Chapter Five
In one of our early trance journeys to the Station, Nuke invited me to pilot his relatively small, personal vessel. The sleek, matte- black craft had a rounded delta shape that reminded me of a sting ray. Its surface was very smooth except for several longitudinal grooves along each side. When I first saw it I said, “It looks like something Batman would fly.”
“See if you can find an entrance.”
“I’m underneath it at the back. I see a lot of bright yellow lights in a circle around a rectangular hatch.” He nodded and we entered.
“Look above and tell me what you see.”
“We’re in a spherical enclosure that has curved ridges in the walls that radiate from the apex. I can see the stars outside.”
“Take me to the control center.”
I led the way to the middle of the sphere, where a disc-shaped platform was levitating. It had concentric circles of yellow light on its concave top. I said, “This is the power source.”
“Where is the control panel?”
“Over on the left.”
He told me to sit at it. I replied, “I don’t know about trying to fly this thing.”
“Look at your panel. The computer will tell you what to do. It won’t allow you to crash.”
“On my left I see a lighted pad with a black outline of the ship on it. I can maneuver by putting pressure on the corresponding part of the outline. The harder I press, the faster the ship will go.” There were other controls and indicators, but they were unnecessary for flying. The craft automatically obeyed the orders it received.
“Let’s take her for a spin.”
“There are dangers like meteor showers and radiation bands out there. I’m afraid I might take us somewhere we shouldn’t go.”
He said, “Computer, locate the nearest meteor cluster.” Within seconds we were flying through a cloud composed of thousands of rock fragments. The instant we struck one, the force field around the ship converted it into pure energy, creating a display of multicolored flashes like fireworks.
I said, “Does the field absorb the energy and return it to the power center?”
“Exactly. Where would you like to go now?”
“I want to take a closer look at that galaxy you showed me.” We neared it very quickly. I said, “This is the Milky Way! How can we see it from this dimension?”
“It’s like the reflection you see in a mirror. Pay attention now, we’re making a 180 degree turn.”
“I feel a strange sensation of energy inside my head.”
“What do you think is causing it?”
“It’s the pull of the black hole at the center of the galaxy!”
“I never tire of this feeling. It’s always a thrill, a great rush. We are pulling eighteen g’s.”
“How does a galaxy last any time at all with so much force pulling the stars toward the center?”
“You’ll have to ask Breath that.”
On one of our spiritual journeys, Marjie and I were parked in a remote area of southern Colorado when 8 began to channel. I told him we had come there in hopes of finding the remains of a craft that we were told had crashed on the West Spanish Peak. He said, “Who told you a craft crashed around here?”
“A woman we know has memories of another lifetime when she was the male pilot of a spacecraft that went out of control right before impact. He tried to drag the bodies of the passengers from the wreckage before he also died. He blamed himself for the accident and felt terribly guilty. Do you have any record of such a crash?”
“I will have to consult my System.”
I waited a couple of seconds. “Ah, yes. A craft disappeared near here and was never found. What else does your friend remember?”
“She remembers flying a craft to the area where the Hopi Indian Reservation is now located and contacting the elders. She removed the fuel crystals from her craft and buried them for safekeeping. She thinks that someday she is supposed to reclaim them.”
“What more did she tell you about the crystals?”
“She said they were put into a container in the center of the craft and powered it.”
“That would indeed make them antiques. We have not used that type of fuel for many centuries. If you or she attempt to dig them up, you should be very careful. They could be quite dangerous.”
“Are they radioactive or something?”
“After so long a time they would be quite unstable.”
Nuke informed us that it was his friend Rapsar who had piloted the sabotaged craft which had crashed. Unbeknownst to our acquaintance, Rapsar’s spirit had entered her body when she had visited the peak, and she mistook his memories as her own from another lifetime.
Nuke was very pleased that Rapsar’s spirit had been found and asked us to deliver messages to him through the woman who was able to channel him. The messages assured him that he was not to blame for the crash, gave him instructions to follow at a future date, and informed him that his mate Clairetrinia, was still alive and knew he had been located.
Marjie and I had numerous sightings of UFOs and she frequently expressed her desire to be taken when we did. One night while I was sleeping she was given a “joy ride” in a craft that quickly flew her to Louisiana and back. She said they flew so low that they actually brushed tree tops, which was frightening, but she was mostly thrilled with the experience.
