Immortal Element

By Jean-yves Girard

A man with a tragic past is abducted by aliens and is offered a unique opportunity to save the doomed future of his world. But along the way, he falls in love with a beautiful but dangerous creature from another planet. His new path will lead him to a life among the stars, filled with adventures and discoveries about their common origin. Because of his constant quest to change the established order, the forces of good and evil bring the titans of the galaxy to clash, which threatens to destro

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781643505992

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Immortal Element

Jean-yves Girard

Copyright © 2018 Jean-yves Girard

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64350-598-5 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64350-599-2 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

About the Author

Introduction

The world of immortals has always been a subject for debate, and their existence can be found in every culture throughout history. Perhaps they are simple stories and the product of our insatiable imagination or historical records recollected by those whom, without words, had to describe what they actually saw. The facts are somewhat evasive to us, but science seems to have an answer for everything. Or does it? No one would want to upset the established order; it would be blasphemy. It is not in the school of higher education where the truth can be found but in the intellect of a curious mind who dares question what it is that the eyes can see. From the petroglyphs on the walls of ancient caves to modern sightings by those with everything to lose, one begs to question where the truth really lives. As we look upon the stars in the night sky and the infinity that lies beyond, it would be very pretentious for anyone to even say that we are somewhat alone in all of this. It is very often easier to reject the absolute rather than to admit how insignificant and little we are in the grand scope of things. For others, everything above Earth is godly and compels us to reverence. It becomes easy for the vipers of Earth to use this to their advantage and subjugate the rest of us. If God can talk to a high priest, then his will be done. It is especially true if one of them could fly above our primitive world with a machine we cannot even begin to describe.

There are countless stories told and retold about the sky gods and their abode in heaven, but all stories have things in common—they live above our world and fly through the air. These accounts can be also found in the most sacred of our books, and we are very quick in dismissing them as mere figures of speech. It could also be true about some other things. Perhaps it is possible that we have killed thousands of our people for mere legends and myths. You alone can decide what you are willing to live with.

I am not here to debate the existence of the everlasting God that exists beyond our three-dimensional realm; my beliefs and my faith remain unchanged, and so should yours. This is what freedom tastes like. It is the ability to disagree without harm. We are bigger than that. No one has the right to impose or dictate what one doesn’t know for sure. Faith is personal, and you should always seek the truth for yourself before you open your mouth. Priests and centers of worship are like schools—they only pass what they have been told down the line and impose it as the truth. No one can question their wisdom; after all, they are the chosen ones, and God speaks only to them. You are no one, and you must follow their lead like a sheep. So you have been told that questioning their words is blasphemy.

So let’s return to the matter at hand and dare to question what we know. In spite of legends, stories, and myths, let’s look at the facts, shall we? What proof do we have of their existence? (I’m referring to the aliens from other worlds. So don’t get confused by invisible deities.) Sometimes, simple questions are enough to open the debate—questions such as, What is the missing link between us and the monkeys? There is still a part of our DNA that we can’t explain. And that fraction of DNA was enough to propel us to our current civilization at a record pace. But our closest relatives are still eating bananas in trees and still can’t understand how to make fire (unless we teach them). Why is it that we have to cover our bodies with protective suits and shelter ourselves from the hostile environment? It seems to me that natural evolution would have prepared us better for this kind of world. Even from the beginning, we had to cover ourselves, not because we were ashamed of our nakedness but because of the temperature changes and the deadly rays of the sun. Why is it that of all the creatures that dwell on Earth, we are the only species that can create arts out of a dream and invent stories from things that do not exist? Our imagination allows us to understand the abstract while all other creatures can only rely on the concrete world. Often, we look to the heaven for answers, and we understand that something out there created us—but what was it?

Our fascination with the stars is very unique to us, and so are science and mathematics. We can solve complex problems that other species cannot even comprehend. The evolution of our brain surpasses by far all that is known, and yet we are only using 10 percent of it. Personally, I don’t think that Darwin had a rational answer for this, yet his theory is widely accepted in the mainstream scientific world.

