Farmer Aurora: Invasion

1. Auflage 2014
ISBN: 978-0-9904389-5-3
Verlag: Timber Creek Productions, LLC
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 250 Seiten

The reptilian race from Alpha Draconia, known as the Reptiods, return to Earth where they were once worshiped as Gods-first by the Atlantiens as Tehuti; Egypt as Thoth; Sumeria as Ea and finally in Mesoamerica as the Toltecs' Gukumatz; the Mayans Kukulcan and Quetzalcoatl by the Aztec. Lucy's team of Annunaki Watchers-Grays-fail to stop the entire Reptoid fleet inside Mars' orbit. Four of the giant T-Cruisers with their fleets of Reapers and Death Globes make it past the Tyranian Superdreadnaught Maulers and head to Earth to begin a grisly harvest of human protein from their subjects. She contacts her friend Darrell Bone in Cross, Texas and transports him into the inner sanctum of the only organization she knows of who have a chance to defeat the deadly reptilian Draconians and save Earth...The Black Eagle Force. Has the BEF met its match? Can they help the Gray Watchers in their eons of intense hatred for the malevolent Reptoids?

Autoren/Hrsg.

Farmer, Ken

Leseproben

CHAPTER ONE

LAGRANGIAN POINT 2

“This cannot be!” The telepathic blast caused Lucy’s copilot to physically turn.

“What is it, Annuna?”

“Notify Mauler 612-B Excalibur of a warp distortion between SEL2 and the Tellus satellite, Darron.”

“Impossible! We’ve never been able to open a singularity this close to a planet’s orbit,” he replied as he sent the notification when he looked at the display screen of the area between their stable point in space over a million miles outside the orbit of Earth’s moon.

“Apparently the Reptoids have made some significant advances.” One after another, giant iridescent green egg-shaped domed craft emerged from the disturbance in the very fabric of space. “They are an entirely new type of craft for them,” sent Annuna.

“And size.”

“They are armed transports.”

A fleet of twenty silver Tyranian triangle fighters swarmed like angry bees from the surface of the dark side of Earth’s moon and streaked for the half dozen Reptoid craft.

Outside the Mars orbit, a large distortion shimmered and four huge Tyranian Mauler battlecruisers emerged one at a time and flashed to encompass the green vessels in their deadly cone of annihilation with the fighters. Each silver interstellar craft was over a mile long and three-quarters of a mile wide.

This time it was different. The new Reptoid ships from the Alpha Draconis system were unaffected by the massive tractor beams from the great silver ships and the purple beams of pure energy only caused their screens to flare into the red.

“They have a new type of shield! Our beams are ineffective,” projected the commander of Mauler 612-B.

“Their force fields are cycling through the spectrum faster than we can adapt,” said the gray science officer telepathically from his station.

“Launch a barrage of Thorium torpedoes.”

“Aye.” The combat officer’s tiny gray hands flashed over his touch screen and a dozen of the ultra-deadly missiles sped toward the nearest green craft. Thousands of miles before they reached their target, the torpedoes exploded simultaneously, briefly lighting up that section of space between the Lagrangian Point 2 and the Moon like mini-suns. “No effect...they were eliminated by some type of extreme range screen unknown to us.”

“Send for two more squadrons,” ordered Lucy. “They’ll have to use concentrated fire.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Within moments, two more groups of four of the giant Mauler battlecrusiers emerged from the worm hole. The twelve triangle super ships were able to encircle the Reptoid vessels in the cone of annihilation. The swarm of tiny fighters joined in the formation and simultaneously began a centrally coordinated pounding with massive annihilating purple beams of pure energy from their projectors.

“Don’t waste power trying to use your tractor beams or torpedoes, just put everything you have into your force beams,” sent the commander of 612-B Excalibur, to the rest of the fleet.

The very ether itself vibrated with the concentrated ravening beams from the massed Tyranian ships and the gargantuan pulsed green lasers—some over a mile wide—pounded back at the silver ships. Six of the Maulers focused on one of the green dreadnaughts and slowly her force fields flared to violet, and then to incandescence. She vaporized into a greenish cloud in the cold vacuum of space.

Three of the Reptoid ships targeted one of the mile long Tyranian Maulers with their massive beams and the silver triangle flared through the visible spectrum and literally dissolved into nothingness from the combined power of the lasers.

