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By DAVID ALLEN
AuthorHouseCopyright © 2012 David Allen
All right reserved.
Chapter OneIf you were to ask me to describe this book in only a few words, I'd call it "A Brief History." But that's not to say that this is a history book—not by any stretch of the imagination. There are probably enough of those written to fill a small library, and since so few of them are even accurate, I see no point in trying to write another. It's the details that were left out of them that are important, and that's why I've incorporated the word "History" to describe what's written in these pages. I intend to fill in those blanks, to explain what scholars, historians, scientists and philosophers have all gotten wrong. And what this book is, essentially, is an explanation—and what better place to start than the beginning. Let's go back a ways—all the way back to when the world was new and drawing its first breath in an infinite dark womb filled with nothing but silence and mystery. How about we start with the Big Bang theory? It certainly was a good theory to say to least, and not entirely inaccurate. It's been told that an immense explosion occurred, which involved elements and gasses of unknown origin and composition. Only part of that is true. There was an explosion, yes, but the element has been known to the human race since the dawn of creation. And as most of us have come to realize, secrets have been kept since mankind has first developed the power of speech. The ability to speak has always been our greatest defense. And as history has proven time and time again, it can just as easily be our undoing. Unfortunately, as with any weapon, in the wrong hands it can lead to destruction—or in our case, extinction. But now I'm getting ahead of myself.
There is a distant planet, the name of which—as we've been told—can only be pronounced properly with a forked tongue, but has come to be referred to as Logos. Planet Logos contains the element that sparked our galaxy into being. Whether or not this planet still exists is unbeknownst to our species, but the proof of its existence is undeniably evident. Everything from the snowcapped mountain peaks to the algae coated abyssal trenches in the deepest regions of our oceans have originated from this one single clump of indestructible metal. How this is possible has never been determined, but the truth of it is incontrovertible.
There are two barbaric and brutal races of creature that have been feuding over this metal for millennia, and for either race to have possession of this element would grant them an unfathomable power over the other. This is why they have made it their life's mission to acquire this metal, and why they would sacrifice their own bloodlines to obtain it. In fact, to obtain the power that this metal wields would grant any species the ability to become the most supreme rulers in the universe. And these two species—the Volkuros and the Gruegans—would prefer to face annihilation than to learn to live in harmony, even though the planet Logos holds enough of this substance for every living thing in the universe to have a share, and still leave enough for generations to come. The Logos is a living entity and a renewable resource, therefore it replenishes itself. But species like these do not have it in their nature to share power. So they waged a war on one another—a battle that's lasted almost as long as time itself.
But don't assume that the planet Logos is a beautiful place just because I mentioned that one of its minerals was the source of our creation. The surface of the planet is likely to be the deadliest thing that any creature has ever set eyes upon. There are oceans of silicone based acids that could kill any living thing with just a single vapor, and almost the entire surface of the planet is liquid. The only thing that even resembles land masses are vast clusters of long, thin metallic reeds that float upon the calm and dormant sea of liquid metal. These reeds are also a living entity, and they are the planet's main defense mechanism. At the slightest sign of movement, these reeds jump to life and can slash through even the toughest of metals with just the slightest flick. Needless to say, the surface of this planet is unapproachable. Even if one was to successfully penetrate the lethally gaseous atmosphere, and then manage to maneuver through the vile mesh of twisted metal vines that protect its surface, the sea itself would then consume anything that's reached within a hundred yards of its precious compound. While the metal is in its liquid form, it is a powerfully corrosive acid, making it impossible to handle. Only once the metal has cooled and solidified can it be touched, and to retrieve a sample can only be achieved with technology far greater than our own. Somehow, the Gruegans had managed to collect a portion of it, but were then attacked by the Volkuros while escaping the planets deadly atmosphere.
