The Tribes

By D. Chris Buttars

The Tribes is a sci-fi thriller that blends facts with white-knuckle visions of the possible. Everything in The Tribes is, or could become, a reality in our future. In a thrilling sequence of events, The Tribes tells the story of the Ten Lost Tribes; the who, where, and why of flying saucers; and the reality of nuclear war in America and the consequences that follow. Buckle up because the excitement starts from the very first page and never slows down as we explore the present-day facts and sci-fis emerging visions of what if?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499082579

D. Chris Buttars

Chris Buttars was born and raised in Cache Valley, Utah. Chris graduated from USU in 1967 in Marketing and Economics. He and his wife have six children and sixteen grandchildren. Chris and his wife have lived in West Jordan, Utah for over 35 years. Chris has always been interested in Science Fiction and stories that explore Deep Space. ‘The Tribes’ is his debut novel.

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by D. Chris Buttars.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014918154

ISBN:      Hardcover    978-1-4990-8255-5

               Softcover       978-1-4990-8256-2

               eBook            978-1-4990-8257-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/09/2014

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

695454

Contents

Chapter 1    The President’s Office, June 25, 2020

Chapter 2    Somewhere in Northern Turkey

Chapter 3    The President’s Briefing

Chapter 4    The Island Meeting

Chapter 5    Who Are You?

Chapter 6    Aboard the Spacecraft

Chapter 7    Earth

Chapter 8    Back Home

Chapter 9    The Plan

Chapter 10   The Crash

Chapter 11   These Are Monsters

Chapter 12   The Recovery Operation

Chapter 13   Tectonic Plates and the Power of a Nuke

Chapter 14   A New World

Chapter 15   A Pending Disaster

Chapter 16   The Last Nuke

Chapter 17   To Arzareth

Chapter 18   Be Careful What You Ask For

Chapter 19   Game on

Chapter 20   The Return

Chapter 21   Starting over

Chapter 22   The New Team

Chapter 23   A New Beginning or the Beginning of the End?

Chapter 24   There Must Be a Way

Chapter 25   Nothing Is Easy

Chapter 26   What Happened to Our People?

Chapter 27   The Flight of Warship Destiny

Chapter 28   The Attack

Chapter 29   Going Home

CHAPTER 1

THE PRESIDENT’S OFFICE, JUNE 25, 2020

Rays of light spilled across the president’s desk, revealing scattered papers and a blank, blinking screen on his computer. The president, Johnny Dee Anderson, stood at the window, his arm resting lightly on the windowpane. The office was so quiet you would have expected it to be empty; however, it was quite the opposite. Seated in the office were all five members of the executive staff.

Secretary of State Marty Clarkston sat at the corner of the president’s desk. Marty’s dress was, as always, very proper and businesslike. His suit looked as if it had yet to experience its first wrinkle, complete with a button-down, light blue dress shirt and a classy, multicolored tie. The picture was finished off with a golden chain that caught the light from the window, and the first impression was that he just stepped out of GQ magazine. His legs were crossed, and his hands lay in his lap; a look of tension was written clearly across his face. His head was turned inquisitively toward the president.

Behind Marty, pacing back and forth like a caged lion was General Max Royal Johnson. Large in stature and very bold in demeanor, he projected a larger-than-life image. That was not an unfair description, because he stood at least six foot four and weighed roughly 260 pounds. His uniform was completely covered in military medals, and Jack would sometimes tease him that he used them to blind his opponents in war.

Basically, the general was regarded as an overbearing know-it-all by the other members of the team. In fact, some members speculated that his act was just a show; however, no one was dumb enough to test the theory. Watching him pace, you would never guess he had lost one arm and both legs in the war with Iran in 2016. The prosthesis world had come so far that his legs and arm were even more superior to his own body parts. They moved with such efficiency and precision that the team was often heard to sarcastically comment on the weakness of their own legs when compared to his robotic counterparts. While not saying a word aloud, it was still quite obvious that he knew a lot more than he let on, and because he served as chair of the military joint chiefs, he automatically became a part of the president’s first team.

Vice President Roger Frank sat silently, almost timidly, on the small couch in the center of the room. Initially, one might take Vice President Frank as a pushover, but that would be a very big mistake. Frank was a quiet man, but he was a very strong and clear thinker. His eyes constantly searched the room, watching every step that each person took. Frank had a kind face, his eyes reflecting an eager repose. He sat with one leg resting lightly on the other. One hand combed through his short hair, and the other tapped a pen softly on the arm of the sofa.

