TAYLOR JONES SAYS: In The Visitor by Brent Ayscough, Tak is an alien anthropologist, who comes to Earth to determine if we pose a threat to the universe as we venture out into space. She lands in Poland, and the first person she meets is an arms dealer—just the example she needs to convince her that we are a peace loving race. Yeah, right! He quickly figures out that she is not from Earth and agrees to be her guide as she studies human behavior. Tak accompanies him as he fulfills his latest mission: getting the Dali Lama back into Tibet by killing all the Han Chinese with Ebola.

The book is somewhat technical and while there were some terms I didn’t understand, the context made it clear what they meant. I also learned a lot about Ebola that I didn’t know before. I thought both Tak and Baron (the arms dealer) were delightful characters. The story also has a strong plot with plenty twists and turns to keep you turning pages.

REGAN MURPHY SAYS: The Visitor by Brent Ayscough tells the story of an alien sent to Earth to determine how much trouble we Earthlings will cause when we go into space and interact with the rest of the universe. It is not a new plot idea by any means, but Ayscough gives it a fresh perspective by telling most of the story from the alien’s point of view. While the military and the CIA do come into play, the main focus is no how the alien sees Earth and its natives as she accompanies her guide Barn Von Limbach, an international arms dealer, as he goes about his business.

While science fiction isn’t really my genre, I found I quite enjoyed The Visitor. The story is told from several points of view and it also takes you to a lot different places I have never been to. I imagine the authors has, though, as his descriptions are vivid and detailed. All in all, a fascinating book.

CHAPTER 1

The shuttle doors of the starship opened, and a dark gray, twenty-five-foot-long shuttle exited. Tak looked at the glowing stars and then studied the blue planet ahead as she began her descent. Numbers appeared on the shuttle screen, notifying her of relevant information affecting her intended descent. She choose to descend without power, just gliding, so as not to so as not to draw attention from the planet’s defense systems.

In the quiet of space, she pondered whether she’d made the right decision in choosing the language called English. But one language was enough to learn for this mission–or was it? Some of the languages picked up by the starship seemed so difficult to learn. Transmissions were intercepted from major airport towers all over the planet, and they all spoke English. The place called Russia launched more satellites than any other country, but she had been unable to intercept any transmissions from countries where Russian was spoken, except for a few less-developed adjacent countries. A large number of countries spoke Spanish, but there was no detectable space activity from them.

The place called America seemed to be the best choice, given its satellite activity and advanced technology. Its language was also found to be spoken in a number of other countries around the planet, called England, Australia, New Zealand, Singapore, and much of India. And English had been made so much more pleasurable to learn, as she could watch the intercepted movies. The most interesting ones came from America and were in English. So right or wrong, English had been her choice. And she would land in the middle of that country, in a place called Kansas. This was her first assignment alone and she was determined to do her very best.

As she descended through the atmosphere, the outside temperature began to rise. The blackness of space was being replaced below by bluish stratosphere. Descending by gliding so as to create as little heat signature as possible, the shuttle passed through one hundred sixty thousand feet, downward, soon to be pushed in an easterly direction over the surface of the planet by the natural direction of the prevailing winds. All things seemed to be in order.

BONG! A loud warning sounded, and then she heard, “Radar is being received from the surface.”

She focused intently on her monitor.

***

On the ground below, Colonel Burkett led a group of four visitors from the Department of Defense and four more from primary contractors whose system was being tested. They were now in a situation room with many monitors and technicians.

“This is our newest and best in terms of detecting a missile attack from above. As you know, in the cold war we were pointing long range missiles at Russia. Now we are anticipating terrorist attacks, such as from a short-range missile, known to NATO as a SCUD missile. They can be launched from relatively nearby against one of our allies. So we have created an advanced system that looks up from the ground and also down from satellites with the latest technology to detect any such missile. We have focused our newest and most sensitive antenna on the areas where a missile launch might be suspected. In this test case, it’s over the White Sands testing area. The system will detect a decoy SCUD missile, simulating an attack from a hostile source who could get their hands on such a weapon. In just a short time, the launch will occur.”

He looked at his watch and then glanced at the monitors. “There’s the launch! The SCUD has been launched from a mobile base, a flatbed truck, much the same as expected in a real situation, except that the truck is remotely controlled, for reasons you will soon understand. This simulation demonstrates what we would do if we suspected such an attack. In this scenario, we put our special 747 airborne laser in the air. In order to take out the mobile base, we bring in a plane. In this case, we will scramble an F-22, which we are now doing from Nellis Air Force Base. The F-22 is equipped with netcentric avionics and will automatically have the location of the launch vehicle displayed for the pilot and locked in from all the sources working together.