The question is, are we truly ready for the truth?

In 1969, we went to the moon and touched the soil of another world. Several missions later, we stopped going. Conspiracy theorists say that we never went in the first place and it was all a stage made up by Hollywood and the government. Their principal argument is that we don’t seem to have the ability to return, and we didn’t have the technology to do so. This endeavor is extremely difficult to do even by today’s standards, so imagine fifty years ago. The entire computer power of NASA back in those days was not even close to that of a modern cell phone. So why would it be so difficult to go to the moon today? One would normally believe that it should be a piece of cake compared to the 1970s. In fact, it is easier than it was. It is actually harder to explore the bottom of our ocean than it is to fly into space. Our new target is Mars while we seem to deliberately neglect the moon. Logic would be to build a spaceport in our own backyard if we want to soar to greater distances. Think of it as some sort of refueling station.

After all, isn’t it what we do with modern aviation? Most likely the problem is that we can’t; it’s not our world. Up there, we are the alien species. We are the invader and the explorer. We took for granted that it was our moon, and we had the claim on it. Chances are that we might find the same welcome mat on Mars—who knows? We have seen something out there, and we are petrified of it. The question has been answered; we are not alone.

It is my firm belief that we have been visited on multiple occasions throughout our history, and at several times, they had to intervene to make us better. But even with the best of intentions, it was a double-edged sword; we made gods and angels out of them. It didn’t take long afterward for the elites drunk with power and riches to take advantage of it. We have lived in fear of celestial wrath ever since. The visitors didn’t have to say anything; we just put words in their mouths and made it divine law for all to obey. Killing in their name was easy to justify. Who in their right mind would dare challenge and go against the will of the gods? Such an act cannot go unpunished. After all, the clergy, governments, kings, and nobles would never lie to us. Anyway, you get the picture.

Of course, scientists will tell you that they believe only in what can be measured, counted, and weighed. Fools will tell you that they believe that other life-forms can possibly exist on some distant and faraway planet but only as bacteria or some extremely primitive forms very different from us. Nothing can compare to our exclusive genius, and we are absolutely unique. If we can’t travel to the stars, why could they? Besides, whatever is out there can only be too far to make it here. They believe that there is nothing more intelligent than us, and no one else can have technology as advanced so as to dwarf our own understanding. Smart scientists or mathematicians who can think outside the box have already calculated and measured the probability of intelligent life on other planets. They find it hard to deny the numbers and come to the conclusion that it is harder to win the lottery. They also know that their esteemed colleagues are no ready to listen.

I wrote this novel as a science fiction story created solely for entertainment. I wanted you to travel with me into the realm of possibility and dream big. It is an epic saga designed to confront our own weaknesses and shortcomings. It is about how we see and view our differences and fight those who try to enslave us. It is about freedom, free will, and the cost it takes to achieve it. The heroes are just like us and often had to endure the insurmountable and sometimes against all odds. But they persevere and never let go until the end. But in order to do so, they have to believe in something bigger than themselves. Evil is destined to lose because a few good people believe in you. They are the protectors and the guardians, the angels and archangels of our mythologies and beyond. They deserve our respect and demand no sacrifice in their name.

