Lost in Magadan: Extraterrestrials on Earth

by William Lee

  “Engage optical stealth mode,” Snap said into the COM system. The hardened surfaces of Snap’s FALOS suit and jet wing were covered in light emitting tiles that would reflect his surroundings, in this case, an overcast sky. The rest of the squad followed suit.

  Snap was at such a great altitude that he could easily make out the curvature of the earth and the mountains in the distance. Snap’s HUD showed the outside temperature was negative 47 degrees, but it was a comfortable 72 degrees in his FALOS suit. At this height, there was not enough oxygen. Snap’s battle armor had a breathing apparatus that not only allowed for high altitude breathing, but also protected against most biological and chemical weapons.

  The Russians had recently deployed numerous advanced SA-400 missile launchers to Siberia. Initial reports suggested that they were capable of tracking and destroying hypersonic craft, such as the TR3C, but so far there was no indication that they had been detected. On his HUD, he noticed that the TR3C that they had just jumped from had veered off toward the Russian Air Defense Gap. Snap believed that the FIGAS wings were too small to be detected by most Russian radar systems.

  As Snap’s FIGAS unit brought him closer to the surface, he could see the barren landscape of Russia’s Siberian region. The ground was covered in an untouched snow. Even though Snap could see for miles in every direction, there were no signs of human habitation: no houses, factories, towns, or automobiles. Nothing but snow, rocks, and lonely land filled his view. To his left, away from the mountain range, he saw the crater with a thin line of smoke drifting up into the semi-luminous sky.

  “What are those mushroom cloud looking things on the horizon?” Williams asked.

  “Which direction?” Davis asked.

  “All directions,” Neal said. “There are large pillars of dark clouds rising from the ground in the distance – in every direction.”

  “West, they appear to be a couple of hundred miles away from our landing zone,” Snap said.

  “There is more going on here than they told us about,” Neal said, with concern in his voice.

  “No shit, Neal. I think we are seeing compartmentalization at its finest,” Snap replied sarcastically.

  “Does anyone see the equipment rover?” Snap asked.

  “It’s tracking about a half mile East of the target zone,” Williams said.

  General Byrd’s voice came across the COM, “Russia just dispatched six Mig-31s from Kamchatka, about 1,100 miles away. They are over an hour out, but you need to get that portable invisibility dome up in a hurry.”

  “Won’t they need to refuel?” Snap asked.

  “Affirmative, the target location is on the outside of their range, they will be able to refuel at the Magadan airport. They will fly over your location with full tanks.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Moscow, Russia

  Nox and his trusted officers had rushed out of the lobby of the brand-new conference center and back to their black SUVs. The trip back to Nox’s bunker was quick as the SUVs sped across the base at over 90 miles an hour. Standing in the command center at Nox’s underground base, the men stood around a large monitor that displayed a tactical map of Far East Russia and the Arctic Circle. Nox was happy that the humans had developed to the point where they had flat screen display technology; he hated the old paper maps of WWII.

  “What is our situation?” Nox asked.

  “Up on the screen we have a map of Far East Russia, which includes the Kamchatka Peninsula. There are six red dots in the north-east section of the Magadan Oblast, where we believe the explosions occurred.”

  “We don’t know where the explosions were?” Nox asked, placing an emphasis on ‘know.’

  “No sir, we have no visual confirmation, other than our satellite images.”

  “No reports from local inhabitants?” Nox asked.

  “No, it is a very remote part of Russia; there is less than one person for every 10 square miles of land in this region.”

  “Have we deployed jets to do a fly over?”

  “They are being readied as we speak.”

  “How long until they are over the site?

  “Could be two hours.”

  “Two hours! Why so long?”

  “The impacts occurred near the arctic circle. We have very few military assets in that region. The closest military airfield is in Kamchatka. Our fighters will have to refuel in Magadan before continuing to the crash sites.”

  “I don’t think this is an asteroid. I want reports immediately as we get them. I want Special Forces on Mil-35s heading to the sites immediately. Don’t wait until the jets report back,” Nox said.

  “Dispatch one helicopter to each site. Divert as necessary depending on the reports from the fighters. How long will it take for the helicopters to arrive?” Nox asked.

  “Several hours. Again, we have very few assets in the region.”

  “Can we dispatch ground forces?”

  “No. The roads are impassable this time of year.” The General shook his head and looked at the floor.

  “So, we can build a supersonic plane capable of Mach 3 speed, but we can’t build a road?” Nox asked sarcastically.

  “This district is very poor with a very small population. The weather conditions make it a very undesirable place to live. The population has been shrinking for two decades now. It’s hard to justify road construction expenses for so few people.”

  “How many dead?” Nox asked.

  “Almost none.” The General was happy to finally have a good answer to one of Nox’s questions.

  “Really? Six mega impacts, spread over hundreds of miles and no deaths? How is that possible? Pull up the map again, and overlay it with the latest population map.”

  “Well, very few deaths, compared to the explosions.” General Popov said as he pulled up the population map. The population map placed little red dots where people were known to have lived.

  “Overlay the suspected blast radius based on current information.”