Louis Harper, chief of Intelligence and National Security, stood behind the couch in the far corner of the room with his arms crossed. His bland expression and cold blue eyes confessed nothing. To say he was without feelings would not be far from how he came across.

The remaining member of the team was Jack Jenson, who was standing directly behind the president. Jack was somewhat of a mystery to the rest of the team. He’d seemingly appear out of nowhere to them right after the war and had quickly become a very close friend of the president. He was an amazing man for details. He wore an air of confidence; his presence was a perpetual statement- we can handle it. His stiff suit and stiff personality, for that matter, was evident. His face revealed his commitment to serve and protect the president at all costs, and although he was a part of the team, it was apparent that his loyalty was primarily to the president. Everyone else and every other issue were secondary to him.

THE PAST FOUR YEARS

During the past four years, the United States and Israel had experienced a nuclear attack led by Iran and the Jihad Muslim Nation. The conflict lasted less than a year, but the destruction on both sides was catastrophic.

The most shocking part was that it had begun in the United States! A school bus carried small nukes that were set off in the middle of the congressional complex. Within minutes, three more similar nukes went off in Boston, Dallas, and San Diego. The White House and staff were destroyed, and the death toll was in the tens of millions. Unfortunately, both the president and vice president were killed, along with most of the members of Congress. Another nuke was set off at the same time in Tel Aviv.

The United States quickly appointed the Speaker of the House, John Dee Anderson, who had been out of the country at the time of the attack, as president.

Within three days, Iran and the Jihad Muslim Nation were identified as the perpetrators. Israel and the United States moved immediately to retaliate by destroying most of Iran’s infrastructure and that of several other countries believed to support and protect the leadership of the Taliban.

From there, a stunned world stood still. The shock of a world nuclear war and what it could mean if the conflict widened, began to sink in around the world.

Iran immediately surrendered, but the Taliban stood defiant. The Muslim leadership across the world was instantly united against the Taliban and demanded an end to any more violence. The Muslim world boldly stated that, if any more violence took place, all Taliban members and their families and friends would be hunted down and killed!

Finally, the Taliban stood down, and the world began to rebuild. The United States pulled all troops home, and Israel announced that, if attacked again, it would destroy every person and organization involved. In the mist of all this, the president had received a message—from someone not of this world!

The president voiced, in a manner that reflected he was thinking out loud rather than in conversation, "I am sitting here waiting for the details that will outline for the first time in history a face-to-face meeting with alien beings. Do they even have a face? I feel like a kid waiting to see the movie Invasion from Mars. Can this be real?"

His attempt to add some humor to the room had obviously failed. No one spoke, moved, or even smiled.

After a long moment of silence, the president looked at Secretary of State Marty Clarkston and said, Read it again.

Marty walked over to his briefcase, opened it, and said Here it is, he said, as he pulled a single page printout out. "It read as follows:

Mr. President,

We believe it would be in everyone’s best interest for us to meet together as soon as possible. We will send a location and other details by computer to you by noon on Friday, July 10.

All details must be held in very strict confidence."

Well, its 11:56, the president said quietly.

Almost immediately the president’s printer came to life as if by magic:

Meeting Date: July 20, 2020

Meeting Time: 1300 hours

Meeting Place: Sandtree Island, on the grassy meadow at the southeast corner of the island

Personnel: Mr. President and three of his first team, plus individuals with vast experience and knowledge in geology, seismology, and nuclear fusion

Note: No interpretation skills necessary as we are prepared to communicate in English

Note: No military on location or in the region. Any breach of this condition will terminate proposed meeting.

For what seemed like forever, no one spoke a word. And then General Johnson mumbled, Wow, wow, and wow! This thing just gets deeper and deeper! I just don’t get it. We need, no, we deserve more information! I mean, going in with no protection? Suddenly he realized everyone was listening to him. He stood up tall and said quietly, The president needs security.

The president replied softly, I appreciate your concern, General Johnson, I really do. But at this moment, our position regarding demands is very weak.

Mr. President, the general pleaded, there has to be a way to maintain some type of control. We have no way of knowing—

We have no choice, the president barked. There will be no security, General! This matter is closed! He sat down in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment.

Suddenly he was once again in complete and contained control. Gentlemen, we have our instructions. We need a team with extensive expertise in geology, seismology, and nuclear physics. Marty, make whatever changes in my personal schedule are necessary. Jack, I need a list of the best there are in these areas on my desk, and I want it five minutes ago!

