Markers: Book 2

By E.R. Clouston

We continue with the story of the Edwards family.  Now many light years away in another Galaxy on planet Harian.  As they begin their training for what will be their new future in space as Earth's very first ambassadors to the cosmos.  It's not all fun and games though.  Soon, a discovery will send them hurtling back to earth in a desperate attempt to stave off disaster.  On Earth, 3 months after the events in Michigan, Phillip awakens from a coma, to the company of a stranger.  Who informs him that the new order of things, runs though him now.  Crippled and dethroned, Phillip faces his first ever real challenge to his position in his whole life.  A bright new attack dog emerges to threaten his place further.  Phillip must now fight for his right to find out just what exactly these craft are for....

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.R. Clouston
• Release date: Oct 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201589356

Book preview

Prologue

Undisclosed Medical facility in Washington D.C.

June 30, 2011

Phillip awoke suddenly from the darkness to a repetitive beeping noise he couldn’t place coming from somewhere over his left shoulder.  His mind felt.... foggy, almost fuzzy ...he remembered being trapped somewhere dark.  It felt as if he had been trapped in that darkness for what seemed like forever.  With his sudden return to consciousness he knew he had arrived somewhere else though ...a hospital, judging from the antiseptic smell that permeated such places.  He was having trouble with his eyes.  They didn’t want to open.  After struggling for a few moments his right eye finally opened, crackling dryly from the thin film that had formed at the seal from an obvious prolonged time of closure.  As his eye began to focus, the harshness of the light above his bed forced him to look away.  That’s when he saw him.  There was another person in the room with him, an unfamiliar person.  Where was Newberry?  He tried piecing it together in his mind.  The last thing he remembered was lunging towards Tyler.....then the floor gave way and he was swallowed up by oblivion.  He looked over again, the strange man made no move towards him, he didn’t even seem to be aware Phillip was awake. He sat there reading a tattered reader's digest he had probably liberated from the waiting area.  Phillip took the time to study this unfamiliar newcomer.  He was old, possibly 60 or more.  It was difficult to tell, this was a man who clearly looked after himself.  His clothes appeared to be of high quality, but subdued and somehow european looking but he couldn’t place the where of it.  He had a full head of silver hair.  He was clean shaven, smelling of a cologne Phillip recognized as only procurable from very exclusive sources, having a bottle of it himself at home.  So...clearly he was a man of some means.  But still.....why was he standing watch over him?.

Wh..where am I?.  Phillips' voice came out in a rasp.  His throat felt like sandpaper.  The stranger looked up at Phillip reacting to the noise.  There was no panic or confusion on his face, this man exuded a sense of ease and comfort on his facial features common to men used to giving orders and having them explicitly obeyed.

Welcome back Phillip, it's nice to see you awake finally.  To answer your question, you’re in a private medical facility just outside Washington.  I was able to pull a few strings and have you brought here after the events in Michigan.  I’ve been worried about you Phillip, you were in a pretty deep coma.  We thought we lost you a couple times. It was touch and go for a while there, but in the end you pulled through nicely. Phillip didn’t know what the man was talking about; he was still a little groggy from whatever they had given him for pain. We who?

who..

Who am I?....my name is Wesley.  I represent a certain group who have now taken over your little project.  With the complete cooperation of your entire government of course.  This whole thing has gotten quite a bit bigger than you would imagine while you slept. Taking over? What the hell was this guy talking about? Phillip didn’t work for others.....others worked for Phillip.

You can’t. He croaked. 

"I think you’ll find I can Phillip.  I think when you look, you’ll find things are markedly changed now.  Come now..it’s not all bad.  We’re not asking you to leave Phillip.  Quite the opposite really.  We want you to work for us.  We think you have potential Phillip."  Ask me to leave? Potential?  What was this moron talking about?  Phillip thought to himself.  He had said it with such certainty too.

Why? Was all Philip asked.

Come now Phillip ...you must know this is too much spaghetti for one fork and that’s a good enough reason in and of itself.  This spaceship stuff is a world wide thing now.  It’s on every channel, every station, every hour.  Discarding the readers digest on the nightstand beside Phillip, he walked over to the tv switching it on.  The first channel that came on was a newscaster sitting at his desk with some unknown guy examining what looked like a small model of the UFO Phillip had discovered.  Wesley changed the channel, now it was what looked like a tv show, shot on an Iphone or some other cheap looking, trendy medium.  The characters were dressed to look like Tyler’s family and were walking on a street sidewalk in some unidentified city.  Wesley changed it again, it was two people in chairs across from one another, Phillip recognized one of the people.

That’s!... At last Phillip got to see something familiar.

