Polarian-Denebian War 5: Our Ancestors From the Future Read online

  “Come on, Mark, don’t look so worried,” Professor Harrington said, pouring another glass of whiskey for his old friend.

  “I’d like to see you in my place, Reed,” the officer grumbled, sitting in his Air Force uniform decorated with his rank, Command Pilot: two blue wings framing the stylized American insignia topped by a five-pointed star circled with a crown of leaves. “Do you know that by abandoning my post I can be indicted by the war council? Court Martials are no joking matter!”

  “I know, Mark, but you belong like me to the Earth-Polarian Alliance. By obeying Zimko’s orders you’ll be serving your country better than by remaining here in your daily routine. Plus, our Polarian friend’s message suggested that our stay in Agharti would not be long. Afterward you’ll be brought back to Muroc7 and you can rejoin your unit that will have received government orders following the official contact of the Polarians with Washington. Given our personalities, you in the secret services and me in science, we’ll be promoted to important positions in the Alliance. Only the regional investigators and correspondents studying flying saucers will be left in place and receive orders from the head of their organization. For us, you have to understand, it’s very different.”

  “I know all that, Reed, but I’m military and a superior officer in the Special Services to boot. Discipline is something I can’t break.”

  “Does that mean you’re dropping the whole thing?” Harrington asked.

  “Of course not!” the officer raised his voice, torn by conflicting feelings. “I’m going to set things straight with my boss, General Miller.”

  “But Zimko’s orders are confidential for the moment. No one is supposed to know that Earthlings have been colluding for years with these highly evolved beings from another planet.”

  “Listen, Prof, General Miller, the Commander in Chief of the western experimental bases, knows that flying saucers exist and that they come from the system around the Pole Star. And you don’t know that. Besides, wasn’t he there when Daisy landed, the first US rocket to come back to Earth after exploring the Moon?8 Didn’t he examine the films showing the extraordinary Polarian base set up on our satellite in the Aristarchus crater? And finally, wasn’t he convinced of the authenticity of the photographs in which our entire team is pictured in spacesuits with three Polarians in front of the squadron of flying saucers lined up on the astrodrome outside the dome?”

  “Sure,” the mathematician agreed, “but he won’t look kindly on an inferior officer, even a Commander of the Special Service, knowing about the future and having contact with Polarians while he remains in the dark.”

  “Well, he won’t go after me. And I think he’ll…”

  The sound of the telephone ringing interrupted him. Harrington picked it up and after a moment held it out to his friend, “It’s for you.”

  “Commander Taylor here.”

  “Hello Taylor, this is General Miller. I called Muroc where your second-in-command informed me you were at Harrington’s.”

  Mark Taylor leaned over so that his friend could listen in.

  “I have a funny feeling,” General Miller continued in his deep voice, “that you’re about to ask for special permission for an unspecified leave. Am I wrong, Taylor?”

  Taken aback by the sudden declaration he coughed and stammered, “Um… um, General, I recognize that…”

  “Granted,” the general broke in. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements with your base. Have a good time and… bon voyage!”

  The General Miller’s hearty laugh echoed in the phone before a click put on end to it—he had hung up.

  “Now that’s something else,” Taylor huffed in astonishment as he hung up the phone.

  “So, everything’s following the well-orchestrated plan,” Professor Harrington observed. “If it wasn’t, Zimko would surprise me. Here you are rid of your fears and anxiety. You won’t be abandoning your post since your big boss just gave you an ‘unlimited’ leave!”

  The officer gulped down his whiskey, wrung his hands and grabbed the telephone, beaming with joy. “Finally, this damn official contact is going to take place! I’ll alert Kurt Streiler, Rudy Clark and all our brave partners from Operation Aphrodite!” He looked at his watch and as he dialed the first number he added, “They’ll have seven hours to get to the site chosen by Zimko where the spaceship will pick us all up.”

  The Guyancourt airfield, lacking hangars and control tower because it was very rarely used, was a stretch of deserted land with clumps of grass. The night was warm and the moon, high up in the sky, shined brightly on the group formed of Kariven, Yuln, their son and their friends smoking nervously next to their cars.