“The SCUD you see on the monitors is tracked by the new Space Based Infrared System. The monitor on the left shows what the Geosynchronous Earth Orbit Satellites see. The monitor next to it shows what the Highly Elliptical Orbit Satellites see, and the next one what the Low Earth Orbit satellites see. They are all linked together by the new system. The monitor on the far right is from an older system called the Ground-Based, Electro-Optical, Deep Space Surveillance System.

“Flying over the simulated theater is our special Boeing 747-400F freighter, equipped with our high-energy Chemical Oxygen Iodine Lasers, or COIL, capable of shooting down the SCUD. The huge amount of chemical it takes to fire the big laser several times from the air requires a 747. When we fire one from the ground we have several truckloads of chemical on hand for multiple shots. These impressive lasers actually use the chemical for energy, not like the simple lab ones you may have seen. But the problem in shooting from the ground is in hitting anything. It takes so much chemical that we can’t fire it for very long, and we can’t rapid fire it like a machine gun. It has to be pumped up with more chemical for the next shot. Firing from the airborne 747, which can be at forty thousand feet or higher, has improved the accuracy many times over, as you will soon hopefully witness.

“Now that the launch has been detected, you can see the 747 changing its course to intersect the SCUD’s trajectory as plotted by our new computers.”

“Will the laser completely disintegrate the SCUD?” one observer asked.

“No. It’ll be badly damaged and largely burnt up, but there will be falling debris. But not to worry–it won’t fall on us. The area is some distance away. Some of the area is in use by ranchers, but we have cleared them out from what we’ve named the ‘call-up’ area of our test range here at White Sands. The range is three-thousand-two-hundred square miles, and the call-up area adds two-thousand-five-hundred square miles to it when in use. We have an arrangement with the ranchers whereby we can call on them and evacuate them for up to twelve hours a few times a year for tests, for which they are paid a yearly payment and travel expenses.”

Burkett continued, “The SCUD will reach one-hundred-twenty-five-thousand feet, traveling from the north to the south end of the range, and then descend. It is nearly at the maximum altitude now. There! You can now see the big image of the 747 on the side of same screen moving in on the SCUD’s trajectory. We have the captain of the 747 on the loudspeaker.”

“White Sands, Captain Gleason here. The weapon is ready, and we are now within range of the SCUD. Optimal range will be in twenty seconds.”

Burkett had put on a headset with an extended cord so he could talk to the pilot and remain standing before the monitors to show the group of important people what was going on.

The computer signaled that the 747 was within range.

“Fire!” Burkett shouted to Gleason, raising his voice to add excitement to the event.

The laser light flashed on the monitors as it hit the SCUD. It lit up brightly on numerous screens.

“It’s a success!” Burkett announced loudly and proudly, hoping to raise some enthusiasm and continued funding among the group for the expensive project. “See the glowing SCUD. We just detected and shot a SCUD missile into oblivion in a flawless test, using the new satellites and the airborne laser!”

A sigh of relief could be heard in the situation room from the staff who had been apprehensive that something would go wrong with the test.

“Very impressive,” Walters from the Department of Defense complimented, attempting to be polite but trying not to show emotion, so as to remain objective about the test.

“Now,” Burkett continued. “The F-22 we scrambled should be close to attacking the mobile launch base from which the SCUD missile was launched, and we can switch some of the monitors to the satellite view of the mobile platform. Then netcentric will set the F-22’s computers on target.”

The monitors now showed the radio-controlled flatbed truck bouncing along in the desert, simulating terrorists trying to escape. A white missile fuel trail jutted out from the front of the F-22, racing down to the flatbed truck and blowing it to kingdom come.

“Good work, Captain Duncan.” Burkett said to the F-22 pilot.

He then took off his headset to address any questions the Department of Defense observers might have and gave them all a great big smile.

Ms. Davis from the Department of Defense looked around at one of the other numerous monitors, off to the side of the one they had all been viewing. “What’s that?”

Burkett turned to the screen she was looking at. It was a screen that had been monitoring the high altitude trajectory of the SCUD earlier. Just entering the top of the monitor was a very small object. It had just a hint of a glow, barely visible, but it was the only thing on the dark screen other than the smoldering remains of SCUD missile, well below it.

