Galactic Satori Chronicles: Book 1 - Earth

by Nick Braker

  “Magnus, WSO has been beefing up their technology levels with the help of Seph and Mira using the tech from the alien craft. We’ve pushed cell phone technology, for example, way past current military and commercial use today. I mention that one because it is the reason I am talking with you. We are implanting cell technology into each agent. You’ll be able to place calls to each other and to any other phone in the world.”

  “Dangers?” he asked.

  “None, we were concerned about the radiation levels that current Earth technology uses but Seph assured me this new technology does not emit radiation capable of harming anything. The particles emitted are what Seph calls tachyons. I hear they existed in theory for physicists on Earth but apparently the aliens have harnessed it and use it for communication. Now we have it too. The devices are small and will be inserted into some bone which surrounds the ear, the name of which I have already forgotten. The device vibrates the bone and that is what you hear. I have one already and your crew are on their way to WSO’s hospital to have theirs implanted.”

  Magnus examined Tom’s scar behind his ear. Whatever it was, he wasn’t kidding about it being small. The scar was not even a half an inch. Tom unlocked the door to his black Mercedes. They got in and he pulled out of WSO’s parking garage.

  “Does it hurt?” Magnus asked.

  “No, I had a mild headache when I woke up but that was from the anesthesia.”

  “How do they work?”

  “Single tap with your finger to the back of your ear calls the last person you contacted. A double tap contacts your team or anyone you setup on the double tap list. By default, it will be your team but you can change it. Touch and hold activates voice mode. Say a name, and the implant calls that person. Priority is given to implant to implant communication, then implant to cell and finally implant to land line, although you can override all of that vocally by just saying what you want. I don’t know, say something like “call Alexandria on her land line” would work. You get the idea.”

  “Impressive as long as it doesn’t fry brain tissue. What’s its range?”

  “You can talk with anyone on the opposite side of the planet. The device will get implanted with all information on WSO personnel and you can adjust that information as needed in voice mode.”

  “What if there are two Tom Sanguines?” he asked.

  “It has a limited A.I. so you can narrow it down, if needed.”

  The trip took less than ten minutes.

  “Here we are,” Tom said.

  They had taken Magnus to the hospital after getting shot by the alien named Toni but not this one. WSO used it but it looked like a normal hospital.

  “Tom,” he asked, perplexed. “This really does look like an average hospital. What’s up?”

  “It is a normal hospital. We have exclusive access to the thirteenth floor where no one can get to without badge or security keys. All elevators act as if the floor does not exist. Security, advanced medical equipment, you name it,” he explained, shrugging.

  “Damn,” Magnus said. “And no one notices the elevator passes an additional floor?”

  “If they do, there isn’t a damn thing they can do about it.”

  Chapter 22

  PARIS

  A few days later, with the implants installed, Warren and crew boarded the flight to Paris. It was uneventful except that Cookie had to take Magnus aside privately along the way. Some words were exchanged and he returned to his seat. Magnus’ face looked neutral to Warren and since he wasn’t smiling, she must have told him to back off.

  “Everything okay, Mag?” Warren asked.

  “Peachy,” he said.

  Flying always bothered Warren especially the longer they took. This was definitely the longest and it wore on his nerves. They were flying above the clouds now. Somewhere, down there in all that mess aliens were killing people. Whether they were doing it for drugs, setting them up for an invasion by killing prominent leaders and scientists, or simply shutting down technology they didn’t want Earth to have, he didn’t know. For him, all that mattered was that they be stopped and the reasons they were here didn’t matter.

  Warren watched Magnus. He was studying Cookie, probably trying to find the key to breaking past her barriers. Magnus had changed dramatically since Evansville. His friend was more mature in many ways, even though his weakness with the ladies still plagued him but it was worse than that. Magnus was hurting each one of them. Warren had tried to talk with his friend for months about it but Magnus always told him to butt out. Warren had even tried to speak with a few of Magnus’ girlfriends to warn them privately but they never believed him until it was too late. His friend, in hindsight, had an unfair advantage over them.

  Why haven’t my augmentations happened yet? Something holding me back like Magnus had at first?

  He reflected on it for several more minutes knowing they were landing soon. His family came to mind. They thought he was dead and it was hurting him inside almost every day. His family had attended a closed-casket funeral for him since the bodies were unrecognizable. That was months ago now. They had moved on with their lives. He didn’t want to let it go and when the time came he would find a way to reach them, tell them that he was okay and not to worry. He would do it, he just didn’t have a way yet. He needed an opportunity. Warren wanted to go back to his family.

  The plane began its decent. Warren grabbed the armrests of his chair and squeezed tightly. He kept his eyes focused on the ground through his window, hoping the act would increase the odds of him landing safely. The plane touched down without incident and it ended up being a smooth landing. Thankfully, these pilots knew their shit.

  “Anyone brush up on their French?” Grep asked.

  “Tom saved your ass back at WSO when you were so rude to us, bro,” Warren said, glaring at him. “Take the Get Out Of Jail Free card and run with it.”

  “Whatever,” Grep said, blowing him off with a wave of his hand.