The day we stop killing each other over differences and abolish the reign of our tormentors, the day we understand that no one has the right over another one’s life and that all must be freed, the day we understand that laws must be created to ensure the proper balance among ourselves and not for the subjugation of another, that day will be a good day for all of us. The day we understand that all have the right to prosper by the sweat of their brow and reap the fruit of their labor and that no one has the right to take it from them, the day we understand that the gifts of generosity must be given freely, not redistributed by laws that always encourage laziness and create poverty and resentment, that day will be a good day. When generosity comes from the heart and the desire to care for one another is freely given, the effect is contagious. When we can look at a face different from ours and see only the beauty in it, when we stop destroying our home planet and clean up our mess with pride, then and only then will we be ready for the next step of our evolution. In the meanwhile, we are more a threat to the aliens than they are to us. Our weapons of mass destruction cause a great concern about our welcoming hands, and they would be right. We are dangerous and savage creatures who cannot even get along among ourselves, and our impulsiveness for war has been proven many, many times. If we fail and surrender our freedom for the sake of security, there will be only one school of thought deemed acceptable, and we will become selfless and mindless robots in a new world order. Of course, the end game is simpler: Who will rule it all? Will it be a group of elites or the supreme ruler of Earth? One thing is sure—it will be someone who thinks that he is the only one who knows what is best for all of us. There will be no questioning this person’s will. The day we surrender our freedom into the hands of the few, it will be a bad day. The game will be over, and you will never get your freedom back. You will not have the means to do so, and to even think about it would be very dangerous.

On a better note, we are a beautiful and compassionate species. We are capable of great things and care for lesser creatures. We take cats and dogs into our homes and treat them as family. We care for them, feed them, and let them sleep on our bed. More often than not, we feel extreme outrage toward some who would harm these creatures, sometimes even more than for our own kind. There is something sacred about innocence and something very vile about someone who would torture an animal. Imagine that for some reason, a country decides to torture and kill millions of cats and dogs because some leader told them to do it. The world outrage would reach a whole new level, and we would demand justice. The reality is that it actually happens every year on a global scale, and we don’t even blink an eye. We live in a bubble, and we are numb to the horrors our species is capable of. So if you were an alien from another world, what reason would you have to trust us? We have given you none, and you would be right. In our current state of evolution, if we were ever to become part of some interstellar or galactic federation, how long would it take before we try to use their technology and turn it in our favor? We have difficulty in getting along with our own species, so imagine what it would be like with those who don’t even speak our language—déjà vu? We are a species of conquerors, and we take without asking because we think that everything we see is ours to take. Our actions speak louder than our shallow words. I can’t trust us, so why should they? Like I said before, we are not ready.

Our world has always been divided between the forces of good and evil, and each of these forces belongs to some form of ideology. Of course, those belonging to each side believe firmly that they are right, and it is very hard to convince them otherwise. The power offered by the dark side can be very seductive and extremely addictive, and the rewards are particularly alluring and enticing. On the other hand, the forces of light are selfless, and the reward is personal. In some ways, we have always been at war, and I cannot put all of the blame on our leaders. If we get rid of all of them, society will plunge into chaos and anarchy. We will kill each other faster than all of the wars combined. It would be survival of the fittest, and we would take whatever we need from others. We would protect what we have with extreme prejudice and become selfish very quickly. The laws of civilization are established to protect ourselves against each other. They are not designed to enslave us but to ensure that we can coexist peacefully. It is the duty of all of us to choose our leaders wisely, so be very careful when you make that decision. It is not only your immediate and personal needs that must be filled; it’s the long-term consequence that such a choice may have on the future. Trust is a funny thing when you need to make the right choice. A good rule of thumb is that you should always pick the one with the kindest heart and soul. Politics matters not when it comes to shady characters, and they will tell you only what they want you to hear. The end game remains the same; it’s all about power. Since when have we stopped reading body language? It used to be our greatest asset, and it used to be the only universal language. It was hard to lie and deceive when our bodies could speak to the eyes. Perhaps we should consider reawakening that universal part of us that remains dormant and stop using our mouths to mask who we really are.

I don’t think for a second that things would be different in another world. The forces at play are universal, as if there were an unwritten law. The balance is maintained when the two forces collide like an asteroid on a distant planet. But we should always strive to seek the best in us, fight to protect our world, and aim for universal peace. The battle between good and evil will never end, but we will endure and we will prevail. So dream with me and dare to believe.

