Now I’m fearing that I’m going to be hauled off to a jail cell in an undisclosed location!
“Hey, guys, this is just a company vehicle,” I inform them.
As if that was all that was needed to be said, the other driver stares me up and down once more, and then he quickly gets back into his SUV. He departs the scene. Then the two guards promptly return to the guard house at the gate as well.
“What was that all about?” I ask myself. Stunned, yet relieved, I quickly return to my van, promising myself to never take this route again!
“Just drive,” I tell myself. “You’re a free man.” I’m quite determined to get away from this place.
Traveling on to I-495 and Old Georgetown Road, I make it to the light at Cedar Lane. I can’t wait to get out of this suit. I was crazy not to change out of it!
“Almost home,” I think. This light signal is known for taking forever. My eyes wander and I glance down at the passenger seat. A file folder is laying on the seat. I pick it up, asking myself where it came from.
Then I read, “SECRET: UFO FILE, ROSWELL, NM.”
“This isn’t mine. This can’t be happening! How did this file get here?” I go into panic mode. I look around in all directions. Nothing. I’m completely alone. The light finally changes and I quickly drive to my home. I pull inside the garage, turn off the car, and stare blindly, thinking what I should do. It just showed up. I wasn’t looking for this. Had the other driver dumped it on me in fear of the guards? I contemplate.
“Why me?”
I stare at the folder for a moment and finally pick it up. The red, capitalized words on the front are very intimidating. I’ve always prided myself on being a law-abiding and patriotic citizen. But I know from my military experience what I’m looking at. I sit for a while in silence.
“This is my house,” I say out loud.
I can’t help myself. My curiosity exceeds my best intentions and I pick up the folder. The contents consist of photos of a crash site. But the ship doesn’t look like a plane. I finger through the photos and notice that some are of a ship’s interior and its crew. They are printed on some kind of a colorized metallic paper or thin metal, so it seems. I touch the surface of the photo at a point and gasp. Its picture magnifies the area I touched as a hologram. I touch it again and it shrinks, bringing in more of the area that was in the original photograph. I touch it a third time in a different area and a video sequence of the scene starts to play out of the enlarged area, again as a hologram. It startles me.
“Who has technology like this?” I ask myself. “We haven’t reached this level yet.” The video includes audio. But the language is like nothing of this earth. Am I actually listening to a recorded alien conversation? What should I do now, I wonder.
“I must be dreaming.”
Overwhelmed at carrying illegal documents is giving me an anxiety attack.
I have other important things to do. My current work is in the most exciting phase of raising an entire wrecked ship from the bay. The ship dates back to The Civil War and is to be restored by the National Museum in Washington, D.C. for future exhibit. It alone is a high point in my career. The findings in Peru also. And now this? I finally enter the house and drop the file in a dresser drawer, until I have time to figure out what to do with it, or find someone else who does. Better yet, I’ll just forget it’s there.
The next morning, I go into the office; even though it’s Saturday. I meet with Ray to discuss the new findings on Imhotep and the mysterious red head who held the egg-shaped stone. I’m ecstatic. But now there are so many more questions. I’m torn between the two projects.
“Matt, we’re going to have to clone you,” Ray tells me.
“Ray, let’s celebrate and go get some lunch.”
“Sorry, Matt. But the wife and I have other plans.”
“That’s fine.” I say. “I need to pick up a birthday gift for my mother. I guess I’m going to the mall.” I haven’t been to a mall in years, I realize.
Hunger pangs strike and I stop to get a quick burger. I invited Kim to join me, but she got called into work. I’m sitting inside the fast food court, looking around, and I think how odd it is that I’m the only person in the whole joint. But what do I care? I’m ready to slow down for a change. Then the driver from the SUV shows up. I drop the burger in my lap and choke. Am I getting arrested?
“I didn’t steal that file. It just showed up,” I yell.
“I know that Dr. Vaughan. I purposely dropped the file off in your car.”
He sits down at the table across from me. My pulse now hits a new record level.
“I have a possible job for you, if you’re interested. Assuming you would like to know the story behind those photos?”
“Normally, I would say yes,” I reply. “But I’m a little overwhelmed with my current work at the moment.”
“Dr. Vaughan,” the man states, “I think you’ll find this job already fits in with your current work in South America. It may be the missing piece to your puzzle. We also have questions. We need answers. I would like to do this the easy way. But if you refuse, I have the authority to haul you in for questioning. Which do you prefer?”
I look around and answer, “Well, my afternoon is surprisingly free.”
I then resolve and say ‘Why not?’ What is the worst thing that could happen?” On second thought, maybe the worst thing is already happening and I just don’t recognize it.
The man replies, “We’ve been following your work on the ship you’re raising down on the bay for some time. In fact, we have followed all of your projects. You’re very well known in archeology and engineering, Dr. Vaughan. Especially in foreign countries. And you speak Spanish and Portuguese. We need your help.”
