Kramer Domes

The Discovery
1. Auflage 2020
ISBN: 978-0-578-72224-5
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 258 Seiten

500,000 years before ancient men lit fire, alien beings, possessed of technology beyond all comprehension, discovered planet earth. What they found and had been seeking, was a bounty of resources: water, minerals, food, plants, and animals. Their discovery warranted an investment in engineering and infrastructure. To that end, they designed and built a series of underground complexes which resembled cross-like domes, structures they would use as both a base and laboratory for their plans. In the mid-1960's, a brilliant young physicist, Sabius Farrow, was given two alien artifacts by Robert Oppenheimer, who had been FDR's director of the WWII Manhattan Project. With the devices he now possessed, Farrow learned what Oppenheimer already knew: that somewhere under a mountain in Idaho rested an alien lair. For over forty years, Farrow researched and learned the alien technology. But when UFO's began appearing in great numbers, everything changed. Arron Voss, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, had plans of his own. And when Farrow's daughter, herself a renowned physicist, went missing on Mount Deception, a confrontation between men and aliens was now inevitable.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Kramer, Mark

Leseproben

2 At Sea July 1660, Eastern Atlantic, off the northeast coast of Africa T he HMS Bradford turned west, luffing into a scant breeze that was pushing its way toward the Azores, heading for a brief port at Ponta Delgada. In the light wind, topgallants filled, blooming with air that pushed the ship along its course. Behind the Bradford, two gunships, the Landry and the Belgrade, tacked in the same direction, keeping a mile of distance from the Bradford’s slow, rolling wake. With little wind, the sound of even a small wave slapping against a ship’s thickly cased hull could alert a vigilant enemy. And with a fog cloud that could form at a moment’s notice, an enemy ship could be hidden in an impenetrable mist. Evening was rushing toward them, and to the west, deep on the watery horizon, the sun was sinking into a wistful sea. Now and then, a slight breeze would jostle the halyards, and if a rogue wave broke over the bow, the sound of water pouring into the scuppers resonated over the wooden deck. On the Bradford, Captain Jeffery Willingham stood on the forecastle of the helm deck, watching for signs of Spanish marauders. He had been dispatched by King Charles II to clear the British shipping lanes to the Ivory Coast of Africa. In the last four days, he and his small three-ship armada had sunk two Spanish warships, which had been attacking English naval vessels as they entered the waters near the Azores. As the sun’s last rays splintered over the western horizon, Willingham shouted out orders to his second in command. “Trim those foresails, Lieutenant. We’re in a calm, it seems.” Lieutenant Randall Avery barked the same orders to the crew. In seconds, three large main topsails, as well as the topgallants and foresails, were drawn and set, leaving the three-masted ship nearly dead in the water, floating softly in the now-calming sea. On the flanks, the crews of the Landry and Belgrade followed the same orders. All three ships were now more like wooden corks, bobbing only slightly. In less than an hour, the hues of dusk were like dull shadows. “Take a reading, Lieutenant,” the captain said. “Plot our course for Gibraltar. We’ll meet His Majesty’s ships there after we port for supplies at Ponta Delgada. I think our work is done here.” It wasn’t long before darkness enveloped them all. Avery took his sextant and recorded several readings, using the North Star as his posting beacon. Under a small candle lantern, he jotted down the readings and then blew out the flickering light. “I have set the course for the Mediterranean, Captain. We will be at Gibraltar in less than three days.” The captain nodded, then walked casually to the wainscot and leaned over it, scrutinizing the dark water. He’d been a captain for less than two years but still found his job to be the most exciting he could imagine. He missed his wife and two sons, but his time at sea always comforted him. And while there was still the chance of not making it home, he never feared it. If the sea claimed him, it would be a worthy death. The night just over the ocean was now dark; but above, the stars twinkled and glittered like rare jewels, so that one could see nearly every constellation that was visible on the ecliptic. Just visible on the far horizon, a thin sliver of moon was rising. “Ship’s put down for the night, Captain,” Avery said in a soft voice. “Orders, sir?” “Have the main crew sit for dinner, Lieutenant. I’ll remain on deck. I think I’ll look for shooting stars tonight.” Avery saluted. As he walked toward the crew’s stairway, he could see a small fire bloom near the captain’s face. There was a sudden glow of deep-red ash, as the captain’s pipe tobacco ignited in the calm air. Before Avery made it to the crew’s entrance, the scent of East Indian vanilla surrounded him. While the crew ate, the captain studied the night skies: Virgo, Scorpio, Cassiopeia, the seven sisters, known as the Pleiades. Several small streaks