Lets make the History

[Jemar]

Hello! I have an idea. May be fresh may be not. I'd like to make some sort of novelization of Xenonauts. Yesterday I watched the movie based on novel 'World War Z'. The movie IMHO is 99% zero in compare to novel. The book is excellent. The shape of story known to me well enough, as a native Russian speaker I read several novels by Svetlana Aleksievich 'Chernobyl Prayer. Chronicle of the Future', 'Last Witnesses', 'War does not have a woman's face' and other.

These stories are of semi-artistic and semi-documentary literature. As well as 'World War Z' (fiction in facts and stunning realism in shape of narration).

So I'd like to try the same approach. May be in the form of chronicles. As I play Xenonauts campaign on easy level but in iron-man mode.

If the developers agree to my initiative.

I hope to get life response from those forum members who live in territories where the events will happen.

I hope to see some comments on my text here. And THANK YOU VERY MUCH for all your thoughts and ideas!

Aleksey Borisov aka Jemar

Edited July 5, 2013 by Jemar

[raziel1981]

I'm not sure I understand your idea Jemar, but a Xenonauts novel already exists, aka "Crimson Dagger" by Stephen Lee

[Jemar]

Oh my God! I didn't know the story had such a literary origin.

Let me read it first and than decide what to do with my idea.

By the way that can be an additional or alternative story line. Or parallel.

I've designed a cover already....

[Jemar]

The idea will grow and live. My key heroes at the story beginning can no almost nothing about alien invasion, so I can write them and develop them while needing some time to read Stephen Lee's novel.

I am not native English speaker, so my translation will be probably too formal. If any one could assist in editing...

I will be thankful!

Edited July 5, 2013 by Jemar

[Jemar]

Materials introduced in this report can't be considered as official documents. Compiled by a British citizen, Adam Victor Wells (not his real name), it is a compilation of recordings of spontaneous interviews and travel writing. The facts stated in the report, are not subject to official verification upon the international regulatory code adopted on first reading at an emergency meeting of the UN on 31st August 1979. Titled as the unofficial investigative journalism, more often, this report reminds fiction by some kind of sci-fi writer.

August 31, 1979, Fort Bragg (North Carolina).

A name written on my name tag does not match given me at birth. I was allowed to choose new one. Adam - the name of the first man, who has tasted the fruit of knowledge, the second name Victor - means the winner. There, at the Office, they immediately made it clear that it is going to be a military operation, and I decided that once the military, you have to win. Otherwise what is the point at all to go to war or to enter it? As for the surname, the choice was made spontaneously. No surprise that as a child I read the novels of HG Wells (who have not read or heard in the radio setting). Surprisingly the new family name appeared to be right in case. I do not claim the laurels of the famous wizard, but that the namesake of the write (or rather, is going to write) a story much like a famous novel, has some sort of mystical destiny. I think so. Be that as it may, I was asked if I could drive a truck, am I able to shoot, had passed a scout training, and lastly clarified:

- And talk Russian?

- A little bit - I said, as I myself thought with a Russian accent.

Gloomy officies in army sweaters without stripes looked at each other, and the one who had short red mustache, smiled. If he had a no mustache for sure he would look business-like, or even angry. And with the mustache all his joy was likely unnoticed.

- Taking off in an hour. Have time to get together?

I did not expect such a turn of the compass. Yet just three days ago I was thinking how I could find even some sort of work. Who could have expected that the Hummer will drive up to the job-centre there, and only for reason to take me inside and bring here.

- Yes, I actually collected. Comb, handkerchief, cigarette case and Zippo. Sandals, trousers with a belt and cowboy shirt with me. The rest things are details.

Beardless strangely looked at me and whispered something in his partner's ear. There was the "Are you sure ...". I did not hear the answer, but in less than half an hour, instead of a civil medley on me was a simple gray uniform, and exactly one hour later the soles of my brand new shoes clattered loudly on the metal floor of "Hercules" C-130. Before I did not ever fly this plane. I was surprised to see - from the inside it appeared much larger than from outside. And aggravated the impression that the passengers were few. Several military, according to the stripes, they were pilots, including from the 101st division that specializes in helicopter landings. Somehow I vaguely heard that the 101st has long remained in Asia, but the exact details were unknown.