  They grabbed their luggage and headed for the SUV.

  “I hope this one is just as decked out,” Brock said.

  Grep grabbed Magnus by the shoulder and motioned Warren to stop. Both of them looked at Grep who then pointed to Brock. He mouthed the word watch and pointed to Brock again. Brock stowed his luggage and came around the left side of the SUV and hopped in. His face was one of confusion. The steering wheel was on the right side of the vehicle and he was on the left. Magnus and Warren shook their heads at Grep.

  “Bro, this is where you could have suggested to Brock, nicely, that in Europe they drive on the right side, instead of making fun of him,” Warren told him.

  “We make fun of each other all the time,” Grep said.

  “Yeah but you’re making it a game and doing it to show off your intelligence at our expense,” Warren told him. “I’m asking as a friend that you stop.”

  Brock climbed over to the right side and started it up. They loaded up their things and Warren took the front passenger side with Grep behind him.

  “Hell, I forgot they drive on the right side but I did get training on it.”

  “No problem, man. It’s a habit,” Warren said.

  Brock revved the engine.

  “Where to?”

  “I have something I’ve been working on,” Grep said. “There are a lot of deaths and WSO has based their search patterns around the location of the dead bodies. A sound plan but so far they’ve come up with nothing here in France. So, I thought we’d focus on something different. My research is based on reported disappearances instead. The reason I even mention it is that there is a vague pattern that formed--”

  Brock craned his neck around to look at Grep.

  “Dude, get us moving and explain as we go,” he said.

  “Ah, yes,” he said. “Head toward the east side of the city of Paris using La Cours de Vincennes. We’ll start there.”

  Warren entered the destination and Brock navigated his way through the city, heading east. Brock examined the na
vigation display several times along the way, making sure he was moving in the right direction. Warren’s white knuckled grip on anything he could get his hands on would have told him to be more careful but Brock didn’t seem to notice. Numerous times, he drove the SUV within inches of other parked and moving vehicles without batting an eye.

  What is his trigger? He is showing signs but only with specific skills.

  The ride was uneventful and the quartet traveled along the street Grep had indicated. The landscape of Paris was just as impressive as New York but Paris was more historic with innate character, built out of 2000 years of existence. The modern lay of roads and other buildings of today did little to stifle that. It was still there, clear and immutable. The city was alive, more so than any in America. He could like this city.

  “What are we looking for, Grep,” Magnus asked.

  “I really don’t know. The other WSO teams always show up to find out what happened but never soon enough to be there when it does. If Paris is a hotbed of alien activity, we need to be there when things happen. The only way I could even begin to believe we could pull that off is by going to the area with the greatest number of missing persons and hope we are lucky enough to see it. WSO is focusing on locations where bodies are found. I can’t believe the Omega aliens would make the mistake of drawing attention to themselves by discarding the bodies in a usable pattern for us. So, I think we should focus on where these dead bodies lived and worked, which is what I did and, as mentioned, a vague pattern formed. It’s a large area so we’re going to have to get lucky,” Grep said.

  “So you’re suggesting we haven’t been getting lucky?” Warren said, making a face.

  “Honestly,” Grep responded. “I think some of our exceptional feats were the result of alien intervention. We’re being helped covertly and we’re being subverted at the same time.”

  “Wouldn’t that mean,” Warren added, “that they are neutralizing each other and that we are doing all this on our own?”

  Grep tapped his finger to the side of his nose.

  “That is somewhat accurate in the broader sense of things. I look at it as though we win some and lose some.”

  Grep was still his friend but Grep had changed, so much so, he wasn’t even the same person. Grep wore the WSO standard business suit and immaculately polished dress shoes with perfect bow-tied laces but it was his posture and how he carried himself. Warren watched Grep while he worked. He sat straight-backed, rarely letting his posture go lax. When he did, it was purposeful. He always turned to face the GPS system while he worked on it. He wore his seatbelt at all times now which was something he didn’t do before.

  “Why are you watching me, Warren?” Grep said, not even bothering to look up from the GPS system.

  “Trying to learn, bro,” he answered quickly.

  Grep finally made eye contact with him.

  “Noted,” he said, maintaining eye contact.

  Grep turned back to his GPS system. Grep didn’t believe him. His old friend was far more perceptive now. For Warren, all of it bothered him. His friend was nothing like the old Greg. Now, he seemed alien.

  The team worked the area Grep thought would be the place to find the aliens. Warren reflected on Grep’s comment from earlier. He wasn’t kidding about the search area being large, so they spent the rest of the night driving, occasionally walking some of it. Magnus and Grep stopped for gas numerous times as they worked the same areas over and over. Taking turns, the two got their much needed two hours sleep while letting he and Brock get their eight hours that night.

  The morning came and there were still no signs of the aliens.

  “Hey guys, wake up,” Magnus said to Warren and Brock. “We’re going to stop for something to eat.”

  “Sounds good, Mag, as long as the boss lady is paying,” Brock managed, still half asleep.

