RISE OF AEN
DAMIAN SHISHKIN
Contents
Dedication
H.G. Wells Quote
Foreword
Prologue
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
Epilogue
Copyright
Dedication
To my son Jordan,
to show him that any dream you have is within your reach.
H.G. Wells Quote
“No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man’s and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinized and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinize the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. - No one gave a thought to the older worlds of space as sources of human danger, or thought of them only to dismiss the idea of life upon them as impossible or improbable.”
- H.G. Wells
Foreword
I am an insomniac; I have been since I was fourteen. Ideas pop into my head at all times and they keep churning in my skull like a gerbil on its wheel. A friend of mine referred to it as over-thinking things, something I am occasionally guilty of, but for the most part this isn’t one of those things. Instead, it is the creative part of my mind taking control of an idea and warping it, expanding it, and looking at it in new ways. It is part of who I am, and in part it is an explanation of why I can’t sleep.
But this isn’t about my inability to sleep as much as it is about what happens when I do sleep; because when I do sleep, my imagination runs in overdrive as it is free of my conscious efforts to keep it in line. In my slumber I dream many wonderful and frightening things; many of which haunt me to this day. It is here that I draw the inspiration to write and tell the stories that my mind puts on display at night. It is here that I hope to show you a part of me that no one can truly see.
I am a normal guy; quiet and easy-going. I live a normal life with my family in a quiet part of the busy world. But inside, behind the façade of normalcy, my imagination is chomping at the bit to be let loose and after a long journey I have finally let it. This book is opening up my world to all of those who read it. A more personal look at me than I sometimes wonder if I am ready for. I am a deeply guarded and private person, always worried that others won’t understand my unique outlook on things. It is a mindset that has me always looking upwards when the stars come out at night, the unmistakable draw that makes you look up at the stars above and wonder what life can be out there. That somewhere out in the darkness, there is something, or someone, looking up at the sky and thinking the same.
Welcome to the world that, until now, only I have glimpsed, and let me lead you on a journey through what I hope is the first of many stories I can share with you.
Prologue
Standing on the ridge, overlooking the wreckage below, he struggled to grasp what had happened. The wind had started to pick up a bit and the dawn began to peak over the horizon. They had been here for ten hours now, and nothing seemed to make sense. His mind traced back to the last things that held any bit of sanity to them: the moment he and his team were called.
Major Jensen Taylor and his team had received a call to respond to a downed aircraft in the South Dakota Badlands. He knew it was serious; his search and rescue team was only called upon when it was serious. As they scrambled to grab their gear, they all thought the same thing; the cargo of the plane was nuclear! Reports of the local Air Force base had secured the site but held the perimeter only seemed to solidify those suspicions as they boarded the V-22 Osprey that was readied for their transport. The team spent the hour-long flight in near silence with only the sound of the whining turbo props and the shuffling of their gear to fill the air. As he looked at each member of his twelve-man team, Major Taylor thought they were ready for anything. He was wrong.
As they came into view of the crash site, they all crowded the windows to see what they were up against. First they saw the long, burnt trail of trees and bushes, as embers still glowed bright orange amongst the smoke and broken tree limbs. This trail carried on for close to a mile before ending in a massive crater; Taylor had never known of a plane crashing this hard to create such a sight!
“How fast was that stupid fucker going?” spouted Sergeant Avery Wilson, breaking the unspoken silence of the cargo bay. “I mean, did he just go to max ceiling, turn her nose down and accelerate? What the fuck?”
“Stow that tongue, Sergeant!” barked Taylor. He didn’t want his team getting any more anxious then they already were. They all shared Wilson’s sentiments—including himself—but showing any strain now would mean disaster if things got hairy down there. “Check your shit men, we land in five! Wilson, I want you and Everett to find whatever fuck-up is in charge down there and get me a report, ASAP! Marlin, Ferster, Gentry and Hastings—I want you to secure the aircraft and check for any survivors. The rest of you, set up the triage and ops tents and stow our equipment in it.”
“Yes sir!” they barked in unison.
“Let’s do it right and do it clean! Don’t take any unnecessary chances tonight; we all came here together and I want all of us to leave together!”
“Yes sir!” they responded once again.
The V-22’s rear ramp began to lower as the craft began its descent. Wilson and Everett stood near the edge, looking down at the rapidly approaching ground. The air was tainted with soot and the smell of scorched metal; it left a metallic taste in Taylor’s mouth as he stood tall behind his men, who readied behind the lead two on the ramp. With a thump, the Osprey touched down and Wilson and Everett were off and running. The others waited for a moment for the craft to settle before they too rushed out, to carry out their orders. Major Taylor was the last to leave, and as he slowly disembarked, he took in the scene around him. It was a starless night; darker than usual out here, but not devoid of light in the area. The edge of the crater was lined with spotlights and the brush still smoldered from the crash. Taylor noted he could feel the heat from the ground through his boots; this was something he had never experienced before. The guards posted here looked nervous and unusually tense; he wondered what carnage lay beyond the crater wall that had shaken them so. There was an air of unease that seemed to catch even his men off-guard as they all slowed to take in the sensation. As all this was processing through his over analytical mind, Taylor realized something was missing from all this—the absence of the harshness of jet fuel fumes!