Chapter 1

It All Begins

In the heart of a sunny Alaskan winter wilderness and perched on top of a majestic coniferous tree, nothing could escape his sharp vision, from the weary mouse carefully searching for food at four hundred yards away to the wild hare listening to the sounds of the wild at a thousand yards. This gift of evolution placed the eagle on top of the food chain. In spite of his highly adaptive white camouflage against the snow-covered ground, the hare has been betrayed by his movement. With confidence in his heart, the ultimate bird of prey soared like a fighter jet and descended silently in the valley toward his unsuspecting target. But even his incredibly attuned sight failed to notice the lynx emerging from the canopy below. No one would dispute the speed by which he pounced on the wild hare. His patience had paid off, and today he would eat. But for the eagle, there would be other opportunities. The disruption caused by the attack did very little to disturb the grizzly scavenging further down near the river. But it awakened the senses of a deer nearby. He smelled the air and listened motionlessly in the direction of the noise. Even their impressive sense of awareness never noticed the ultimate predator, the one virtually invisible and blending with the dried grass and the contrasting snow. He was lying against the ground in perfect camouflage, and his presence was only betrayed by the footsteps left behind; it was the tracks they failed to understand. Underneath the shade of his carefully crafted camouflage suit, his eye was slightly illuminated by the opening of a long lens. His target was pointing at the unsuspecting deer, who soon returned to his foraging. The man held a small twig in his free hand and slowly bent it to the breaking point with his thumb. The brisk sound originating from two hundred yards away compelled the deer to look up in his direction. In that instant, the trigger was pushed, and the clicking sound caused the deer to escape the scene. That moment was forever immortalized in time, and the man stood up from his sniper position and smiled proudly at his perfect shot. The viewfinder of his camera had captured the majestic animal in a perfect and noble standing.

In this otherwise last vestige of untouched and undisturbed wilderness, only one thing above all frightened the grizzly; it was the distant and unfamiliar sound of a machine contrasting against his primitive world. The tracks left by this monstrosity coming from the unknown were the product of the intelligent species. It was the one they needed to fear, and one day, this dangerous species would come to conquer their world.

The snowmobile was covering vast distances across the wilderness and seemed to dance around the trees as if to mock any obstacle that nature placed in its way. The smell left by the exhaust fumes was an insult to the olfactory senses caught by the crosswind as all creatures were trying to escape the wind of change.

The man soon arrived at his cabin in the wilderness, where he had spent the last few years. He never intended to disturb their world, but he evolved too fast, and nature never had time to catch up with him. His species was too quick by evolutionary norms. It wasn’t what nature alone intended to do, but wherever they went, they took without asking and reshaped everything to their will in order to suit their increasing needs. He couldn’t help it; he was born naked and defenseless. His species had to forge the world around them in order to survive, but unfortunately, they multiplied too fast for the resources available, and nature couldn’t keep-up with their needs. They were the invading species and the true viruses that consumed and plagued the world. Who was he to change anything? He kept his footprint to a minimal while trying to record what might be lost for future generations.

He entered his cabin and removed the camouflage gear he was wearing before brewing a quick cup of coffee on the wood stove. He wore a brown-and-green plaid shirt as well as military pants and heavy boots. Looking through the doorway of his home, he planned his next outing to a different area. There was sufficient daylight left for him to make it past the ridge and perhaps photograph the wolverine he had been tracking for quite a while. That damned thing could smell him a mile away, and he was determined to make the perfect shot.

The night was young in the moonless night of the Alaskan ridge. The winter wind and the bitter cold forced the creatures of the wild to find refuge in the safety of the forest. The white snow blanketed the rocks on the mountain flank, leaving only the jagged edges exposed. High above the peaks, the northern lights seemed to dance to the same rhythm as the treetops shadowing against the flickering sky. Everything was in perfect harmony to the tune of the wild. It was a song heard since time immemorial, before men walked the earth. It remained the same, undisturbed, slightly changing over eons of shifting continents. Only the few and privileged who dared to venture could stand in the presence of such a majestic and humbling sight.

