Wächter The Alien Artefact from the Andes

A historical-fantastic narrative
1. Auflage 2020
ISBN: 978-3-7407-6879-9
Verlag: TWENTYSIX
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 391 Seiten

Peters, an astronomer from northern Germany, makes an inexplicable discovery in the sky in the Wild West. It's so incomprehensible that he doesn't dare to publish it. Kulik, a Russian mineralogist, makes a strange find in an extraterrestrial mineral - he considers it fake. But in Germany, in the city of Münster, the young student Jens notices the connections - a discovery that will change the course of the history of mankind. He doesn't dare tell us about it, too. But then Kulik's find turns out to be real. The incontrovertible proof: there is a counterpart. Intelligence agencies are chasing him. A disaster happens. His friend loses his mind. And Jens has the "Andean artifact", the proof: There is a civilization out there in space. And she's on the road. To us. ((The original print version of this book was published in 2018, the English print version 2020 can be ordered with the ISBN 978-3-750281-52-3))

Der Autor ist Lehrer, verheiratet, hat 6 Kinder und betätigt sich als Roman-, Sach- und Lehrbuch-Autor. Er war auch Hobbyastronom und in der wikipedia-Fachredaktion Chemie. (Website: https://michael-waechter.jimdosite.com/ )

Autoren/Hrsg.