“Sir!” the voice of Sergeant Wilson snapped him back from his thoughts, “I found a lieutenant who is in charge of the perimeter, but he says we’re in charge here!”
“So it seems. What type of aircraft are we looking at with this one?” Taylor replied as the two began to walk to the crater rim. “How many crew were aboard?”
“He says it’s not one of ours. In fact, he doesn’t know what the fuck it even is!”
“What do you mean, Sergeant? What the hell does he think it is?” Taylor’s face grew stern, trying to mask the fear that welled up in his soul.
Wilson stopped and turned pale. “He, uh, he
thinks it’s a UFO sir! He says it’s alien.”
Taylor laughed as he continued up the rim, nearing the edge. “Sergeant, do you really believe that they would call the premiere tactical recon and rescue team in the continental United States to come and help E.T. and his little green buddies put a fucking band-aid on their spaceship? That idiot over there probably hasn’t had much sleep or was called back from leave where he was boozing it up! I mean, of all the ridiculous things for a soldier to...”
The two men stopped on the rim and froze at what was below. Nothing in all their training could help them now. Just beneath them were Marlin, Ferster, Gentry and Hastings, who were also trying to comprehend the scene. At the bottom lay the remains of an oval-shaped, tubular craft made from a glass-like, reflective metal Taylor had never seen—and he’d visited Skunkworks many times over his service! The nose was partially buried in dirt and mud with the rocks strewn about, still glowing red from the heat of the impact. One side had an engine of some sort while the other held only the remains of where one would be attached. It was maybe twenty or so feet in length and looked to be a one- or maybe two-man craft. To the long-time soldier, it was a slap in the face of all he had ever known. Everything he ever believed in was wrong, because below him lay the wreckage of an extraterrestrial craft!
“Sir?” came the nervous sound of the Sergeant’s voice from beside him. “What are your orders?” The team below also looked up at him, awaiting word from their CO.
“Pull out of the crater.” Taylor spoke after a brief contemplation. “No one goes in without my permission or HazMat suits.” He spun on his heels and began to ascend the rise with his men in tow. “Get me a line to Groom Lake. I need to speak with General Patterson at once.”
“Yes sir!” his men barked and ran down the embankment, leaving him behind with his thoughts. Taylor stopped and began to make a quick strategy for what was to follow. Everything was different now, everything had to be sealed tight. His team was sent here because someone knew that this was here, which meant that this wasn’t going to be over any time soon. He spent a few more moments in quiet contemplation before resuming his path to the ops tent, which was alive with activity.
Pulling aside the flap, he entered and his men snapped to attention. “Do we have a line to Groom Lake yet?” he asked.
“Not yet sir,” Wilson said, with his voice wavering momentarily. “I’ll have it for you in five!”
“Good. Everett, I want you to confiscate all cell phones, cameras, and any other info-gathering devices from the guards here. Tell them that I am enforcing a gag order on everyone here and any leaks will be considered treason. Got it?”
“Sir!” shouted Everett, before dashing out of the tent to carry out the orders.
“The rest of you, get me a two-mile radius of fence around the perimeter and post an armed guard every fifty feet. No one gets in and no one leaves! This is now restricted property of the United States Air Force and trespassers will be shot! I want security on the level with that received by the fucking President, understood?”
Sir, yes sir!” his men shouted as they too ran to their tasks. At least they would be occupied for a bit and not think about what lay down in the crater.
“Major,” Wilson interrupted his thoughts. “I’ve got Gen. Patterson on the line for you.”
“Thanks Avery, excellent work!” He nodded as he took the phone to dismiss the Sergeant from the tent, he didn’t need to hear what was to be said next. “General,” he spoke solemnly into the phone, “Sorry to disturb you at this hour.”
“Not sure how you got the number to the facility son, but I’m sure we’ll have time to discuss it later. Now, what the hell is so important that you called me here at 51?” Taylor knew General Patterson from years before, when he was Taylor’s CO in the Gulf War. The old man had a good demeanor, but was straight to the point and precise with his words.
“At twenty-one hundred hours, my team and I responded to a call for a downed aircraft in the Badlands. When we got here and I reviewed the site, the only person I knew could help me on this one was you, sir,” he explained.
“Kinda odd to dial a nonexistent number for a plane crash, Taylor. What has you spooked? Was her payload nuclear?”
“I don’t know, we haven’t approached the remains of the craft, sir.”