In a small clearing overlooking the valley below, a campfire of low embers was burning beside a temporary man-made shelter. Sitting on a log, an ax and a camera at his side, he was savoring a decoction of roots and birch. He was the one who would change everything. He never asked or wished for such a burden, or perhaps it was because of his humility and simplicity that he was chosen. He would never know.

His story began in these mountains, where he often sought peace from the quarrels of civilization. Among one of the last vestiges of untamed and untouched wilderness, he found sanctuary and endless wild beauty. But this night was different; his sharp and attuned mind caused him to be alert and weary. Something was unusual. He didn’t know why, but something wasn’t right.

Not a good time to rest, he thought. With the fire reflecting in his eyes, he scanned the horizon in search of the reason triggering his apprehension. He kept the embers low as to make his sharp vision more acute.

His name was John Robert Conrad. He was a wildlife-documentary maker by trade and accomplished survivalist. It was his way to heal the wounds left by many years past in the special forces of the military. The scars left by a life crippled with nightmares and memories of lost friends became, at one point, too hard to bear. Nature taught him balance in its primitive and raw form. It was humbling to see how little humans were in their discourse and petty differences. There in nature, all that mattered was the now. It was hard and challenging, filled with unpredictability and amazement. You had to see yourself facing a bear or a pack of wolves to appreciate how fragile and insignificant humans are.

There was nothing about him that was special. In spite of being weathered by years of wars, the scars were internal, and he often wondered why he survived but not his friends. There wasn’t anybody else in his life, no one to care for or no one to miss him. Sometimes, he wondered why even death didn’t want him. His height was average, his shoulders strong but not too bulky. He was somewhat muscular, nervy, fast, and solid as a rock. His hair was mid-shoulder and his eyes were blue-steel. His was in his late thirties. He was rather attractive to some degree in a rough kind of way. He grew up in a small village near Greeneville, Tennessee. At the foothill of the Blue Ridge Mountains, he played the stories of Daniel Boone and Davie Crockett, running through the woods and creating little shelters and primitive fire, pretending to hunt and trap, crossing rivers and streams wearing a raccoon hat. He was happy and content there. He never felt alone in those woods, feeling as if the birds and the animals were his friends. His parents were poor but hardworking on their little farm. They didn’t have much, but there was always food on the table. Although he didn’t have a lot of friends, the few he had were enough—friendship he would nurture for a long time. But the years of his relatively happy childhood ended in his late teens when his parents were murdered in a break-in at their home. A young man armed with a shotgun entered through an opened window in the living room. He was looking for money or anything to support his drug habit. John’s father, after having heard the commotion, came to see what was going on. He never took the revolver he kept on the nightstand by the bed. He probably thought it was John still up late at night. The man, nervous and confused for being startled, accidently fired a mortal shot at him. John heard the shot from the second floor of their home where he was sleeping. Than another one went off when the man made it to the bedroom of his parents and killed his mother to make sure there wasn’t any witness to his unfortunate deed. He proceeded to search the house, but John hid under the bed. The young man found only a few dollars and some jewelry, and that was all. He left running, leaving John devastated at the sight of his family wiped out in a pool of blood. They were all he had; there wasn’t anybody else in their life. The police caught the man a few days later when he tried to sell the jewelry to a pawn shop in town, but it offered no relief for John, who would carry the scars forever.

The circumstances surrounding the death of his parents did little to attract compassion from the greedy bankers. John was left without insurance, and their property was ceased. He jumped from one odd job after another to make ends meet, but still, rage burned deep down inside him like a volcano waiting to erupt. At age twenty, he and his best friend decided to enlist in the Army as they hoped to find a trade they would like. At least John found it. It was his fury and his anger topped by his extreme focus that transformed him. They both successfully completed the very difficult special-ops program. John became a deadly and accurate sniper. It was something he was good at and often solitary, but he didn’t mind. During his tours of duty, he had the misfortune to see firsthand the wickedness of people toward others. Some of these actions even appeared inhumane or simply insane. He also had the opportunity to see the goodness in some people he had been told were the enemy. Evil existed live and well in the world, but it seemed to have a hold on their leaders. In most cases, they were the bad apples.

