Terra Nova

C. Garland David

Description

After a series of portentous dreams, Richard Moss is drawn to a secluded spot in Ashdown Forest. He witnesses a spacecraft landing and is taken to a distant planet called Terra Nova where inhabitants of Earth migrated 5,125 years ago. Terra Nova is ruled by a 'Great Leader' named Ezra who oppresses his people. Richard is imprisoned but then rescued by a cosmonaut named Noah and he joins the resistance, forcing Ezra out of power.Richard learns he was brought to Terra Nova to equip him to return to Earth to help avert a similar disaster recurring there. He hears a Mayan prediction of an impending cataclysmic event as another cosmic cycle of 5,125 years is about to end. A deadly asteroid is heading for Earth which will lead to the extinction of its inhabitants unless a way can be devised to divert it.

Sujets

• Adventure (Guyana)
• Science fiction
• Adventure
• Thriller
• Space opera

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 08 juillet 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783338528
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
TERRA NOVA
David C. Garland



Publisher Information
This digital edition published in 2014 by
Acorn Books
www.acornbooks.co.uk
An imprint of
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2014 David C. Garland
The right of David C. Garland to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.



Part One
Out Of This World
Chapter One
Ashdown Forest in East Sussex mainly comprises tranquil, undulating, open heath land criss-crossed by winding, narrow B-roads. The lay-by where Richard Alexander Moss parked his much-loved car, a 1995 Mica Blue BMW M3, on a dusky, late June evening is typical of those in the area; its surface comprising a melange of crushed Portland stone and decaying concrete surrounded by an open fenced enclosure affording breathtaking views over the ancient countryside. He wasn’t sure why he was at this particular spot at this particular time on this particular day except for a fast fading recollection of a vivid dream the previous night, the contents of which unwittingly drew him to this particular spot. He left the lay-by and walked slowly along a bare, meandering path that became increasingly gloomy, shrouded as it was by the opulent leafy branches of overhanging trees. Suddenly he emerged into an open grassed area the size of several football fields. The rays of the setting sun, painting the area a garish series of yellows through scarlet, caused his eyelids to squeeze into black slits. He shook his head from side to side, several times, before looking skywards.
An intense, blinding light in the darkening sky was descending slowly Earthwards. Richard stared, transfixed, at a sight he had often imagined but never, in his wildest dreams, believed he would actually witness.
UFO’s are Richard’s passion. It began about twenty-five years ago when, aged five, he first watched the video version of ET, The Extra Terrestrial. He empathised closely with the characters in the film, especially the leading role of Elliot since he was the same age and, like Elliot, he also had an older brother and a younger sister. His parents Katherine and Terry were divorced, as were Elliot’s. The close parallels between the fantasy of ET and the reality of his own life unquestionably fashioned Richard’s development. Consequently, he became an obsessive UFO geek. Neither outstandingly handsome nor painfully plain, his face was square and full of character. To be brutally honest he looked very ordinary, so much so that he could merge easily into a crowd and be totally indiscernible. He was of average height and weight with incredibly clear blue eyes, thick wavy brown hair flecked with grey and a lean, finely-honed, figure that spoke of fitness allied to healthy eating. One was reminded of Hugh Grant in a foppish kind of way. He always dressed in neat, clean clothing, caring nothing for the constantly fluctuating whims of fashion. In fact there was nothing extraordinary about him other than an exceptionally high level of intelligence that he deliberately concealed beneath an impenetrable, relaxed demeanour.
***
He wasn’t scared, all he felt was overwhelming, gut-wrenching, excitement. The blinding light had become less intense, more subdued. It had taken on a bluish, electric hue as the huge saucer-shaped craft hovered and fluttered before his eyes like a hungry dragonfly, eyes that were now opened wide with amazed disbelief. The craft gently touched down with a satisfying whoosh followed by a long, drawn-out sigh as if complaining the journey had been too long, too arduous. The smell of scorched grass mingling with an ozone-like aroma aroused him from the trance-like state into which he had subconsciously drifted.
He knew what was about to happen next. Without a sound a massive sliding door opened at the front of the craft, steps unfolded and reached out gingerly, tentatively, to finally settle with a satisfying squelch upon the verdant meadow. A mysterious grey vapour, reminiscent of early-morning fog rising from a cold lake, blurred the gap left by the open door. Shadowy figures appeared; he counted six humanoid forms slowly emanating from the gaseous cloud. They stood at the open door glancing around with seemingly mild disinterest as do experienced world travellers alighting after yet another long, boring, exhausting flight.