Wächter, Michael

Leseproben

Incident
She regained consciousness. Her mouth was on fire. Her tongue seemed to glow. She was thirsty and her throat hurt. She was sitting. She noticed she was on a chair, but she couldn't move. That thirst! I need water! She didn't care where she was - she didn't know anyway. She only knew she needed water. I need a drink. I have to look around. All I had left was this little piece of her mind, looking for water. She opened her eyes. Her eyelids were heavy like lead. She saw a bare room, probably a basement. A pipe on the wall in front of her. Next to it, a steel door. A naked light bulb hung from the ceiling, but the room was dim and bright. The light came from behind. There was probably a window behind her. Or a hatch. Anyway, the hatch was open. She heard birds. It sounded like a jungle. A cabin in the rainforest maybe, or a coffee plantation camp. Yeah, it seemed like an empty storage unit. With a pipe. Did it contain water? She looked down at her lap. She noticed a rope around her stomach. And around her arms, which were tied behind her back. Her legs were tied to the legs of the chair. They seemed to be numb - but her arms hurt from the pressure of the cords. If I don't get some water, I'll die of thirst. She never had a chance to get any water. She was tied up. The pipe, even if it was a water pipe, had no faucet. It ended up in the wall. She could barely think straight. Something was wrong with her. She felt like her chair was floating. The bare, whitewashed walls seemed to make undulating movements. They came up in rainbow colours. Then she collapsed again. A braking sound woke her up. A jeep or truck seemed to arrive. Men jumped off the loading area. They poured into the next room behind the steel door. A key turned in the lock and the handle went down. There was a squeaking noise and the door opened. Monica straightened up as best she could. Two men came up to her. "She's awake," he said one. He was wearing camouflage, like army pants with camouflage. His hair was long and black. He was unshaven and sweaty. And he smelled like marijuana. In his belt was a machete. The other guy was in a suit with an open leather coat over his head. He was dressed completely untypically, the clothes did not fit in the tropical heat of the jungle. He was also blond, completely clean-shaven and wore a holster with a pistol on his waistband. He was certainly not a Latino, a Yankee rather, or a European. Water, give me water, she thought. "What did she tell you?" asked the man in the suit. He had a foreign accent, but not an American accent. "Not much, Senor. We gave her a sedative," said the cloaked man. The man in the suit cursed in a language she did not understand. She sounded hard and strange. He turned to her. "What's your name?" he asked. "Monica," she stammered. "Please give me water." He grabbed her chin, looked her in the eyes. Her lips were dry as sandpaper. "Water!" he berated the suit-wearer to the other one. "Come on, idiot, move it! I want her to think clearly when she talks to me. Is that clear?" The man in the camouflage gear disappeared. The man in the suit was looking at her. "So, you're that assistant from Bogotá, from the university lab. Listen, I'm going to ask you a few questions. If you answer correctly, you'll get out of here. ...or die in the jungle." Monica took in the words as if they came from another world. They didn't seem to touch her. She'd already given up on herself, somehow. Now, if I could just have a drink... The one in the suit went halfway around her. He looked at her arm, the puncture mark in the crook of her arm. "They're idiots here," he whispered to Monica. "They can produce their fucking cocaine, but they're too stupid to do drugs." He loosened the shackles on her legs. She felt blood flowing back into her legs - the feeling came back. Her left foot hurt. The door opened again. The cloaked man came in. He had a water bottle. The man in the suit took it away from him, went to Monica and held the opened bottle to her mouth. Monica, still half dazed, opened her lips and felt the life come back into her mouth. Water! He helped her drink. Greedily she drank the bottle empty. It took a few minutes for her to empty the bottle. The one in the suit had patience. The one in the suit was patient. She didn't notice him. He seemed to wait. The guy in the suit set the tone. When she'd finished her drink, he threw the empty plastic bottle on the floor. "So watch out," he said. "You're here as a hostage. The ones who kidnapped you, are the cocaine dealers here in your goddamn Colombian jungle. Can you understand me?" Monica nodded. "They want the knowledge from your chemistry lab and the analytical equipment to make their fucking cocaine better." But I'm in mineralogy... Monica shook her head and opened her mouth, but she remembered and did not say what she thought. "I don't give a shit about their problems," he said in the suit. "Eti idioty, ya khochu znat', chto s etimi kosmicheskimi chastyami!" he cursed. Monica looked at him questioningly. "Boris Barakov, hablamos espanol!" the camouflaged man said, annoyed. "Shut up!" Boris returned angrily. "I know that." He turned back to Monica. He almost whispered in her ear. "I said: These idiots, I want to know what's wrong with these space parts! You must know Diego Hum-berto, the assistant in your lab. He's a good comrade of mine, you know - not one of those cocaine-fogged guerillero! And you know what? I gave him a small camera, took a picture of your analysis and faxed the photo to his party office - smart guy, your comrade Humberto! And you know what? The Communist Party then faxed the thing to our friends in the GDR and it came to us via them. And now you come into play: We want the thing you've analysed. But Moscow's not happy with it. Because a stupid accident has happened to you. A stupid accident. Juan said you gave the package to that West German... You know Juan from your - how do you say it - "Universidad de Caldas, Facultad de Ciencas Exactas y Naturales"? Monica nodded. She rolled her eyes. She was dizzy. Boris noticed. Angrily, he turned to face the man in disguise. "You bush warrior, listen and learn from a professional! When we in the KGB interrogate someone, they don't get drugs, otherwise the testimony is as foggy as your dopey hostage - do you get that, Pablo, you idiot?" Pablo looked down. He knew he couldn't say the wrong thing now. Boris turned back to Monica. He held a photograph up to her face. "Look at this photo. Do you recognize it?" It was a picture of the package. Monica recognized a sample from the storage room of her lab at the university. She recognized it from the note stuck to the package. It was in her handwriting. At the top of the note was the symbol of the sun and the university slogan "Lumina spargo". And her note: "Proba 314/1985, Proba comparanda con tornillo (Senor Alemàn)". It was the small box with the metallic object she had examined - the find from the Andes. It was shaped like a cuboid. On one edge it still showed remains of dark, meteoric material. Her analysis had proven the extraterrestrial origin of the object, both the meteoric material and the metal cuboid on which the dark material was sitting. She had given the metal part to Ewald because he had shown her a German sample that was made of the same material. Ewald. Her heart was beating. She remembered. She had met him in Bogotà. Before this catastrophe, and before she was abducted here in this shithole. Ewald was on the volcanology team that came over from West Germany. Her heart had been beating instantly - she was in love. From then on she was on the road with him, on field trips. She could even have imagined to go with him ... But now he was back in West Germany, together with his comparative sample. She had registered the piece as "Proba No. 315/1985" and also examined it. "Tornillo, origen: Sr. Ewald de Alemania" was written on it. Ewald. Pablo pushed her from the side. "Answer the KGB gentleman or you won't get out of here," he hissed. Monica looked up. "Yes," she stammered. "Yes, I know that package." "Have you examined this thing." "Yes, I have analyzed it." Monica saw again wave movements on the bare walls of the storage room. Everything was spinning. Boris looked at her. But meteorites are not rectangular. We think it's from a U.S. weapon. From a secret American satellite threatening our comrades. I'm sure you've heard of the SDI program. And that's why you want to help us now and not die here in this old drug shithole with your Pablo from Medellin, right?" Monica stammered. "No... Yes... Yes, I'll tell them what they want to know. Please let me go. It was actually meteoritic iron and rare earth metals like neodymium, and boron and..." "Khorosho, malen'kaya myshka - All's well mice!" said Boris and stroked her hair. "I just want to know who has the metal piece now, and I want to know right now! When we have it, then you're free!" "I... I don't know. Boris shook his head. "Nyet, you know very well! We asked your colleague Juan. "You gave the parcel to this West German," he said before he died. We must have his name, his address. He could be an evil BND or MAD spy, you know. Even if he was supposedly just a mineralogist or a volcanologist like you." Monica was, as a twitching electric shock through her body. Juan is dead! Ewald? I must save you, Ewald! Protect you from...