Shadow of Tunguska

By H. C. Beckerr

Shadow of Tunguska: Hill of Great Darkness Book II presents the final chapters of a saga that weaves together the tale of the surviving crew members of the space craft Magellan as they wake up in a top-secret lunar base station. On Earth, tensions mount as the nations masses face a worldwide economic takeover. Meanwhile, a small contingent of American explorers braving the Siberian wilderness make a startling discovery at the site of the 1908 impact of an errant black hole.

H. C. Beckerr has crafted this conclusion to an epic sci-fi thriller that spans two millennia and two galaxies. He artfully draws together an ensemble of intriguing characters, a panorama of places, and a confluence of events and forces that will collide with energies like those unleashed when the famous 1908 Tunguska Event leveled the Siberian landscape upon detonation.

Shadow of Tunguska: Hill of Great Darkness has the power to enthrall, thrill and chill its readers. If you are curious about the intersections of the lives of people of faith with the mysteries of the universe, then Shadow of Tunguska will tell you a tale worthy of your attention!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Feb 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781480841482

H. C. Beckerr

H. C. Beckerr brings to the art of storytelling his years of experience teaching the Christian faith along with his deep admiration for the best traditions of classic science fiction. He currently resides in the St. Louis, MO area of the United States.

Book preview

PART 1: EDEN

1

Out of the Darkness

In the deepest of sleep, in the dark recesses of her mind, she experienced a voice down in her core being - His voice- speaking her name; Simone,

It was the sweetest voice she had ever heard, and with bated breath she waited for Him to speak again.

Simone,

No, wait … that voice was different. It wasn’t the voice she had listened to at the Temple Mount, for she would recognize that voice anywhere and forever more. The voice of her Savior was …

Simone, wake up … certainly not this voice.

Now, she felt cool air blowing over her body, starting at her face and flowing down to her toes. And now, she felt a touch of someone’s hand upon her shoulder, gently shaking her. The voice spoke again; it was starting to sound familiar, but yet still so distant. Almost as if from down a long hallway, the voice reached her ears and coalesced in her mind as … Jon? She coughed the name out as a sense of awareness began to envelope her; along with a dull sense of alarm. Not really alarm so much as confusion; Simone fine-tuned the emotion as her conscious awareness continued to flood into the cobwebs of her mind. As she opened her eyes, her pupils adjusted to the soft blue light, and she saw the face of her old friend as he stood over her. She took a deep breath as she looked around at her surroundings and asked; Where … looking over to Jon Armone, where are we?

Tsk, tsk, I get to ask the first question, young lady … what is your full name?

With a look of disdain and discomfort, she answered mechanically, Simone Elizabeth Sytte. And then with an ever, so slight, twinkle in her eye, she pronounced out her last name again as she had so many times before, for so many reporters; That’s pronounced; see-yet-tea.

Jon laughed and, patting her hand, helped her up into a sitting position with her rather long legs hanging to the floor. I can see you’re fine and dandy.

She looked up into his face with a weakened smile … then threw up on him.

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The waves were breaking upon the shore with the never ceasing symphony of swish and roar as the seagulls were heralding the dawn with their cries. Roger Hand was deep in thought as he strolled alongside the Ships Harbor at Acadia National Park. He was here to escape the drama and trappings of the Pentagon as well as the pressures of NASA and the Jet Propulsion Laboratories (JPL) … even if for only a few days. He walked alone in the pink dawn of an early summer morning with his mind focusing in like a laser on the events of the past spring. Roger was contemplating the next move in an ever increasing, ever darkening scenario when his satellite cell (unofficially dubbed sat-cells) rang. Hand he answered sharply as he looked around to see if he was being watched (an old CIA habit he mused inwardly) OK, got it. I’m on my way.