Now, I know what you must be thinking. How could I, or anyone else, have this much information about a planet that's so far beyond our solar system, which cannot be reached or seen by any means at our disposal? There are two answers to that question. One: the Volkuros and the Gruegans have occupied our planet for many years, and they've brought the metal right here onto our soil, where they've continued their ongoing battle and fought for possession of the mineral. And two: the metal has ended up in our own possession many times throughout history and revealed its secrets to us, showing us evidence that there are things in this universe that we've only just begun to comprehend. And when I say "showing us evidence," I mean that the metal—which is also known as the Logos—reflects images of the places it's been, the people who have been in contact with it, and has captivated us with the mysteries that lie deep within its remarkable composition, waiting to be explored, begging to be unlocked. Although the glittering surface of the metal has shown us all of that and more, it is not a mirrored image, and it never ever reflects even a hint of what's going on around it in the present. That is how we'd first learned about the planet and its deadly atmosphere, by observing the images projected by the metal. That is also how we've come to know of the existence of the Volkuros and Gruegans, long before they ever revealed themselves to us. Now you may be wondering why they would reveal themselves to us at all. The Logos has this peculiar ability to disappear at will, and where it will reemerge—and whose hands it will be in when it does—can never be determined. Therefore, to work with us, rather than against us, has broadened their ability to search for it; and in the process, it's given them a greater understanding of our species. To understand us is to conquer us. This is a lesson that we've come to learn the hard way. As for our knowledge of the Volkuros, the Gruegans, the Logos, and the planet from which it's derived, we've learned all of this from our dealings with the Gruegans. For many years they'd deceived us into believing that we have a common enemy—the Volkuros—and that they would help us to fight against them as a team. They'd promised to leave our planet in peace once we'd helped them to win their war. How naïve we were to trust them, and how foolish we were to give them the ammunition that they needed to defeat us.
Roswell ... Hangar 18 ... Area 51—are all places and events in our history that mark occasions when we've had contact with these creatures. And those are just the few names that have been carelessly leaked to the general public; the records of which were altered and later believed to be fraudulent rumors. But the truth is there are hundreds of other such encounters. These creatures have visited our planet long before we inhabited it, and there is only a small group of people who know this to be a fact. Those people are members of an underground society, and they've been sworn to secrecy upon penalty of death. The people I am referring to have nothing to do with the U.S. government—or any other government for that matter. No government in the entire world is aware of the existence of this society. These groups are comprised of the most unlikely members—average citizens for the most part—people who would never be suspected of being privy to such information. There are monks, scientists, archeologists, chemists, mathematicians and teachers, just to name a few; people who have something valuable to contribute to society. The idea is this: if the world were ever at war, and the population is diminished to only a small handful, these are the kind of people that will be able to form a new generation that can continue the world where it left off. Learning a trade is a very simple thing, but the trade must be passed down by those who have learned it before us, otherwise that skill could be lost or forgotten.
By now you've probably guessed that I'm a member of that society, and that by telling you this information I'll be putting myself in grave danger. You're more right than you can possibly imagine. As I write these words, I will be hunted—not only by my own organization, but also by the Volkuros and Gruegans. It is only a matter of time before I am discovered. So for obvious reasons, I won't be able to tell you my real name. But for the sake of introductions and formality, you can call me Belvedere. And as for my organization, let's just call it "The Post."
Now, you're probably wondering why I'd go to such great lengths to reveal this to you, and to put myself in jeopardy, and to risk everything to expose my organization. Exposing the true nature of this group is exactly the point. It is necessary for you to understand what my organization truly is. You see, the Volkuros and the Gruegans are evil, monstrous, barbaric races; but their heinous and malevolent acts of cruelty and violence pale in comparison to the things that we've done. The truth is that we are the monsters, and it's time that everyone knows the crimes that we've committed, the sins that we're responsible for, and the atrocities that we've unleashed upon the world. A war is upon us, and we are all a part of it. But in order to fight a war, you must first know what you are fighting for, and why. And if you're holding this book in your hands, then I've succeeded in completing the first step, which is to arm you with that knowledge. These are the facts as best as I can dictate them. I leave it in your hands to have the courage to pass it on before it's too late.
I'm not asking for your sympathy or pity, because I don't deserve it. We are to be held accountable for our actions and punished for our crimes against humanity. I'm not looking for forgiveness either. What I really want is retribution. I want vengeance on those who have wronged us all. But more importantly, I want for you to want the same. You need to be prepared for what's coming, and the best I can do is to show you the face of your enemies. My organization is responsible for plaguing us with disease and sickness, greed and malice, death and dishonor ... but worst of all they've deafened us with their silence. I will have my say in this once and for all. I will shed light on those who have been left to dwindle in darkness for centuries. I will come forth and sacrifice myself for those who have perished in our wake. I will speak for those who cannot—who will not. After all, mankind's greatest and deadliest weapon is and always has been the power of speech.
