EARTH'S LAST WAR (CHILDREN OF DESTINY Book 1) Read online

  EARTH’S LAST WAR

  "A gripping read! This BIG epic novel has it all, history, government conspiracies, alien abduction, space battles and treks across alien worlds--with hot M/F romance!

  5StarBookReview.com

  "EARTH'S LAST WAR, WOW! .... What an explosively fun ride, blending a terrific sci-fi story with beautifully presented, sexy STEAM! A rare accomplishment!"

  KirkusBookReviews.com

  "Smart and sexy! WINNER of our Best New Author Award!

  AmazonBookClub.net

  EARTH’S

  LAST WAR

  By

  GLENN VAN DYKE

  EARTH’S LAST WAR

  Copyright © 2015 Glenn Van Dyke

  All Rights reserved.

  Cover image copyright

  © 2015 U.S. Copyrights Office

  Author’s Webpage

  www.glennvandyke.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  Cover by Claudio Aboy

  Exclusively made for

  EARTH’S LAST WAR

  “Thanks Claudio, you brought my vision to life!”

  Cover image copyright

  © 2015 U.S. Copyrights Office

  Also ‘thank you’ to my editor

  Brooke Anderson

  Richard C. Hoagland

  George Noory

  Carl Sagan

  and Zechariah Sitchin

  … thanks …

  for expanding my universe

  Special Dedication

  to Leonard Nimoy

  … your memory will

  ‘Live Long and Prosper’

  To my wife,

  my inspiration …

  Contents

  Cover

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Sinus Iridium - Bay of Rainbows

  Moon

  “Do you hear that?” said Erich Guerling, head of the archeological team. The sound drew him to the opalescent glass shards of Sinus Iridium’s ragged dome, high above. The wall of fragmented glass was vibrating, creating seismic waves that reverberated as a soft, melodic ringing inside his environmental protection suit.

  Following his gaze, Erich’s two assistants watched the large, two-hundred meter tall section of the wall’s latticework, tottering. Instinctively, they dropped the handles to the hoversleds carrying their personal equipment and began to back up. As the wall began to fracture, Erich yelled for his team to, “Run!”

  The three of them turned, bounding away as quickly as their suits would allow. Behind them, the massive structure was crumbling, surreally twisting and falling to the ground in slow motion. As they felt it beginning to crash down behind them, they all took a last bounding dive out of harm’s way.

  Lost inside a large cloud of gray, lunar dust, “Everyone all right?” called Erich, lying there, panting.

  “I won’t need to shave tomorrow, if that’s what you mean. That was way too close,” answered James, as he rolled over onto his hands and knees.

  “If we had arrived ten seconds earlier we’d be underneath all that mess,” said James’ new wife, Kathryn. “We were lucky.”

  Rising, their cumbersome suits making the simple act of getting to their feet a matter of great effort—they saw that the edge of the ancient, monolithic structure had fallen just ten meters behind them. In silence, through the heavy haze, they began to make out the details of the debris field. A tangled web of beams and shards of glass lay everywhere, stacked a dozen stories tall.

  “You’re right, Kat. We were lucky,” said Erich in agreement. “Very lucky.”

  As they strained to see through the slowly clearing dust to where the scaffolding had fallen from, a dark, menacing, heavily armored vessel was just appearing, coming over the top of the domes decayed wall. The vessel’s spinning arrays and dishes were actively scanning, its missile bay doors open—its gun turrets raised. She was ready for combat.

  Obscured by the cloud of dust, the three of them stood quietly, not wanting to draw attention to themselves as the craft flew by overhead. Behind it, three more, much larger, boxier, carrier vessels came into view.

  After the ships had passed, they quickly bounded back to the skimmer that lay waiting, ninety meters away. Daring to use the skimmer’s transmitter, Erich broadcasted, “Hoagland Cen-Comm—this is Erich Guerling from Outpost 119. There are four ships in the Bay of Rainbows; they just passed over us at the Looking Glass dig site. They are headed in your direction—do you copy?”

  “This is Hoagland Central Communications. That is a copy. We are tracking them on radar. Please standby.”

  “We should go back to the Outpost, get to the Noory!” said Kathryn, her concern evident.

  “Agreed. There’s no point in waiting here,” affirmed Erich. “We need to get back to Cen-Comm.” To himself, his gut churning, I just hope it’s still there when we arrive.

  Richard C. Hoagland

  Central Communications -

  United Nations Headquarters -

  Moon

  Responding to the alarm sounding throughout the expansive complex, President Tomlinson, a dark haired, young man of ninety-six, arrived with his security detail in tow.

  “Sir, safety protocols dictate that you should go to the bunker with the other dignitaries,” said Commander Adams.

  Ignoring the Commander, President Tomlinson, Secretary-General of the United Nations, requested a status update.