CHAPTER 2

SOMEWHERE IN

NORTHERN TURKEY

We should be there in about three minutes, the pilot said in a voice loud enough to be heard above the roar of the chopper.

General Johnson stood at the pilot’s shoulder. If this guy is half the person his references claim, with the awards and credentials he portrays, he probably also walks on water.

There it is, the pilot exclaimed.

Quickly every eye was on the area where the pilot was pointing. Even though they were still a few miles away, they could see the huge, jagged crevice created by the recent earthquake. As they closed on the site they had chosen to land upon, the violence caused by the quake was apparent. At first glance, you would think that the damage was the result of the war. However, this area had not been hit by the war at all. The small village was totally devastated. Not one structure was standing.

Woo-wee, the general exclaimed. It looks like a free-fire zone in Vietnam!

Even before the chopper had settled down on the ground, the general and his companion, Secretary of State Clarkston, were out and headed for the small group of people standing by the quake trench line.

I’m General Johnson, the general brayed out, amplifying his most blatant and controlling voice. We came here to see Terry Peterson. Where is he?

The natives turned and stared curiously at each other. It was obvious that no one spoke a word of English. Johnson, in his best bulldog tone of voice, charged straight ahead: Where is he? His voice was louder and even more demanding this time.

Marty stepped in front of the general and calmly dug out of his vest a picture of Dr. Petersen. He held it toward the natives, and immediately the group broke its silence and began to chatter. Then, almost simultaneously, they all turned and pointed down the quake line.

The jagged trench line created by the recent 8.5 quake was about two to four feet across. It extended all the way to a steep cliff about six hundred yards away. The villagers motioned for the two men to follow and began running down the quake line. The general chased after the group in a fast walk, but Marty was running with them. About five hundred yards down the line, the villagers stopped and pointed down into the trench.

Marty was way ahead of the general. He quickly walked up to the edge and yelled down into the trench, Dr. Peterson, are you there?

The quake trench was about thirty to forty feet deep. It jigged and jagged across the ground so that you could not see very far down the line from any particular vantage point. Then from about fifty or so feet farther down the line but out of sight from where there they were standing came a voice. Yo, I’m down here.

Everyone quickly moved further down the trench line.

As the general came up to the group, Marty stepped in front of the general. Hold it, Max. He’s coming out.

Red-faced and completely out of breath, the general said between gasps, Okay, okay, that’s good, as he put his hands on his knees and tried to help his lungs catch up.

As the general labored to catch his breath, his eye was caught by a Coke can on the ground that suddenly seemed to start dancing and shaking, even jumping inches off the ground.

Then before he could even open his mouth to comment on the oddity, the ground jumped upward. The can was sent flying, hitting the general square in the face.

Aftershock, Clarkston screamed. The initial ground jerk sent everyone in the group to the ground as if they had been pushed hard.

Screams and cries from the village filled the air. It was horrible! The ground was moving like waves of water. Everyone hugged the ground as if it would save them. The tremors lasted for about a minute. Then as fast as it had started, it stopped.

Marty was the first up. No, no! He gasped. All eyes moved to the area of the quake line. No, no, Marty moaned again.

The quake line had completely closed! Everyone was totally stunned. The entire line had closed.

The villagers began to nervously mumble among themselves, and looks of disbelief and despair swept across everyone’s faces.

I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it, Marty voiced to the crowd.

Max, get a backhoe in here! ordered Marty, but the general cut him off, grabbed him by the shoulders, and wheeled him around to look him in the face. Listen, this is northern Turkey. There’s no backhoe here! In fact, I doubt there’s a good shovel to be found. That hole was thirty-five feet deep. He’s history!

So what happens to Terry Peterson? We can’t just leave him down there? The tension of the moment seemed to freeze everyone into silence.

Then they heard an excited clamor from one of the locals down the line at the cliff’s edge. What was being said (or yelled), they had no idea, but it was obvious the villagers wanted them to come quickly.

As they came upon the man who had been yelling, he pointed down the steep ravine. The cliff was extremely steep, dropping more than eight hundred feet within only about thirty to forty linear feet onto a small ledge. From there was another drop straight down about a thousand or so feet. As they centered in on the direction he was pointing, they could see a body sprawled out a few feet from the drop point.

That’s Peterson! yelled the general. Could he be alive?

Marty began looking for a way to climb down the descent, but the general put out a restraining arm to hold him back. No, the quake has the entire area broken up. You will cause a slide and take out the whole hillside including us! shouted the general. The chopper has a rescue pod on board, and that’s our answer.

