Death of a Planet

By Michael Ribar

Our
culture is rife with the inference of the existence of life on other
planets. Indeed, life technologically
capable of visiting our planet on a regular basis.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Such visitation forms the core for a sizable
group of individuals who profoundly believe that they have seen, been visited
by or even abducted by Aliens.

So
the fabric is woven into a tale of a common man whose destiny sends him out of
this world.

Jack
Sharpes a regular guy, jilted by his fianc hes drowning his sorrows at the
local pub, when his world is transformed by a gentleman offering him passage on
a space ship!

The
man is Isiah Walker and hes a recruiter.
Isiah isnt recruiting just any down on his luck drunk.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Nope hes looking for a special type.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He seeks people without attachments.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Those who disappear and all thats said is:
Whatever happened to whats his name?
Nobody with close family or close friends which narrows the field down
to what, maybe a couple of hundred million people?

Jack
fits and Isiah offers him a job working out in the suburbs of space, the
hinterlands of the galaxy. Jack
considers the proposal even as events close in around him and send him where
our sun dont shine.

Mankind
joins a race of galactic observers; beings that have watched us develop for
hundreds of years. Theyve discovered
alien intruders so powerful and frightening they are forced into action.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> They must use Humanity to help destroy this
potential threat to the Universe. The
race is devouring planets and taking the spoils to an unknown destination.

So
the journey begins and takes us into the everyday lives of the space borne
humans inhabiting an enormous craft designed and built by humans with Alien
technology.

Jack
learns about himself and his capabilities, hes mentally connected with a one hundred
ninety pound puppy of questionable breeding.
He gains true friends and meets a very special woman.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> As Jack and his group train hard for an
unknown mission their reward comes in the form of a one-way ticket to a planet
that is systematically being destroyed by the mysterious and hideous
aliens. There they witness the Death of
a Planet a planet they will try desperately to save.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 3, 2004
• ISBN: 9781414076393

Michael Ribar

Michael Ribar continues to consider Alaska home having been raised there and spending most of his adult life enjoying the state’s incredible beauty and grandeur.  Fate called him to the rest of America and he has spent portions of his professional career in California, Georgia and Texas. Michael’s career has included editing and writing procedural manuals and scripting safety videos.  He has spent his career as a trainer and manager in transportation and logistics.  He’s provided tutorials and lectured on transportation safety throughout the United States. He has enjoyed a life long passion for science fiction and consuming works from Adams to Heinlein to Vonnegut. Ribar currently lives in Northern California with his wife Debbie.  Their sons though out of the house are close to their hearts

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Good morning Jack.

Huh, what time is it? Where’ve you been? I was up half the night waiting for you.

Jack, I tried calling at 10 o’clock and then at midnight and the phone just rang and rang.

Oh, I must’ve dozed off for awhile. So Denise, where’ve you been, baby?

I spent the night at Darlene’s place. We were up all night just talking girl talk and I kept trying to call you but you didn’t answer.

Jack Sharpe turned over in the rumpled king size, blinking the bright morning into reality. In one corner of the room he glanced the pile of uniform and baseball gear he’d somehow managed to peel out of just four hours before. It’s better to win than lose but the victory celebration takes a toll.

I thought you’d be at the game last night.

Well, I’d really planned to, then Darlene called and wanted to show me her new dress and then we went for nachos and stopped by the mall and by then it was late so I went over to her house.

It was the championship game.

Oh. Darlene has such a nice house and Edward said Darlene could completely redecorate this spring.

I thought they just did.

Oh goodness no, that was almost two years ago. They just put in a pool and a tennis court last year. Darlene says that Edward just won another case. A lady fell down the steps while visiting her neighbor. She was nursing her two and a half year old boy when she fell and the little boy bit off her, you know, her thing. So Edward sued the people she was visiting for letting the lady fall and creating deep-rooted psychological trauma for the boy not to mention the lady losing her, her you know, thing. Well the people and their insurance company settled out of court for one point five million dollars and a promise that the lady wouldn’t file aggravated assault charges against them. So Edward got a lot of money and Darlene can redecorate their house.

