The Journals of Zaleem, Part 1

By Tommy Masek

As the result of an accident aboard their ship, Xacs Omathe, a California avocado grower, is inadvertently abducted by an alien race which has cultivated life in our galaxy and the greater universe for billions of years. He lives and travels with them for nearly three centuries, experiencing what the future may hold for the Human race.
The creation of all life on Earth was accomplished by the Aanbollth, an extraterrestrial race dedicated to the improvement and continued development of life in the Universe. They are the ultimate engineers of all organisms, great and small, on this beautiful planet known, in part, as M37CXA19B24R3.
The history of Earth and many other worlds is chronicled in the journals of Zaleem Aah Ju Amaharah Ees, Earth’s gardener until his untimely death at the relatively young age of 48,373 Earth years.
Fifteen of the seventeen crewmembers aboard the ship are killed immediately, and Zaleem, the Captain, dies five days later. A moment before his death, Zaleem slips an amulet, his recorder, into Xacs’s hand, saying it will provide him with safe passage.
An Aanbollth female, Oelphia, for short, is the only other long-term survivor of the accident. She becomes Xacs’s life-long mentor, supporting him initially through genetic modifications and rehab, and later by finding him a job and a mate.
Xacs quickly finds that the Aanbollth brain possesses capabilities that surpass those of a powerful computer, and contains a seeming unlimited memory. With the addition of telepathic communications, their society is the ultimate wireless network.
On the ship, Oelphia creates a notebook-type computer containing all the information available on Earth at the time of Xacs’s abduction. The Omac, as he names it, becomes his primary source of entertainment and mental stimulation. Later, on Aanbol, a translator program is added to the Omac to convert mutual telepathic communications.
Aanbol is a planet about ten times the diameter of Earth with a rotational rate, a rev, of twenty four and a half days, and an orbital period, a cycle, of about fifteen earth years. The planet’s axis is nearly perpendicular to the orbital plane and there are no seasons. There are three moons of significant size which contribute light in varying amounts during the night. The composition of the atmosphere reflects sunlight to produce a lavender sky. The Aanbollth race has an average life span of 200,000 years.
A year and a half after arriving on Aanbol, Xacs and his mate, Sharnielle, move to a relatively remote citrus farm as managers and his adventures with life on an amazing planet blossom like the trees.
Part 1 of this series follows Xacs’s life from his abduction until he has settled into a stable life on Aanbol, covering a period of nearly eight years. He has adapted to his genetic modifications, overcome several health problems, initiated a successful program to improve fruit production on the farm, and developed a satisfying relationship with Sharnielle. Oelphia has set-off on another mission in space.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tommy Masek
• Release date: May 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311539502

Tommy Masek

In his early career, Tommy worked as an engineer and scientist, having degrees from the University of Colorado, and MIT. He worked for the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, Rockwell International, and Hughes Research Laboratories, with a primary focus on ion propulsion for spacecraft. In later years, he manufactured coal stoker heating equipment. The Journals of Zaleem Series will be six novels in the science fiction genre. In Part 1, Xacs Omathe is abducted by an alien race and must deal with survival on an alien planet. Eventually, after nearly three centuries of living and traveling with the Aanbollth race, he will be returned to Earth to publish his memoirs before his death. Tommy has also written The Alexander Affair, The Quixote Files, The Whistler Agenda, and The Heiress and the Black Monk. The last three of these novels follow political reporter Martin Cosgrove as he unravels mysteries and dodges bullets. Tommy has been married to his high school sweetheart, Claudia, since 1962. They reside in Oxnard, California, with their Yorkie dependents, Oscar and Theo.

Book preview

Xacs Omathe

My Life with the Aanbollth

Part 1–Rebirth

As the result of an accident aboard their ship, I was inadvertently abducted by an alien race which has cultivated life in our galaxy and the greater universe for billions of years. I lived and traveled with them for nearly three centuries experiencing what the future may hold for the Human race.