I never served in forces and was not going to crawl under the bullets, except that one day on my doorstep will emerge the commies fully prepared and taking aim at me. I smiled at the strange thoughts, I should that such fears are nonsense . And it's not by the knowledge of Russian language, although this too. Now it did not matter. I was promised a lot of money, especially civic duties near a military facility, and why exactly they needed in me, this is minor matters. You never know who and how will recruit you. If every second screams as he is hippie pacifist, no wonder that I may have some value. I was a hippie but in past. Whom eve I was not? Noisy and messy thoughts raced somewhere after the howling of the blades of all four engines. Gestures of concrete under the takeoff failed down, trembling touch of chassis with ground disappeared as if by magic.

- Douglas, right? - Loud question came from a person dressed in an unusual uniform. In a large skull with a receding hairline from the stranglehold wary eyebrows looked as if were magnetized. Gray, serious eyes.

- Adam - I nodded and flicked my finger on the badge.

- Of course - the unknown in the uniform made a wry smile, - I'm Colonel Security Council of the UN, Neil, - Arsmstrong? - I tensed, but the name on the label of the military was different - Watson. He repeated it, - Okay, Adam. Then the "Douglas" will be your callsign.

- As if I'm a pilot? - I nodded to the fastened neighbors.

- What's that? - Asked the colonel.

I repeated. Through the drone of the engines we had to talk face-to-face, or do not make out the words.

- No, of course - waved UNer, - Tell me do you know these people?

He handed me a folder of brown rough paper. I have not seen the stamp "secret", but it looked as if he punched her and repeatedly.

The compilation had even a few color photographs. I figured no sense in any hiding attempt. If they went after me not randomly, but the sighting, then they know about these guys, and about Artek, and because of that they are not surprised that I know Russian language.

I nodded at a few photos.

- You will work with them. Will work for me - softly but clearly say the colonel in my face.

- What should be done?

It seemed to me, the question has puzzled him. For a split second his lips tightly pressed together, as if he is ready to step outside the hatch, and then to open parachute.

- To carry out my orders.

"Which you have not yet, and you also do not know what are they, - I heard in his few words.

My compass on good-quality father's TIMEX aimed at left wing. We flew to the East. On the territory of a potential enemy, the Soviet Union.

[Jemar]

September 1, 1979, the Soviet Union, the Kazakh SSR, local time 4:30 am.

Since then, the story of my presence in the events which had begun long before the so-called ETA, is inextricably linked with the stories of others. I will try to reduce my participation in the narrative to a minimum as much as possible. And give the right to tell the story for those who took greater participation.

Nikolai Kuznetsov, 31 years old. Coincidentally or not, but he was the first Russian, whom I met at the beginning of the thaw under Khrushchev. I do not remember all the details, but somehow I managed to get a week to be in Artek, a summer camp on the banks of the wonderful Black Sea. Kolya Kuznetsov then took me under its patronage. Two years younger than me, he knew Artek, and without him I would not have learned not only the first Russian words, but generally amiss. Since then we have exchanged dozens of letters, but mostly then while we were teenagers. Then there was Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan. As I learned from the dossier, Kolya served in Afghanistan, 21 Guards Special Forces Brigade. I suspect that something can be confused with the Russian military nomenclature, but here this is minor matters.

- It's all wrong, like we used to - on a stretched, thin face of Kuznetsov flashed a sad smile. When he smiled, reminded me of a children's image - the Iron Man of the filmstrip Oz, - Army? Army or not, you will not understand. Other ranks, another chain of command. Me, - he shows stripes NATO and frowns, - the title of corporal. Can you imagine? Do you know where I was, you know, at what canyons?

He called the gorge east unfamiliar words. They were biting, with an echo, as in the fragment impact on the armor. I later learned this is the image at the landfill. That time the feeling flashed and simply left remembered.