Jack Sharpe watched Denise relate this tale of woe and justice triumphant. She began to disrobe and prepare to shower. Denise stood tall with long dark hair, pale green eyes. Her figure reflected manifest hours of aerobics classes, firm and taut glowing tanning center allover tanniness. He groaned. He watched as her breastwork led the way into the shower. Did not listen as she chattered on and on about her day at the mall. The splash retarded. Sighing, he followed her curved backside out of the cubicle.

Hey, how about slidin’ in next to me here and we can have a little fun.

Denise stared back with disgust.

Ick! Jack!

"I just showered and it’s morning and is that all you ever think about?

Jack, I think that’s disgusting. I think that you haven’t even heard a single word that I’ve said. All you think about is, is well, you know."

Nipple

What?

The kid bit off his mom’s nipple. You don’t have to call it that thing, you can call it what it is, a nipple. And yes, I’d like to make love to you even if it is morning. I still find you sexually attractive.

Jack you’re talking dirty again. You think just because you write for a newspaper that you can just go ahead and say anything you want. Well Jack, you should learn to be more careful how you talk to people. Darlene says Edward has sent people to jail and made a lot of money because they slandered someone, which is talking bad, so you should watch it. Edward is a butthead, albeit a rich butthead and I am not really relishing the thought of having a butthead for a brother-in-law.

You said that word three times Jack. That’s slander. I hope Edward never hears that you said that or he’ll put you in jail.

Huh, that chubby little blimpo will watch his every step or I’ll write a story about him. I’ll title it: My brother-in-law the Butthead, Tales of an Unscrupulous Attorney. Check that, unscrupulous and attorney is a redundancy.

Oh Jack, you’re so mean to Edward, you’re always picking on him and he lets Darlene buy anything she wants. And you don’t have to worry about being his brother-in-law because we aren’t going to get married. I talked to Darlene all night about us and you are emotionally bad for me. Edward says that your income earning potential is limited because you only write what you think is right. You won’t get into advertising or management where the big bucks are. Darlene says that you’re too into boys’ games and you don’t like mature things like going to plays and shopping at the mall. So, Jack, it’s not right for me to be with you when Darlene has someone like Edward.

Jack drank this in, Denise was sobbing now, wet hair fell in her face, terry cloth robe wrapped tightly around her, armor against exposure to a real and uncomfortable world.

What’s money got to do with love? And besides, I make out okay. I may not be rich but I’ve still got my principles.

Jack, it doesn’t matter if the head of your high school still likes you. Look at this place. We’ve been dating for almost two years, we’ve lived together for six months and nothing in this apartment has changed. It even has the same yuckie green levelors on the windows.

We’ve got a new P.C., Jack tried meekly.

See, always thinking of yourself, Jack. You know I don’t know how to use one of those things. Daddy always said you were self-centered. He said anyone who believes in the UN is probably a communist. You’re a communist, Jack! And then you ran over poor Floppsie.

Hey, nobody told me your Dad had a Pomeranian that slept behind car tires. Besides, it peed on my leg twice.

Jack, you’re so cruel. Daddy thinks of poor little Floppsie every time he sees that little spot on his driveway.

I tried to clean it up. he responded lamely.

Then whatever you used drained down into Daddy’s prize rose bushes and killed them and killed the lawn for thirty feet in front of them. Oh Jack, you’re so cruel!

Jack pushed his head into the pillow. His head was pounding in amazement, pounding from shock, pounding from the lack of sleep and in all honesty, pounding from alcohol consumption. Jack groaned, then he groaned again.

I’m not cruel. Maybe I don’t look behind my tires and I use solvents that kill roses, that is not an indictment for cruelty.

Denise sniffed and finished applying her lipstick. You just don’t understand, Jack. Valid point.