After his service, he found himself lost and out of place in the gray jungle of the city. The attitude and careless false sense of security of society left him bitter and easily irritable. He tried to belong, seeking answers in churches where everything seemed to serve the new god. People looked as if they were praying for money more than grace. Gold was all he saw, not absolution and forgiveness for all his sins. He needed to care for something, something bigger than himself. He wanted to find God somewhere, away from the hypocrites and their empty words. The answer came in a strange way, as all solutions usually came to those who knew how to listen. One day, he was offered a position as a wildlife photographer. It was because of his ability to stay hidden in camouflage for a long period, sometimes for days, waiting with patience and determination to get this one shot. It was a trade he learned over the years in the special forces. But this time, the shot was that of a camera lens waiting for the perfect moment in time to capture the essence of an animal in its natural element. Making the perfect shot was his way to immortalize the sympathetic beauty of a creature in the best angle he could. There, he was at peace. The real face of God could be seen everywhere. It was in the mountains, in this garden of untamed and untouched forests and rivers, where all—big and small, rich or poor, people of all colors and nations—could enjoy at no cost. There, you needed no money, no infrastructures to maintain. All you had to do was to preserve things the way they were, not take more than you needed or want more than you had. There, life was harmonious, perfect, and serene.

As the night flew by, John started to wonder if he wasn’t a little paranoid. Perhaps there was nothing to worry about. These mountains had no enemy but time itself.

Too cold for bear predation and too remote for lost tourists. Perhaps the wolverine was near, he thought. But still, he couldn’t ignore his instincts, which in many of times saved his life.

Nevertheless, dawn arrived without incident. The time came for him to pack up his gear and head south toward the valley below. He was hoping for warmer climate and perhaps more food to gather and settle in eagle territory, where he believed the wolverine roamed. The drifting snow compacted under his boots as he walked downhill, sometimes sinking in the softer new flakes. It felt as if nature itself forced him to slow down and pay attention to his surroundings. He was well on his way when he noticed a strange colorful light descending over the horizon and seemingly heading toward him. He rapidly picked up his binoculars to see if he could identify this strange phenomenon. The object disappeared before he had the time to take a closer look. Maybe it was a plane in trouble, or a meteor had fallen from the sky somewhere in the valley. But the trajectory wasn’t straight and appeared to be semicircular. A meteoroid could have not made this maneuver, but it seemed to have crashed some distance away. Maybe someone in peril needed his help over there; he had no way to know for sure, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone crashed near the mountain pass. He picked up the pace in a hurry to get there in time. He knew that the faster he moved, the greater the chance the survivors of a crash would have. He did not know what he would find, but in his mind, it was probably a bush pilot crashing and in peril over there. There were a few of them brave enough to fly the crosswinds of the peaks. It was a dangerous and unpredictable journey as the shifting gusts made flying above them extremely perilous to bring supplies in remote locations.

Half the day passed by as he was getting closer to the area where he thought the crash had occurred. He couldn’t see any smoke or trace of anything at all that could indicate an impact of some sort, but he kept on searching. He would search all day if it was what it took. As time passed, the precious daylight began to burn itself off, but still no trace. Alaska showed no mercy toward those lost and caught off guard in its midst; the weather could turn on you in a heartbeat. He knew that he had to prepare to camp for the night.