  Tom, who was enjoying immensely this nocturnal outing in the country, was jumping around in the grass despite his mother’s scolding as she tried to keep him by her side.

  Robert Angelvin and his wife Jenny were talking with her father, Fred Reynal, Director of the Investigative Committee that had been studying UFOs in France for years.

  Michel Dormoy and his wife Doniatchka were chatting with two of Reynal’s investigators who were supposed to drive the cars back to Paris after they left.

  “Ten o’clock,” Doniatchka said. “The spaceship should be in sight.”

  “They were delayed over Russia where MIGs have been patrolling constantly since this morning,” Yuln explained. “I just picked up the pilots’ thoughts. They won’t be long now. Being Wolfian—meaning from a planet in the solar system that you call Wolf 359—they aren’t telepathic but can communicate psychically with us Polarians thanks to a mechano-psychic amplifier.”

  Fifteen minutes later a fluorescent green disc appeared in the sky and came down quickly with a strange, pendulum swinging motion and landed softly on the ground not far from those waiting there.

  A hundred feet in diameter, the spaceship’s green glow slowly faded after it had landed. Between the three landing spheres a platform came out attached to two telescopic tubes and standing on which was a small creature dressed in a gray spacesuit. Around four feet tall, the being whose body was hidden inside the suit waddled toward the group.

  Yuln stepped forward, speaking into its mind, I’m happy to meet you Ruanoor. My friends and I are ready to follow you.

  The tiny being pressed a series of buttons on its belt and a voice came out speaking French, “I’m very honored to be able to offer my Fimn’has to the sister of our venerated chief, Zimko.”

  “But… you speak French,” Yuln was surprised.

  “Zimko decided around a k’bog ago to teach us a few languages spoken on this planet in view of the future contact with its inhabitants. All the members of the Space Commandos, Wolfians, Polarians and Centaurians, are now able to understand and speak French, English, German, Russian and Spanish. Some can even speak many more languages.”

  Everyone listened, pleasantly surprised, to this creature from another world expressing himself in perfectly correct French. Not wanting to look too obviously curious, they tried not to stare at his big, bulging, vertical eyes in a furry black face that the transparent Xoning of his round helmet let them see.

  Kariven, Angelvin, Dormoy and their friends said goodbye to Reynal and his two investigators, then headed for the spaceship behind Ruanoor. The platform carried them into the body of the ship that did not wait long to take off, resuming its weird green luminescence. In the cockpit, leaning over the screen, they saw the three automobiles get smaller along with those they had left with the mission to prepare the people for extraordinary events.

  The air in the spaceship had been treated for the Earthlings for this voyage, so Ruanoor posted at the controls with his spacesuit on. At his side was Woodna, his Wolfian compatriot and assistant working as space radar specialist. She examined the radar screen with her right eye while her left, bulging curiously from its socket, watched the newcomers whom she had had just welcomed.

  At 3,000 mph the Fimn’has sped eastward at more than nine miles high. At this altitude and speed no cit
y was discernible. Only the outlines of mountains or big rivers appeared briefly through holes in the cloud layers that drifted over Eastern Europe.

  Ruanoor fiddled with a wavelength selector and caught the Soviet network. Doniatchka Dormoy saw and heard a televised speech by Marshal Gorochenko, Chief of the USSR’s armed forces.

  Her friends saw her suddenly turn pale and even though they did not understand a word of the speech they knew that it was the cause of her emotion. None of them dared to question her, afraid that she would miss something that would keep her from telling them the whole meaning of the whole speech—quite violent, judging by the tense face of Marshal Gorochenko and by his explosive voice accompanied by forceful gestures on the screen.

  The supreme chief of the red army ranted for ten minutes and concluded with a menacing attitude. He stood up and disappeared to be replaced on the screen by a speaker whom Doniatchka turned away from. In a flat voice she translated:

  “Gorochenko, the spokesman for the Supreme Soviet, just confirmed with belligerent threats the official protest of Moscow against Washington at five o’clock, Moscow time. In the terms of this protest Gorochenko reproached the United States Air Force for shooting down three soviet fighter jets over northern Siberia. These jets were pulverized in mid-air by the Circle Wing prototype whose successful trials the TV revealed today.