I nod and tell him, “Okay. I’ll help. When do we start?” I continue to sip my soda so that my throat doesn’t dry up over the stress.
“This project has a real twist, Dr. Vaughan. It may even lead us to the possible origins of where life came from on our Earth and who placed us here.” I spit out my soda. Archeology is my passion. But now the subject is broaching creation? I start to ask questions. But the conversation ends abruptly with a business card containing the time and place of our next meeting.
“The name is Mark Valentine,” he says. “Please meet with us on Monday morning at 9:00 a.m. We’ll go from there. In case you are wondering, do not discuss this with anyone else yet. Particularly your team.” I look down at the card. The location is a lab in Rockville, Maryland on Hungerford Drive.
“What’s next?” I contemplate. On second thought, I think about how I need a vacation. I finally find a sweater for my mother’s birthday and leave.
MATT’S DOUBLE DILEMMA
I return to my vehicle with my purchase, and contemplate on how to explain to Ray I can’t make our Monday morning project meeting. I’m in charge, after all. I’m hating the situation. I already have too much to do. And I need to head back down to the Chesapeake Bay work site by Wednesday this week.
I call Ray and advise him I have a dental appointment that can’t wait. Ray acknowledges the situation and reschedules the meeting for Tuesday morning. One more day wouldn’t make a difference anyway. It is difficult, however, for our team to contain their enthusiasm. Archeology takes time and time can be a liability. I make it to my appointment at Hungerford Drive on Monday morning. My head is swimming with questions. The name on the building states, “Sigmas Solutions.” I approach the front desk and sign in. Mark Valentine shows up.
“Dr. Vaughan,” he extends his hand to me. “So glad you’ve come. Today’s meeting is going to be brief, I’m afraid. But we’ll cover as much as time permits. My team has been called to a meeting this afternoon and traffic is always an issue.”
“Of course,” I acknowledge. I’m escorted to a conference room where three other people are sitting. They each stand up and introduce themselves.
“We’re excited to have you join us, Dr. Vaughan.”
“Yo
u can stop with the formal stuff here. Please, just call me Matt. Everyone else does.”
“Well, Matt, we’ll need to get you a clearance in order to discuss the real heart of the matter. That will take some time. But you’re former military, and my people are working on that as we speak.”
“What about my team?” I ask.
“Your associate, Raymond Smith, is also former military, and the rest of your crew just needs to be vetted. They will take a little longer.”
“You told me that this has to do with my project down in Peru. How does it fit in with New Mexico?” I ask.
“Let’s just say that our satellite has spotted an unusual crash site down in the mountains near your dig. We’ve picked up debris that most likely came from that site. But the site is extremely difficult to get to. It’s high up in the Andes between two peaks, and we need to treat it like we would a crime scene. We particularly do not want to destroy anything of historical value.”
Twin Peaks, I think to myself. There it is again, just like on the glyphs. I don’t allude to the fact that I know about the twin peaks. I think about the box with the egg-like stone and the gold map and the female red- headed mummy. I’m not ready to trust these people yet.
“I take it you believe this site to be a UFO crash site? Is that correct?” I ask. “Because of the Roswell file.”
“That is correct,” Mark replies. “We don’t know how old the crash is. But we believe it is very, very old.”
They thank me for my time, and the meeting concludes. I sum up the meeting in my mind as I return to my office at the university.
“So they think the crash is a UFO. An ancient UFO? Is our red-head an alien? That might explain the map reference on the gold plate. That would make her a survivor of the crash. But how long ago? The inscriptions go back to at least 2100 B.C. It makes me wonder how much Mark and his crew really know about this crash site.
“We certainly weren’t aware of it.” I tell myself. The next meeting is set for next week; same time, same place. I reach the office at the University and begin to check up on paper work. I also have a few items related to the project down south. I make some phone calls and do some scheduling. Ray enters and sits in the chair across from me.
“How’s the water down south?” he asks. It’s May. And Ray is aware of the water temperatures this time of year in the Bay, where it opens into the Atlantic.
“56 degrees,” I reply. “But the ship is beautiful. By this time next month, she’ll be sitting in a lab in DC. You know, I think it was a slave ship at one time. But she has cannons and guns on her. That ship was ready for a fight. It doesn’t show any kind of damage that looks like it had a confrontation. I think she went down in a storm.”
“Your kind of work, Matt, not mine. There’s sharks in that old bay.” Ray is afraid of sharks.
“Naaaaahhh,” I reply. “I’m sure they’re in the bay somewhere, but we haven’t seen any.”
“Hey, I’ve found sharks teeth up on the beach all over that bay. My fishing boat got pounded by two sharks in that bay. And let’s talk about those great whites spotted off the pier at Virginia Beach.”
“You sure they weren’t whales?” I jeer.
“Bro, I’m happy for you.” Ray tells me. “Not my cup of tea.”
