Reed The Manuscript of Adlartok

1. Auflage 2025
ISBN: 978-3-7116-0236-7
Verlag: novum publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 488 Seiten

On Earth, four university students stumble across a mysterious manuscript and discover a horrifying prophecy - the imminent destruction of planet Earth. Elsewhere in the world, suspicious activity is putting the military organisations of major countries on high alert, pre-empting an apocalyptic attack from a faceless enemy. But who? CENTURIES LATER, Earth is shrouded in noxious clouds of poison, eradicating MOST life. A few lucky humans find refuge on the planet Kazar-Nazkar and learn the wonder of living in symbiosis with nature. Hope for humankind may not be lost after all. But a power-hungry alien warlord threatens the survival of both humans and the inhabitants of Kazar-Nazkar. Will anyone survive all-out war? Will humans ever be able to return to Earth? Only fate may decide.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Reed, David

Leseproben

CHAPTER TWO

The Phoenix Rises

US Naval Command Pearl Harbour

“Hey! Lieutenant! Something really odd here.”

“What is it?” Lieutenant Carson picked up a spare set of earphones, placing one side against his ear.

“Underwater Bug 0721, Bashi Channel, thirty clicks off Taiwan, Sir.”

“Got it,” Lieutenant Carson said.

“Check screen, Sir. Two subs. Russian heading north-east followed by Chinese Star class three clicks behind.”

Lieutenant Carson watched the two plots.

“What’s the Russian up to? He’s all over the place!”

“Erratic course, Sir. Zigzag. Star class seems to be tracking the Ruski. No known combined exercises in that region.”

“Our Carrier Task Force Reagan is one hundred and eighty clicks off south-east Japan. Send alert with sub positions. Do it fast!”

Russian Submarine Volgograd

Commander Kuznetsov stared at instruments and dials moving slowly into the red warning zone, not believing the facts displayed before him. His hand hovered over the main alarm button. He punched it. Red lights began flashing, the normal hum of the control deck pierced by sirens.

“Exec, check all seals and cooling systems in the engine room! Find out what’s happening down there, now!”

Executive Officer Petrov dropped down the main ladder to the lower deck, racing toward the rear reactor area. Crew members were scattering, fear in their eyes. Petrov entered an engine room in chaos. Two crewmen lay on the floor in agony, faces blasted by escaping steam, skin ripped away. Engineering Officer Andreyev screamed into comms to the bridge.

“Commander! Mass leakage here. Reactor temperature rising. Need emergency teams immediately!”

Chinese Star Class N82

Three kilometers to the south-west, Chinese submarine N82 ran at tick-over speed on a similar course to the Russian submarine Volgograd. Officer Zhao, listening to the evolving sound print of the Russian vessel, sensed that all was not normal with the submarine.

“Wake the captain,” he instructed a junior officer.

Panic began to prevail aboard the Russian submarine as the commander attempted to surface. Officer Zhao could hear a mixture of unusual sounds as the captain arrived in the control room.

“Captain! Russian sub appears to be in distress. Three kilometres ahead. I can detect a … wait … Captain! An explosion! Brace! Brace! Brace!”

Waiting anxiously, the Chinese crew stayed at their stations.

“How long, Officer Zhao?” demanded the captain.

“Seven seconds from my mark … Now! Steady. Steady. Full brace! Contact three seconds.”

A shock wave rocked the Chinese submarine like a toy in a bath. Ninety metres of steel tube spun slowly as propellors raced on the autopilot’s command to regain stability. Sweat dampened the captain’s tight collar.

“Report, Officer Zhao,” he said quietly.

“Re-targeting the plot, Captain.”

Zhao paused and turned toward the executive officers, all shocked and waiting. There could only be one outcome with an explosion of such magnitude.

“Captain,” Officer Zhao reported quietly. “The Russian submarine has broken into two parts. Both sinking. Seabed depth at site two hundred and twenty metres.”

Russian Naval Base – Novsovirsk

Yaroshenko checked recent orders and memos sent down from the hierarchy above.

“There is little here of use to anybody, but I suppose they have to produce something to collect their rubles,” he murmured quietly to his friend, Vassiliev, sitting next to him intently watching a screen in the darkened communications room. Vassiliev mumbled back in agreement.