He took one last, deep breath of the salty, early morning air and realized that his musing over Simone and the rest of the crew of Magellan would have to wait, at least, for now. When Magellan had crashed on the lunar surface, he had orchestrated the astronaut’s rescue. He was even the one to put the yes vote on Commander Tim Collins’ suggestion that they put all members of the spaceship’s crew in stasis. They’re not going anywhere, he mused to himself as he kept walking. He looked up in the western sky at the pale white, fading ghost of a quarter-moon that would end up setting right on the horizon just as the rising sun in the east would make it all but invisible. Then he let out a quick huff and walked away from the crashing sea to jog up the old, timber-planked walkway back to the fire-engine red convertible he had parked up on the ridge. Ten minutes later he was in a military helicopter heading toward DC.

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Commander Tim Collins was standing on the observation deck of Alpha Luna One; the lunar installation’s official designation- gazing out across the frozen, harsh lunar landscape before him. He was waiting for Earthrise, a sight few humans ever had the pleasure of seeing. He now heard footsteps approaching him from behind so he turned and said, Good morning Dr. Armone. How are our guests today?

We woke ‘em up like you wanted. He spoke with a slight chuckle of annoyance, That’s all I really care to say at the moment.

Good … superb! Did you, ah, tell them where they are, by any chance?

No and with an ever so slight smile and a raised eyebrow Jon Armone added, I’ll let you do that, Commander.

That’s fine, Doctor. How about bringing them all up here in, oh, looking at the seventeenth-century timepiece on the wall directly behind Armone, he continued without missing a beat, an hour. Let them shower and get a little food in their bellies. I can imagine how they’re feeling after more than three months in hyper-sleep.

And I wonder how they are going to feel about the one who put them in that sleep?

Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about it Doctor. Especially once they find out what we’ve been up to here at Eden.

Jon Armone let out a long, slow breath and said with his fuzzy eyebrows raised, That’s the part I’m worried about.

So, you think she’ll be angry?

"Angry is not the word I would use, Commander. Incensed, hostile, irate, infuriated and betrayed: maybe … but not angry. That’s too simple, and Dr. Simone Sytte is anything but simple. Sometimes her Ugandan ancestry shows up in her demeanor. Don’t forget, she’s a six-foot, seven-inch tall Ugandan warrior princess."

Yeah, I know, and she’s a genius too. Anyhow … she’ll get over it he said as he turned back to gaze out the view port. Then without pause he added condescendingly, That will be all, doctor.

Jon turned and walked out the room wondering why Roger Hand would personally pick such an obstinately abrasive, socially deficient person to run this installation.

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Martin Sherfy was looking over a list of applicants for a custodial position at the Center when he saw the name. Well now, Mr. Kevin Jones wants a job. he said with a smile. Wanting to give his favorite former student a chance, Martin made a note to have Susie give him a ring to come in for an interview later in the week. It already seemed as if a lifetime had passed since Martin was this young man’s professor in an archaeology class when, in truth, it was only a few months ago.

It was an early Midwest morning, still dark outside, and Martin decided to take a short stroll out in the park before the heat of this summer’s day would set in with a vengeance. As he walked out of the building, his mind was going over the itinerary for the day, yet he found something else nagging at him deep in his soul.

He still couldn’t fathom his long-time friend was dead and that, almost at once, here he was in the position that Bob Mengersi had held for over twenty years. Then it hit him: the sadness of knowing a friend had died and went to a place no human ever has to go. As he walked past the twin mounds that were just to the west of the Center, his mind was replaying all the conversations he had had with Bob about life, death, and eternity. Was there something he missed, or something he should have said, that God would have used to break through the hardened brick wall that Bob had built around his heart? He sat down on one of the concrete benches along the back side of the second mound and, looking southward toward one of the deer herds feeding nearby, Professor Martin Sherfy wept alone in the pre-dawn darkness for a friend he knew he would never see again in this life … or the next.