On another occasion we were returning from one of our walks and were near the house when a craft flew directly over us. Marjie suddenly could not stop turning to the right as she walked, and I had to physically steer her into the house. Nuke was irritated by the incident and said excess energy had been erroneously discharged from the craft by a rookie who didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to do that above our property. The energy had spiraled into the ground through Marjie’s body, causing her to spiral with it. The ET medical staff quickly corrected her imbalance.
Marjie could see UFOs that were cloaked and invisible to me. When I saw them they were usually too far away to make out details, or it was at night and I could only their lights.. Nuke said the craft could make themselves appear to be an ordinary aircraft or practically any other object. Although normally silent, they sometimes made strange sounds. Nuke and I were watching one that had been silent but suddenly began to made sounds identical to a hot rod automobile accelerating away, including the gear shifts. The craft would usually respond to Nuke’s verbal commands or to the casual comments of observers, as in these instances:
At L’Anse aux Meadows on the northern coast of Newfoundland Island, a Viking settlement, thought to be the first in North America, has been reproduced as it might have looked when still active, based on the archeological evidence and the known features of ancient Norse dwellings. We had gone there to look for stones that Tanner wanted us to find and because we had been informed that important family connections existed there. Those connections were said to concern Nuke as well as us. To our surprise, the ghost of Rapsar, the pilot of a craft that had crashed on the West Spanish Peak, began to channel through a Canadian woman we shall call Candace, with whom we were staying on Prince Edward Island. Nuke had been infatuated with her from the moment he channeled in her presence due to the beauty of her spiritual Light. Nuke informed us that Rapsar was a member of the tall, blonde, humanoid extraterrestrial species sometimes called the Nordic types, and said that they had been responsible for creating the warrior-based culture of human Vikings, which was very similar to their own. Channeling, Rapsar directed us to a particular location near L’Anse aux Meadows, where we found one of Tanner’s most significant stones. Rapsar also told us to be on the lookout for aerial phenomena that would alter our comprehension of the reasons why we had been directed to take our spiritually guided journeys. Nuke added that although Rapsar’s species were respected and peaceful members of the Alliance, they remained very competitive and valued physical and sexual dominance. Nuke warned Candace that Rapsar would play on her sympathy and attempt to steal her affections away from him. Rapsar easily succeeded in his romantic quest, which caused Nuke considerable distress, mainly because Candace had not followed his advice.
At L’Anse Aux Meadow, Marjie, Candace and I had watched a large helicopter hovering over the sea near a cliff, about a half mile away and a hundred feet high. There was a small, stationary boat in the water next to an object I couldn’t identify that projected from the calm surface. The helicopter and the boat wore Coast Guard emblems. After a couple of hours or so, the helicopter lowered, picked up a metallic panel that flashed in the sun from the boat by means of a cable, and carried it a very short distance to the indistinct object, where it was received. It was the only tangible thing the helicopter had done, which was so unrealistic that I said to Nuke, “That can’t be a real helicopter. It would’ve run out of fuel long ago.”
“You’re right. It’s a craft simulating a helicopter while it’s supplying a base located under the boat. The boat is also a facsimile. They aren’t actually needed to supply the base. They are there only for your entertainment and to remind you that your friends are close by.”
On another occasion Nuke and I were taking a walk when my attention was drawn to a fairly close, white light in the sky that slowly moved forward, backward, and side to side, making very little progress. As we walked across the field it moved in the same direction and followed us again when I deliberately changed course. I said, “They seem to know we’re watching them.”
“They are very aware of your gaze. From that altitude, they can count the number hairs on your head, or your whole body, for that matter.”
We were near a hilltop on a nighttime walk when I asked about the black, unmarked helicopters that often appear around crop circles and animal surgeries. He said, “Eighty percent of them are from your own military. The rest are illusions created by our craft. It is possible to make our craft resemble anything that we choose. It’s like changing signs on the side of a delivery van.”
At that very moment I heard the sound of helicopter rotors in the southwest, where a small light at low altitude approached toward us. I said, “If that light is coming from a helicopter, it’s awfully small. It can’t be more than a mile away.” The weaving light staggered in stops and starts and bobbed up and down in the calm air as if it wanted to attract attention. I said, “That’s no helicopter.”
Nucleus laughed. “They are projecting the sound quite well, don’t you think?” It passed by us about a half mile away, going toward a small airport a couple of miles away. Nuke shouted, “You’re weaving!”
