Falling Stars

By James Arthur Davis

Kurt Mathews has his wings to fly in a small airline, at an indigenous town
somewhere in the outback. He encounters a strange old man, who
tells Kurt the legend of the falling stars. On receiving a strange
piece of metal, Kurt has dreams of terrifying events of long ago.
When Kurts girlfriend is murdered and a mysterious the piece.Falling of metal is stolen. He sets out to discover who and what does
the legend means.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Apr 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781499023466

James Arthur Davis

Hi! My Name is James A. Davis. I live in the City of Darwin of the Northern Territory in Australia. I call Darwin home. It is where my family laid their roots some Seventy years ago. Living here in Darwin has given me the tools of life, and to understand life itself. Here in the outback of Australia, is where legends are born and Heroes are made for this is the land of adventure!

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Copyright © 2016 by James Arthur Davis.

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: 04/15/2016

Xlibris

1-800-455-039

www.Xlibris.com.au

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CONTENTS

Chapter One: AD 1479

Chapter Two: The Present Day

Chapter Three: Flight Plan

Chapter Four: Karawugu

Chapter Five: Legends Or Myths

Chapter Six: Greed

Chapter Seven: The Legend Begins

Chapter Eight: Anna

Chapter Nine: A Key To The Puzzle

Chapter Ten: Long Time Joe

Chapter Eleven: Space Junk

Chapter Twelve: Stick-A-Man

Chapter Thirteen: Sinn

Chapter Fourteen: Yen Lee Sinn

Chapter Fifteen: Yen Lee Sinn (Reassignment)

Chapter Sixteen: Super Metal

Chapter Seventeen: Homecoming

Chapter Eighteen: Eagle Rock Island

Chapter Nineteen: Betrayal

Chapter Twenty: Visions Of Death

Chapter Twenty-One: The Arrival Of Death

Chapter Twenty-Two: Greed’s End

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Fourth Plate

Chapter Twenty-Four: Turning Point

Chapter Twenty-Five: Homicide

Chapter Twenty-Six: Secrets Unfold

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Road To Destiny (Part One)

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Road To Destiny (Part Two)

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Road To Destiny (Part Three)

Chapter Thirty: On The Trail

Chapter Thirty-One: The Awakening (Part One)

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Awakening (Part Two)

Chapter Thirty-Three: Aalaran

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Warajo Legend

Chapter Thirty-Five: Major Horzing

Chapter Thirty-Six: The Vision

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Star Fighter – M627

Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Journey

Chapter Thirty-Nine: World’s End (Part One)

Chapter Forty: World’s End (Part Two)

Chapter Forty-One: Mount Zeil (Part One)

Chapter Forty-Two: Mount Zeil (Part Two)

Chapter Forty-Three: The Keeper

Chapter Forty-Four: Steven Caldwell

CHAPTER ONE

AD 1479

I n an unknown hostile land, just south of the equator, lived people of Stone age culture, they were known as the Aborigines, who lived and toiled in harmony with the land and its harsh and unpredictable environment. This was the land of Dreamtime, a magical land where legends and myths are born. This is one such legend which has been told begins in a faraway land across the great oceans to the south. This great land would not be discovered by the rest of the world for at least another 300 years of this tale !

This was the great southern continent, Australia!

In a deserted area of bush, a small hunting party of native warriors crossed the open countryside towards the large rocky hills far in the distance. There had not been much rain that year; the bush had dried up under the burning sun. The wildlife had all but disappeared. The hunting party was now looking for food further away from their villages, sometimes four or five days at a time. The hunters travelled to a faraway valley in the south-east of their country, which was a four-day march from their village, so they took some food and water with them. The hunters had been told by a wandering traveller, who had passed them by, that there was good hunting to the south.

On the third day the sun seemed hotter and drier than before and the bush around them was just as dry as they were. The cliffs in the distance of a rocky escarpment looked cool and inviting, where they hoped to find water and shelter from the heat.

It was the dry season, and the land was parched. No rain had fallen in those months. The waterholes had all dried up; rivers and creeks had vanished into the thin air, and all that was left were the sand and rocky beds. The hunters knew that if they did not find water soon all of them would perish.

In the northern end of the country, there were only two seasons: the wet season and the dry season. In the wet months, December through April, the land would be rich and fertile for both man and beast, but in the dry months, May through November, the land would be dry and barren. The people of the land had succumbed to the ravages of the country and the sea; their ash-black skin had hardened by thousands of years under the sun.

