Ian Douglas - Alien Secrets

Harper Voyager

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2020

Copyright © William H. Keith, Jr. 2020

Cover illustration © Gregory Bridges

Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2020

Ian Douglas asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008288884

Ebook Edition © February 2020 ISBN: 9780008288891

Version: 2020-03-23

For Brea,

who turns chaotic ramblings

into polished prose.

Contents

Cover

Title Page ALIEN SECRETS SOLAR WARDEN, BOOK ONE Ian Douglas

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

About the Author

By Ian Douglas

About the Publisher

Germany may have recovered a flying saucer as early as 1939.

GENERAL JIMMY DOOLITTLE REPORTING ON SWEDISH “GHOST ROCKETS,” 1946

HE HURRIED DOWNthe tunnel, boots clicking on stone, a small mob of aides and adjutants close on his heels. He glanced at his watch. Damn … there wasn’t much time.

SS Obergruppenführer Hans Kammler had reason to hurry. The Eidechse was waiting for him … but more to the point, the damned Soviets were in Silesia and closing in fast. Their patrols had already been reported outside of Ludwidsdorf, and while Kammler doubted those reports were accurate, Czech partisans were definitely in the area.

The war had officially ended yesterday; it had been nine days since Der Führer’s death … but Kammler was under no illusions as to his fate if he were captured. The partisans were murderous bastards with a serious grudge against the SS. Farther east, the Soviets were rolling into Lower Silesia like swarming locusts.

There were the Americans, of course. Patton and his Third Army were reported to be heading directly toward Lower Silesia. If he could reach them, surrendering was at least an option. Dornberger and von Braun, he knew, had intended to go that route and avoid the tender mercies of the Communists. But though he did have extensive knowledge of Germany’s top secret wonder weapons, Kammler was little more than an engineer and an administrator … a very good administrator, but not someone who could offer his services to the enemy and hope to receive a hero’s welcome. Kammler’s résumé included such pearls as designing gas chambers, crematoriums, and the camp at Auschwitz, as well as using slave labor here to carve out der Riese, the enormous underground complex of tunnels and chambers housing the Reich’s most sensitive work. He would, he knew, face war crimes trials … and probable execution.

No … there would be no escape in that direction either.

An elevator took him and his entourage up three levels to a small shed with a wooden door opening into the night outside. Ahead, through the trees, a shimmering blue haze could just be seen, against which was silhouetted the towering bulk of the coolant tower.

“Stark, Sporrenberg, with me,” he said. “The rest of you stay here.”

Stark was carrying two black leather bags, like doctor’s satchels, heavy with the secrets they contained. “Thank you, all of you,” he told them. “Perhaps we’ll meet in happier days.”

“Herr General,” his driver said. “Those papers … they might buy us—buy you —safety with the Americans!”

“No, Prueck. I have too much blood behind me. And I will not be taken alive. I will not face some kangaroo court of so-called justice!”

He turned and strode toward the woods, Stark and Sporrenberg trailing just behind him.

“Herr General,” his adjutant said, urgency turning his voice ragged. “They—they’re right, sir! There are rumors, stories, that the Americans are looking for the Reich’s scientists. To snatch them before the Russians can reach them.”

“But I am not a scientist, Stark,” Kammler replied quietly. “Not like von Braun or those other cowards. No … this is the only way.” He stopped and turned. “You two shouldn’t come any closer. It’s dangerous, Die Glocke. I’ll take those.”

“I had no idea that Projekt Kronos would have such … practical applications, General,” Gruppenführer Jakob Sporrenberg said.