Shadows of the Earth (The Token Book Two), page 1
Contents
Shadows of the Earth
Copyright ©
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PROLOGUE
PART ONE: A CHANGE OF PLANS
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
PART TWO: REVELATIONS
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2
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12
13
PART THREE: THE DEPARTMENT
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2
3
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6
7
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10
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12
PART FOUR: DECISIONS
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2
3
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12
EPILOGUE
Warmth of the Sun (The Token Book Three)
Copyright © 2024 Nathan Hystad
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover art: J Caleb Design
Edited by: Christen Hystad
Edited by: Scarlett R Algee
Proofed and Formatted by: BZ Hercules
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PROLOGUE
Mare Serenitatis (Sea of Serenity)
December 8th, 1972
Commander Peter Gunn paused to gaze at the blinking lights of their command and service module passing overhead. He’d trained for this, but nothing could have prepared him for being grounded on the Moon. The lunar module, Pelican, sat a short distance away, while Colin Swanson assembled the flag nearby.
“Everything good, Commander?” Fred Trell’s voice held a hint of anxiety. He figured Trell was disappointed to brave the stars, only to stay in orbit. Gunn downplayed the experience while Helios circled them.
“The specimen collection is coming along. We’ll secure the next few core samples and pack it up,” he told Trell.
Swanson had left the flag upright, but was bounding farther from their position.
“Swanson, where are you going?” he asked.
“I see something, Commander,” he said, the voice slightly garbled.
“Don’t venture too far. We have work to finish,” he warned.
Peter rolled his cart, bringing the carefully selected rocks, regolith, and core samples toward the lander. He peered at the Earth, a marble-sized beauty in the distance. He thought about his son, daughter, and delightful wife, glad he’d have more time with them after all he’d put them through this past year.
He loved being an astronaut, but they were more important.
Peter spent several minutes loading supplies, and searched for Colin. Swanson was an affable man, with too much curiosity for his own good. Peter knew he’d get them in trouble from the moment he’d first met Colin, and while they were close friends, it was this kind of carelessness he’d cautioned his superiors at NASA about.
“Pelican, this is Helios, requesting updates.” Trell was relentless in his communications.
“Helios, I’ve got you loud and clear. We’re loading the cart, and—”
“…holy…spac…don…ouch.” Colin’s voice crackled through his helmet.
“Helios, did you hear that?” Peter asked, tapping his facemask. “Swanson, come in.” He didn’t receive a reply. A hissing sound penetrated his ears, but no words. This was typical of Swanson, abandoning his post to explore an unsanctioned region. They’d set direct parameters, and…
Peter spotted his counterpart, two hundred meters north. Colin Swanson was still, his white spacesuit contrasting with the darkness of space beyond. He was perched on a rocky outcropping, staring down.
“Colin?”
“Peter, come here.”
Peter took long strides, half-floating to Colin, and slowed his approach, gathering his balance. “What are you doing? We have to—”
Peter spied the glowing triangle in Colin’s grip, and had the urge to cuff it free. “Where did you find that?”
Colin pointed with his other hand, which was noticeably shaking.
Peter followed the direction and gasped at the sight. A black oddity hovered above the surface, an impossible fog lifting from the edges before vanishing. “What is this?”
The triangle grew brighter when Colin stepped toward the anomaly. Peter stretched for his crewmate, but Colin was out of reach. “I have to know ...”
Peter glanced at the lander, then at the shadowy hole. “Not on my watch. Get to the rendezvous. We’re leaving.”
Colin disregarded the order. He loomed near the abnormality and crouched, waving an arm through the leaking mist. He gazed at Peter, the reflection of the dark blotch inhibiting his face shield. “I need to find out.”
“Find out what? Quit messing around and head to the lander.”
Colin ignored him and moved closer. Peter rushed him, tackling his friend. He attempted to push Colin past the black fog, but it seemed to stretch, enveloping them.
Day became night, and Peter ceased to exist.
PART ONE
A CHANGE OF PLANS
1
Waylen put his cell phone into his pocket and cursed.
“Problem?” Assistant Director Ben asked.
“Nope. No issues,” Waylen said. “I’m standing in the laboratory of a weapons manufacturer, whom we’ve just arrested. I don’t have the tokens, and I think the civilians you instructed me to stay clear of are in possession of them.”
“Then you shouldn’t have any difficulty getting them back.” Ben approached the center of the lab, where the hexagonal platform remained behind the clear, shielded walls. “He obviously believed in the Delta's power.”
“Don’t you?” Waylen asked him.