One after another of the tiny silver fighters winked out of existence at just the touch of one of the deadly green pulses from the giant ships.

“Our projectors are overheating!” beamed a combat officer.

“Let them! Increase power, the Reptoids must not escape,” answered the commander.

It was the last order she ever gave as her Mauler disintegrated into the void.

Another of the giant green egg-shaped ships flared into vapor along with ten more Tyranian fighters.

“Activate the cloaking device on my signal,” ordered Klsth—the Supreme Commander of the Reptoid fleet—in what sounded like a series of consonants and clicks emitting from his snakelike head with alligator jaws. It sat directly on top of his square scaly green torso with four eyes on short articulating stalks—each capable of directing one of its four tentacle arms independently—while two elephantine legs supported his nine foot tall massive body. One of his eyes curled toward his operations officer. “Mark.”

“They disappeared, Annuna!” beamed Darron.

“I know.” She stared at her visaplate, empty except for the surviving Tyranian ships and scattered debris.

Their observation position at the SEL-2 Lagrangian Point gave them a perfect view of the region of the Sol solar system where the latest battle with the evil Reptoids took place. They cloaked and are headed to Tellus...

WHISKY RIVER CLUB

Cross Timbers County

Dave Alexander’s band was playing western swing to a packed crowd. Several couples were decked out in their best cowboy finery and were two-stepping around the powdered mica dusted dance floor.

Detective Darrell Ulysses Bone—known as just ‘Bone’ to friends and foe alike—Captain St. John and Inspector Loraine Rodriquez were seated at a table near the dancers with longneck beers sitting atop paper coasters.

“We’ll, it’s about time we heard some decent music. Dave and his boys are good, aren’t they, kiddies?” commented Bone.

“I think so. They have a sound like Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys...”

“They do, don’t they, Captain. I just wish I could dance like that,” observed Loraine.

“That can be arranged. I’ll even waive my usual fee for you,” said the 6’ 8” detective.

“You’re kidding, right?...I thought you played football.”

“Of course he did. That’s what caused all the brain damage that we have to deal with,” said St. John.

Bone saw the somewhat incredulous expression on his partner’s face and roared with laughter. “You don’t know much about football, do you, Loraine? Linebackers are always practicing fancy footwork...Pass coverage, stunts and chasing down little bitty runnin’ backs...They used to call me twinkle toes.”

“Right...Twink.” The raven-haired beauty grinned. “Maybe after the next beer you can show me. I’ve got to make a visit to the little girls room.”

“I’ll go get us another round,” offered St. John.

Bone stood and watched as they walked away, glanced around, took a silver dollar out of his pants pocket and a tube of Super Glue from a shirt pocket. He pulled off the cap and applied a couple of dabs to the coin and then put the glue away.

Looking around again, he took a couple of steps onto the dance floor, bent over as if he was brushing dust from his boots and surreptitiously placed the coin—glue side down—on the floor, stepped on it for a few seconds and then slowly walked back to the table.

Loraine returned from the ladies room at the same time St. John walked up with three beers. Bone got back to his feet and pulled out her chair.

“And I thought chivalry was dead.”

“Actually I needed more room for my feet.”

“Why does that not surprise me? You could use those them for pontoons.”

“Har, har.”

She grabbed the back of the chair as Bone pushed it under her.

“What? Think I might jerk it out from under you?”

“You? Now why would I think that?” She rolled her eyes.

Bone palmed a few rubber bands from his shirt pocket as he sat back down.

An unsuspecting club patron spotted the coin on the floor and bent over to try to pick it up.

Bone held the longneck in his left hand and extended his thumb, looping the rubber band over it. He pretended to take a swig from the bottle as he pointed his index finger and let loose with his thumb. The rubber band struck the cowboy wearing tight fitting Wranglers on the butt.

Bone had turned his head away from the targeted victim and set the beer back on the table with a wry grin on his face.

The embarrassed cowboy looked around and walked away rubbing his butt.

“You’re not going to make fun of me on the dance floor are you?” asked the very attractive Hispanic cop.

“Moi? You’re my partner..I’m serious about this dancin', or as Muhammad Ali used to say...'I float like a buttterfly’.”

While he conned Loraine, he surreptitiously reloaded as another victim—Tonya Parker, a pretty twenty-five year old redheaded girl in skin tight Cruel Girl jeans—bent over to pick up the silver dollar.

Bone’s rubber band found its mark on her heart-shaped...