- You'd better tell me who-the-hell brought you here?

I did not want to lie to him, and saying it was a shame. Especially because we did not subscriptions nondisclosure. And it seemed anyone didn't care at all. Then it seemed strange at first. But with time, everything fell into place, and the truth opened all the motives. The terrible truth has brought terrible clarity. But then I was not afraid and Nikolai also did not show fear. I suspect that in this same fear he felt, but did not let it be shown. He recognized my confusion and laughed heartily. He took a cigarette with a filter from my cigarette case, thanked me in English.

- How I was brought? - I was even more confused, - Well here we drove a truck, and here it is overheating. I asked a guy, where's workshop, and came. You bumped accidentally.

He understood how "accidentally" and silently smoked, would waiting until I tell the story to the end.

- They recruited me. Swept up as apprentices in the autumn conscription, but ran off summer vacation.

- Douglas - he said, but then corrected himself, - Adam.

- Yeah - I nodded and adjusted the badge, hung crookedly.

- You might wonder why any classified papers were not given to sign?

- It is surprising - I admitted.

Nikolai leaned back against the curved wall of the hangar. We stood in the predawn gloom, and iron was cool to the touch. He looked up, I followed his gaze. Through over tightened ropes with some rags and veneers, heavy, yet quite in the night dark blue sky seemed to be split into pieces. Meaningless and ugly.

- When you drove, what did you see?

- Well, some village houses.

- Yes, it's camouflage. The top looks like a one-storey rural house. But then you saw the road went downhill, and you're trapped in a depression - I nodded - It's your un-sheep brought. I've seen the film, so during the Second World you are at home were hiding from the Japanese bombers. Disguised under the one-story America.

We both laughed. Both he and I read travel books Ilf and Petrov. And I am proud to be mastered a book in Russian.

- A strange disguise. From whom would you propose? Here around your NATO soldiers, our boys from a particular department, but the impression that this is the second Meeting et Elba. But that time they fought Nazis, and now? There is a front, there will be war? With someone will surely be. But why we were issued U.S. rifles? And why not SUs in hangars, but your F-17s?

- Delivered from your airbase in Kazan - I flashed awareness.

- Come on and don't tell me you don't have our MIG-s in States!

I shrugged my shoulders, the question was rhetorical.

- We were stuffed with some chemistry. They say that now in the steppe are there is epidemic danger. But I know if an epidemic, where are protective suits?

- Kolya, they are in truck - I said. All goods delivered from the air base, where the C-130 landed, I personally examined. I had to bring goods here, to the PENTAL-ZERO BASE. Strange name implies, it will be bud. A word 'bud' in Russian language has a negative value. Weight problems or troubles. Diseases.

- Leakage of biological weapons? - I whispered to Kuznetsov.

- Do not be silly. There's something else. There are talks about 'green folks'.

We both laughed.

- Speaking of the Green Bad Boys. What about alcohol around here?

Kuznetsov shrugged.

- I do not drink alcohol, - he said sternly. I have enough fun without drinking - he said so, that I realized how it is really far from fun, - These pills make me seeing double target at the shooting range. I shoot like a first grader with chew paper. It seems nice, but not hitting target. Anyway they say soon a side effect will disappear. And sometimes I get red circles in front of my eyes.

- Yeah, I nodded - me too.

For a split second we saw a glimpse on the faces of each other. And then after the red light siren wailed.

- Rush back to car, and than into the shelter - said Kuznetsov.

I didn't ask him were is his duty point. But we both knew that it is outside the shelter.

Edited July 5, 2013 by Jemar

[Jemar]

To be continued...

Edited July 6, 2013 by Jemar

[Jemar]

September 1, 1979, the Soviet Union, the Kazakh SSR, local time - evening.