Yes Phillip, that is Trent, one of the Original Posters of the truth.  At least that’s what he calls it.  Yes indeed,  Mr. Caffrey has done quite well for himself with this shtick.  He’s got a best selling book, ghost written of course.  This particular interview is being done by Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Jordan Fiere.  It plays a couple times a day on one channel or another.  Yessir...UFOs are now officially mainstream.  He shut the TV off walking back to take a seat in a chair beside Phillips bed.

Why....why can’t I see out of my eye?  Phillip had been trying the whole time to open his other eye with no success.

It’s because you no longer have a left eye Phillip.  You lost it in the fall from the second floor when part of the building collapsed.  Your left leg was also severely crushed.  You almost lost that too.  In the end they were able to save it.  I’m afraid you have many months of painful rehab ahead of you Phillip.  His eye......gone?  Crippled?  Why had it all gone so terribly wrong?

What happened? There were so many blanks in Phillip’s mind.

We’ve gone over all the feeds from the compound and the interior of the building.  From what we’ve been able to piece together Phillip one of your men...a Mr. Martinez ...apparently felt you hadn’t prepared enough for the event and made plans of his own.  Somehow he got his hands on what we suspect is about twenty pounds of Semtex.  He decided to detonate it just under where you were standing.  That caused the building’s armoury to light up like a Christmas tree, what they call a sympathetic explosion.  The resultant combined blast took out the back third of the building.  You were lucky to have survived at all Phillip. Lucky?  Phillip didn’t feel lucky.  Blinded and a cripple. 

Where are they?  Phillip didn’t have to say who they were by name Wesley knew.

We don’t know..they escaped conventional tracking almost immediately after taking off.  My own resources lost them somewhere out past the Oort Cloud.  Oort Cloud? That was the outer edge of the solar system!  What resources did this man have above and beyond what Phillip knew about himself?

(The Oort Cloud Surrounds Earth's solar system.  It's a loose conglomerate of rocks that weren’t dragged into any of the forming planets gravity wells.  Pluto was recently downgraded as just a particularly large rock that resides in the Oort Cloud.)

How long?  How long had he lain here? How much time had he lost?

It’s been 3 months Phillip

Phillip lay there digesting that for a moment.  Three months....what had happened besides what this stranger had revealed?

Where’s Newberry?  Phillip would have expected him to be here, waiting for him to wake up.

Mr. Newberry is about his business, he’s taking care of a few things for me.  Don’t worry Phillip he stayed loyal.  He wouldn’t leave your side at first.  Until I brought him around to my way of thinking.   So ...it was an isolation play Phillip thought.  Wesley had already co-opted his best man.  Phillip needed to get out of here before this guy absconded with any more of his empire.  While he didn’t doubt the announced power this gentleman threw about.  He also didn’t doubt that this man was unaware of ALL of Phillips assets.  He would be careful with this man until he knew more about him.

I have to go now Phillip but I’ll be checking in on your progress from time to time when I can.  I’m gonna need you sooner or later.  Once you’re really on your feet I’ll bring you around, introduce you to the rest of our team.  With that he got up and walked out of the room.  Yes...the casual way he asserted his control had convinced Phillip.  Be very cautious of this man.....

Chapter 1

Secrets

Tampa Bay, The Tiny Tap Tavern

January 5th, 1970

Astronaut Richard Gordon sat at a small table in the back of a poorly lit bar on a pleasant January day in Tampa tracing his finger absently through a small puddle of condensation left by his previous beverage.  He wasn’t having the best of days, truth be told.  Earlier that day, he had been informed by his superiors that he would not be taking part in his next assigned mission to the moon, Apollo 18.  Which was scheduled to launch just under two years from now.  In point of fact, there were to be no more Apollo missions...period.  The whole program was being scrapped, citing budgetary issues and general public disinterest.  Now, something Richard had worked hard for, for the last ten years, was gone.  Washed away by the hand wringing pencil necks at NASA like it never mattered in the first place.

Richard Gordon had been born forty one years earlier in Seattle, Washington.  The oldest of five children, his father worked as a machinist while his mother had taught grade school.  After graduating from high school, he had gone to the University of Washington, graduating in 1951 with a Bachelors of Science in Chemistry.  After graduation he joined the navy, doing his initial training on the west coast.  He flew for the navy for nine years before the NASA program came along. 

At the time of selection for the Apollo program, Richard had been the oldest candidate chosen in his group.  Sure there were younger, faster men than him at the time.  However, experience was still the ultimate commodity in a venture like NASA.  Heck, the whole darn thing was one giant test flight.  And manning prototype aircraft during their maiden test flight is exactly what he specialized in.  He had spent years as a test pilot before coming south.  His experience level was untrainable, there were no safety nets in NASA.  Only a broad array of unique first hand experience provided any kind of encouragement.  The fact that everything was basically being done for the first time, right there and then, meant he was very useful indeed, or at least, he used to think so. 

