Posts Tagged ‘Aliens’

There was a sudden wash of sensation, a wave that traveled through the President’s body and made him shiver slightly as all the stress of the situation suddenly melted away. He wanted to panic, knowing full well that this wasn’t a natural feeling, but the ability to panic simply wasn’t there anymore. Everything was simple, cold, logical.
He turned to look at the other leaders at the table and saw similar reactions happening in the English Prime Minister, the Russian and French Presidents, even the Saudi could be seen arching his back awkwardly as doubtlessly that same chill that he’d just experienced crawled up his spine.
“Everyone stop,” the President said. “The food has been drugged.”
All eyes went to the plates in front of them, calm and cold, then to the American.
“I dare say, I think you’re right,” the Englishman said. “What is the meaning of this?”
As though on queue, the door opened and men in suits began to enter the room. At first, it was easy to mistake them for the American Secret Service, each wearing a black suit, sunglasses and an earpiece, but it was their apparent leader that gave them away.
The man who entered in the middle of the dozen bodies was diminutive, no more than four feet tall, clad in the same black suit as the others, accented with a black woolen overcoat and wide brimmed fidora that concealed his features. The briefcase in his hand seemed to be nearly half his size.
“What is meaning of this,” the Russian demanded, flatly and unable to muster his usual bravado.
The suited men retrieved a chair and a small folding table, setting them up in the middle of the delegation without a sound for the tiny man to sit and set his briefcase down.
“This,” the small man began in a voice that seemed to resonate all on its own. “This is an unfortunate necessity.”
The world leaders murmured quietly among themselves.
“Explain yourself sir,” the Englishman demanded.
The briefcase clicked open as the short man spoke, his hands pulling out manilla folders that were then distributed among the delegates by his larger counterparts.
“I represent an organization which, until August of 1974, was a clandestine but essential part of your governments. We are in charge of handling affairs outside the scope of your offices, but thanks to the actions of one drunken president showing off privileged intelligence to his actor friend, determined it best until now to remain behind the scenes.”
The short mans features had been obscured by his wide brimmed hat, but as he removed it the room went so silent you could hear a feather fall.
His eyes were almond shaped and too large for any human, strange bone ridges under the skin make his eyebrows jut out, his nose was so small it was scarcely even there at all.
“What are you,” asked the French President.
“A hybrid. Part human, part what you would call ‘gray alien’,” the hybrid said matter of factly.
The room chuckled weakly.
“This is nonsense, you expect us to believe that you’re some kind of alien hybrid working for a secret organization that exists outside of our governments,” the American said through his weak laughter.
The small hybrid did not share their amusement.
‘If I wasn’t, then how can you all hear me now?’ The words came without speech, every person in the room hearing the words even though his mouth never moved.
The laughter stopped.
“Why drug us,” the Russian asked.
“Because humans are irrational and violent,” the hybrid stated. “When confronted by something you don’t understand, one of your first reactions are either to combat it or flee from it. Fight or flight. I needed you all composed for this meeting.”
“And this meeting regards…” the Englishman probed.
“In July of 1947, a craft crashed on your planet. It was not the first time, but it was the first time there was a survivor. When his people came to collect him, they entered negotiations with various governments and created The Accord, a treaty between governments of Earth and those visitors. In exchange for advanced technologies, our guests would be allowed open access to the airspace over the member countries as well as the freedom to…borrow…members of the population for study and conduct various other experiments,” the hybrid said, his tone very plain and matter of fact about the entire affair.
“So, why the secrecy? Why were you only involved with us until 1974,” the American asked.
The hybrids unusually long fingers drummed on the table idly.
“Because Richard Nixon revealed secrets about us to his friend, Jackie Gleason. We couldn’t risk additional exposure, and so we simply stopped informing leaders that we existed,” the small man said, now looking a little weary. “Gentlemen, madam, I’m not here to give you a history lesson.”
The hybrids fingers steepled.
“Part of The Accord states that you are forbidden from firing on any visiting craft or autopsying any bodies discovered. Until a week ago, we had managed to insure that this clause was never breached. But somehow, our orders were…overruled…and a craft was fired upon, crashed, and it’s crew are now missing.”
His hands went to the briefcase once more, gingerly pulling out what could only be some type of alien firearm and set it on the table in front of him.
“My question, lady and gentlemen, is simple. Which one of you idiots just started an Interstellar War?”

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Hey people, so we are going to try an experiment.

As mentioned in a previous post, I’m going to try my hand at a epistolary novel. I’m not going to give you any spoilers, except that it is going to be sci-fi/survival/horror based.
Any time you see a post marked [Storm Wardens], make sure you check back periodically throughout the day for additional edits throughout the day as our intrepid hero chronicles his journey.

Basically, this is something I’m going to be writing and dictating in my downtime while I’m at work. Partly because I want to, partly because it’ll keep me sane on super slow days.