The day faded away for the darkness to rise, still with no moon to speak of. He used a small tarp shelter he always carried with him in emergency. He carefully chose small pine branches for bedding where he thought he would settle for the night. After gathering a few dry twigs, he lit a low fire to cook some rations he got from his backpack. Deep down in his mind, he reflected on the time when a fighter pilot ejected in the mountains of Afghanistan after his low-altitude plane was shot down by a heat-seeking missile. A search and rescue mission was sent to find him, and John was part of this mission. The information gathered at that moment indicated that the pilot ejected and was still alive and well trained for this kind of situation. He was carrying a locator beacon on him that could have made the rescue easier. At multiple occasions, they found themselves under fire from the insurgents. During the fights, he watched two of his friends die in pools of blood beside him. One of them was his childhood friend he persuaded to join the Army with. His face would haunt John for a very long time to come. Unfortunately, it took several days for the team to reach the downed pilot, at least what was left of him. The enemy found him before the rescue party arrived. They cut him in pieces with machetes to send a clear message and infuse terror. For the team, the mission was a total failure. They would feel responsible for those deaths and carried this burden forever ingrained in their souls. John wanted absolution and forgiveness for his failures, something he would never find.

All of a sudden, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a wild hare as if it were fleeing from some predator. As John squinted, he was able to see through the forest the faint and barely visible pulsating glimmer of a prismatic light. That wasn’t normal at all, he thought. Something wasn’t right. He choked his fire with snow to see better, and still it was faint. Grabbing his sidearm, and with extreme caution, he proceeded to go toward the source. The light seemed to intensify as he got closer and closer. An eerie feeling descended on his spine as he started to crawl slowly, carefully hiding behind the tree line and the bushes. He knew that the source of the light was not a fire. The green and the blue iridescence left no doubt at all. As he approached near, he could now make up the shape of a large and strange object that seemed to be the source of this slowly pulsating light. It was definitely not from anything he had seen before. It wasn’t military or, with no doubt, some sort of secret program. The design was not something aerodynamic at all. It was long with a sharp edge on each side. The surface looked rough and jagged and was shimmering with a fluorescent sort of light. It measured at least seventy feet long and approximately twenty feet in diameter. With horror, he realized that the object was probably not from here, not from Earth at least. It did not appear to produce any sound or smoke, but the air seemed electric and smelled of bitter almonds.

The brisk sound of a broken twig behind startled him. He turned around to see a weird creature standing above. Fear invaded his mind as his blood hammered his temples. Aiming his revolver toward the strange being, he cocked the hammer. The creature was staring at him. A light grin appeared on his flat lips as he reached for some kind of an object placed over his chest. The strange being was tall and large. In all appearance, it looked as if it were covered with some sort of bony armor or exoskeleton. Part humanoid, strangely part rhinoceros like without a nose horn, it was a terrifying sight.

What the hell are you? he screamed, horrified and bewilderedly shaking.

The creature pointed his strange object toward John.

No! No! No! No, reacted John. Than he fired five rounds at point-blank range well placed at the head and center of the creature.

To his horror, the shots seemed to have absolutely no effect at all. Afterward, and with what was definitely some sort of smirk, the strange alien fired a paralyzing ray at him.

Then everything became heavy and dark.

Chapter 2

Awakening

Inside a strange and dark room accentuated only by some sort of blue-violet iridescence, there was only a single piece of furniture. It was what appeared to be some kind of a pod, strangely resembling an open coffin made of glass. The room looks like it was made of crystalline rock or some kind of exotic metal. Inside the open pod, John was resting on a kind of gel substance that conformed to his body. He slowly awoke from his dreamless sleep, all confused and groggy. It took some time for him to gather his senses and his body to start responding. He carefully exited the pod and began analyzing his surroundings. He could only hear himself breathe since no other sound was audible. How long was he asleep? He didn’t know. He surely didn’t know where he was either.

Good day to you, John, said a calm and echoing voice breaking the silence.

John was startled and looked in all directions.

Who are you? Where am I? he replied angrily.

We mean you no harm, John. Our intentions are purely peaceful.

Then what do you want from me? You shot me with something, he questioned.

You shot first! replied the voice. "We showed no aggression. We had to sedate