Burkett put his headset back on, switching frequencies. “Move all available antennas onto that object!”

Adjustments were made to the direction of the moveable antennas of the new system, as well as the older, ground-based optical system. The object enlarged in size from a tiny spot to a larger one as the technicians changed the ratio of the field of view to magnify it. All watched, wondering what the little glow was.

“It’s farther up than the SCUD missile that we just melted,” Burkett said. “It’s at one hundred fifty seven thousand feet. The SCUD did not go above one hundred twenty five thousand feet, and the hit with the laser wouldn’t have caused any exploding debris to ascend like that. It might be what’s left of an old satellite. Its descent is slow, much like a free-falling object.”

“But aren’t debris from satellites all monitored by our radar antenna and plotted at NORAD?” one of the group asked.

“They’re supposed to be,” Burkett said. “And, they’re usually going around the globe very fast. So if it was, it would normally fall into the atmosphere at a much higher velocity horizontally.”

“Could it be a real missile?” the same person asked. His question turned several heads in momentary reaction to what might be a real threat.

“That seems so unlikely,” Burkett answered while shaking his head. “It reflects very little light. Any missile launch would be detected, and NORAD would have picked it up. It must be debris broken off a satellite, probably a Russian. But I’ll contact NORAD.” He switched the frequency on his radio hooked up to his headset and ordered, “Get me NORAD.”

The switchboard operator put him through on a direct military line to the North American Aerospace Defense Command Center, known as NORAD, one thousand seven hundred feet below the surface of the Earth, deep in the formidable natural granite fortress in Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. “NORAD, Major Hight speaking.”

“This is Colonel Burkett at White Sands.”

“Good morning, Colonel,” Hight said, as he knew the colonel.

The contact was put over the loudspeakers in the situation room, so as not to make it appear to the distinguished guests from the Department of Defense that anything was being hidden, and all in the room had high security clearances.

“We have been monitoring your decoy SCUD launch and the laser shot,” Hight said. “Nice work!”

“Thanks, it went well. But we may have something else here. We have detected a small object coming down from space, right over the test area. Do you have it?”

“No, not that I’m aware of. Let me get an update. Can you stand by?”

“Sure.”

Hight called to Lieutenant Hawkins by headset across the room, where men and women were watching iridescent monitors. “Lieutenant Hawkins, do you have anything on your infrared in the vicinity of space in the same general area as the White Sands test?”

“Only the F-22,” Hawkins reported. Then he said, “Wait! There is something very small and very slow, descending through one hundred fifty five thousand feet.”

Hight went back to Burkett. “Yes, now we have it. It gives off only a tiny signature, like a stealth vehicle. It’s not burning any visible fuel exhaust.”

Hawkins ran the position into his special computer for a statistical analysis. He then said to Hight, “It does not match up to anything orbiting in the database.”

“It’s not a known piece of debris in our database,” Hight told Burkett over the headset. “It is probably a piece of a broken up satellite, probably Russian.”

“We have an F-22 out of Nellis already in the air if you want it to take a closer look,” Burkett suggested.

“Good idea,” Hight replied,

Burkett radioed Captain Duncan in the F-22. “We are sending you the coordinates of a falling object. Proceed to that area, but keep a safe distance until you get a visual of the object. It’s still well above you.”

“Yes, sir,” Duncan responded. “I have the coordinates and will super-cruise to intercept,” he said, pushing his F-22 into supersonic speed.

***

BONG!

A second warning sounded from Tak’s shuttle computer.

“There are two native warships in the area below,” the computer reported. “They are both powered by ignited petroleum. One just fired a laser at a rocket with different fuel to destroy it. The other one is smaller and just fired an explosive weapon at a ground based vehicle and destroyed it.”

Her screen plotted the current location of the 747 and the F-22 and showed her an image of the SCUD that was destroyed by the laser.

“The smaller one is now traveling toward this shuttle at 1225 miles per hour. The larger one is not approaching, and its configuration makes it unlikely that it can travel significantly faster in the atmosphere than the speed at which it is now travelling, 580 miles per hour.”

***

Back on the ground, Burkett and Hight, from different locations, watched the F-22 close in on the object on their screens.

Burkett radioed Duncan in the plane. “What’ve you got?”

“Standby, sir,” Duncan answered. “It’ll be in visual range very soon.”

***

Tak watched her screen closely as the craft behind her and to the left closed the distance between them. How could she possibly have been detected?