  “Marshal Gorochenko is calling for the execution of the guilty parties and demands immediate reparation from the American government. Moreover, he says that if another incident occurs diplomatic relations will be broken off and he confirms that the Soviet Air Force also has a Circle Wing as powerful if not more so than the American’s. There’s no need to highlight the poorly veiled threat of this revelation.”

  Everyone looked at each other, appalled by the abrupt surge in international tension. Suddenly Zimko’s face appeared on the screen.

  “No!” he shouted. “The Americans did not shoot down the soviet MIGs. They fired on my Fimn’has after I picked up Petkov and Zavkom in the death camp. The jets chased us. They entered our negative gravito-magnetic field and were instantly torn apart. There were witnesses on the ground who reported to the Russian authorities all the details of what they took for aerial combat. By a stroke of fate the Air Force had just announced to the public the existence of a long-range Circle Wing. The plane looks vaguely like a Fimn’has, so the Russians concluded that the Circle Wing had violated their air space and being surprised by the fighter jets had shot them down.

  “This unfortunate incident, however, will have no serious consequences because in 24 hours I will have ordered the official contact with the Earthlings on both sides of the iron curtain. I will explain personally to the Supreme Soviet about the causes of the accident and will thus erase all suspicions of our unjustly accused American friends. Consequently, after our peaceful intervention, the cold war will end.”

  Forty-five hundred miles from Earth, in a small reconnaissance spaceship, two green creatures with scaly skin and toothless, turtle-like faces, were running their clawed fingers over the electronic keyboard of a viewing device. On the round, convex screen appeared a being identical to them: a green, lizard-skinned pseudo-man.

  “Og’nka here,” one of the two pilots said, “on board the patroller Zign’og of the Space Freedom Forces of Omynk. We were able to intercept a televised message from Zimko, our implacable enemy, who said he was about to get in contact with the primitives of planet 3 of this solar system. In a very short time a space squadron should be approaching this world where two continents are fighting with each other. An insignificant incident—three fighter jets accidentally destroyed by the magnetic field of Zimko’s spaceship—will give us the opportunity to escalate the discord on the planet and thereby compromise Zimko’s chance of success. Here’s what we recommend immediately…”

  In the Fimn’has that was transporting them to Agharti, Kariven and his friends, reassured by Zimko’s speech, had no idea that the televised message had been intercepted by an enemy patrol.

  The Denebian monsters were now speeding through outer space to their secret base on an asteroid between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter.

  CHAPTER III

  From all the countries on the globe where they had just boarded the representative members of the Earth-Polarian Alliance, 20 flying saucers were converging on Asia. Flying silently at 23 miles altitude the spaceships met over Everest and in triangular formation headed northeast into eastern Tibet.

  On the viewer screens the landscape scrolled by rapidly, chaotic, mountainous, rent by deep valleys with snow-covered slopes or barred by glaciers.

  To the north of the Kham province, the Fimn’has flew over Djogar-Tong and around 60 miles from Barka-Tala they stopped, hovering over a twin chain of mountains with jagged peaks, a few of which pierced the thick blanket of clouds.

  The austere and Dantean landscape exuded savage grandeur. Absolutely isolated from all trails taken by the Sherpas or Buddhist pilgrims, this mountainous region could go for centuries without seeing a human footprint on the ground. The Tibetans avoided it with a particularly superstitious fear: dreadful legends spread from Kouen-Lun to Assam about the mysterious mountains, the home of “Gods from the Heavens”.

  Only a few contemplative hermits, the Gomchen, could nod their head with an enigmatic smile when a traveler questioned them on the truth of these legends. Nothing in the world could make these old ascetics reveal the exact location of Agharti, the underground city where the King of the World lived alongside the Polarians, known then as the “Dragons of Wisdom”9.