So, remember, if you see a post from me marked [Storm Wardens] to check back frequently to keep abreast of the story as it unfolds!

We heard it again today, that low droning noise that knocked out our communication with Huston for hours on end.

Humans truly have no scope of the sheer size of the universe, nor for the unfathomable ocean of blackness that stretches between heavenly bodies.

Things that seem so close, even within our own solar system, can take months or even years to reach by any man made craft. But when the human mind is finally confronted with the vast abyss between planets, and then try to compare that to the virtual infinite night between stars, we just can’t process it.

We, as a species, can not fathom being so small.

That is why when we first saw them in 2009, we couldn’t understand. The first time we saw them, truly saw them, was in imagery from the Cassini and Hubble telescopes. An infrared silhouette just outside the outer most ring of Saturn. We called it an ‘outgassing’ of one of the larger bodies within the rings, dust and ice refracting light and causing the line just outside the rings. Then the Helio Observatory caught another image in 2012. A shadow, just on the rim of the sun, sucking in plasma like a vacuum. We tried to reason it away, calling it a ‘coronal cavity’ or ‘plasma cooling event’. We could only see a slight edge, and already we knew the shadow was bigger than our entire world. We buried our heads, reasoned it away, and never thought of it again. The objects we were seeing were bigger than anything conceivable to the human mind, things bigger than entire continents. Bigger than our Moon. Bigger than Earth.

It was…impossible.

In 2014, the Europa Races began. It was quiet at first, but word began to slip that we were bypassing our old fixation with our closest neighbor, Mars, in favor of going to one of the frozen moons of Jupiter. Over the next decade, we saw a surge in the dwindling space program. The Second Cold War was grinding into motion, pitting us against the Allied Eastern Bloc of Russia, China, Syria and Iran.

We saw them again in our own sky, or at least their shadow, when the moon went dark for fifteen minutes. Again, we scrambled for a rational explanation. A massive, previously undetected asteroid crossing at just the right angle. A coronal mass ejection that darkened the sun just enough.
Something.
Anything.

China was the first to launch, the combined manpower of a million workers with the greatest minds of the rest of the Allied Eastern Bloc propelled them into the heavens and streaking towards Jupiter. The world watched, every day, as the AEB broadcast the reports and messages of the crew. It would take them two years to reach Jupiter, but it never arrived. The signal, terminating midstream, eighteen months into the journey.

We found the chinese ship yesterday. Their craft hidden, unmarked and undamaged, on the other side of Ganymede.
There was no one inside.

We can only assume their encounters have been similar to ours. I don’t know if you can hear any of this, if it will ever reach you, but I have to try.

We are so very small.

We caught our first real look at them, a clear image, last week after we lost contact. They were rising out of Jupiter’s atmosphere, the wisps of gas clouds leaving tendrils that seemed to stick to the hull. When the light catches it just right, it twinkles in colors that I have no words to describe.

I can scarcely say whether they notice us at all, or if they do, if we are but little more than an amusing afterthought as one would have looking at a puppy or even an insect that was investigating us. How dim and simple we must seem, little more than grunting animals that have learned to hurl themselves brutally into the void where these beings glide and dance.

I have seen them stop, suddenly, while traveling at speeds we can not fathom. Turn and spin in ways that defy every known law.

How can we even begin to dream that we could, even one day, be likened unto them? How can we dare?

Hollister cut his own throat this morning after rambling of how we were trespassing among Gods. McKenzie hasn’t left the barracks in two days, saying that even glimpsing them causes her eyes to throb and a stabbing pain in her temples. She talks in her sleep, as though being asked questions, but I can rarely make out her murmured words. Is this what happened to the Chinese? Did those brave men and women simply go mad at this revelation, or was it something else? Did they take them, and now realize exactly how truly simple we are and now do not even bother to acknowledge us?

I’ve been staring at one of them for hours now, here in the command module. It has simply been sitting, silent and unmoving. We feel no pull of gravity, the nearby moons and stellar debris seem as oblivious to its presence as it is to theirs.

Is it even metal? The twinkle and shimmer of those bizarre colors seem almost crystalline, yet the shell is opaque and seems as solid as  the moons it hovers around.

I get the feeling they are looking at us now. Assessing. Wondering. As though they somehow know I’m talking about them, like when your ears burn when someone elsewhere speaks ill of you. Can they understand awe? Do they even have a concept for it anymore? Could we even communicate with such beings? Would we truly want to? We have been trying. Broadcasting sequences of prime numbers, complex mathematics, patterns of lights, even ‘Hello, we come in peace’, but we are only ever answered in silence.

I’ve been so lost in this that I didn’t notice the warning lights. The proximity warning. One is directly above us now, maybe only thirty feet from our ship. We felt nothing as it approached. It’s like I could reach out and touch it, as though we were hung from the bottom of the world like a toy rocket. But now I feel a sense of dread. An annoyance at we tiny things who dare to look where we ought not.

I think it won’t be long unt-