Nothing appeared on his contact screen showing the vast seas around Novsovirsk, apart from a single Russian ‘survey’ ship returning from a mission and the visual pinging of nuclear submarine S74. Their shift progressed slowly through its final hour, tiredness at its peak.

“Drinks tonight?” Vassiliev asked quietly, remembering that the shift officer sat a short distance behind them at his desk.

“Maybe tomorrow. I have yet to recover from the weekend,” replied Yaroshenko.

“You do still look a bit rough. We should cut your ration down to one bottle of vodka a night instead of two,” said Vassiliev, glancing at Yaroshenko. As his eyes returned to his own screen in front of him, he subconsciously noted Yaroshenko’s screen. A small red light flashed on its southern boundary.

“Yaroshenko! Your screen!” he hissed.

Yaroshenko looked up.

“Christ! We’ve lost contact with S74! Sir! We’ve lost the signal from S74!”

“Impossible! Let me see!” The officer moved toward Yaroshenko’s desk. “Where?” he shouted.

“Bashi Channel, off Taiwan, Sir.”

“There’s another sub close by to the south. American?” the officer asked, checking another screen for detailed sound-buoy contacts.

“No, Sir. It’s Chinese. Green contact. Same course.”

“No signal at all for S74?”

“No, Sir. It’s disappeared.”

The Kremlin

Admiral Makarov sat nervously at the long table opposite the newly elected president of Russia, already attributed with a remarkable attention to detail. Makarov’s nervous disposition resulted from the fact that he knew as much about the subject to be discussed as he did about the invisible pull of dark matter in the universe – virtually nothing. S74 had blown up under highly suspicious circumstances. Location – known. Reason – not known. Accident? Enemy activity? Sabotage? No idea.

Those sitting around the table were more fortunate than the admiral. Their responsibility lay in other areas of the defence realm. Many were newly appointed following a purge of hardliners. A Ukrainian-style invasion would not be on the Russian bucket list again. Russia headed toward the Dark Ages rapidly following that adventure. A duma consisting of rubber-stamping plastic blowups said “Da!” to the previous president’s warmongering. The world disagreed and replied, “Nyet!”, as did the Russian people.

“Your report, Admiral Makarov,” stated the president.

Makarov cleared his throat with a low cough. “Mr. President.” Another low cough. “Our nuclear-powered submarine S74 Volgograd is missing. Last known location is listed in the Bashi Channel off the Taiwan coast as per the tracking image in front of you. Time of last contact was two hours and thirty-six minutes ago. Kamchatka picked up underwater sound contact from the area. All signs are that an underwater explosion occurred, either close by or on board. No confirmation yet. The only vessel near at the time of the incident – a Chinese Star class, three kilometres to the rear, on a similar course.”

“The Chinese submarine,” questioned the president, “how was it armed?”

“Eight cruise missiles, tactical nuclear warheads, thirty percent Hiroshima capacity designed as anti-ship convoy or for localised battlefield application, plus sixteen homing torpedoes, anti-shipping, anti-submarine.”

“Is it possible, Admiral Makarov, that S74 was hit by a torpedo?”

“Mr President.” Makarov hesitated. “I don’t think so … perhaps, but I don’t think the Chinese would–”

“Admiral. Is it possible that S74 was hit by a torpedo?” asked the president more forcefully.

Makarov remained silent for a few seconds before answering.

“Yes, Mr President.”

“Get search parties out there immediately,” urged the president. “Closest port?”

“Novsovirsk, Mr President.”

“I want reports from all commands. Updates on any unusual movements. Full check on NATO status. Do it now.”

Chairs scraped on the tiled floor as those present gathered papers before leaving the room at speed. Admiral Makarov halted as the president held his arm.

“Makarov. This is the third incident in as many years involving one of your submarines. Is there a problem within your command?”

Beijing

The Chinese president held no trust in either the Russians or the Americans. His hand rested on a large carved desk as he surveyed those around him. The other held a gold pen, flicking from side to side like the tail of an angry tiger. A carved ivory cup holding tea sat nearby, the lid fashioned in the form of a dragon.

The president had listened quietly to the various reports delivered by his high-ranking admirals. Behind them, army and air force commanders waited, ready to gain advantage from the navy’s apparent difficulties, a tactic seen in the very earliest of the dynasty’s courts. Survival of the...