  From the unmoving squadron one spaceship broke away and slowly descended diagonally—guided by radar—through the thick clouds sitting on top of the mountains. The ship came out vertically and hovered over a huge egg-shaped rock around 250 feet in diameter. Imperceptibly the rock trembled, pivoted and revealed a circular opening around 150 feet wide. Its smooth walls looked metallic and emitted a blue light, dropping deep down into the heart of the mountain.

  The spaceship started moving again, swinging slightly, and all of a sudden it dropped straight down into the gaping hole. Right behind it, one by one, the other Fimn’has came out of the clouds and followed the leader. When the last disc was gone the gigantic oval rock pivoted back and silently closed the access to the secret base.

  After a dizzying 3,000-foot descent, the 20 spaceships streamed out through an opening in the pit that emptied into a huge, artificial cavern, over 2,000 feet high and twice as big in diameter. Its super-metal ceiling, coated with a blue glazed material, spread a light like the day over a fantastic pyramid city: Agharti, the Polarian base established on Earth unbeknownst to humans. The buildings were entirely metal, pierced with countless xoning windows, constructed in terraces that connected to each other via spiral airways. Soaring arches, busy with transparent, spherical vehicles, spanned the buildings in a harmonious, multi-colored maze.

  Around the city was a vast astrodrome where hundreds of spaceships were lined up, flying saucers to the Earthlings and Fimn’has (their real name) to the Polarians.

  From the 20 ships that had just landed a crowd of Earthlings of all nationalities came out. Among them were Kariven, his wife, their son, Tommy, the Dormoys, the Angelvins, Professor Harrington, Commander Mark Taylor, Lieutenant Rudy Clark and the physicist Kurt Streiler.

  Yuln looked tenderly at Agharti, the unforgettable secret city where she had stayed with her brother and their fellow Polarians before meeting the man who would become her husband.

  With a word from Ruanoor, the Wolfian pilot who had brought together the squadron over the Himalayas, the Earthlings followed him over the path leading into the city. On the airway passing between the terraced, metal buildings the Polarians, Wolfians and Centaurians—the tiny creatures, three feet tall with orange human faces and wearing spacesuits—whom they met greeted them by raising their right hand. Their faces glowed with great joy at the prospect of brotherly contact between their people and the human race.


  The hundred Earthlings were brought into a semi-circular amphitheater of Babylonian proportions.

  At a kind of long, metal table full of buttons, dials and multi-colored, blinking lights and surmounted by ten television screens Zimko, the Chief of the Space Commandos appointed for this solar system by the Supreme Council of the Federated Worlds, was waiting for them. At his sides were seated the chiefs of the Lunar, Martian, Venusian, Jovian, Uranian and Plutonian bases, flanked by superior officers of the Wolfian and Centaurian races. These latter did not breathe the same air as their Polarian allies who had human morphology and physiology, so they were in their spacesuits.

  “Welcome to Agharti, Earthling Friends,” Zimko greeted them raising his right hand. “Some of you are coming here for the first time. Others have already been to this base, such as Kariven, Dormoy, Angelvin and their wives who are the French representatives of the Earth-Polarian Alliance. You won’t stay long in Agharti. 24 hours more or less during which time you will study together how we plan to make official and public contact with your fellow Earthlings who still don’t know of our existence.”

  Turning to a tall Polarian wearing a black bodysuit, his thumbs casually stuck in his belt, the Man from Outer Space added, “I want to introduce you to Nheg Honky, Commander in Chief of the Information Services of the Federated Worlds, who will tell you the decisive reasons for our anticipated arrival on your planet.”

  Honky spoke for more than an hour, first telling the history of the Space Commandos, then giving his audience the information they would need to present to their governments when the Polarians made contact. He showed how this combined action would allow the heads of the terrestrial powers to judge the good intentions of the “Man from Outer Space” and greatly facilitate their communication.

  After he had finished Zimko stood up. “Earthling Friends, do any of you have any questions or remarks? Any suggestions?”

  Colonel Zavkom and the physicist Petkov in their dark red bodysuits stood up together. The accelerated bio-regenerator treatment had done its duty. Their muscular torsos and limbs filled out the Polarian uniform wonderfully. They looked nothing like the starved, skeletal prisoners they were in the dreadful camp of Khantangskoïe.