  The Russians stared at the map in disbelief.

  “It could not have been better. There is no better way to place five nuclear explosions that would have killed less people. What are the odds that a naturally occurring phenomenon would impact six times, each time, killing the least possible amount of people?” Nox asked.

  “Not only that, General Bellator, look at the distances between the explosions. Each impact is two to three hundred miles apart, almost in a cluster. If it were natural, some of the impacts would be close to one another,” General Popov said.

  Nox stood back and stared at the map. “This is intentional. Its purpose was not to cripple our military or harm our people. It was not for shock and awe because almost no one saw it.”

  Nox sat down in his custom-made, over-sized, black, executive roller chair. “No, the person who did this was trying to hide something.”

  “What do you suppose that is, General Bellator?”

  “I don’t know. The question is: was their intent to divert our attention, or destroy the object?”

  “Seems to me, they wanted to divert out attention,” Popov said.

  “Why is that?” Nox asked.

  “You don’t need six nuclear explosions to destroy something.”

  Nox stood up, slammed his fist on the table. “I want all of our assets in the region moved to the Port of Magadan. Send the Pacific carrier group to Magadan. Dispatch a squadron of Mig-31s to Magadan airport. Start moving ground forces toward the impact sites. I don’t care if they have to hike in; make it happen. Whatever is going on in Magadan, we are going to be ready for it.”

  “Yes Sir.” Popov quickly left the room to start preparing the operation.

  “I want my antigravity fighter prepared for take-off, I’m going to lead this operation from Magadan. I feel that I need to be close to this one. Something important is happening, and I need to know what it is.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Hill Air Force Base, UTAH

  It h
ad been over six months since Mike Evans had last seen Calidus Delusor in Virginia. Mike had returned to his monotonous life at Hill Air Force Base in Utah. He had not seen Nikita since she survived him shooting her in the face on Calidus’ orders. After Calidus flew off in his space craft, Nikita and Mike had suffered through the awkward two-hour drive back to the Virginia Beach ocean front.

  The drive back was awkward, but not silent. Nikita was furious at both Mike and Calidus. She was mad at Calidus for not giving her a heads up on the fact he was going to have Mike shoot her as a loyalty test. She was furious and disappointed that Mike had shot her. The shot would have been fatal had Calidus not exchanged the lead bullet for a cotton ball. She explained to Mike that the compact cotton ball, while not as hard a bullet, was still very painful.

  Mike listened to her all the way back to Virginia Beach, holding his aching balls most of the way. It was clear that she really liked him, maybe even loved him, prior to the shooting. He tried to explain that he did not believe the gun was loaded with real bullets and that he believed it was just to test his loyalty. He further explained that he felt he had no choice, that Calidus would have killed them both, had he failed to comply. Mike explained that they had a chance of survival if he shot her, but no chance of survival in a fight against an armed, Large Gray alien. Mike could not convince her.

  The night ended with a civil exchange of pleasantries in the hotel parking lot, more like colleagues leaving work than lovers parting ways. That was the last time he saw her. He had her phone number memorized, but he never attempted to call her for fear of being caught by his American ‘hosts.’

  Now, months later, he still dreamed about her at night. On the base, he had no female companionship. Several weeks after getting back to Hill AFB, he tried to contact Calidus using the hairy, biological implant in his arm. Calidus had explained that the Large Gray’s telepathic abilities were limited to a 50-mile radius, but that the implant would allow communication over great distances. It worked, but it took several attempts over a three-hour period before Calidus responded. Mike was not sure if that was a problem with the transmitter, receiver, or just bad reception.

  On the two-hour drive from Williamsburg to the Virginia Beach oceanfront, between Nikita’s emotional outbreaks, Mike learned a few valuable things. The most important thing he learned was that there was a huge underground base in Antarctica. This base was the size of a small country, with thousands of humans and Large Grays working side-by-side to build a new civilization. Nikita said it was technologically advanced beyond anything he could imagine, which was saying something, because he could imagine a lot.

  Mike Evans, as the humans called him, lay in his bed staring at the ceiling, dreading the next few minutes, when he would have to get up, shower and pretend to love his job. The last time he used the hairy transmitter, Calidus had informed him that there was a decent sized group of Nordics that, like him, were tired of waiting on the Americans. Calidus made it sound like they were planning something big. Mike had been contacted by the leader of the Vitahician underground movement, via coded messages, but he had never met any of them.

  Mike was painfully self-aware of his situation. He knew he should not feel this way about Nikita, she should not be plaguing his mind. He wondered if he really loved her, something most Vitahicians back home did not often experience; or, was the dissatisfaction with his life in general, causing him to cling to her. Back on his home world, he believed he would have had a much more fulfilling life, with familiar social structures in place. Here, on Earth, he rarely saw the sun, or engaged I personally fulfilling activities, leaving him open to reckless, and destructive fantasy.

  As Mike lay in his bed, only minutes before he would have to face the day, fantasizing that Nikita was snuggled up next him, he was jolted by a loud knocking on the door to his underground apartment. Mike leapt from his bed; a cold dread sunk to his stomach. No one ever came to his door, especially at this hour.

