks great.”

  The wilted lettuce, as Chef called it, was a leafy, lite, green lettuce, tossed with chopped up radishes and scallions, with hot bacon grease poured over the mixture. “Now, this is my kind of salad,” Snap said.

  “Bacon grease poured over lettuce, that’s a salad I can get into. Mine is pretty good, too,” Neal said, as he took a big bite of the sliced chicken breast smothered in cheese, and grilled onions and peppers.

  After a few minutes of silent enjoyment of Chef’s culinary masterpieces, Neal asked, “So, what made you want to join the Air Force?”

  Snap took a gulp of his unsweet tea, leaned back, and said, “My grandfather. He was in WWII. He really inspired me to join.”

  “Were you close to your grandfather?” Neal asked.

  “Not really, I wish we were closer. After he retired from the Air Force, he had a second career in the civil service. He was gone a lot. My dad spent some time in Nam, but never talked about it much.”

  “My dad was in Vietnam, too. He retired from the Marine Corp,” Neal said.

  “That’s the way it works now, with a volunteer military. Many military families serve for generations, while the civilian population has no idea what we do. It was better, back before WWII; when everybody served. It was not military-life versus civilian-life; it was just American-life, everyone had skin in the game.” Snap took another bite of his juicy cheeseburger.

  As Snap was chewing a mouthful of well-seasoned hamburger, the lights turned from white to red, and a siren went off.

  “What the hell is that?” Williams shouted from a across the small room.

  “Everyone report to their assigned positions. This is not a drill,” a hidden loud speaker announced from somewhere in the ceiling.

  “What do we do? Where do we report?” Neal asked. The pulsing red light was casting strange shadows across room. The men were starting to stand up, but not sure of where to go.

  “I don’t know. We were never told where to report in case of an actual emergency.” Snap rose to his feet, unsure of his next step.

  Ater slammed open the door and barraged into the room. The men were shocked to see the menacing figure outside of the training room. “Everyone to the training room. You need to change into your FALOS suits immediately. We have a real-world situation to deal with; and time is of the essence.”

  “What’s going on?” Snap asked.

  “No time. You will be fully briefed in the air. Get your men suited up. This is not a training exercise.”

  Thirty minutes later, the men were standing on what appeared to be a deserted runway just outside Granite Peak Installation. The troop transport that had brought them to the desolate location was heading back to GPI.

  “Snap, what the hell are we doing here, standing in the middle of the desert all alone.” Neal said into the head up display of his FALOS suit.

  “I don’t know,” Snap replied. “But it doesn’t feel like an exercise.”

  “Snap, you don’t think this is just another one of those trick training exercises to evaluate us under pressure?”

  Ater’s voice interrupted the conversation, “This is not a training exercise. I assure you of that. Your ride will be there shortly.”

  “Ater, I thought only Snap could hear me if I said his name first,” West protested.

  “Control can hear everything you say, even directed conversation,” Ater replied.

  “Great. I will have to keep that in mind,” Neal muttered.

  “Neal, look.” Snap smacked Neal on the arm and pointed at the ground. Ten yards from where they stood, the ground was opening, sliding along a mechanical track.

  The false desert floor opened to reveal a deep, dark, perfectly square hole. The squad heard a mechanical humming sound. The bottom of the hole began to ascend, and, as it got closer to the top the team could make out a triangular shaped craft. The platform reached the surface and locked into place; the hole disappeared. The black triangular shaped craft was much larger than a fighter jet, but still smaller than a cargo plane. It had no wings or nose, but the men could tell by its design it was meant to fly.

  “What the. . .?”

  “Is that what I think it is?” Williams asked.

  “Well, it’s sure as shit ain’t no UFO, since it just came out of our base,” Johnson replied.

  “It’s a UFO to your mom,” Davis said.

  “Alright men, cut it out.” Snap ordered.

  A ramp descended from one of the equal sides of the triangle, revealing a well-lit metallic interior that resembled the inside cargo compartment of a transport plane.

  “This must be the rear of the craft,” Snap said.

  “Not precisely,” Ater said from the command center.

  “Board the plane,” Snap ordered his men. On board, they could see their fixed-wing jets suspended from the ceiling. The sidewall seats were designed for soldiers wearing bulky FALOS suits.

  “Where’s the pilot?” Williams asked.

  “If he were up your ass you would know,” Johnson replied, with a chuckle.

  “Fuck you man. I was serious,” Williams retorted.

  “Get strapped in. You will be briefed as soon as you are in the air,” Ater said. A couple of minutes later, they were cutting through the atmosphere at nearly 8,000 miles per hour.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Magadan Oblast

  Present Day

  Commander Caliana Furier sat in the pilot’s seat of the jump shuttle, perched directly on the ridge overlooking the crash site. Not only was she the highest-ranking officer in the jump shuttle, she was the same rank as Commander Forte. His mission was to safely get them to Earth; her mission was to ensure the safe passage of the valuable cargo. Both had failed. Furier and the other nine crewmen in the shuttle were dressed in full battle armor.

  The other jump shuttles and Forte were back in the cave. Commander Furier and her team were wearing 10 combat suits that they found in the jump shuttles. The other four combat suits were being worn by officers back at the cave. Furier and the team exited the rear of the jump shuttle, leaving it in stealth mode.

  “Everyone stay in chameleon mode,” Furier said, as they exited. The battle armor not only added an extra layer of protection and warmth, it was also capable of rendering the operator nearly invisible. The Americans FALOS suit was based on the same technology, only the Americans’ suit was even more advanced. Each of the suits had helmets with communications systems that allowed the crew to speak with each other. Unlike the more advanced FALOS suits, their communications could not be monitored by a command center. Additionally, they could not receive a data-link from the Americans command center, meaning they were not receiving real time updates regarding enemy troop movements. Their armor had built in radars, which would give them limited INTEL regarding movements within a 25-mi
le radius.

  “What are we doing here?” Catrix asked. Catrix was one of the ship’s engineering crew. Much like many of the survivors, he had no combat experience.

  “We are here to observe and gather intelligence on the ship and cargo. Ultimately, we would like to recover as much of the Element 115 as possible. Also, many of our fellow crew are back in a cave freezing. If we could recover some equipment to help them; that would be nice.”

  Genu, one of the crew’s navigation team, was staring through the only pair of binoculars found in the shuttle’s emergency supply locker. The ridge they were standing on was not a natural formation; it was created as the ship crashed, driving through the otherwise flat, rocky terrain. The ship was situated, in three large segments, at the bottom of the very long trench that was dug into the ground as it crashed.

  “Look, there’s the command tower. Looks like it broke off the super structure in the crash,” Genu said, pointing over toward the tower, whose top level was barely above the ridge line.

  “It’s remarkably intact for such a violent impact,” Commander Furier said.

  “I guess Commander Forte really knew what he was doing by activating the plasma shields the way he did,” Genu said, completely unaware of the ongoing rift between Forte and Furier.

  “Yeah, I guess we have to give him credit for that,” Furier mumbled.

  “Commander, the tower looks pretty much intact. Why don’t we go down there and access the crew’s quarters? We could salvage some blankets, clothes and food for the crew back in the cave.”

  “I don’t know. It could be very unstable in there; decks could collapse any minute,” Furier said.

  “We will be careful. Also, we are woefully outgunned if the locals show up before the Americans. We should recover some weapons from the armory, just in case,” Sergeant Fabris said. Fabris was one of the few military personnel standing on the ridge with Furier.