Assistant Director Ben rubbed his bleary eyes and sighed. “I don’t know what the truth is. All I have is my experience with the token. They’ve ordered me to cut you loose.”
“You’re firing me?” Waylen blurted.
“Nothing so drastic.”
“Then what?”
“That’s it, Assistant Director,” an unfamiliar voice called from the entrance.
“That’s the guy from the meeting in DC,” Waylen said quietly.
“Waylen, I’d like to introduce you to Theodore Belleville.”
Waylen watched the man in the expensive suit enter, hands clasped behind him as he examined the laboratory. “It’s bigger than I expected.” He didn’t try to shake with Waylen.
“Theodore works for the Secretary of Defense.”
“Indirectly,” Belleville said.
“How does one work indirectly…” Waylen stopped when the guy motioned at Ben.
“You can leave. Thank you for your time and the FBI’s efforts to secure the asset.”
Assistant Director Ben made eye contact with Waylen. “Good luck, Brooks. You have my number if you ever need anything.” No one spoke while Ben’s footsteps echoed through the cavernous lab, and Theodore only acknowledged Waylen when the hatch sealed shut.
Theodore knocked on the clear barrier surrounding the platform. “How much do you know about alien life?”
“Not a lot, sir.”
“I understand your reluctance to discuss the topic. Believe me, I’ve been ridiculed in the upper echelons of our great country’s leadership. When I approached Jacob about starting the organization, he was even more resistant.”
Waylen thought about Ben’s comments, and the fact Theo was talking to him at this very moment. His gut told him it wasn’t a good career shift. “Organization?”
“What would happen if aliens set foot on our soil?”
“Hopefully, our pathogens would kill them. Sir,” he added.
“The thing I admire most about Leo Monroe is his confidence that there’s another access point for aliens to travel to Earth. While everyone is constantly assuming they’d fly, he warned us there could be an alternate avenue. Leo surmised they might harness wormholes. He assumed they had the ability to create portals. When he heard the astronauts from Helios 15 discovered something on the Moon, he became obsessed.”
Waylen listened while Theodore circled the platform, then stopped at the locker containing high-tech spacesuits.
“The entire facility is dedicated to defending our country,” Theodore said.
“Not the planet?”
The question got a wry
“Are you offering me a job?” Waylen asked.
“If you’ll accept. You were able to get the tokens,” he said.
“Clearly that’s not true, since I don’t have them.”
“Where are they?” Theodore asked. “I mean, it’s brilliant that you brought fakes to your meeting with Leo Monroe. I commend you on the move, but I would like to see them. Testing must begin as soon as possible.”
“I don’t know where the originals are.” Waylen wouldn’t give up Rory, Silas, and Cody so easily, not before hearing their side of the story. He was certain one of them had made the swap, and he had to understand why.
Theodore stared at Waylen. “What do you mean?”
“I thought I was in possession of the real tokens.”
Theodore clearly fought to keep his composure, but it was obvious he was on the verge of freaking out. “You’ll retrace your steps. Contact those civilians and find them.”
“What’s my title?”
“Title?”
“Who’s signing my paycheck? Do I get a badge?” Waylen asked.
“You answer to me, the Director of Operation Delta. You’ll maintain your FBI credentials, should someone ask, and your paycheck will come from the same source.”
“I want a raise,” he said.
“A raise? This is about our national security, Mr. Brooks.”
The longer he spoke with the guy, the less Waylen liked him. “I understand, but if I keep getting thrown into dangerous situations, which might eventually involve actual aliens, I should be compensated for it.”
“How much do you want?”
“What are they paying you?” Waylen asked.
Theodore’s crisp edge crumbled a bit as he laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know? I’m sure the government won’t mind you taking an additional salary. How does an extra two hundred thousand sound?”
Waylen considered the sum, and while it was a lot more than he was used to being paid, he figured Theodore wouldn’t start at the top. “Four hundred. Half upfront. If I’m going to be removed from my usual job—without a choice, I’ll remind you—then I want to ensure I’m taken care of.”
“Waylen, there’s always a choice.” Theodore pointed at the exit. “Go ahead.”
And he disliked his new boss even more. “I can leave?”
“If you do, I’ll handle the tokens. I’m sure your friends won’t mind a team of Marines dropping in.” Theodore walked away.
“I only answer to you, and I get to hire my own team.”
Theodore turned and smiled. “Deal. I want the tokens in our possession. Find them, Waylen.”
When he was alone in the laboratory, he sat at the largest desk, staring at the computer screen. There was endless data at his disposal, and Waylen couldn’t access any of it.