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The helicopter ride was short, but with D.C.’s traffic, it took longer than he expected to get back to the Pentagon. So, Roger made the best of his time by mentally reviewing the short telephone conversation he had received on the beach. He realized how nothing seemed to surprise him anymore; China, Magellan, NATO, UN … he sighed as he looked once again at his watch and thought about the conversations that were going on right now up on the moon. Matt Moore had been awake, working on the Pleiades fleet with Jon Armone for most of the past three months. But now, all of Magellan’s remaining crew members were being awakened. All of them thrust into a situation they, most likely, didn’t expect and probably didn’t much care for, either. Especially Simone; so he found himself prepping his defense to present, soon enough, to the brilliant Ugandan scientist as to why they were drugged.

Roger sighed. Still, she’s one of only a handful of people he had ever met that he trusted and respected, and … He needed her to be on his side. In fact, she was the last person he would ever want to have as an enemy.

Roger grabbed his briefcase as the limo pulled up to the secure area of the Pentagon. Then jumping out before it even came to a complete stop, he dashed up the concrete stairs into the Pentagon’s east-main hallway. Within moments he was opening the door to his office and looking straight into the face of the President of the United States.

Good morning, Sir he offered to his Commander-in-Chief.

Good morning Roger. Without missing a heartbeat, Get together a team. We’ve found the Dart … sort of

The Dart? Where? And just what does ‘sort of’ mean?

Siberia He said as if even he didn’t believe the fact. He turned his head to peer out the window and spoke, somewhat wistfully, to Roger. How in the world does a two-man submarine—a very expensive piece of spy-ware—disappear from the middle of the United States and then turn up in a remote forest of Siberia? Shaking his head in unbelief, he said, Anyhow, thanks to the Orion satellite, we’ve picked up the ping from the radioactive seed in the nosepiece, but … raising his eyebrows in vexation, we can’t get a visual on the sub.

The President paused to pour himself a drink of water as well as offer to pour Roger one—who politely declined—and he continued. But don’t worry; we have a two-man team just about on site as we speak: less than a mile away. The President stopped for a second then said with even more disbelief, And that’s not all … he tossed a folder down on the desk between them, We have these disturbing, high-res images of a bunch of canoes resting in the same general area of the sub. Old canoes, Roger, taking a drink, pausing for a second and raising his eyebrows as if even he couldn’t fathom what he was saying, ancient canoes, less than a thousand yards away from the ping.

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Martin had regained his composure as the light of day broke around him illuminating the patchy areas of fog that had settled in the park. Making his way back to the Center, he stopped for a moment to look across the Grand Plaza at Monk’s Mound. He couldn’t help but stare in amazement, even wonder, at the silent grandeur of the massive earthen enigma before him. And to imagine that he, Martin Sherfy, was one of a handful of people on Earth who knew the incredible secret buried deep beneath this mound. And, adding to that insanity, this common, ordinary man had gone to D.C. twice in the last two months for special training to receive a high level, need-to-know, security clearance. Martin sensed the inevitability of something happening here at the mounds site. Danger seemed to be in the air and underground, for sure. After all, not everyone gets to keep watch over the greatest secret, the greatest power, mankind has ever discovered.

As he stood there he said a silent prayer to his God and Savior. It was a plea for wisdom, for strength and discernment for that day that waited before him like a bride waiting for her groom.

He once again walked toward the Center and, as he opened the doors, he heard a phone ringing in the distance. He zipped down the short hallway and into his office as the phone continued its plea for attention. Dr. Martin Sherfy, can I help you?

Martin— Roger Hand here—we have a situation that might interest you. Can you be ready in an hour?

Martin was caught off-guard by that one …

What’s the situation? was the only logical response he could come up with, Ready to go where?

Siberia, bring something warm for evening time; the days aren’t too bad this time of year. Oh, and by the way, didn’t you say that the mound builders had no written language?

Yeah, the only …

You might be wrong on that one doc. Anyway, one hour—a driver will pick you up and you will board a military flight from Scott Air Force Base to Hawaii. You will be briefed in flight and I will see you when you land. Questions?

Well, no I guess …

Good, see you in Hawaii and the line went dead.