traced a thin line of yellow light across the heavens before they disappeared entirely. Then, as he watched, Willingham noticed something moving toward them from the coast of Africa. At first, it seemed to be a visage of a silhouette, something with form, yet not really visible. But the countenance was too large and too bright to be a mere shadow. As the shade moved in front of the stars, it blackened that part of the sky. Occasionally, but briefly, the shade transformed into something physical. It was alternating between dark and light, between substance and specter. Some distortion of the night, he thought to himself. The captain moved toward the port side and followed the form as it neared his position. Several of the deckhands stopped to gaze at the curious apparition. One of them, the sounder, spoke to the captain. “An evil wraith, I’ll wager. Seen it, I did, once, off the coast of Madagascar, I think. We was drawin’ brown spices from India. Looked sort of like that. But this seems different, Captain. This is darker somehow.” The captain said nothing but strained his eyes toward the object, which was now quite close. It was changing erratically; first, a shade of faded light, then a large, circular entity framed by definite lines. There were small lights along the perimeter of the object. Whatever it was, it was flying. “Get the lieutenant,” the captain said to the sounder, his voice uncharacteristically anxious. The sounder nodded and strode toward the crew’s galley entrance. Willingham pulled his telescope from its rough leather scabbard and aimed it at the specter. As he focused the lens, he gasped. The object was resting, stationary in the sky, probably four thousand feet above them but slightly west of their position. It was round, or so it looked, at least when it was visible at all. From his vantage point, it wobbled, if only slightly. The flickering continued; as the object remained stationary, it looked to be more evanescent than anything material. But it was there. Lieutenant Avery arrived on deck in time to see the object emit a brilliant beam of white light that shot downward to the ocean’s surface. The beam lit the entire area, yet it looked only to be perhaps a foot in diameter. The light was pure white and was pulsating, like heat rising over a desert dune. Willingham stepped back, nearly tripping on a coil of rope. “What in God’s name?” he muttered. Avery said nothing. Silently, he prayed. Where the light touched the water, there was a frothing and churning, as if the water was being heated. Then suddenly, without warning, the light beam began to widen on the water’s surface, growing into a great circle, expanding outward until it lit and covered all three ships. As the strange light fell over the Bradford, Captain Willingham felt a queer sensation, like someone tickling him with a thin feather. On all three ships, the men on board cowered. Even those below deck felt a strange, eerie vibration move through the ships’ decks. For some, there was the taste of bitters, as if someone has sprayed a mist of the concoction directly over them. Slowly, the light, which now took the shape of an inverted funnel, began to move westward, covering an area of the sea less than an eighth of a mile from the three ships. The diameter of the light continued to widen. As it continued west, it illuminated at least ten square miles of open water, perhaps more. Avery was too stunned to speak. As the crews below found their way to the top decks, they watched as the light expanded further over the ocean, covering an even larger expanse. “What is this thing?” Willingham finally managed to say. “God help us,” Avery mumbled, crossing himself, his heart beating wildly. “It’s of the devil, if such things have any meaning at all. We should hoist sails, Captain, or strike the oars. We need to leave this place.” The captain didn’t hesitate. He gave the order to hoist the sails. The Bradford’s helmsman flashed a signal light to the other ships. In seconds, the first of the sails were being raised on all three vessels. The object then began to ascend into the sky. The light that emanated from its belly grew brighter. Soon, the light covered nearly thirty square miles of ocean. From the heavens, if anyone had been able to see it, the light shining on the Atlantic water was a perfect circle. As the crews battled to raise the sails, the wind died entirely. “The sea’s against us, Captain,” Avery said in an anxious voice. “Strike the oars, Lieutenant. Be quick there. I think we have little time.” A worried expression covered the young officer’s face. For the first time, he was afraid for his life. He thought of his wife, who would, he thought, miss him terribly. The light grew in intensity. On the Landry and Belgrade, there was chaos. The junior officers had lost control of their crews, who were just now lowering several of the smaller lifeboats into the calm sea. “Fools,” Willingham said aloud. Abruptly, the object moved slightly more westward, but the three ships were still just to the edge of the light’s circle. “What’s this?” Avery said. “Some worse devilry,” the captain replied. “Oars in,” he yelled to the crew. The oarsmen dropped their oars into the water and began pulling with all their strength. Although warships did not usually use oars for propulsion, there...