This is my first interview after the ETA, and it also was the first for which I have received official authorization. By six o'clock in the evening at the base was quite a stir, although I had no exact information. I knew two things reliably. Something happened, fighters were raised in the air and landing party too. This paucity of information did not satisfy my curiosity. I suspect that such a curiosity of me was awaited by Colonel Watson. The reason I got involved in this story, was finally clear. I have never worked as an official reporter, but travel notes from my pen several times printed in the city Sunday paper. My question, do I really need to be a project chronicler, Neil Watson laughed and said that was not mistaken in me, once I grasp everything on the fly. And once warned, at the slightest suspicion that I do not work in the interests of the United States, but in the interest of a potential enemy, I will be kicked out from the base, and this will kick me off that far I will forget not only the way back, but how my mommy called me. After these words, he sighed, and a friendly pat me on the shoulder. And then promised to get me a typewriter with an English keyboard.

Elena Solovyova, 25 years old. The pilot of F-17 interceptor. The conversation was not pleasant. First of all, because we were not given to talk privately. We met in the dining room and to my appeal, can I ask her a few questions, Elena angrily replied that she had no time. It is difficult to see any pilot in the base. They disappear for hours in the hangars and sealed enclosures behind a high fence. I suspect that missing a unique opportunity is vital and took extreme measures. Said that I had orders from UN Colonel Neil Watson, the order to ask her a few questions. She looked at me with displeasure, like at a schoolboy, who brought a notebook with the wrong homework. Her dark brown hair was collected in a bun, and it added to her resemblance to the angry teacher. A pointer could make the image real.

- Okay, you get my promise, - she looked for a badge - Adam. Come in the 19 zero-zero on the square in front of the building C. Can you find?

- Once again, please, which time? - I can not get used to the Russian time counting, although it is quite logical.

- Do you need an interpreter? - Elena asked.

- No, I can handle it.

- Well, well - she giggled and nodded. Made me realize not to bother her until 7 PM.

At the appointed time I found Elena, accompanied by an officer of the Soviet Army, he was introduced as Ivan Leontiev, and ... Neil Watson. Both looked wary.

- We will continue to stand on the street? - I nodded to build the pilot's body.

- There is very crowded, no place to even sit down - said Leontiev - The Party and Government have provided the project with the best fitness equipment from the Soviet space program, delivered straight from the Star City.

- From Baikonur? - I said.

Leontiev grimaced and shook his head but said nothing more.

- So, Elend, - I said, - you were flying out for the Object? Tell me, how was your flight.

Elena and Leontiev looked at each other.

- Yes, we took off to intercept. This unidentified object appeared at a height of 16 kilometers. Me and my wingman got visual confirmation. In response, we received the order.

- To soot it?

- No, - Elena shook her head emphatically - Stay on the tail, watch, and, if possible, force to land. We call it include the "carpet". And we did it. The object landed. And we did not have to beat it down. Saved ammunition. We circled for some time over it, but the fuel runs out, we had to return. In addition, chopper form the base has been on the approach. They have taken off at the same time with us. The object that we pursued, it is an unusual aircraft. It is believed that such things should be called saucers, but not very much like a saucer. What was the purpose of its flight, you ask? Perhaps intelligence, they told us nothing, our radio signals at all frequencies were ignored. I'm afraid I can not even remotely imagine what country it belongs. It is a strange vessel.

- But if you had to, you could shoot it down?

- You know, Adam, I'm not happy with the F-17. It would be better to drive 'Sushka'.

- This refers to the attack aircraft designer Sukhoi?

- Well, at least. Or at least on Mishka (in russian this is toy-bear). And these Chips (in russian sounds as Fishka) from are NATO ... weird. In flight behaving unusually (later I began to understand the pilot's jargon, they are called the MIGs as Mishka and our fighters F-17 - Fishka or Chips). But we do training, we have the best Soviet trainers. So, yes, we might knock him. It is a pity that the F-17 was equipped with missiles Sidewinder. I prefer the heavier booms like Avalanche. Well, I do not list the Soviet missiles, which are not available on base. Probably because they do not fit the pylons of Chips. Some would say it is too slow, I mean missile Avalanche. But you know, there's a saying in Russian, bad dancer's balls make him a bad dancer.