Slowly a thought forced it’s way through the clogged gray matter of his mind.

Denise, he said with trepidation, Denise, are you seeing someone else?

Oh, don’t be ridiculous Jack, Darlene just mentioned his name last night. He works for a big advertising agency. He’s a friend of Edward’s, really successful. Seeing someone else, Jack that’s silly. I won’t even meet Reginald until this evening. Good-bye Jack, we’re still friends. Someone will be by for my things.

Reginald, Jack groaned.

CHAPTER TWO

Grab some sweatpants, a tee shirt, socks, tennies and gargle with 12 oz. can of beer. Skip the shave and don’t bother with a shower. Jack had important business to attend to. His head ached and his stomach hurt. Jack headed for BoBo’s.

BoBo’s was a bar. Stanley Green was the bar owner and he enjoyed trends. Since its inception BoBo’s had been a health bar, then a cowboy bar followed by a singles bar then sports bar. Currently Stanley featured Karaoke at night and salad for lunch.

Through its variety of evolutions the clientele had remained the same, as had the bar. The aspect of its current identity would draw the curious, and then the establishment would settle back down to being BoBo’s.

Jack was a regular; indeed, BoBo’s sponsored his baseball team.

Jack did not normally stop by the place at nine in the morning.

Today was special.

Jerry let me have a Bloody Mary.

Sure thing Jack. Revvin’ up early today huh?

Just keep ‘em coming. I don’t need any lectures today.

No prob Bro.

Jerry had been around long enough to take a hint. He silently served the drink and moved down the bar to attend to his other customers. They were all regulars. Certainly they were more regular than Jack. One was a retiree, a widow with a penchant for companionship. She arrives at nine a.m. and orders a glass of white wine sipping through exactly two per hour until noon. She steps out for lunch and returns at one thirty. Then to five is a glass per hour. At five the switch is made to whiskey and water. All the while she engages in conversation with acquaintances or anyone else who happens by. Very pleasant, she’s the world champion of small talk. At eighty thirty she departs with a sigh saying, Guess it’s time to feed the cat. The pattern is the same five days a week. Weekends are spent with the grandchildren.

Nearby sits a car salesman from the dealer up the street. He’s quite good at what he does as long as he maintains just the right blood alcohol content. Too much and he’s too drunk to care about business. Too little and he shies away from customers. After fifteen years he’d pretty well defined his parameters. He had his vodka martinis and they had him.

Next to the salesman sat a derelict that arrives when the bar opens and drinks all day. Occasionally he announces that he’s giving up the sauce, after one more drink.

At times the vow rings true. The bum is forced to give it up for lack of funds. He sobers up for a week or so and works as a computer programmer. He is very good at that and can make lots of money doing it. Which he does, then he starts drinking again. He drinks anything set in front of him.

Had Jerry been the least bit philosophic, these people would depress the hell out him. Fortunately for Jerry and his boss, Stanley Green, he is not at all profound. Jerry likes baseball and strip joints, everything else is just part of the job. Asked why he doesn’t work at a strip joint, Jerry replies that he’s tried. Unfortunately while mixing a marguerite and watching Wanda Brown get down to her birthday suit, Jerry replaced the booze with Windex and dishwater. That he’d gotten the ice and lime correct wasn’t enough to save his job. For want of alcohol a career was lost.

Business picked up steam as morning closed in on noon. The car salesman returned for a refill of self-confidence.

A gaggle of secretaries stopped by for pickles and wine. One of them had read that this was a good dietetic lunch. It may have been good for them but bad for business. The carpet wholesaler they worked for would close in six months due to errors, omissions and the resulting lawsuits.

Four truck drivers sat at a table in the rear. Sometime in the distant past they had chosen BoBo’s as their haunt. It was centrally located on their routes and they could park their rigs behind a nearby mall. Thus giving the pretense that the trucks were engaged in revenue producing activity. In fact they were. Stanley Green was deriving a great deal of revenue with the trucks parked there.