The creation of all life on Earth was accomplished by the Aanbollth, an extraterrestrial race dedicated to the improvement and continued development of life in the Universe. They are the ultimate engineers of all organisms, great and small, on this beautiful planet known to the greater universe, in part, as M37CXA19B24R3. These recognizable numbers and English characters are my conversion of a complex language into a form readable by Humans.

The history of Earth and many other worlds is chronicled in the journals of Zaleem Aah Ju Amaharah Ees, Earth’s gardener until his untimely death at the relatively young age of 48,373 Earth years. A moment before his death, Zaleem had slipped an amulet into my hand, saying it would provide me with safe passage.

In addition to being an unusual and beautiful piece of jewelry, the amulet was his personal recorder containing unimaginable adventures – literally millions of years of planetary gardening history. Transcribing even parts of the information was a life-long process for me.

I kept the treasure in my possession for the two hundred seventy-two years I spent with the Aanbollth. For about a third of that time, I lived on Aanbol, the home planet of the Aanbollth. The remainder was spent traveling with them to planets they gardened.

The partial translation of the complex Zaleem recordings, integrated with my experiences among the Aanbollth, is the basis for this book, my memoir.

You may find discrepancies in my references to age and time. Every day I was gone from Earth could normally be considered part of my age. However, a portion of the travel in space involved being placed in stasis which stopped my personal aging process. I admit to having lost count at times, so the elapsed time on Earth is the baseline.

An Aanbollth female, Oelphia, for short, was the only other long-term survivor of the accident which killed sixteen crew members, and Zaleem, the Captain, who died a few days later. She became my life-long mentor.

The measure of time was different on Aanbol, as were the lengths of day and night. The rotational rate of the planet was about six hundred and ten hours which normally would have conflicted with my biological clock’s concept of day and night.

But I received amazing medical care which allowed me to survive on Aanbol and progressively improve my capabilities. Genetic modifications allowed me to live with their atmosphere, gravity, foods, water, and a myriad of other hazards. My life span was increased by a factor of about four.

The written Aanbollth language was conceptually like Chinese, but in three dimensions, with entirely different character forms. Color and texture add additional dimensions, and increase the possible meanings enormously.

Mathematics was conceptually similar to that on Earth, with different symbols and significantly greater complexity. Over the years, I attempted to understand their theories and equations but had little success.

Use of the oral form of their language slowly declined millions of years ago after they learned to communicate mind-to-mind over great distances.

Music, a variety of entertainments, and personal conversations occurred telepathically. Amazingly, they understood me in any form, but most of our conversations were telepathic, in English.

A number of the genetic modifications were reversed before I was returned to Earth, but a complete DNA profile would show significant anomalies. I expect to be quietly cremated upon my death, leaving only this memoir as a reminder and sign post for a future life.

In this book, I use italics to identify telepathic communications, but distinguish those of the Aanbollth with quotation marks.

Dialog herein has been adjusted to remove accents, inflections, odd speech patterns, word usage, and other confusions. Conversations are simplified to make the book more readable.

Be aware, also, that as the story progresses, I slowly begin to use Aanbollth terminology for time. They had no such terms as minute, hour, day, week, month or year, so when they appear in the text, they relate to Earth measures. A glossary for the terms used herein is provided at the end.

Be assured that in spite of my use of normal sentence structure and punctuation as I learned it on Earth, my communications with the Aanbollth were often erratic, confusing, and anything but organized.

I began this memoir simply as a record of my experiences during the first days aboard the ship. It later served to occupy my mind during long months of boredom and silence.

I always hoped that one day I would return to Earth to tell my story, but that prospect remained in doubt until late in life. Over the nearly three centuries I lived with the Aanbollth I was aware, as were they, that if I died on their planet my soul would be lost for all time. Simply put, I would never rejoin family and friends on the other side, and would never reincarnate.

Give thanks to your creator, open your mind, and let me tell you my story.

Chapter 1–Zaleem

It’s no exaggeration to say my life was turned upside down the day I was abducted by the Aanbollth. The day had been one like many others I’d spent working alone in my avocado groves outside of San Luis Obispo, California. My wife Katherine and I had owned Xacs Omathe Farms for seventeen years. There was a cool afternoon breeze off the ocean, rustling the leaves as it moderated the heat of the bright sun. I’d spent a pleasant day thinning the fruit and pruning extraneous growth. Life was good.