Before she had left, the computer carefully set a course so as not to collide with any of nine thousand objects in orbit around the planet.

She touched the manual thruster knob and wondered if she should go back into space to radio an emergency message to the starship, even before she ever got to the planet. What options were there? Maybe she could alter course slightly to another section of America or–where?

“Computer, if we alter our course but still land in the country called America, can we escape the craft in pursuit?”

“Unlikely,” the computer answered. “Calculating from the mass it is losing by burning its fuel, it is estimated that the pursuit craft is likely to have sufficient range to be able to follow five hundred miles in any direction if it is to return, or double that if it does not need to return to our present location. But natives on the surface are in communication with the craft, and it can be expected that other craft will follow, if that one expends its fuel. More can be expected if you engage in a chase and attempt to remain within the boundaries of this country. The range of the larger craft with the laser may be much farther, although from its shape, it is much slower.”

“How fast can the smaller, faster one travel?”

“There are records taken by the starship showing such smaller aircraft going as fast as 1800 miles per hour. It’s currently approaching at 1225 miles per hour.”

As Tak considered her options, the F-22 closed the gap, came up within five miles of the shuttle, and continued to close, reducing to subsonic speed.

Duncan radioed Burkett and Hight, who was also now listening to the transmission from NORAD. “I have it in sight now. It appears to be a black vehicle, somewhat resembling a NASA lifting body. It’s traveling at two hundred eighty eight knots and descending at one thousand six hundred feet per minute. It appears to be gliding without power. Present altitude is fifty eight thousand feet.”

Burkett asked a question that had already been answered. “Did you say gliding?”

“Affirmative.”

Duncan expertly adjusted his control stick to move his F-22 in closer to the shuttle.

“The pursuit craft’s radio frequency has been located, and the transmissions between it and the surface are now on your screen, translated,” Tak’s computer said.

“Put future communications in the native language, English,” Tak directed the computer. “If the aircraft fires its weapons, take defensive action without my command.”

Duncan throttled back, positioned his F-22 right alongside the unidentified vehicle, and then carefully dialed back his speed so he was descending at the exact rate of descent as the other vehicle. He closed the gap, so that his wing tip was only thirty feet away. Duncan took his eyes off his instruments and looked over to see what he could as to how the oddity next to him was flying. To his surprise, through the windshield he saw a very attractive female, with bright red hair, wearing no helmet, and without any oxygen mask, such that her head and face were entirely visible. This was the first actual face-to-face encounter between a human and an alien, but Duncan didn’t know it.

“A glider at fifty-eight thousand feet that has descended from at least one hundred fifty-seven thousand feet?” Burkett asked. “How in the hell did a glider get to one hundred fifty-seven thousand feet? And,” he added in an unintentional sexist remark, “with a female pilot?”

“Well, if it’s a glider, it can’t go too awfully far,” Hight said. “We’ll get working on its speed, the winds, its trajectory, and see where it will likely land if it continues its present course. Hawkins,” he ordered. “Get winds aloft data and plot the probable landing of the craft, assuming it is gliding and will continue at its present rate of speed, descent, and direction.”

“Yes, sir,” Hawkins answered, but he was already working on it as that was the sort of thing he did. “I have your answer,” he announced in less than thirty seconds. “Kansas.”

“There’s no glider that can go up that high,” Hight protested.

“See if you can make contact,” Burkett said to Captain Duncan. “I want you to force her to land at one of our bases. She is flying in civilian class ‘A’ airspace with no flight plan. Based on that, you are authorized by me to force her down.”

Tak looked over at the fighter pilot while listening to their communications. He was wearing an air force helmet, the dark face shield covering his face, an oxygen tube connected to his mask, and a communications wire to the built-in headset.

He looked like a robot compared to Tak, who had nothing at all on her head, as though taking a boat ride on a lake on a Sunday afternoon.

Duncan switched to a civilian frequency used by aircraft in air-to-air communications, 122.75 Megahertz. “Glider pilot. This is Captain Duncan, United States Air Force. You are being monitored by an air force station at White Sands, New Mexico, as well as NORAD at Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. You are flying in class-A airspace without clearance. You are ordered to follow me to an airbase.”

Tak heard the message. “Computer. What is “NORAD”?

“No information,” Computer answered.

Nervous, Tak wondered what her options were. She turned to the pilot in the craft next to her and gave him her most attractive smile.