Man! No one says good bye anymore! Martin thought as he stared at the handset then dropped it in its cradle. I wonder what in the world all this is about. Then his mind turned to the statement Roger Hand had made about a written language and the Mississippian culture. Why would he ask something like that if he’s talking about Siberia?

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You have absolutely no right in doing what you have done to us! Simone spit out as viciously as a ten foot cobra.

This will not be pretty, Jon Armone was thinking to himself as Simone continued her verbal assault on the Lunar Commander.

Secret moon base or not, this goes against all protocol as well as simple common decency. Three months Commander! Three months of my, no—OUR—lives, she looked around at every member of Magellan’s crew, and continued, Have been lost because of what? Trying to keep your dirty little secret from getting out? Wasn’t it enough we find a black hole, by which we get propelled all the way to Saturn, and to add insult to injury, crash land on the moon when we returned …

Not to mention a reactor breach that took out miles of the lunar landscape. Carl Lewis added.

And lost one of the best EVA technicians I’ve ever worked with when we were still at Saturn. Magellan’s remaining EVA specialist, Charlie Hodson, injected angrily as he stood up next to Simone.

Simone waited for the briefest of moments to see if any other of her crewmates had anything to add and then continued with a huff of exasperation as she turned and stared at the Commander.

Then you ‘rescue’ us and hide us away for three months in hibernation!

She swung around to face Jon and said, And you, Jon— you’re my friend! What real friend would do this?

Turning to glance once again at the other members of the Magellan team, she spun back to face Collins and demanded, What exactly is going on here?

"I am so glad you asked that Miss Sytte—um— I mean Dr. Sytte. After all, you are the one who created Inverted Gravitational Sequencing, the whole IGS system, furthering the design of modern spacecraft far beyond what anyone ever expected—you definitely deserve the title of doctor, please forgive me."

Simone stood stoically and muttered Hmmph.

Anyway Commander Tim Collins continued as calmly as he could, trying to keep the growl out of his voice. This was not a man who was dressed down in public by anyone, let alone a civilian. Allow me to welcome you to Eden he said with a smile as he walked toward the view port that—at the moment—was closed. And, as you will see, there are a number of reasons I kept you in hyper-sleep. He stopped in front of the view port and spoke a command to the operation’s computer.

Max, open the viewing ports in this section please.

The Hummingbyrd voice-activated super-computer answered with a Chirp and suddenly all three levels of the room were filled with the whitest light Simone had ever seen. Unfiltered solar light flooded in and was given a full three hundred sixty degree reign.

Simone looked up and the dome disappeared giving way to a spectacular view of Earth. She stood with her arms folded before her and matched the Commander’s dark stare.

Very impressive, Commander, very impressive indeed—now, tell me; WHY ARE WE HERE?

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The Iranian council chambers were surrounded by armed guards who would not only kill anyone who dared come close to the meeting rooms, but looked as if they’d enjoy the kill. Inside were members of the elite and ever growing Persian Few. The thirteen members of the core leadership were gathered to make their plans.

In the main conference room, a man in an expensive Italian-made business suit walked up the steps of the fairly large platform. He took the hand-held wireless microphone as he made his way center stage and spoke in broken English as he addressed the secretive—and elusive— multinational group.

My brothers, I am glad to see you gathered here in this holy place. We have paid a high price to be here today. We have many brothers and, ah yes, even sister Jessica Vandale from America, who have offered their lives to Allah so we could move on with our plans.

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Martin stepped out of the air-conditioned sedan on the airstrip at Scott Air Force Base and, at once, his sunglasses fogged up in the early July humidity. His driver stepped out of the vehicle and ushered Martin toward what appeared to be one of the older hangars on the base. As they stepped inside, he considered it odd that the building was empty except for a line of chairs off to his left. His driver led him over to the chairs and sat down. As Martin was sitting down alongside the driver, he was warned to hold onto the arms. In front of him a red light glowed from what appeared to be a small mirror on the wall and then fanned out into a laser scanner fanning wall to wall from the ceiling to the floor and back up again. A soft chime sounded followed by his drivers’ voice once again saying Hold on and the entire floor fell, taking the two riders with it. After ten seconds or so the floor stopped, and Martin Sherfy found himself sitting in what appeared to be an underground launch silo.