  Magnus chuckled at Brock who didn’t even move. He was still groggy as Magnus pulled the SUV into a blacktop parking lot of a restaurant. The only word Warren could read was cafe on the sign above the door.

  “Grep, I gather this will get us some breakfast?”

  Grep nodded. The cafe had both an outside and inside seating area. The outside had eight tables and six of them were currently occupied. Magnus got out, slamming the SUV door enough to intentionally wake Brock. Warren and Grep joined him as they entered the cafe.

  “Bonjour,” a man said, smiling as they entered.

  He wore a dark red, long sleeve shirt with black pants. His shoes were scuffed but mostly concealed. He was keeping up appearances as the man appeared exhausted. Grep started speaking French with him. They were both smiling, nodding and shaking hands. The man was clearly impressed with Grep’s French. Warren couldn’t understand what they were saying but he picked up enough to know it seemed to elevate the group’s status with the man.

  “He is getting us a table outside,” Grep told Magnus.

  “Yeah, I guess that would be better than inside. We can watch the area,” Magnus said.

  The trio followed the man to a table outside, along one of the outer walls of the cafe. They could see inside through the mostly glass wall behind them and they could also watch up and down the street. The tables were small and cramped, each possessing an umbrella secured at the base and running up through the center. The chairs were made of metal with cushions for back and bottom. Everything was clean but there wasn’t much room for three, let alone four if Brock joined.

  “He told me it was refreshing to meet an American that could speak French so well. I gather he’s a bit tired of the annoyed look some American’s give him when they realize he doesn’t speak English.”

  “The guy seemed nice enough,” Warren said.

  “Grep, why don’t you ask him if he’s seen anything strange in the area?” Magnus told him.

  “Good idea,” Grep said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Wish I had thought of that.”

  “Don’t get your feathers ruffled. Sometimes you have to put up with the obvious. It’s just part of communicating with people,” Warren told him while scanning the street to the left.

  “I figure he’ll come back over to talk some more and that’s when I planned to ask. It seemed way out of line to just drop into that after asking for a table,” Grep said sourly.

  He took watch of the street to the right. The sidewalk was busy with people, a fair number of them riding bicycles. There seemed to be more bicycles here than he’d seen in America in his entire life. Taxis seemed prominent, too, as they whizzed by at dangerously high speeds for such a small road but they seemed to know what they were doing. A young waiter, well over six feet tall, took their order as Brock sat down, squeezing in with them, his back to the road.

  “What’s up?” Brock asked

  Magnus and Warren greeted him while Grep just nodded.

  “We’ve been at this for dozens of hours with nothing,” Warren said.

  “True, but I wouldn’t give up yet. It’s better than what WSO is currently doing.”

  No one said anything as they continued to people watch in silence. Warren caught Magnus letting his eyes linger longer on the beautiful French women than they should for someone looking for aliens.

  “Keeping watch, Magnus?” Warren asked.

  “Yep,” Magnus answer. “Carefully.”

  The waiter returned with their breakfast. He set the plates down in front of the quartet and asked if they needed anything else.

  “We’re fine, thank you,” Warren told the waiter.

  The man seemed to understand and moved on. The sun had risen and the day was brightening but the mood among his friends was a stark contrast. The silence continued between them as they ate. Grep’s conversation with the owner proved useless so they finished their meal, paid and started out again. Brock drove them clockwise around Montreal, on the east of Paris. It was Friday around noon when Warren broke the silence.

  “Guys,” Warren said. “Left side, about ten o’clock.”

  A man, nearly
naked ran along the trees in a park on the left. He was dirty with grime but more importantly, he had blood on him.

  “Pull over hard, I gotta help this guy,” Warren said.

  Brock slowed the SUV and pulled it up onto the curb just off the street. Warren bolted from the vehicle before it stopped, landing easily while still on the move. Warren guessed he had about ten seconds before the man reached the street and the heavy traffic whizzing by. Putting everything into his run he closed on the man who was now only a few feet away from certain death. He dove, grabbing him by the feet. Both of them went down, their momentum carrying them even closer to the traffic. Warren flailed outward with his arms trying to stop. He gripped the man tightly in his left arm while his right planted itself just behind him to stop the duo only inches from the traffic.

  Warren rolled away, getting his feet under him and picked the man up. He was very light for a man just over six feet tall. He wore shorts that were once white but now they were soaked with blood and dirt. His body was caked with grime and sweat.

  “Ils ont essayé de me tuer!” he whispered.

  “Grep, do you understand him?” Warren asked as his friends approached.

  “Yes, he said they tried to kill him.”

  The man’s eyes were wide with fear and he trembled in Warren’s arms.

  “Tell him he’s okay now.”

  “Dudes,” Brock yelled. “Check the tree line. I see something.”

  “I see something, too,” Magnus said. “Move it. Let’s check it out, now.”

  Magnus’ voice was full of authority and it reminded him of Fisk back in Devils Shores. The two pulled their weapons and ran toward the forest after whatever it was they had seen, leaving Warren and Grep behind.

  “Vous êtes bien maintenant,” Grep said.

  “Grep, I think he’s dying. His pulse is weak and fading.”