  “The team from Outpost 119 called in a visual confirmation a few minutes ago as the ships passed over the Looking Glass site. Radar signatures have identified them as being Enlil’s. One destroyer, three carriers. At their current speed, they will be here in five minutes.

  Sir, you really should head to the bunker,” said Adams.

  With a heavy sigh, resigned to his fate, President Tomlinson replied, “It’s too late, Commander. I knew this day was coming. I think we all did. Seal the domes. Lock everything down. For all the good it will do.

  Put me through to Admiral Steven Sherrah at the Challenger Deep Sea Base, high security mode.”

  Challenger Deep Sea Base –

  Earth

  “Admiral—I have President Tomlinson on a secure line, contacting us from Hoagland Central Communications at the UN Headquarters. He says they are under attack!”

  “Put us on full alert—and put him through,” said Steven. Turning to his pilot, “Robbie, take us back to Sea Base.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  In the brief moment it took for them to be connected, Robbie spun the Dolphin Transport round and punched the thrusters, heading home
. Steven’s eyes followed the running lights of harvester-bots as they farmed the sea-gardens, his mind anxiously anticipating what the President was going to say.

  On the console between them, the President’s holo appeared. “Admiral Sherrah, it’s nice to speak with you again, though I wish it were under different circumstances.”

  “As do I, Mr. President. What’s your situation?”

  “Not good. There is so much to tell you—and no time. A few weeks ago, when I gave you command of Sea Base, my staff began preparing a brief to bring you up to speed. I was going to give you the file at Columbus’ christening next month, when we could discuss it privately. I’m sorry that I won’t be there to guide you because one of the facets in particular is going to be quite awkward for you, given your current personal circumstances—but I have faith in you.

  My staff is collating the files from my computer as we speak and will start the upload to you shortly. The file is far from complete, but at least it will provide you with the basics of what you need to know.”

  From off-screen, Steven heard someone advising the President. “Sir, Enlil’s ships have breached the western perimeter. Shields are down in that sector, all defensive arrays destroyed. ETA to Cen-Comm—two minutes.

  Sir, do you want me to initiate Project Terminus?”

  Without hesitation, “No,” the President responded, shaking his head. “Upload everything regarding the project to Sea Base, now!”

  “Uploading,” responded the off-screen voice.

  Turning to Steven, the President continued: “Project Terminus is a Hail Mary, a last resort. It would kill most life on Earth. Simulations are inconclusive as to whether Sea Base would survive. The result of escalating earthquakes, tidal changes, tsunamis—it would be a matter of luck. So again, it is a last resort. I pray that you will never need to use it.

  The file will explain the specifics of what Project Terminus is—and how to activate it.

  This next part will be hard for you to accept—but you need to know that the perpetrator behind this attack is an entity known as Enlil. His world is in the Sirius B star system. I’d be remiss not to mention that we’ve had a working arrangement with him.”

  “Enlil? Sirius B? From the ancient Sumerian texts?”

  “Yes. One and the same,” confirmed the President. “I’m well aware of your interest in the ancient Sumerian writings and the translations done by Zechariah Sitchin. I’ve been told that you are quite the scholar, having taken great interest in his theories.”

  “Yes, sir—but-,” said Steven.

  Cutting him off, “I know how it sounds Admiral—and Zechariah’s theories, in many ways are more accurate than you realize. As for Enlil, yes—he exists. Even now, thousands of years later, he is alive and well. And, since you are familiar with Enlil’s historical background—then you also know that he’s not going to stop with us. When he’s done here, he’ll head to Earth. He wants all of us dead.

  I must advise you, do not take on Enlil directly. Columbus is a great ship, but she wouldn’t stand a chance against his fleet or even this smaller contingent of warships that we’re tracking on radar.

  I want you to hide. Stay alive. Someday, god willing, you’ll get your chance.”

  The President wiped his tearing eyes. With a sigh he collected his thoughts before again meeting Steven’s gaze, “Steven, I need a favor. My wife and son are in Rome, if you could …”

  “I understand, sir. You have my word; we’ll find them and bring them here.”

  The President sighed, thankful.

  A series of explosions resonated, drawing the President’s attention to the scene unfolding behind him. Turning round, the President saw the hydroponics dome next to his own, exploding. “My god!”

  On the holo, behind the President’s shoulders, Steven could see people flailing, floating amid a sea of green shrubs and tangled debris. Within seconds, they were stilled, carried off the screen as if by invisible strings.

  The President quickly whipped round to face Steven, worry and concern etched on his face, “Steven, you need to go to-”

  The line went silent.

  Steven swallowed past the lump in his throat. The President’s worried face and frantically spoken words alluded to something direly important for Steven to know. Deep inside, a small flame awakened. Its warmth called to him. He could sense—something—someone—faraway.