Jack switched to whiskey around noon. He hadn’t spoken to anyone except to change his drink order. He had the look about him of a man who did not want to be disturbed. Two of the drivers had seen Jack as recently as last night. They played baseball on the same team. Last night Jack had been the life of the party. Jerry had advised them upon their arrival not to disturb him and they wisely took his advise.

By two the bar had pretty well cleared out again. Secretaries had returned to their typing errors. The drivers returned to their routes. Jack was clearly drunk.

He’d started to talk to himself about his current situation, about his lack of money and absence of success. The earthquake of Denise’s departure was followed closely by secondary tremors of emotional self-doubt. He doubted that he could make money; he doubted that he’d grown up and he doubted his manhood. He doubted himself to sleep.

More precisely he passed out. Lack of sleep, emotional strain and alcohol laid Jack out like an Ali right hook.

Jerry, granny and the derelict gathered Jack up and gently moved him off the barstool and into a booth. Perhaps there was no gain in comfort but should he roll off the booth the ground was closer than falling off a stool. They put a tablecloth over him and returned to the bar.

Around four the activities scale started to edge upward. At five the action graph and Jack’s sleep graph met.

Jack awoke. Awaken denotes fairy tale like awareness. Sleeping Beauties awaken and princes awaken. No dice for Jack’s brain. He vibrated in jackhammer strokes to consciousness as noise filtered through his empty gray matter. Jack’s tongue rolled over his teeth and his mouth was alerted to dryness covered with mucous. An eye cracked open then the other. Jack groaned.

You’ve been groaning a lot lately Mr. Sharpe. A nearby voice commented.

Jack’s brain took a moment to comprehend the singularly simple statement.

Huh?

Jack’s head slowly rose out of the corner of the booth. His eyes confirmed that there was another human being sitting across the booth from him. The effort of physical movement made him groan again.

Ah, Mr. Sharpe, you obviously require a bit of a lift. Here, first this shot, then the beer. A bit of the hair of the dog that bit you, as they say.

Without thinking, easy to do in his current state, Jack downed the shot glass full of a transparent liquid and followed it with the mug of cold beer. Almost immediately his vision cleared. His ears comprehended sounds and his body stiffness began to fade. As he became lucid, Jack stared at the empty glasses in front of him then at the stranger across the table. He shook his head.

I gotta take a leak.

CHAPTER THREE

Jack returned from the men’s room deep in self-evaluation. Though looking absolutely awful on the outside, unshaven, unshowered and generally unkempt, inside he felt fine.

Great!

Marvelous!

His brain had been vacuumed, his muscles and joints scrubbed and his organs flushed. All of this following a baseball game, a celebration, an early morning break up and a day long drunk.

Hmmm.

Jack sat down at the same table and the man was still there.

Feeling better? Yeah. In fact better than I have any right to be feeling at the moment. I must admit that I’m pretty amazed. What did you give me?

WHO ARE YOU?

How do you know my name?

As to the first Mr. Sharpe, the liquid you drank has a few substances in it that in effect scrubbed out your system. In doing so, improved your vascular and neural systems, rejuvenated your organs and of course removed the poisons from your body.

Who am I? I am Isiah Walker, pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Sharpe.

At that Mr. Walker reached over and gave Jack a firm handshake. Jack received it with a puzzled look.

Yeah. Well whatever it is it sure cured my hangover and woke me up. If it works that well on everybody, you ought to patent the stuff and sell it.

Anyway, how do you know me and why are you here? You’re not from the IRS or something are you?

No Mr. Sharpe, I’m not from the IRS or from any other government agency for that matter. I am with a group that has an interest in you and other individuals like you. The man spread his hands and continued.

You’re an intelligent person, Mr. Sharpe, sensitive, honest and a good athlete. We’ve been interested in you for quite some time and have learned a good deal about you. The fact that your romantic interest has decided to search elsewhere for a mate prompted us to approach you.