“What do you mean, is the bitch glowing already?”
“No, sir. From what I can tell, there is no nuclear contamination.”
“Jensen, this conversation is going nowhere fast! What the fuck is wrong with your scene that you saw fit to wake me up and babble bullshit to me?”
Taylor hesitated before responding. “I’m unsure on the proper terminology, but I believe we have a Fallen Angel on our hands here.”
For what seemed to be an eternity, there was nothing but silence on the line. All Taylor could hear was the General’s breathing before he could answer. “Is the area secure?”
“It was guarded when we arrived; now I’ve got it on lockdown. Anything trying to get in is gonna leave in a bodybag, sir.”
“Weather report has cloud cover for another ten or twelve hours, send your coordinates and we’ll get a retrieval and clean-up team out to you in an hour. Get some parachutes and cover the wreckage, make sure no one but you goes near it.”
“Consider it done, sir!”
“Good job, Jensen, I’ll personally see you in the hour.” The line went dead; the conversation was over and the General had a lot to get done. Taylor imagined the flurry of activity at Groom Lake to be nearly chaotic.
“Sir?” Everett spoke from the entranceway.
“What is it, Corporal?”
“I’ve got the cell phones and cameras, even a couple of portable game systems.” He said, motioning to the helmet in his hands which was overflowing with electronic devices.
“Good job, Everett. Put them in the foot locker over there and seal it tight.”
Everett walked tentatively over to the box and dumped his payload inside. “I didn’t mean to overhear sir,” he said apologetically, “But do you really think that thing is alien?”
Taylor sighed as his corporal handed him the key to the sealed foot locker. “Everett, I hate to pull this ‘need to know’ shit on you, but you know the drill. The less you know about what is down there, the better it is for you,” he said, as he handed him a rifle. “Now go help the others secure the perimeter and report back to me when it’s sealed tight.”
“Yes sir,” Everett said, sounding a bit shaken.
“Everett,” Taylor called after him as he was about to leave the tent. “Get a few parachutes from our gear and help me cover that thing before you go help the boys, would you?”
The corporal turned and nodded with a smile, then ran off to grab the gear. He was a good kid and Taylor figured he deserved one final look at the craft. Besides, it gave him an excuse to examine it for himself before the crew from 51 arrived. He left the tent and walked up the rim to wait for the Corporal to join him. The wind picked up slightly and breathed some fresh air on them, helping to clear away the acrid smell of the crash. Looking up at the overcast sky, he hoped it would last as long as the forecast predicted. They were going to need every ounce of that time to get this shit cleaned up, and that would be only the beginning of the fun. He realized that his life had changed in the instant they arrived, but he had no idea how much it actually would affect him.
ONE
Rocky Mountains, Utah –
Military Installation Code Named White Rock
The helicopter cleared the mountain range and descended down to the facility in the valley below. Recently constructed, the building stood three stories high and stretched for an entire city block as it sat in isolation from the outside world. Tucked away in the folds of the Rocky Mountains in the northeast corner of Utah, the Air Force had built this place as a continuation of the projects held a
t Groom Lake. The facility was completed four years ago, just in time to house the lone occupant of the wreckage recovered shortly thereafter.
General Taylor held tight to the strap hanging from the roof of the helicopter as it dipped down rapidly. This was the first time he had been here to the facility even though he had been the head of Project Star Child for the entire time since the discovery of the crash site. Shortly after the retrieval and clean up, Taylor had been called before a review board and applauded for his quick decision-making. He had been promoted to General and transferred to Langley to head this project. His team was given a new CO and he lost touch with them as the demands of his new posting left little spare time. It had also cost him his marriage, as he spent little or no time with his wife of ten years. In his absence, she had fallen in love with another man and left Jensen to his career. As much as her leaving hurt him, the project meant so much more.
That night in the Badlands had changed something deep inside him. He realized that the world wasn’t ready for what they had stumbled upon, that civilization would waver in its course upon the news that they truly weren’t alone in the universe. But here the creature was, still in a coma after almost four years but still alive and in stable condition. A multitude of tests were conducted. as the best scientists in the world had begun to map its DNA. And then there was the ship.
Recovered mostly intact, with the power source still operational, the ship had been the find of a lifetime, and it alone had launched Taylor to legendary status in black ops circles. A wealth of technology and information had been gained from the ship, even though the language had not yet been translated. The military’s code-breakers worked around the clock to crack it, and they seemed to be on the verge of doing just that. All they had been able to determine is that the ship was called the Kyrath, and that it hailed from deep in the interior of the Milky Way.
This is where Taylor had come in; they had identified the origin of the visitor and determined that the ship was not hostile, but still possibly a scout of some sort. The threat was real and now he was charged with finding a way to counter that threat. This is the project that consumed him since being appointed; this is what had cost him his family.
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