Six figures descended the steps one after the other and slowly approached Richard who was now standing spellbound, mouth agape, eyes wide, fearful, body shaking. The leading figure, taller than the rest, wore a dark blue, one-piece, buttoned overall, open at the neck. The roll-neck on his navy blue sweater hung comfortably around his neck adding to the appearance of calm informality. On his feet were black shoes, not unlike the black brogues Richard was wearing. His hair was cut in a modern style that would not have looked out of place in any pub or club in nearby Ambridge Wells, Richard’s home town. The other five were also dressed informally; in fact it was a lack of uniformity that set them apart. If he hadn’t known otherwise he would have thought they were the crew of a second World War submarine as portrayed in that heroic black and white film, We Dive at Dawn , starring John Mills. His overall impression of the six beings was one of calm, composed, unassuming professionalism
The outstretched hand was creamy white - otherwise there was nothing different about it. He could see veins, blue in places. There were four fingers and a thumb, the fingernails of which were immaculately manicured. Richard took the hand in his and shook, both the proffered hand and his own nervous, trembling body. Although not a word was uttered Richard “heard” the leading figure’s opening words.
‘I assume from your expression that we are not exactly as you imagined from your long study of extra-terrestrials.”
The words popped into Richard’s head as if they had been spoken.
“Do not be afraid, for we are not here to harm you. Just as Earth’s inhabitants are curious about extra-terrestrials, so are we curious about you and your version of mankind. We are here to determine what has happened on Earth since our forefathers left 5,125 years ago and whether any of the lessons we learned during our time can be passed on and acted upon, before there occurs a repetition of the catastrophe that was caused by our unwillingness to address and correct our mistakes!”
‘Jesus Christ.’ The words slipped, uncontrolled, from Richard’s wide open mouth.
The mouth of the leading figure widened into a broad, white-teeth-revealing, gap.
‘Not quite,’ he replied. ‘But your astonishment is understandable.’
Instead of the initial thought transference words were now being spoken. The punctilious accent reminded him of his old form master from the grammar school he left twelve years ago; the same intelligent, confident intonation. It had the immediate effect of massaging his extreme nervousness.
‘ ... however, please enter our latest means of inter-galactic travel and, I am sure, you will be even more impressed and astonished.’
The interior of the craft was not as his study and research had led him to believe. It was circular in shape and the colour of the sky on a soft morning sunrise, not quite pink, not quite blue but a heavenly tint that somehow seemed surreally appropriate. There were no signs of controls, no arrays of flashing lights, no familiar high-tech computer systems and no apparent windows. Just a series of flat-screen luminous monitors covered with mysterious symbols resting on nondescript platforms in front of which were positioned white, high-backed swivel chairs.
Minimal or what? thought Richard as he surveyed the stark interior.
‘Yes, indeed, “minimal” describes it very adequately,’ answered the one he presupposed to be the leader. ‘This craft is the latest design, far in advance of the ones which were used to transport our ancestors to Terra Nova 5,125 years ago.’
Richard raised both eyebrows over gaping eyes.
‘I’m sorry, what did you say? Your ancestors left Earth more than five thousand years ago? That’s doesn’t make sense.’
The leader, for that is what he appeared to be, nodded slowly.
‘Be patient for you will become fully informed of everything you need to know in due course - but for now please accept without demur that which I am telling you, for it is most important that you understand where we are coming from, if I may put it in your vernacular!’
Richard shook his head.
‘This is bloody fantastic, impossible! I’ve studied everything, everything I could lay my hands on about space and extra-terrestrials, and I tell you I’m pretty clued up. But what’s this nonsense about your ancestors leaving Earth 5,000 years ago; do you take me for an idiot?’
The leader’s eyes widened. He shook his head slowly.
‘No I do not take you anywhere, at least not yet! All I am saying is, do not believe all you have read about extra-terrestrials,’ he said sagaciously. ‘The subject is pure, juvenile, fantasy.’
Richard snorted, then his lips broadened into a derisive sneer.
‘Huh, so the space craft that landed at Roswell in America with aliens aboard was just juvenile fantasy was it?’
A succession of nods from the leader indicated the apparent absurdity of Richard’s question.
‘Yes, I’m afraid that