You know Denise? You must because I haven’t told anybody about it. Did you see her today? What’s she doing? Does she miss me?

Now, now Mr. Sharpe, so many questions, please settle down and listen to me for a minute.

Excuse me dear, would you get us a pitcher of beer please?

The stranger spoke to Mary, the barmaid. Mary arrived on duty at four-thirty and worked until the bar closed at two. Mary had attended college full time for eight years and still lacked a degree. Her interests ran from Homer to Heinlein but mostly her interests consisted of getting picked up by the guys in the bar.

Sure thing, handsome, hi Jack, how’s Denise?

Jack groaned. Not so hot, we kind of split up.

Oh. cooed Mary, immediately attentive. You know, there are other gals interested if you’re looking.

Jack looked up at the smiling face atop a small, semi-plump body, not unattractive, not Denise.

Thanks Mary, I need some time to get my head together, maybe in awhile.

Mary grinned happily and winked.

I’ll be around, handsome, just whistle! Mary tittered as she bounced off for the beer.

Well, Mr. Sharpe, love springs eternal hmm?

Yeah, right. So, let’s get back to it Mr., Mr…

Just call me Isiah.

Isiah, what’s going on?

There are so many things in the world to know, Mr. Sharpe, so many things in the Universe that we don’t understand. Our human knowledge relies on others for truths. How many have experienced the deep sea, deep space or even the taste of an exquisite wine? We rely on others to describe them. We depend on others to teach us on subjects we never knew. Really, we all exist on such a narrow plain of reality. Have you ever imagined what life is like beyond your narrow tier?

Jack stared at the man across from him as Mary served the pitcher of dark beer and iced mugs. Mary hip swung off after favoring Jack with a seductive smile.

Well, jeez, I don’t know. I mean I read the paper. Hell, I write for a paper. I stay well informed. I have to, or I’d lose my job. Yeah, I’d say I know quite a bit about what’s going on in the world.

The man smiled.

Yes, yes I know your profession. You write on aviation topics, you have been since graduating from college seven years ago. You stumbled upon the specialty at a small town paper and made a career of it, moving upwards through the newspaper echelons. Four papers in seven years, your latest stint just better than a year. You’re a prime example. You write about aircraft but you don’t know how to fly, let alone understand aerodynamics.

Hey, I happen to be good at what I do. Jack responded hotly. And I’m going to take flying lessons as soon as I can afford to. I also understand aerodynamics. I’ve got a good buddy that’s an engineer at Boeing. We talk about aircraft designs all the time.

Isiah shrugged.

I didn’t mean to offend you. Forgive me. I’ve gotten off the track. Something I’m often accused of. He sighed. Mr. Sharpe, have you heard of the French Foreign Legion?

Since I have, I suppose you want me to join them? Jack was just a little off balance. The conversation, the man’s knowledge of him was disconcerting.

"No, Mr. Sharpe, in fact there is no longer a French Foreign Legion as it existed in bygone days. It outlived its purpose and was disbanded years ago. I serve it up as a comparison. The Legion consisted of career soldiers as well as adventurers, criminals and men escaping their thin band. Most were forgotten men.

That is my endeavor, to find the forgotten and recruit them for a cause."

Jack drank this up, considered it, and chewed on it a bit. Meanwhile he drank his beer, then refilled his glass and drank another. Definitely the man was odd, his being here was strange and the implications rather ominous.

Well, first off I’m not forgotten. I mean I have lots of friends and I write for a paper with a circulation of over half a million. Jack snorted. If I went off and joined the Foreign Legion, lots of people would know.

"You’re parents passed away when you were nineteen. Because of a fifteen-year difference between yourself and your older sister, you haven’t seen her since the estate was settled. Though you have a good personality,

You’re not outgoing and as such, your acquaintances are limited. Quite frankly you haven’t been in one place long enough to develop any true friendship. You may think that your association with Denise was a love affair, however it won’t take long to realize that it consisted of lust on your part and social status on the part of Denise."