On reaching the outer rim of the escarpment, the hunters made their way to the rocky outcrop, where they found a small pool of cool water lying under the ledge. The hunters one by one quenched their thirst; the leader was a warrior whose name was Warajo ‘a man of war’. He drank first. Warajo, a fearsome man of mature age, had the strength of two men; he was undefeatable in war. With scores of scars on his body, which spoke about fearsome fights fought in many battles, Warajo was regarded as the bravest of them all. He stood taller than the others, some six feet high, with solid build, curly jet-black hair, a short beard, and a hairy chest.

After they had drunk their fill, Warajo led the hunters up a steep rocky trail that he had found, which led to a small plateau at the top. To their surprise, the hunters were looking over a large rocky valley which seemed to stretch for kilometers.

On one side of the plateau, there was a steep cliff that rose almost 20 meter`s high, which shielded it against the harsh north-east winds. To the south-west, the valley was surrounded by hills on all sides, which made it invisible from the outside.

It was now late afternoon, and as the sun slipped behind the far side of the ridges, it cast ghostly shadows of blue and purple with a touch of grey and black. The colours of the night fell over the valley floor, reaching into the blackness of the coming night, which was now fast approaching. Warajo instructed his hunters to set up a camp and make a fire at the edge of the plateau. They found small twigs and some barks of a dried tree and heavier branches for later.

Their hunting skills had not changed, they were handed down through the ages, from father to son, which were basic but effective. Spears and knives were made from wedge stones found in creeks and riverbeds. Where they were sharpened to a point, on the hard walls or floors, of caves. The spear heads were then attached to long wooded polls, which were tied with vines.

Marajo took a small piece of flat wood with a groove in it at one end and a shaft about 400 mm long. He placed the shaft in the groove at a vertical angle with some dry leaves at the bottom and then started moving the shaft in a circular motion with both hands. He moved it faster and faster until smoke appeared; he moved the smoking leaves under the twigs.

Warajo blew gently on them; soon there was a roaring fire, and the small catch of the day was soon roasting in the flames.

After they had eaten, Warajo threw a large log into the fire so it would keep them warm through the night. The night was cool but had a trace of humidity in the air, which meant that the wet season would approach soon.

Soon the stars came out in the evening night sky. There was no moon that night, so the heaven was filled with millions of small lights. Blinking bright and clear overhead, they looked so close that it seemed if you reached out, you could touch them.

As the evening slowly wore on, the hunters became tired, and one by one they fell asleep. The day had been long, dry, and hot; a gentle cool breeze now drifted over hilltops and into the valley. So they settled in under the rocky ledge for the night, sleeping on dry leaves and grass as their beds.

Warajo sat back against the rock wall, facing the valley, thinking of the hunt that would come tomorrow. Gazing up at the stars, with legs crossed, he tapped the two sticks in his hand rhythmically, chanting softly. He hoped for a sign from the heavens above to tell him that the hunt would be good.

Then something caught his eye. Warajo blinked once, then twice. There were three large stars; he was sure that they hadn’t been there the night before. The three stars were in a triangular shape. One of them seemed to be at some distance from the other two; was this a sign of a good hunt? They looked defiant, somehow, and larger than the other stars. This must be a good sign, Warajo thought.

Some moments later, as he watched, two of the stars started sending out light flashes; they were like the lightning in a tropical storm. They were sending it to the third star, time and time again, making it pulsate with every flash that struck! Warajo was so amazed and frightened, all at the same time, that he woke the other warriors so they could watch this grand and amazing spectacle too. Soon all the hunters were yelling and pointing to the heavens, not knowing what to do.

‘I think the stars are fighting!’ said one warrior.

Warajo thought for a moment. Being the wisest and the bravest of them all, he turned to the others and said, ‘They are new stars. Maybe there are too many stars already, and the new ones are killing the old ones to make more space for them.’

‘I think you are right,’ said another warrior.

As they watched this strange event unfold, hundreds of small stars came out from inside the big stars and began fighting too. Sometime later and after many of the little stars had died, the fighting suddenly stopped!

A long deadly silence followed; the night became still and calm. Above in the sky, the stars seemed to be waiting for their pending deaths.

The hunters stood still, unable to move, fixed in a trance state, as these events slowly unfolded in their life… Several moments passed and not a word was spoken between them. The hunters just stood there in utter silence.