Before him was a launch tunnel that— he presumed— led up to the surface somewhere on the base. The interesting thing was that it couldn’t have been more than eighteen to twenty feet wide. He smiled and asked the driver (who never did tell him his name) What’cha gonna do, strap me onto a missile? His driver grunted something under his breath and, using his thumb, pointed behind them.

Before he had time to turn around and look, an airman appeared from out of nowhere and said in a brisk military tone, Dr. Sherfy, good morning sir. Your pilot is waiting for you in the aircraft. You will be in Hawaii in just about six minutes, after you launch, uh, that is, after you get out of your seat, sir.

Martin got up from his seat and as he turned around asked, What is that thing?

That, sir, is a Quick Jet, or as we like to call them, QJ’s

Really.

Yes, sir. Um, if you would sir, Dr. Hand is waiting for you.

In Hawaii.

Yes, sir … in Hawaii.

Six minutes, in that thing? Kinda small isn’t she? he asked with one eyebrow raised.

To tell you the truth, sir, that one is the newest, scaled-down version of a much larger model.

Martin was already settling into the back seat of the small, streamlined jet as he listened to the airman bragging about the USAF’s newest toy. He looked over the pilot’s shoulder to see the controls as the jet came to life. For the fun of it he asked the airman on his right, in a voice loud enough to be heard over the engines, So, how fast does this baby go?

Don’t know, sir. You’re part of her maiden test flight Martin heard as the cockpit shield closed shut and he thought to himself, I bet he enjoyed doing that to me …

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He was a man of about eighty years, but Sergey Ivanov was in better shape than most fifty-year-old males. He was a man of the Siberian wilderness; tough, rugged, fearless; and he had lived his whole life on the Tunguska River as a trapper, trader, river guide—and anything else he could hustle. He had done well for himself. Especially considering the government he lived under and, in spite of that, no one had ever heard him complain about anything, political or otherwise. He was the type person anyone would enjoy being around.

It was around nine p.m. local time and he was settled, rather cozily, around a small campfire. The embers and sparks were floating lazily up towards the stars of the night sky. Sergey took a small sip of vodka out of an old tin cup and looked up at the stars. He smiled as he remembered some of the stories his grandfather had told him about growing up in this very wilderness.

And it never failed: every time Sergey would reflect upon his grandfather’s stories, he always thought of one story in particular. The morning there was two suns …

2

Brief Briefings

Back on the surface of the moon, Jon Armone knew he needed to help diffuse the situation quickly before they had an all-out revolt on their hands. Even though most of the remaining crew members of Magellan most likely wanted nothing to do with Simone and her religious affections, they might band together against a common enemy … and he was part of that alleged enemy. He needed to jump into the game and yet keep his cards close to his chest, not letting too much information out.

Simone Jon began a somewhat exasperated explanation. Okay, look … we had to put you guys out for a while until we could figure out how to handle the press. he swept his hands around said The fact that we had a lunar base and never told anyone.

What you really mean is that you had to, how do you say: shut us up for a while. Simone said in her heavily Ugandan accented English.

The crowd grew more than restless on that one, the voices of the crew-members chiming in with, Yeah or What’s up with that? and That’s illegal!

Jon jumped in on that one with, "Illegal? Standardized Exploratory Protocol, page three, paragraph one, states as follows; ‘Any, whether purposeful or accidental, incident involving the detonation of a nuclear weapon in space shall result in all parties responsible to remain under investigative custody until the Department Of Defense sees fit to release them. Until that time they are to be quarantined, away from the public. So, you see, he held both hands out away from his side as he added, we really didn’t have a choice in the matter."

Oh, Jon, Simone was visibly shaken now as