Within minutes, the chopper was hovering over the still form. I’ll go down, the general shouted and, without waiting for a response, quickly stepped into the harness and moved out over the edge. Let ’er rip!

The rescue cable began lowering him down. As his foot touched the ground, he could feel the surface was completely unstable. Speaking into the mobile mic built into the rescue helmet, he calmly informed the pilot to hold him in a position just above the ground. During the next few minutes, the general performed like a highly skilled rescuer, maneuvering the harness around the limp form, while constantly providing instructions to the pilot.

Up above, Marty found himself seeing an entire new side to the often blustery and obnoxious general. It was a side he had never seen before; in fact, he hadn’t even had a clue it existed. He found himself muttering to himself, Who would have known under all that hell and fire there’s a soft underbelly? He was also feeling a little ashamed for all the times he had viewed the general as an overbearing loud mouth with no concept of diplomacy or common decency to be found.

The voice of the general booming through the mic brought Marty out of this mind-blowing revelation and jolted him back to the present; he saw that the General had safely secured the harness to both himself and Petersen. The command came, Bring us up! The cable slowly began pulling them up to the chopper.

Once inside, the general continued his rescue operation as he informed the pilot to secure a landing on stable ground. As soon as they had landed, he gave the doctor a quick but thorough physical review. While I can’t be certain of internal injuries, it appears that, other than the hard hit on the head, he should recover quickly. The general looked up at the pilot and told him to get back to base as quickly as possible. The chopper’s engines roared.

****

The general sat with President Anderson to share a rare drink together in his office.

You know you’re not well liked among the crew, right? began the president.

I’m not here to make friends, stated Max.

Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt either, the president shot back. You started your career awfully young. What was it, in your early college years?"

Yeah. I didn’t see a point in waiting for an invitation or anything. I knew from childhood this is what I wanted to do. I went straight from college to serve three tours of duty as a second lieutenant in Nam. Spent countless hours in the bush and was wounded twice. After that, I was promoted and then promoted again until I reached captain. It seems like only yesterday I was treading through those blasted jungles and cities, with my face painted black and my buddies by my side. That is the closest I ever got to having friends. We were united in a purpose, and that made us brothers, you know?

You received awards in heroism, major combat, and leadership in that war. Your portfolio is impressive.

It was silent for a moment, but the silence was comfortable. The president had always liked the general, despite the rusty exterior.

Anderson began, I’m trying to figure out if you jumped off that chopper because of your extensive military training or if something else was happening. The intelligence chief fixed the general with a sharp gaze. What happened, Max?

After another brief silence where each took a few swallows of drink, Max responded, After Nam I served two more tours of duty in Iraq, two tours in Afghanistan, earned a purple heart, and was promoted to colonel. Back then, I thought I was unstoppable. I was bigger than life! In three years, I went from being a one-star general to a full four. You ever heard of someone else like that?

I’d have to say, you are very unique. The president followed his gaze to his arm on the chair, and they both watched as he clenched and unclenched his hand. When did you lose your arm?

You’ve read my folder. It was a surprise attack. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I know, but I like your version better. You make it sound like it was nothing big. The people who you saved, I’m sure, would not agree. You saved a lot of people that day.

I lost my arm and both my legs that day. It’s not something I like to relive all that often.

The president didn’t respond.

So the general kept talking. There was this family that took care of us, you know, feeding us on a regular basis, and my team got really close to them. That night, we were there for dinner. Some of the guys were out jumping rope with the young daughter when the gunfire started. I ducked behind the kitchen counter and peered around the window just in time to see the daughter gunned down in the streets. I wasn’t going to let that happen to the rest of the family, so when the rescue choppers came, I sent the family out first. Then next, my team was safely evacuated. Once it was just me, I remember that I was finishing with the harness, clamping it to the gear, when the bomb exploded. I don’t remember much after that. I guess I was carried away by the chopper, at least what was left of me.

How long were you in recovery?

It took years to rebuild my arm and both legs. I spent two years in a rehab learning to walk and function again, and all that time, I couldn’t get the last moments of that little girl’s life out of my mind. I carry her picture here in my breast pocket to remind me that life is more fragile than we realize. He pulled out a pocket-sized photo from his suit. It was tattered, faded, and well worn.

I don’t save lives to earn another medal on my suit. I got enough of those. I do it because, if I don’t, then this girl will have died for nothing. I know people don’t get me. I’ve never been that good with small talk, but what I am good at is fighting for what’s right.

I’m glad you’re on our team, Max. You’re a good man. Don’t let the naysayers slow you down. Oh, and just so you know,—the president threw something