- You say about flight exercises. But how? I have not seen yet any training flight.

- Adam, you have not spent a day at the base - snapped Leontiev, and Watson frowned.

- I'll explain something - added Elena - Aircrafts from hangars are delivered by high-speed railway. Take-off is just a few kilometers from the base. Masking.

Then she answered my spicy question.

- What's it like to be a fighter pilot woman? You have an imperialist's view of the world, Comrade Wells. Go to a club and watch the movie "Heavenly slug." You'll see how Soviet women beat Nazis during the War.

Strangely enough, my question is clearly amused her. She even smiled once, thawed out about my molestation. I had more questions, but before they were asked, I went on with my curiosity and paid for that.

- Still, I would like to look at the training flights. You sit there behind the fence, we can not see what is happening there.

- If you're hunting for a walk and stare, go to the shops or to the officers' club - good-naturedly said Russian pilot, - we are engaged in serious business.

- Well, probably it is right. Just looks as if you are simulating.

I thought she gasped. She immediately rushed to the Leontiev's look as if looking for support. He swore and spat at his feet. Neil Watson frowned and took me firmly by the arm.

- Thats all Adam, the conversation is over for today, let's go.

Leontiev threw us in the back.

- It is impolite to accuse the Soviet pilot in idleness, especially a woman. Teach your subordinates to be polite, sir.

Watson did not say a word.

And when we got to the barracks, where I was stationed, he said that I can go to the warehouse and get the Olivetti typewriter. But work on the notes only in the library, and all copies, as well as carbon paper, must not appear any where beyond the base. I asked whether there will be a Russian-English dictionary in library? Watson assured, of course there are dictionaries.

At the first opportunity I looked, whether the word "simulate" in the Russian language has a negative connotation, as shown by the interview. I received unequivocal answer, but found out that our language has a different root word that does not exist in Russian. This word "simulator".

Edited July 6, 2013 by Jemar

[Jemar]

Next interviews with

1. Biologist Novinia Viggin

2. and Kuznetsov again

After first drop mission.

[Jemar]

Okay, I see the trouble. I start game and do not hurry, just to get in it, to live in...

And new build makes the usage of old saves impossible.

Can I ask for local (not connected to internet) build 19.3 to play it and continue my story?

By the way I still do not understand if it is interesting here for anybody. If not, I'd probably give up.

[Jemar]

Hello! I had hard time lack with my job, but i'm back again! Here is another part of story.

[Jemar]

September 1, 1979, the Soviet Union, the Kazakh SSR, local time - late evening.

Noviny Wiggin, 27 years. Many women are amazing. Some are beautiful, others are clever, others combine the first and second, and in combination are a kind of bitchy hysterical, dissatisfied with the fate that has fallen to them in life. With a quick glance at Mrs. Wiggin I tried to define or she - one of three things, either. It turned out - the very unusual either, the key to communicating with her is not so easy to pick up. I met her in a clearing near the lab complex. Short in height, she was dressed in a lab coat unbuttoned over jeans and faded jackets, probably grandmother's, she did a strange thing: a low bouncing, staring at her feet, and so moving through the grass.

- You're looking for one who can tell about what was brought in helicopter?

She anticipated my question, I nodded and continued to look at how she bounces. By the way, she was jumping barefoot.

-You found what you want to find, that's right, you're at right place- she called me her name, - Oh, and you're wondering what am I doing?

The question was rhetorical.

- I was taught by Russians. I went to the village, and there I saw children in that game. They called it 'classics'.

- The game of the classics? - I said, just in case. The dossier was listed Noviny - she was from Argentina, so English was not her native language.

- No, no - she waved her hand firmly on my interpretation and jumped again - you see, the cells on the grass?

The shadow of camouflage netting really charted the grass with uneven smooth rectangular shapes.

- And I liked it so much - she said that about the game - that I often come here to jump and think. Makes a focus on thought easier, catch?