  Shit. Have they found out about me? How could they? I’ve been careful.

  “Just a minute. I’m coming,” Mike yelled so that it could be heard through the metal door.

  Mike grabbed the first pair of shorts he could find in the darkness and stumbled to the door. Opening the door revealed two young airmen, not the armed escort he had feared. “What can I do for you?” Mike asked, more than a little relieved by the fact they were not carrying machine guns.

  “We have been sent to bring you to air command headquarters,” the young Sergeant said.

  “Can I get dressed?”

  “We have orders to bring you in ASAP. Make it quick, no shower.”

  A few minutes later, they were in a Humvee, racing across the base towards air command headquarters.

  “Do you know why they want me so early? I’m a scientist; they never need me at headquarters?” Mike asked.

  “Couldn’t tell you, Sir. Way above my pay-grade,” the young Sergeant said, as he navigated a turn onto another street. “What I can say, is the whole base is on high alert, everyone is running around like World War Three just started.”

  Mike was rushed into a non-descript building and down a couple of hallways, until he was standing in a crowded room full of officers and scientists. The lead scientist in Mike’s team came up to him.

  “Mike, I’m glad you could make it,” the human scientist said to him. Sabine Weber, had been working at Hill with Mike for over fifteen years.

  “I didn’t know I had a choice.” Mike responded flatly. Mike did not dislike Weber; he was just bored with Weber’s non-stop, pro-military political slogans. Mike was surprised at how many seemingly intelligent people could be brainwashed so easily. He assumed they just accepted the party line because their paychecks depended on it.

  “Ha, you’re funny. This is serious. They want us to make seven C-17 Globe masters invisible.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. We make planes invisible all the time. Normally, they are much smaller fighter craft. Why send a ground pounder to my apartment at 6 AM?” Mike asked, still not getting what all the fuss was about.

  “You just got up? You want some coffee? How about a donut? They have coffee and donuts over there.” The helpful scientist pointed to the other side of the crowded room.

  “Thanks. I will get some coffee in a minute. What’s going on?”

  “Oh, they need the full Houdini on seven C-17s within two hours,” the scientist said, stuffing a glazed donut into his mouth.

  “What? That’s impossible. Why such a rush?”

  “Classified. Need to know. All we need to know, is that they want a full Houdini package on all seven, pronto. Best I can tell, they are to be used as support for a mission that has already started. I think this is the backup plan.”

  “How do you figure?” Mike asked.

  “I overheard some of the top brass talking about the NATT taking off this morning. Sounded like they were heading off to Russia to pick up a package.” The scientist used his sticky fingers to make quotation signs when he said ‘package.’

  “They want the full Houdini?” Mike asked. Everyone understood that the full Houdini meant invisible to radar and the naked eye.

  “Yep, everything, right now. This is big, Evans, real big.” The scientist patted Evans on the back with the glaze covered hand that had held the donut.

  General Durant walked up to Mike Evans, as the donut eating scientist went to select his next doughy victim. Mike wished he had made a break for the coffee and donut table.

  “Good morning, Mike,” The General bellowed, as he grabbed Mike’s hand and began to vigorously shake it.

  “Morning, General.”

  This guy must be on his fifth cup of coffee already.

  “Have they told you what we are doing this morning?”

  “Something about giving seven C-17s the full Houdini.”

  “That’s right. I’ve always liked you, you know that. How long have we known each other, Mike?” The General, who had spider veins across his cheeks
, was a real blow hard to his men, but he was very polite to the scientists.

  “About 20 years, Sir.”

  “Seems like just yesterday they were debriefing me about your people being here on Earth.”

  “Nope, it was twenty years, three months, and sixteen days ago when we first met. May I ask why we have to get the job done in two hours?” Mike was hoping for something of value to report to Calidus. Maybe he could trade the information for his ticket out of America; maybe he could be with Nakita in Antarctica.

  “All I can say, is that this is the biggest thing to happen on Earth in 70 years. We must recover some very valuable cargo from a very sensitive locations. Secrecy is of upmost concern, and our window of opportunity is very small.” The General was as gleeful as a kid on Christmas morning.

  Mike knew he was not going to get anymore, so he did not bother to ask. “We will need 500 men to get the job done in two hours.”

  “You will have 200 hundred,” the General said, as he walked away.

  I’ve got to contact Calidus. This may be my ticket out of here.

  A few minutes later, they were being whisked away to a remote section of the base, where seven C-17s sat on the airport apron. Several busloads of airmen were being transported to the site where the planes were to be upgraded. The men piled out of the busses and waited for orders. Mike and the other scientists gathered at the front of the staging area; materials were being driven from the hangers to the site on flatbed trucks. Military police were setting up a perimeter so that unauthorized personnel would not come near the project.

  “What are they going to do with these airmen that are not read into this program?” Mike asked a General standing next him.

  “Probably just shoot them.” The General laughed. “Just kidding. They have no idea what they are doing, or what the result will be. They won’t even know the plane is invisible. They will sign NDAs and be told if they ever speak of what they saw here today, they will be criminally prosecuted.”