Captain Duncan could hardly believe his eyes. A strikingly attractive woman had just descended from altitudes where only space craft could tread and was now gliding toward Earth, no helmet or even a headset on–and she smiles?

“What’s going on?” Burkett demanded.

“She’s smiling.”

“What?” he nearly shouted.

“Smiling, sir.”

“You order her down!”

“I don’t think she has a radio, sir. She isn’t wearing a headset.”

“Then you motion her to come down!”

“Sir, she’s in a gliding craft. She appears to be descending by gravity alone and traveling with the prevailing winds. Since she’s already coming down, I don’t think she can come down any faster.”

“Then you make sure she follows you.”

Duncan put up his hand and motioned for her to follow him.

“What is she doing now?” Burkett asked.

“Still smiling.”

Tak heard that on her radio, which was monitoring their frequency. She had to make a decision and quickly. Abort the mission or go on? She could thrust out into space and call for the starship or stay and try to complete her mission. At any rate, Kansas appeared to be out. Perhaps the next the next large land mass known as Europe would do.

“Computer, find a sparsely populated area well within the land mass called Europe and plot a course. Engage the thruster.”

The roar of the powerful thruster overshadowed everything else. The shuttle was soon traveling at seventeen thousand miles per hour while still in the atmosphere, and then it went up and east, leaving the Earth.

“My God!” Duncan gasped. “Did you see that?”

At NORAD, Hight could see the shuttle image on his screen. It was traveling at a tremendous speed, climbing, and leaving the continental United States. “That couldn’t be the glider you were pacing, could it?” he asked Duncan sarcastically. “A glider at seventeen thousand miles an hour?”

“It’s some kind of rocket,” Duncan said.

“No shit. I have it on our satellite heading over the Atlantic toward Europe. We can switch to another satellite and see if we can pick it up in Europe. We should be able to trace it there, if all goes well. This used to be written up as a UFO, but we should report this to Homeland Security. This is some sort of new vehicle we have never seen before that can travel at hypersonic speeds. Not even our experimental hypersonic rockets can fly anywhere close to that speed. This could be a real threat. But from who?”

The government people, who were there for the test, looked to Colonel Burkett for an explanation of what had just happened.

***

In space, the computer shut down the thruster.

“Have you set up the new landing spot?” Tak asked it.

“Yes,” it answered.

Her screen showed the landing spot on the section of the map called Europe. The area was on the dark side of the planet but the computer showed the land mass clearly.

“Select a spot in a remote area, as far as possible away from any large cities.”

She figured that seemed like a good possiblity to land without being noticed.

“Acknowledged.”

The computer selected a spot from its mapped topography, showing it on the shuttle screen. It displayed the topography of the landing spot, the weather there, and other factors needed to make a perfect glide slope. It also displayed calculations of the weight of the shuttle as decreased by use of fuel to land in Europe, gravity of the earth, speed at all times, drag of the atmosphere at all relevant altitudes, effects of the known and measurable winds, and the incidental gravitational pull of the sun and the moon. It had the ability to determine if it was not on the calculated course of glide slope and to make corrections.

The selection was on the pasture of a farm. A lush, green field presented itself within eyesight range ahead. It was night, but there was illumination from a bright moon, and Tak could see the landing field visually through the canopy. It was filled with new grass coming up, following the winter.

The craft was designed to land slowly on its belly skids, as it was not intended for repeated use. With trepidation, Tak held her breath as the shuttle touched down at a very slow speed and slid to a stop.

A rush of excitement overcame her as she landed. This was her first mission alone. She looked through the windshield at the lush, green pasture. It’s a farm! There were no warships to intercept her. The computer had successfully selected a remote spot, not close to natives. People, the word is. From now on, it is English. Or, do they speak English here?

She raised the canopy and took her first breath of Earth’s air. It was cool and refreshing air, full of the delightful odor of farm vegetation and moist, tilled soil. The exhilaration of the mission, along with the fresh air, filled her lungs and fueled her ambition. She set the computer to warn of native vessels, got out, and reached in for her satchel. It was too dark to venture out now. Had she been detected? Were more warships on their way?

The best move, she concluded, would be to wait, without destroying the shuttle in case warships came, in which case she could climb in, head back out of the atmosphere, and call for her starship. She leaned against her shuttle, waiting for night to pass, absorbed in the mesmerizing odor of the farm with the beauty of moonlight.

Off in one direction, she noticed the outline of a farmhouse. She could walk there at first light. But she would have to destroy the shuttle, so as not to leave evidence of her visit. That was an apprehensive notion after the encounter earlier. But here she was on a mission.