Noviny finally stopped jumping, straightened coat and walked close to me. Frankly, I was breathless. I've seen beautiful women, but this girl in a lab robe would immediately act in the Final of any Beauty contest. No icing or fondant, clean, fresh, young face, lovely eyes with long eyelashes and a smile. An honest, open, not American. In that smile I saw understanding, indulgence, approval, but not to me personally, but as if to the world around. By the way, Noviny was not looking directly at me, but somehow to the side, and I involuntarily straightened the collar of my jacket.

- Douglas, you have a beautiful aura. Golden.

- Aura?

- And... do not pay attention, I look out at them usually. By the way, if you take in head to glue to me, I can make a painful knee kick between your legs. We agree to that rules immediately, okay?

I was confused and looked down at my feet. Told her something unintelligible, in meaning yes, of course, okay.

- Well, that was brought. I knew, I always knew that life is a phenomenon that constantly surprises. Here, even if we have studied biology to the very selves, but still there is some kind of mystery. In life cycle, physiology, all awry. I'll reveal a terrible secret. We brought here something very, very unusual. While I can not say for sure, but we are here on the planet, third from the Sun, thought that we are at the cusp of evolution. And this ... it puts everything from feet to head. We obviously missed something in the history of biosphere. Overlooked a link in evolution. Paleontologists are looking for zeros and looking not in right places. More or less it is really that what I mean. And somewhere in the wilds of the Amazon, in caves, in the depths of the ocean basins, lurked a different, unknown life. It went its own way of evolution. And now they have revealed themselves to the world. Aggressively, secretively, unpredictably.

I asked to clarify which Amazons does she mean. I still felt as if she said, though the English words, but in some part in understandable language.

- Yes, they are not yet ready to make a conclusion, but I could see and understand something.

- They?

- Well, Professor Levandov and Associate Krieg. But you'll see, they will announce it soon. So let's see, what will begin afterwards. Did you watch a movie about a monster gillman-eh? No? And I watched. And so ready to believe that dinosaurs went on the warpath.

- You say that we were attacked by a dinosaur?

- Reasonable, technically equipped. Without a doubt, deadly. But I have not yet figured out all, some analyzes will be ready in the morning. So I have to think and wait.

Noviny nodded to herself, and had returned to a clearing lined with shadow.

- Wish you also will think, - she said and jumped from one rectangle to another.

I was under the impression from the meeting with a beautiful biological freak, and in this state I was caught by Colonel Watson. I had to explain that I met Mrs. Wiggin. Neal gave a wry smile and asked if I mentioned something strange in her behavior.

- To be honest, everything seemed strange. And she threatened with painful revenge if I even think to pick her up.

- Not a weak statement. But it is easy to understand her. She is here for three weeks, and you can imagine how men react.

- Yeah. By the way, she said that we were attacked by dinosaurs.

Neil Watson nodded grimly and said that Mrs. Wiggin - one of the best in their field, and her words mean a lot. But it is early time to make conclusions.

- Adam, did she show you a picture of her daughter?

- She has a daughter? No, didn't show, in general she never said a word about her daughter. And she called me Douglas.

Watson was visibly taken aback and repeated to himself: - Yes, it appears too early... to draw any conclusions.

Edited August 19, 2013 by Jemar

[Jemar]

Next interviews with

1. Debriefing on 'Alien Invasion' research project completion (stenogramm)

2. Interview with Aaron Zelkin and Kawamura Itiro, Chiefs of Engineering department

3. Interview with Nikolai Kuznetsov in medical box (he was wounded in first mission)

[EchoFourDelta]

Not trying to be too harsh, but this is almost painful to read. I'm figuring you're using machine translation, but either way, the awkward translation isn't helping what one imagines would be stilted, hackneyed dialog and worldbuilding/scene-setting in the first place.

[Jemar]

Yeah man, you say right words. I will need more time to edit the translation. Thank you for telling me about what is bad here.

[Voeter]

You might consider writing it in your native Russian and find someone fluent in both Russian and English to translate it for you? I think the premise is good, but as EchoFourDelta stated in pretty bad English...

Maybe there's someone on the board here willing to help?