There will be those who will wish to stop us. And I must say "us" now, because we are all a part of this history, like it or not. There will be those who will try to pass these words off as fiction, who will continue to lie to us and try to convince us that these things don't exist. Well I say let them try. The more you continue to read these words, the deeper you will immerse in the truth of things, and the more you will become a weapon; a tool in bringing our oppressors to their knees. And by passing this book—this knowledge—on to those who will take part in our goal, the closer we will come to victory. We mustn't hide from the truth any longer. That's what they want. It's what makes them strong. It's the fabric that binds them together as a system that works against us and tries to make us crumble by subjecting us to their lies. We must not allow them to patronize us by pulling that fabric over our eyes. I'm offering these pages to you as a means of bringing us all a step closer to the truth. What you choose to do with this gift is up to you of course. I can only show you the way. But it is you that has to lead. The time for retribution is upon us.
Chapter TwoIn order for you to understand what the Posts are, and what goes on there, you'll first need to know who the players are. Each Post is comprised of a few different squadrons. Five commanding officers are assigned to each section, all wearing standard military uniforms, adorned with the appropriate stars, stripes and badges in accordance to rank. Although these commanders have legitimate status and are listed as government special ops, this is only a façade to grant them access to all military documents and facilities. But they are technically not military personnel. Any information, progress or discoveries that are made within the Post are reported to them and are then tagged and categorized as evidence. Those are the people who are most feared within our organization, because they're the ones who get the lucky job of keeping tabs on us.
Then there are the computer technicians. They monitor any and all radio, television and satellite signals, and filter codes and transmissions that may have been sent by EBE's (Extraterrestrial Biological Entities) over our own airwaves. They then intercept those messages to interpret whether or not they are intended as threats. Their duties are probably the most crucial at our facilities, as they've successfully prevented numerous attempts on our lives. We also have a medical staff that deals with cataloguing all of the different species that we've encountered—and there have been many. Their job is to isolate and break down the DNA structures of those species to determine how they differ from our own. This means, of course, autopsies, dissection and experimentation.
Then we have the lab technicians, who focus on analyzing those DNA strands to determine whether or not there are any components that can be used to benefit the human race. But that's not all they've done. Those guys have produced some of the scariest things known to man, such as HIV, Ebola, variations of SARS, and biological weapons of all sorts. And that's just to name a few. The majority of the testing of their research is done on animals, but when they want to try it out on human subjects they usually prey upon some poor, small, starving village in Africa or Ethiopia. These are people that my organization considers to be "expendable" and "easily contained." That aspect of my work has played a significant part in why I have decided to get this information out to the public. It's gone far beyond the point of "out of hand" when we start testing these things on our own race, and then make up cock-and-bull stories to cover it up. And worse yet, the public always tend to accept these lies while thousands of people die as a result of our arrogance. It has got to stop.
And last but not least are those who we call "surface dwellers." These are paranormal investigators that spend much of their time in the field, retrieving evidence of alien encounters, and then covering up situations when people either claim to have seen UFO's, or been abducted. It's up to them to pose as members of the FBI, or other branches of the government, in order to obtain all recorded data from the authorities, and then inform certain tabloid magazines of their findings, so that the information then comes across as comical nonsense, instead of cold, hard facts. That's where I fit in, most of the time. I say most of the time because we alternate our duties occasionally, so that no one gets stuck underground for over a certain period of time. Some of the guys I've worked with have spent over a year in the Post without ever seeing sunlight, or having any contact with the outside world at all. I've seen good men (family men with wives and children) go from cool and collective to trigger happy psychotics before their terms are up.
Just picture for a moment what it must be like to spend that length of time in such tight quarters, deep underground, eating the same food every day and seeing only the same handful of people on a regular basis. Cabin fever doesn't even begin to explain the mental trauma that we endure; and that's not even the worst of it. Then we have to live with the burden and guilt in knowing what sort of atrocities we're responsible for, including the spread of disease, the biological warfare that we've unleashed, and the countless lives that they've consumed, and never being able to tell a soul. And still, that's just the easy part. Now imagine what it means to know that we are not alone, that we are constantly threatened and at war with a hostile race that could annihilate us at any moment. Imagine trying to sleep at night after picking apart the body of an extraterrestrial while staring into its cold black eyes, knowing what malevolence lies behind them in that overactive, over imaginative brain of theirs. I tell you, if there is a Hell, it can't be much worse than this.
Excerpted from BELVEDERE by DAVID ALLEN Copyright © 2012 by David Allen. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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