He texted Martina. You still around?
In the yard talking to Ben.
Five minutes later, Waylen walked up to Martina Sanchez, who’d betrayed him only days earlier, then redeemed herself a few hours ago. “I need someone on the inside. Can you be that person?”
“You’re asking me to feed you information?”
“No, but I might occasionally require some help,” he said.
“I owe you that much.” Martina waved at the last SWAT truck. “Want a ride?”
The Marines that had come with Theodore and Ben were staying to protect the facility. “Sure. I’m off to DC.”
“Why?”
He didn’t want to tell Martina that he had a date on Friday night. “To tie up some loose ends.”
“We’ll bring you to the airport,” she said.
“How about the train station?”
“Suit yourself.”
Waylen watched the gigantic building as the SWAT truck rumbled away. What had he just agreed to?
____________
“Rory, talk to us,” Silas begged. She’d returned through the Delta thirty minutes earlier, and had barely spoken two words.
The spacesuit lay in sections on the hardwood, and Rory’s hair was still plastered to her brow. “This is bad,” she finally whispered.
“How bad?” Silas checked on Cody. “Where are we with the footage?”
“The camera broke from the cold, but I’ve almost transferred the data.” Cody typed furiously on the laptop, far more concerned with whatever Rory had recorded than the woman’s well-being.
Silas touched Rory’s wrist, and she flinched, her expression blank. “What did you find up there?”
“Got it!” Cody proclaimed, and plopped down between Silas and Rory, setting his computer on the coffee table. “Let’s see what spooked our friend.”
The camera was shaky, but the picture remained clear. “That’s the lander gear,” Cody said, narrating her venture. Rory’s eyes were fixed on the screen, but she didn’t comment. It showed the Earth, far in the distance, and Rory’s voice cracked in the speakers. “Is this real?” She sat up straighter after the question, and looked stronger.
The next ten minutes was her wandering through the site, tracking their progress. She paused eventually, the camera angling to the surface. There were footprints, men’s boots from the Helios mission. It took Silas a moment to grasp that Rory had actually been on the Moon. This had been filmed only a short time ago, making it difficult to comprehend how Rory was presently sitting beside them on the couch. No wonder she was acting so strange.
Rory let out a whimper, and for a second, Silas wasn’t sure if it came from the woman, the speakers, or both.
“What the hell was that?” Cody paused, then rewound the footage.
“I didn’t see it.”
Cody zoomed, and they all stared at the screen. The imprint differed from the boots. It was longer by a couple of inches, two toes, and another appendage at the rear of the foot. He pictured a talon, but that couldn’t be right.
Rory raced to the Shadow, bouncing along the Moon, and the camera cut off.
Cody flipped the computer shut and rested his head in his palms. “What is happening?”
“Rory, you’re safe now.” Silas took her hand. “You’re back in Loon Lake.”
She blinked and met his gaze. “Silas, there was something else on the Moon.”
They focused on the Delta at the same time, and Rory beat him to it, tearing at the individual tokens until they were all separated. The Shadow lingering in the living room dissipated until there was no sign of the anomaly. The room was instantly heated by a few degrees.
“Now it’s obvious why they wanted to keep the Delta quiet,” Silas said.
“Maybe the prints came later.”
“What?” Rory asked Cody.
“Think about it. What if the aliens showed up after the Delta left? It would make sense that they’d send someone to investigate,” Cody said.
Silas had all but forgotten the journal, and hopped to his feet. “I might be able to shed some light.”
He rushed down the hall, grabbing the book from the bedside stand. Silas hadn’t dived in, not wanting to think about the tokens any longer, but now he didn’t have a choice in the matter.
“What’s that?” Cody asked.
“Grandpa Gunn’s journal.”
“Seriously? Why were you holding out on us?”
“I wasn’t doing anything of the sort. You showed up unannounced and sent Rory to the Moon. When did you expect me to do any reading?” Silas flipped through the pages, finding entries dating back to a year before takeoff. The handwriting was fluent and coherent, easy to discern, unlike his own. Silas went to a later entry, one after their return to Earth.
“I’ll never be the same. Colin either. Fred will recover, because he didn’t go. He hasn’t seen what we have, and while Colin and I described it, Fred doesn’t understand exactly what transpired. We lost two hours. That’s what they told us. NASA believes our story about faulty communications, which makes our job much simpler. Whatever this is must stay buried. Forever.” Silas ran a finger along the page, noticing the writing seemed more erratic, the penmanship deeper and less curved. It was the first sign of the changes after the Moon trip.