As I stepped off a ladder, I felt unusually light-headed, wondering if my blood sugar was low, or if I was having a stroke. A bit young for that at age forty-three.

I gripped the ladder, my mind filled with light, and my heart fluttered. Immobile, I wondered how long it would be before my wife came to look for me. I’d never know.

I woke to the sound of a muted siren. My first thought was of an ambulance, but I was obviously in a different space. Something more like a CT or MRI machine, with straps holding me in place above the knees and across my chest. My hands were free from the elbow down. An oddly shaped breathing mask, attached by a tube to the machine, covered my mouth and nose.

Was this one of those tests for which you’re supposed to remain still? If I’d been sedated, it had worn off.

I waited. The siren continued. How long have I been here? What had happened and what was wrong with me?

With the mask on, I couldn’t call for help. I turned my head and leaned far enough to reach it with my hand. I removed the one attached to the machine and realized there was another. An acrid smell hit me as I raised the corner of the inner mask. I put it back in place. The smell was foreign but not overpowering. After another minute, I pulled the masks off my mouth again.

Anyone there? I shouted, looking over my shoulder. There were flashing lights and the siren, but no reply. I moved as much as I could, testing the restraints. Hello, I shouted, hearing my voice crack. I replaced the mask and waited anxiously for a few more minutes. My mind raced and my heart pounded.

Is the hospital burning down? Did I have a heart attack? Has everyone gone to lunch? I waited.

I exhaled to shrink the size of my chest, and used my limited grip on the table below me to inch my way toward the head. The restraints were probably intended to keep me in place while I was unconscious, not necessarily hog-tied. I worked myself part way out of the machine.

Are you all asleep? I shouted, muffled by the mask, as I freed my arms. No reply. Soon, I awkwardly fell off the end of the table. The mask attached to the machine pulled off my face, but I pushed the inner mask back into place.

Two figures were crumpled at what was probably the control console for the machine. I looked at the writing on the control screen, thinking it looked like three dimensional Hieroglyphics.

Oh my god, I said, staring at the bodies sprawled on the floor.

They looked male, somewhat Human but not quite, and about my size. I hoped the message didn’t say Poison Gas, but perhaps it did to the collapsed operators.

Up close, they looked different. In a word, alien. Their scalps and faces were hairless but variegated in color with what appeared to be natural pigment. Not striped exactly, more on the order of a camouflage design in browns and tans. They both wore similar light blue jump suits with patches containing symbols. Name tags possibly. One’s hand, showing four fingers and a thumb, was spread flat on the floor, probably to soften his fall.

Surprisingly, my cell phone was in my pants pocket where I always kept it. It reported, No Service. I had a feeling I wasn’t in California anymore. I was dying to meet the Mad Hatter, possibly literally.

I wasn’t far from the table and was still wearing the mask. I hadn’t experienced any ill effects as yet from a short period of breathing the fumes still wafting through the room. It felt and sounded as if the fumes were being sucked out, possibly through the grate-like floor. If I was breathing what I was designed for, air, what did these other creatures breathe? They were humanoid in appearance, but they might need something other than Earth’s air mixture.

I hadn’t immediately noticed the walls, but finally realized they were curved and covered with a colorful three dimensional Aztec-like design. Beside the control panel, I touched the wall, wondering if it was really rock. No, just a smooth surface with an incredible paint job. Amazing, I thought, watching the surface change designs after my touch.

What should I do? See if my two companions were dead? Could I tell? Surely, if there was anyone else within a mile, they could hear the siren. Should I look for a door out of this room? Where? On one wall, the original mural had a design that seemed to represent a passage way. Not now in a jungle setting. Could these two be the only people here? And, where the hell was I?

Was this a space ship or were we on Earth?

I didn’t feel any different, and I did fall off the table just as I would have at home. There was gravity, so logically we were not in space where we would be weightless. Right?