He had done the training, he’d paid his dues and then some.  First with Gemini 11, then with Apollo 12.  He’d taken his stint as backup commander for Apollo 15.  Apollo 18 was going to be his turn to walk on the moon...finally. 

Was...that’s exactly how he needed to start thinking about it.  As of this morning he had no idea exactly where he was going in his NASA career. There had been some vague promises about him pioneering the new shuttle program they were planning, but he didn’t think that would work out.  He was too old to start over, too old to once again be the old man around younger men with the fire in their bellies to show him up.  Just what the heck was he supposed to do?

Maybe it was the waiter walking by just then, or maybe it was the harsh intrusion of a brilliant slash of light coming from the just now opened front door revealing an inhumanly bright day outside.  Whatever it was, something drew his attention to the person coming through it.  The man standing in the open door was at first nondescript appearing.  He was of average height and weight with shoulder length light blonde hair, but still, there was something about him that said power.

Like Richard, he was clean shaven, sticking out further from the denisons of this seedy establishment. There was nothing terribly specific about the man that you would remember.  His clothes were modest but obviously quality made.  He was neither fat nor thin, able to pass through crowds unnoticed through his sheer normalness no doubt.  His walk was confident, his head held high, cutting through the crowded bar, oblivious to the obvious stares of the bar patrons who were somehow keenly aware of his upper status.  Walking straight towards Richard’s table he took a seat quickly without asking.  Richard didn’t react at first, only staring across the table at the stranger.  For his part, the unknown man simply stared back for a few seconds, which seemed longer. Finally he spoke.

"You look like a man with......problems"

Richard didn’t know what to think at first.  He had never met him before, of that he was sure.  He wasn’t a fellow serviceman, that much was also obvious just sitting there.  Yet he spoke as if he had history with Richard unbeknownst to even himself.  There was a certain comfort to how he addressed him, as if picking up the thread of a previous conversation between them anew. 

Look...mister..I don’t know what your game is and frankly I don’t care.  As you’ve so aptly pointed out, I have indeed had a problem filled day so if you don’t mind....  With a wave of his hand he gestured for this intruder to leave his presence.  But the stranger did not leave, instead he looked up to find the waitress to order himself something to drink.  When she arrived all he said was

Dos cerveza, por favor. Dispatching her to her duty with a dismissive hand.  Lazily returning his gaze to Richard, who was slowly growing irritated and beginning to harbour some animosity towards this arrogant seeming man. 

Maybe you didn’t hear me mister...get lost. This time his hand gesture was more pronounced leaving no question as to its meaning. 

Now Richard, is that any way to talk to the man who can give back everything you just lost?...plus quite a bit more I might add. He stopped for a second as the waitress delivered the two beers, handing her a twenty with a curt keep the change. 

What the heck are you talkin about mister?.  A look of confusion now painted Richard’s face.

It’s Wesley

What’s Wesley? Richard asked, suddenly more confused about the direction of the conversation.

My name....is Wesley.  He replied casually, taking a sip from his beer.

Wesley what? Wesley Smith?

It’s just Wesley, Gordo

Only my Wife and close friends call me that, you're neither, you can call me Richard. Now, I would appreciate it if you could tell me how you seem to know so much about me yet I’ve never once met you?

"I know a lot of things about you Richard, you might say that it’s my job to know things like that.  I know you trained at Myramar, I know that you had a distinguished career as a test pilot.  I know you are currently the oldest of the current Apollo crew members and I also know that this morning at ten am you were told in no uncertain terms that you will no longer be taking part in the Apollo program, that there is even some doubt as to whether you would continue on with NASA at all......". Richard sat back a little stunned. 

The official announcement about the cancellation of the Apollo program wouldn’t come for another two months.  Richard only knew because the powers that be wanted him to stop wasting his time training for a mission that wasn’t going to happen.  Just who was this guy and how did he know what he knew?

Look..Wesley...I don’t know you and no matter what you say, you certainly don’t know me.  What you’re talking about is beyond top secret so I’d watch myself if I were you.  Loose talk like that can get a man in hot water.  Maybe you should pack it in and just leave me be. With that he sat back and looked across the table for a response.  It wasn’t what he thought it would be.  Wesley just smiled, then he enjoyed a short chuckle to himself.  Finally he looked up, locking eyes with Richard.

Wanna play a game? 

What kind of non..... Wesley interrupted Richard before he could finish.

The game I want to play Richard is called...What if?.  Wesley left the open ended question in mid air between the two of them waiting to see if Richard would be curious enough to grab it.

What if what?. Bingo Wesley thought, natural, organic, human curiosity wins again.

