Lost in Magadan: Extraterrestrials on Earth

Once again, Nox’s control panel lit up with warning alarms, his weapons systems were completely offline. An unfamiliar tension rose in Nox’s chest and throat, anxiety, or anger. He had not felt this way since his interstellar ship crashed in Antarctica decades earlier.

“I’ve been hit. All weapons lost. I can’t cover your landing. I’m going after the tank. You and your men secure the target,” Nox barked into his COMM.

Nox fought the urge to fly his craft directly at the enemy tank, knowing he must preserve the fighter. He veered to the right, making several evasive maneuvers as he picked up speed and gained altitude. The tank fired no more shots and was now completely undetectable on the ground below, blending in with the swirling snow.

Damn. That tank makes these AG Fighters far less useful.

Nox felt he was out of the tank’s range, and he circled back toward the site in time to see 10 Russian operators and two Ondagra run from Manpugna’s AG fighter toward the crashed ship. Even from the sky, Nox could see flashes of light and explosions, as the operators met the Americans at the perimeter of the debris field. The Americans had positioned themselves inside the wrecked ship’s bulkheads and were shielded from air attacks. Nox’s craft would be ineffective at this stage.

Nox spoke into his COMM, “Manpugna, I’m going to land and look for that tank. You stay in the sky and provide air support when the need arises. With weapons down, I’m no good in the air anyway.”

“Yes Sir. Want me to draw fire from the tank? So, you can find it?”

“Maybe. I’ll let you know. Don’t get shot down, they have a photon gun.”

Nox landed his fighter several hundred yards away and engaged the invisibility. A few minutes of searching for the tank turned up nothing, and Nox decided to join the Russians battling at the ship.

Nox joined Manpugna at the inner rim of the debris field just outside the hulk of the ship that remained somewhat intact. The Americans were just inside the hulk exchanging fire with the Russian BAS operators.

“No tank?” Manpugna asked.

“Could not find it. I’m sure it will show up at the most inopportune time,” Nox snarled in disgust. “What’s the situation here?”

“Appears to be seven American operators set up on the first three decks, all wearing advanced armor with directed energy weapons, except the one with the heavy machine gun. He’s not wearing armor, or winter gear. Not sure what the hell he is?”

“Probably a genetically engineered warrior, super strong and fast. I’ve seen reports that they can trade blows with a BAS unit with their bare hands. He’s the one who shot my fighter before you got here.”

“Great,” Manpugna muttered. “Nearly a fair fight against our fourteen.”

“Don’t forget the tank; there could be two or three Americans operating it,” Nox reminded.

“Yeah, what if there are survivors? From the initial crash?” Manpugna pondered.

“Anything’s possible. We could be out numbered.”

“True. But time is one our side. We can reinforce, not sure they can,” Manpugna said, as he shouldered his rifle and stepped out from the debris.

Nox leapt over the twisted metal wreckage and sprinted toward the opening. He drew the American’s fire like nails to a magnet, bright flashes of light smashed into the ground all around him. The first three direct hits caused seconds of white blindness but did little damage to his advanced armor.

Good. My armor is still superior. The Americans and their Vitahician benefactors still don’t have what it takes to beat me.

Nox ran along a path that provided the most cover from the American weapons, knowing that they had rockets and heavy machineguns that could cause him substantial damage. Two overly confident Russian BAS operators followed Nox and were cut down in flashes of light.

Nox yelled into his COMM, “Operators, do not follow me, your armor is not strong enough to withstand a direct hit. The Ondagra armor cannot yet be duplicated on this planet.”

Inside the hulk, and shielded by a large collapsed bulkhead, Nox was drawing intense fire from the Americans. He stepped from the broken bulkhead and fired at one of the Americans who had revealed himself three times in the same position. Perfect timing. The bold American stepped into his line of fire and a large smoldering hole appeared in the center of his chest.

Josh Miller was dead.

Nox had little time to enjoy the small victory as he was nearly struck by a hail of heavy machine gunfire. Rolling back to cover unharmed, Nox thought to himself, ‘that giant has got to go.’ Two more Ondagra joined him inside the hulk, while the other Russian operators were being effectively held to the debris field by the Americans holding the high ground.