  ***

  Twenty-five minutes later, Erich and his team reached Outpost 119 to find it destroyed. As he brought the skimmer to a stop, they stared in shock at how little was left. The living habitat was gone, its communication relays destroyed. What little was left was nothing more than a twisted pile of unrecognizable debris. Even their Dolphin Transport, Noory, was but a massive field of strewn wreckage.

  “Does this mean that …” Kathryn’s quavering words trailed off.

  “One step at a time. It’s too early to ask those questions. Until we know more, you two lovebirds try to find some oxygen cylinders. We’re going to need them,” said Erich putting on a front of optimism for the newly, married couple. He also knew that Kathryn was right—based on the approach vector, after their Outpost, the UN Headquarters would be next.

  “I’m going to see if I can scrounge up some parts from the relay’s debris to boost the strength of the skimmer’s transmitter.

  With a little luck, I can strengthen the signal enough to reach Hoagland Cen-Comm—get them to send a transport to pick us up.”

  It wasn’t long before Erich found what he needed. Having jury-rigged a booster for the skimmer’s transmitter, he began sending a distress call. Over the next hour as he tried to make contact, he occasionally caught sight of James and Kathryn moving through the chunks of debris and rubble, searching for tanks of oxygen. From what he heard over the comm, they were having no more success than he was.

  Two hours passed before James and Kathryn felt compelled to give up in their search and returned to Erich at the skimmer. “Nothing from Cen-Comm?”

  “Not yet. You—any luck?”

  “Nothing. We didn’t find a single tank. Everything is in a million pieces,” said James.

  “Sir, we need to talk,” said Kathryn taking a glance over at James for affirmation before she spoke. “I ran the numbers; if we stay here, we have about fifteen hours of air, but-”

  “Don’t even say it,” said Erich. “They’ll come for us.”

  “It’s been more than two hours since you contacted them from the Looking Glass dig site. They could have had a transport here in ten minutes,” added James, supporting his wife.

  “There could be lots of reasons why they haven’t come yet,” said Erich.

  “Perhaps, but that doesn’t explain why they haven’t responded to your distress call. Look around at what the ships did here—if they did that to the UN—then you know as well as I do, they aren’t coming,” said James.

  Kathryn chimed in, her words soft and comforting, “What he’s trying to say is—while there may not be anything left to return too—James and I, at least have each other.

  We want you to try to get back to your family. The three of us can’t make it, but one person can.”

  “We want you to take our tanks,” asserted James. “It’ll give you forty-five to forty-eight hours of air, just enough time for the skimmer to make it back—barely, but you’ll make it.”

  “Please?” said Kathryn as she moved closer to James, taking his arm. “It’s what we want.”

  “I-” said Erich.

  “Please?” said Kat, cutting him off. “Do it for us. Do it for your family. Maybe you’ll get to see them.”

  Erich dipped his head, sorrowfully agreeing. In his heart he knew that Cen-Comm wasn’t going to call—and yet, with each passing second his mind anxiously hoped to hear the crackle of the transmitter.

  His movements slowed, buying time as he secured the water canisters and food rations aboard the skimmer. Unable to stall any longer, with great reluctance he tearfully hugg
ed Kathryn and James goodbye and removed the oxygen bottles from their PLSS (primary life support system)—leaving them with only the air remaining in their suits.

  As he clipped the buckle of his harness, he watched the two of them walk off and take a seat on the ground, leaning against a chunk of the Noory’s hull. They sat as one, shoulder-to-shoulder, arm in arm.

  Over the open comm, he heard James ask Kathryn, “Do you remember the day when we first met, zip-lining in Oahu? I never told you, but the way that harness was squishing your breasts together, wow! And I wasn’t about to tell you what it had done to your thong bikini bottom between your thighs, pushing it all off to the side. I nearly bit my tongue off.”

  “You thought that was accidental?” asked Kat.

  “It wasn’t?” James said, surprised.

  “Displaying the goods tends to increase sales. When will men ever learn that they are the buyer, not the seller?” Kathryn shot back.

  Perhaps they are the lucky ones. Erich then set the skimmer’s navigation controls to: Hoagland Central Communications, Autopilot, Maximum Speed.

  With little to do, the skimmer jostling along, the barren landscape a cold and lonely reminder of the friends he had left behind—he thought back to earlier that morning. He had risen to an incoming call from his wife; she had been anxious to show him a crayon drawing that his daughter had done for him in school. It was a picture of him in his astronaut suit, standing atop a very tiny moon.

  They talked about how in two weeks, he’d be returning home—his wife had flashed him, flirtingly talking about how she was going to ravage him, wearing his favorite negligee. They had said their goodbyes that morning, never suspecting, it might be their last.