Maybe I’m on a high tech Hollywood movie set. Cameras behind the walls and the crew laughing their asses off at my struggle. Aztecs versus Aliens, now filming. I smiled and waved. I waited for someone to see my bad acting and shout, Cut.

I realized I wasn’t wearing a costume.

I walked toward the far side of the room to have a closer look at the new mural. From a distance it was hard to see the straight lines running up the wall, but as I approached, a door-sized panel slid into the ceiling. The motion was smooth, quick, and without a sound. Of course with the siren still blaring, almost any sound would have been unheard. No cameras in view but there was a brilliant view of black space through a large window. At least I assumed it was space or another clever mural.

Damn, I either had to find ear plugs or a button to shut off the bell. This is probably not a movie set.

There were two more inert bodies slumped in seats in front of what appeared to be another control console. One seemed female and the other had features more like the first two.

The male figure jerked as if a tremor had passed through him. I touched his shoulder carefully. He jerked upright, turning to look at me as if he’d seen a ghost.

Maybe these folks dream too and I was a bad one.

He coughed and seemed to be sick. I stumbled backwards, wondering if I’d be attacked and instinctively raised my arms. My heart raced.

I suddenly had a splitting headache and reeled away from my new associate, feeling my back against the wall. Between the pain and the bell, my mind was in overload.

I sank to my knees and covered my ears with my hands. A voice in my mind said, We wish you no harm, don’t fear.

That’s easy for you to say. Turn off the fucking bell.

A second later the ringing stopped and my headache eased.

The male put his graceful hand on his companion’s neck, slowly rotating her head. I felt as if he were crying out. I started to take off the mask but the mental voice said, "You need the mask to live."

What do I call you? I thought.

The initial word was incomprehensible. He repeated it slowly projecting the letters onto my mind’s-eye screen.

"I am Z A L E E M, the gardener for your planet."

A gardener?

Wow… Zaleem, I’m pleased to meet you. Can you take me home now? Can I speak to you out loud?

Zaleem sat quietly in his seat turning to face the control console, perhaps not hearing me. He pressed buttons and an image appeared on the huge screen.

I guessed it was like one of those mall layout maps that say, You are here. The image appeared to be of a spiral galaxy with a small point of light flashing near the end of one of the arms.

That is M37 in this sector, what you call The Milky Way Galaxy.

So far, so good, he does understand my words, but replies telepathically.

I immediately saw the implications of the image and felt dizzy. This can’t be real. I suddenly hoped my first reaction of being on a movie set was correct.

He used his finger tips to move the image on the screen. The picture enlarged and rotated to show a view parallel to the plane of the galaxy. The flashing dot was now slightly below the plane. With a few more screen taps, the view became three dimensional with a faint line connecting where we apparently were, with where we were going – far away considering the scale.

ET phone home. He smiled. "We record everything. We are now far from your home. When the accident occurred, this craft automatically began the journey back to our home planet. You can be returned on another visit to… R3." There was a long series of garbled characters before the last two.

Earth? I asked.

Yes. I have injuries and need to rest. Come with me. Don’t touch anything. This craft could kill us without your help.

How far to your home?

The trip to the transfer port will take over an Earth year. From there, we travel as an energy wave.

He understood the confusion in my mind, producing a thin smile.

A gravity wave. Think of it as a sun beam. We may not survive that long. I’ll attempt to produce food you can digest.

Maybe you should just kill me now.

Zaleem started to stand, but turned to the side and vomited. Ugly stuff.

These folks were not too much different from us. That’s exactly what I felt like doing, considering my dire situation. The smell was sickening. I took a few steps away.

I supported him under one arm as we walked a short distance through another door. Zaleem’s body seemed similar to mine, but with less bulk.

As we descended for a few seconds in an elevator, I asked, How many individuals are aboard this craft?

I saw the numeral eighteen. "Seventeen are gone."

I’m sorry, I replied. Was the female a close friend?

The first officer and a close friend.

I could feel his intense sadness. Mine will miss me, too, I said. And so will my two children.

"We’ll return you as soon as we can, but it will be a long time. I’m