"What if I was in need, on short notice, of someone who’s trained and taken part in moon missions, and is current on all the technology necessary to get a capsule from here to the far side of the moon near or round about the night terminus?  Would you be such a fella?". Wesley calmly sipped at his beer again unaware of just how looney toons he sounded.

"What part of cancelled  do you not understand, mister?  There are no more trips to the moon left on the schedule, it’s been cleared out". This was really becoming more and more pointless Richard thought. 

"What if I wasn’t talking about flying with NASA?". This caught Richard off guard for a second as his mind raced to the one true fact everyone knew, there were only two countries currently engaged in the space race.  Richard almost jumped out of his seat.  He looked around quickly to see if anyone was paying close attention to their conversation before replying in a controlled quiet voice.

Let me tell you right now, if you’re some kind of undercover Russian plant trying to get me to somehow betray NASA or backdoor you into a facility, then we have an appointment right now in the alley out back. 

Wesley simply shook his head, ignoring the implied threat he reached into his pocket to retrieve a small single piece of paper.  Placing in front of Richard with a nudge of his finger on the corner saying.

Read this.....it will all make sense. Richard impatiently snatched up the paper, opening it up to read it.

Gordo,

The bearer of this note is to be considered to be acting under the full authority of NASA, The US government, and the president of the United States.  Take him seriously this is your last chance to get there buddy so take it.

Steve

Stephen Cox was the current mission director for NASA.  He had been rejected during the first phase of Apollo selections.  He had instead gone into the operations side of things.  Taking part in overseeing half a dozen early missions.  No one in management but him would ever call Richard....Gordo.  And Richard never addressed him as Stephen, it was always Steve.  The note seemed legit.

O kay, I’ll bite.  What’s next?

Wesley stood up from the table gesturing for Richard to follow him to the door.  Once outside Wesley walked to an ominous looking large black sedan with rear tinted windows.  Richard was sure he’d never seen this make of car before, it was some sort of European vehicle.  A man stood by, apparently having waited the entire time Wesley was inside holding the door to the car open in anticipation of his eventual return.  Following his inviting hand wave Richard entered the car first followed by Wesley.  When the door closed and the car started moving Richard turned to face Wesley.

Where are we going?

To a small airport nearby to catch a short helicopter ride.  While we ride I wanted to first ask you a few questions then maybe I can show you a few photos.  First things first.  What..if anything, do you know about what happened exactly during the Apollo 8 mission?

The Apollo 8 mission was the first Apollo mission to the moon.  No Astronauts landed but Frank Borman, Bill Andrews, and Jim Lovell made ten orbits around the moon as part of an initial survey for future landing sites and testing of the effects of the moon’s gravity on the Apollo spacecraft.  Frank had heard some whispers about this mission, none first hand, but still there were rumours, Richard decided to play it coy.

I mean who hasn’t, it was a great mission.  We did what we wanted to do and beat the Russians there to boot.  Why do you ask?.  Wesley paused for a second before replying.

"hmmmm.....okay...so you’ve heard nothing?  Nothing at all?  Come on you had to have heard something".

Richard knew there were many secrets inside NASA, and the fact that Astronauts came from the air force, Navy or Marines meant compartmentalized information was a definite possibility.  But still, people, even highly trained and disciplined ones like his fellow space travellers eventually gossiped.  He’d heard about it in vague unclear terms.

Well, I may have heard a rumour about some kind of bootleg tape of Apollo 8 audio broadcasts floating around.  Way I heard it, there is an extra few seconds of broadcast that never reached Mission Control but did somehow find the ears and recording devices of a few amateur ham operators.  Would that be what you might be referring to?  While not being particularly close with the crew from 8’ he was aware of some highly excited, overheard conversations, by some of the comms people on the discovery of these ham tapes.  Wesley began nodding his head vigorously.

Yes!...Exactly.  Do you recall the context of those missing seconds?

"No not really, I only ever heard that they might exist, nothing more.  Why?  What does this have to do with anything?". Richard often wondered about the other missions, what they saw, what experiences they had that didn’t make it into official records.  Typically though, different crews did not share anything that wasn’t strictly mission or safety oriented.  Every crew was in competition with the other crews in the current set up of NASA. 

I’ll answer that question with another.  Do you remember the press conference after Apollo 11 came home?. Of course he did, Richard thought, he’d been home at the time watching it live on T.V. like everyone else was.  Looking at Armstrong sitting there all he could think was,  for a guy who just made history he sure looked like someone just told him his favourite pet died.

"Yeah, now that you mention it they did seem a little off.  It was like they were none too happy to be there and all three of them were the just now current, most famous humans on planet earth.  What was their problem anyway?". As Richard finished asking his question Wesley reached across his body to a newish