“Sooo,” I answer. “We need to run a carbon date on that stone box and the gold plate.”
“We’ll get right on it.” Ray replies. “Oh, and Moberly sends his regards and asked you to call him back.”
“I owe him. Taught me everything I know.” I add. “Listen, I’ve got some more scheduling to do before I head out. I’ve got a date tonight with Kim. But we’ll talk more tomorrow in our meeting.” Raising the ship is going to be tricky. I have to schedule two ships with cranes, and two small subs. I need more divers and a lot more gear. Fortunately, we’re only looking at 40 feet in water depth. It’s another project sited by radar. The technology is keeping everyone busy. I join Kim for dinner at a restaurant. She’s wearing the diamond I gave her and it gleams like fire in the light. She too is a red head. I’m reminded of the mummy and blink for a minute. I rub my forehead.
“What is it?” Kim asks. “Did I say something?”
“No. Not at all,” I reply. “My mind is just numb with the extra workload. Both projects have got me burning the wick at both ends. Missed you on Saturday.”
“I’m sorry,” Kim replies. Kim is a surgeon at Washington Grove General. “Are we still on target for the wedding in September?” she asks.
“Of course.” I reply. “Nothing is going to keep us from that.”
“I’m also making ressies for Paris. What do you think? Or we could do one of those cruises down the Danube or The Rhine. The Rhine, Matt. Think of those castles.”
“You know, I would love that. Let’s do Paris first, though. And then we’ll do the cruise. Go ahead and schedule. I’m saving the whole month of September for you.”
Kim is also looking at houses. “Oh, I wanted to show you this home I found.” She pulls out her tablet and pops up a home in Potomac. It isn’t the usual colonial that you would expect in the D.C. area. It’s more cottage-like with stone and a white fence.
“I like it.” I tell her. “I like the porch, especially.”
“I know what you like,” she says. “It has a back porch as well.” We talk further about the house and discuss our plans. Our time together always feels so short. Kim will be going on shift again tonight. And I have an 8:00 in the morning with the crew.
That night I contemplate a little more on my meeting earlier at Sigmas. Valentine alluded that the whole project might have to do with the power of creation. That starts me to wonder how much he knows about the crew of that UFO. I also wonder how Valentine’s project is going to affect our side of the dig and our current project. June is approaching fast. Hopefully, everything will run on schedule.
The next morning Ray and I head up the meeting on the dig in Peru. The crew is excited about the translations and time periods we’re looking at. It all seems like a puzzle in time. I ask the crew questions on their portions of the analysis to which everyone responds.
“I’ve been wondering about the stone,” I say. “What if the stone were not of this earth? I mean, it could come from somewhere on this earth, but the map on the gold plate? It seems to point to something elsewhere.” Everyone looks at each other.
“Matt, we think it’s some kind of a treasure map.” Leesa replies. “And we think it points to where the stone came from.”
“Matt, my boy, it probably points us to some kind of El Dorado. More work for us,” Ray adds.
I then think to myself, You have no idea. And I can’t even tell you yet. Leesa then speaks up for everyone present.
“Are we going for it, Matt? We all want to find these twin peaks the map points to.”
“Definitely,” I tell them. It is to my advantage to play both sides now. The more I learn, the better. “Try scouring the area with Google Earth and see if you can find that mountain with the two peaks. Then we’ll plan from there.”
“Already did,” Ray answers. “We’ve just been excited. Everybody’s enthused about finding buried treasure.” I’m impressed.
“Hey, we’re all human,” Ray continues. “Anyway, I’ve checked within a 200 mile radius on Google Maps. The nearest mountain with two peaks is about 60 miles north of the dig.” He shows me a printout from Google Earth.
“We all agree. We think it’s here.” I pick it up and examine it. Ray points to the map on the screen.
“Here is the dig at Yanama. Up here 60 miles north is the Huascaran National Park and Mount Huascaran. That mountain clearly has twin peaks. But it’s over 22,000 feet in elevation and has snow and glaciers all year.”
“Guys, keep this under wraps for the moment. But continue your planning. I think this is great, everyone. Good job.” I now know a little more of what to expect from Valentine.
Everything depends on planning and logistics. Time of the year
precludes everything. It is snowing in the Andes of Peru, currently. Nothing can be done until at least late November, and maybe even early December.
“Matt, you have a call from the crane company.” I get up and take the call. I can’t let logistics slip on this one.
“Dr. Vaughan?”
“Yes, speaking.”
“Dr. Vaughan, we have already scheduled our last two cranes for another
project. I’m afraid you will have to find another company.”
“What?” I ask. “I thought you promised us we would have first priority. You know this project has first priority.”
“What I know, Dr. Vaughan, is that the government has come in and scheduled the cranes for another project. And the government always gets what it wants. I’m very sorry.”
Starship Genesis Page 6