Social status? Me?

Certainly, you’re handsome, talented and can get tickets to all the right events. Denise proudly paraded you among her envious friends.

So why’d she dump me?

Denise has limited vision. She is seeking ultimate comfort. Denise, I’m afraid has dollar signs in her eyes. People with wealth, her sister and brother-in- law impressed upon her that you would never have wealth. Denise accepted this without question as she is incapable of questioning their opinions.

Jack groaned.

This is not really a great time for me to be dealing with stark reality. You’re telling me I have no family to speak of, no friends and my ex-fiancée only wanted me for my tickets.

Isiah looked at Jack, a smooth look without a hint of compassion.

Jack, do I lie?

Jack looked back with surprisingly sharp eyes, surprisingly well-tuned ears and a crisp, quick, aware brain to boot.

No. He said quietly. No, that pretty much says it. I can hide it in physical reality; surround myself with Bobo’s and baseball and physical attractions like Denise. When I let myself back into myself I know how shallow it all is.

Jack stared through the man across from him, through the bar walls, through the city outside. He stared at the parents he hardly knew. They’d been in their late forties when he was born. Mom and dad were always shuttling him off to school or camp. They cared for him and probably loved him in an off hand sort of way.

Jack stared at their caskets, first Mom, a month later when Dad, lonely and sad without reason to live surrendered this life. He stared at the sister he didn’t know. Towns, cities and people he touched flashed by as though images on a screen.

So what is it you would like of me, Mr. Walker? Jack refocused his eyes, clear on the man across from him.

We would like you to leave this planet, train to be an effective leader of men and fight for a cause that even as we speak is saving Earth.

Oh.

Mr. Sharpe, you realize that I know more about you than any of your acquaintances. Gaining that knowledge would be nearly impossible for anyone without vast resources and high technology. If you like, I can tell you how you almost drowned when you were eight or the night of your first date or what you did three days ago. Mr. Sharpe, I’m on the level and this is a serious endeavor.

Jack stared blankly ahead.

I don’t get it. I don’t know. I mean this is ridiculous. People don’t go into space, just astronauts.

Jack looked at the man on the other side of the table. It occurred to him that he was very large and very black and very intense. Jack suddenly felt a shiver run through him, hitting him square in his fear for your life spot.

The man, Mr. Walker, stared back. His lips started to move, his eyes glazed, his head drew back and he emitted a roar. No, it was a laugh, not a guffaw but a big dump truck sized laugh. It rolled through the bar knocking down a couple of patrons and breaking a cadre of glasses. It halted given fifteen seconds, departing by the open door, knocking a picture off the wall as humor left.

Jack’s table became the focal point of the room, all eyes on the source of the sudden intrusion. Isiah turned, he stood, beer mug in hand. To BoBo’s baseball team. City champs! Bartender, a round of drinks on me! A few clienteles cheered then they began to talk. Jerry and Mary took the customer orders and normalcy reigned.

"Ah, Jack, I fear I’ve blown my anonymity so I must depart while these fine people are still reveling and not questioning my identity. I have given you an offer. You may not believe it but it’s true. You’ll need time to reflect upon it.

Though not a life long commitment, it does have restrictions. You must be willing to make a decision when next we meet."

Huh? Had Jack not already been totally disoriented by the prior conversation, the laugh would have sent him into a Tennessee Reel. As it was, he had the consistency of a piece of spaghetti about to be flung against the wall for testing.

We’ll meet in two days, at two p.m. at Two Embarcadero Center. I believe you’ll recognize me, he stated as he rose to his feet.

Isiah stood up from the table and rose and rose, stopping just short of a collision with the light fixture hanging from the ceiling.

Jack looked up. Wha-Whaat if I can’t make it?

Mr. Walker grinned. I assure you that you can make it Mr. Sharpe. I look forward to seeing you.

The man strode out of BoBo’s. Jack watched the dark giant move through the bar and exit the room; no one else