Then without any warning, a blinding orange light from the first two stars lit up the sky as if it was broad daylight. A triangle of firelight leapt forth with its two long ends to the third star. It glowed, red hot in seconds; it seemed to grow bigger and brighter than the sun, and in a blinding flash, it was gone. The hunters stood with their mouths open, not able to say a word. It was the most frightening and exciting event they had ever witnessed in their whole life. But the most frightening thing was about to happen.

At that moment before their eyes, a small group of little stars appeared where the third star had been. A moment later, they formed a circle.

Suddenly, they fanned out across the sky like a firework display, shooting in every direction. Warajo pointed at the sky and yelled as one of the small stars was heading right their way. The hunters huddled at the face of the cliff, yelling at the top of their voices in fear of their lives. They thought that the world was about to come to an end.

The small star hurtled into the valley at great speed with a trail of fire and smoke behind it. A loud explosion followed; the sound of hundred roaring thunderstorms came all at once. Lightning and wind, which followed, echoed through the valley, splitting the night into two.

It landed a good kilometre away from them, leaving a trail of burning bush and earth behind; it stopped far up into the valley, some 800 metres away. It carved a long deep burning trench in the earth. Warajo huddled in the corner of the cliff with the others, not able to move; he did not see that the other two stars had just disappeared.

Then the valley was quiet again. An eerie, smoky silence fell over the land and not a thing moved; neither man nor beast stirred in the blackness that followed, except for a glow in the distance. It was totally silent!

The sky lightened that magical morning, sending its early shafts of red, blue, and yellow light into the valley. Once again the sun rose; it crept in between the rocks, trees, and bushes, which were scattered over the hilltops, and then danced over the valley floor. A new day had begun for all to see, a new beginning for man!

The hunters awoke, still shaken by the previous night. Slowly, one by one, they crept out from their hiding place. Looking up at the sky, to make sure it was still there, they peered over the edge of the cliffs. They looked down into the valley far below to where the star had gone down. The smouldering bush and the faint trail of smoke could still be seen. In the distance, the hunters could see a scorched straight line, carved deep in the earth, which stretched along to the farther end of the valley.

‘We must go and have a look,’ Warajo said, pointing to it.

He was feeling more competent; with every moment that passed, his courage was now returning. But the hunters were still cowering in the safety of the cliff face.

‘You are a brave warrior Warajo. But to go down there is madness,’ said the others.

Warajo knew of legends and myths of ‘falling stars’ that had been told to his people of old, through the dreaming time. He also knew the history of the brave warriors who had found star pieces – asteroids – and how they had become fearsome in fighting men in battle and powerful adversaries in worldly knowledge.

Picking up his spear, Warajo left the other hunters standing in the morning sun’s shadows, telling them he would be back before the sun went down that day. They watched him go down the rocky hillside of the valley rim, climbing over boulders and sandy ledges to the valley floor below and on to where the star had fallen.

The hunters saw Warajo as he disappeared into the distant bush along the valley rim and far up into the valley until they could not see him anymore.

At the end of that magical day, as the sun started to send its ghostly shadows over the valley floor once again, the hunters waited for Warajo’s return.

But he did not return that night or the next; the hunters waited patiently for two more days in the valley. Still he did not return; the hunters now were without food and were feeling very hungry. The valley had become silent and bare since the star had arrived. Water was now scarce, and no food could be found. In the afternoon of the third day of their stay, they searched the valley once again, where the star had gone down. But the star and Warajo had just disappeared. The hunters reluctantly returned to their village, empty-handed.

Thus the legend of Warajo and the falling stars began.

CHAPTER TWO

The Present Day

T he buzzing sound of an alarm was heard in the early hours of the cool July morning; turning over next to it was a still soundly sleeping Kurt Mathews. Simone Wilson awoke with a start; she slowly reached over him with a sleepy arm and hit the off button on the clock radio with her index finger. Simone glanced at the flickering numbers on the green-light-lit LCD screen with one eye open.

‘Oh my God,’ she moaned. ‘It’s early. The bloody thing reads 0340 hours.’

Kurt rolled over on hearing her voice and nestled his head against her warm breasts, which were now covered by her long T-shirt, the words ‘LOVE ME’ printed on it.

She moved away from him and turned on the night light, which was next to him on a small old one-drawer lamp wooden table. Now fully awake, she looked around the room and took a deep breath. Like their bed and the furniture, the old wooden table in the kitchen was second-hand, and so was their car. ‘That bloody old bomb!’ she mumbled. Simone slid out of the bed and headed for the kitchen to make tea