After a while, light could be seen in the sky to the east. High cirrus clouds began to refract shades of pink, presenting a delightful greeting to her entrance on the planet. Rain was on its way, perhaps later in the day.

There being no apparent threat, she decided to carry on with the mission. She checked her computer bracelet on her wrist to see if it was functioning, just to be sure. It was. Resembling a large wrist watch, it had a screen and a removable blue object that looked like a lapis jewel.

She took from the satchel one of several small balls, each just a bit bigger than a large grape. Touching one to her wrist computer, she commanded it to determine the mass of the shuttle and to activate the self-destruct in three minutes.

“Acknowledged. Disintegration will be in three minutes. Move away from the shuttle.”

She put the ball into the shuttle and began to walk toward the farmhouse to the east. She then turned and looked back. The shuttle began to glow and then disappeared. It’s gone! Loneliness and an empty feeling set in with the absence of the security the shuttle brought. Her escape had vaporized with the shuttle.

On with the mission, she ordered herself, trying to fortify her resolve. She bounced a bit due to lighter gravity than what she was used to. As she walked east, the sunlight crept out, reflecting against the high cirrus clouds, creating a beautiful pink color–her first such early daylight sight on the planet, and one she would always remember. The morning dew soaked the growing vegetation and her boots.

After a time, she could make out not one, but two structures ahead. She could see that one was a dwelling, and the other a storage place. Barn was the word.

Two men had just driven up on a tractor, gotten off, and gone to sit on the porch. Both were middle-aged men. Early rising farmers. It had become their practice to meet once a week to talk.

As she approached, they noticed her, stopped talking, and stared. There had been no hikers or pedestrians at that farm before.

Tak had chosen, in an attempt to blend in with the native dress, an outfit of black boots, black pants, a gray sweater, and a black jacket made of a substance that resembled leather. But her clothes were certainly not those of a farm girl, or a nature-loving hiker. She was quite out of place as far as the two men were concerned. They continued to stare and said nothing.

She got ready to speak the first words to the human race. “Hello. I wish to go to the nearest town.”

The men began to talk among themselves in a language Tak did not understand.

“English,” one of them said, a relief to her as it was the first word she understood.

Her wrist computer was on all the time and recording this language so as to learn it. The computer would remain on during the entire Earth excursion.

“I speak little English,” said the younger man, holding up his hand with his thumb and forefinger an inch apart to indicate a measure of a small amount.

“Would either of you be willing to take me to the closest town?” she asked.

The one who spoke translated her request to his friend. They looked at her, then at each other, and then back at her, evaluating her request. Both of them then began a very intense discussion in their native tongue over the topic. Their voices rose at times, and the conversation elevated to a debate. Strong views were expressed

The English-speaking man turned to Tak. “He does not think it proper to take a young woman to town. But I do not agree. I would take you to town. But neither of us have a car and I do not drive.”

How strange that they debated whether or not to do what they cannot even do. It was time to move on. “Thank you. What’s the name of the next town?”

“Wieliczka.” He pointed down the only road.

“Thank you.”

Off she went on foot, along the rough dirt road, on her mission to learn the ways of the natives of the planet.

© 2015 by Brent Ayscough

Dr. Santha Chamberlin, M.D.:

“A fantastic story. The method of creating race-specific Ebola as detailed, is mind boggling and plausible from a medical perspective. And, I love the motivation behind how it gets done – a rich heir, an exotic East Indian girl motivating him, a resourceful arms merchant and a former Soviet Union bio warfare scientist in Kazakhstan make you believe it could be done without world powers The story is spiced with a female visiting alien, observing humans. She is discovered and then escorted by the arms merchant to interesting places and events. It is very entertaining, hard to put down, and quite a read. Truly enjoyed the book.” ~ Dr. Santha Chamberlin, M.D.

Dr. Bruce Ascough, M.D.:

“Lots of details about lots of subjects, from gourmet foods to aircraft to dress styles and lifestyles in foreign lands, etc., all based on the author’s travels and real-life experiences. The most intriguing thing about the story is a very plausible creation of a race-specific Ebola virus — a whole new game in weapons of mass destruction. The author obviously did a huge amount of research before writing this novel. The author’s methods of spreading the virus were clever and fascinating. This book is an easy read that makes you want to keep turning pages, rather than put it down. Overall a fun and captivating read.” ~ Dr. Bruce Ascough, M.D.