“What makes the craft bob up and down like that?”
“When it travels over different magnetic fields it will waver according to the intensity of the field. One has to be very quick and alert to pilot a craft smoothly when close to the surface.”
“They don’t have a tail light,” I said.
“You forgot your taillight!” he yelled. A small red light immediately appeared to the rear of the white light. It went on bouncing along until it began to descend, and a bright landing light came on.
“It looks like they’re going to land at the airport.”
“They are quite capable of that.”
“Won’t they have to radio their intention to land?”
“They are quite capable of doing that, too.”
“I didn’t realize they could use a radio like we do.”
“Of course they can.”
“Don’t they have to file a flight plan or something? Most planes can’t just go flying anywhere they want to without a plan, at least not in low-flying helicopters.”
“They can do that, too, but why should the staff at the airport investigate? All they will see is a helicopter coming in for a landing with a crew. If another helicopter should come and land beside them and the crews get out and talk to one another, they will just think they are friends. Who knows, perhaps they will go inside for a Tootsie Roll and a Dr. Pepper. They love to imitate humans.”
“You mean they can walk right into the airport and no one will notice they’re not human?”
“They can project whatever image they wish into the mind of the person they are dealing with.”
I laughed. “It must be fun for them to know they can pull one over on us so easily.”
“It is quite amusing.”
Tesar was very fond of WWII era airplanes and would have them replicated in every detail at the Station before transporting them into our dimension, where he joyfully and skillfully flew them. He was especially fond of a small red biplane designed for stunt flying and performed amazing maneuvers near our home that equaled those of the best pilots in the world. One of his favorites was to climb straight up until he stalled out, to turn his engine off and tailspin toward the ground, not turning it back on until the last possible moment, followed by a crazy maneuver at the end of his dive.
With three or four DC 3’s, (a rugged two engine cargo plane created in the 1930’s that is still used today) he started a delivery business that flew from the local airport. We could always hear them taking off, drawing our attention which was sometimes rewarded with a view of something impossible, such as flying at about 50 miles per hour with engines racing at full speed, or watching them suddenly vanish when they entered a corridor into Nuke’s dimension.
A 1940's era Beech Bonanza with its distinctive V-shaped tail fins flew over our house one afternoon, and Tesar immediately began to channel, asking after Nuke’s welfare. Other flybys of ET craft were also associated with the arrival and departure of individuals who channeled through Marjie, especially Nuke, but not often.
I once told Nuke that an acquaintance said he had seen a delta-shaped UFO fly across a field in front of him, stop, reverse, and then cross it again.
Nuke said, “It was already too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“By the time it backed up, the contact had already been made. Why would the occupants of a craft allow it to be seen up close if they weren’t going to make a positive contact?”
“Why did it back up?”
“It didn’t actually back up. They returned him to the conditions that existed just before their contact.”
“He was surprised by the delta shape of the craft. I told him at least fifty different types of UFOs have been sighted.”
“There are many more than that. Ships enter your atmosphere in many configurations. We have our Fords and Cadillacs, too.”
Nuke and I were enjoying another of our nighttime walks when a couple of UFOs went by. He said, “I bought a new personal craft and I’m very impressed with it. I had alterations and improvements made and now it’s three times faster than my other one was.
“It has an eight point crystal power source.”
“A V8 for 8,” I said.
“It’s a pale blue disc. I took it for a joy ride around the universe this afternoon.”
“I’m glad you gifted yourself. You certainly deserve it. I never actually asked how your craft are powered.”
“A crystal is used to absorb and focus the light from a tiny nuclear fusion device. The light is refracted onto a sphere of honeycomb-like mirrored surfaces about six feet away from the crystal. They reflect the light back into the crystal, creating compressed light energy. More energy enters the crystal than it can contain, and the resulting pressure is relieved through a valve, which directs the pure energy in whatever direction is desired. It propels the vessel in an action/reaction type manner. I don’t understand all the mechanics of it, but that is essentially how it works.”
He described joyride. “I took my new craft for a spin around Earth and visited the MIR space station they’re still working on. I looped around it twice and stopped. All of the crew members had their faces plastered against the viewports, gaping at me. A Russian was going crazy, communicating with his base. One of the U.S. crew members said, Houston, we would like to report a bogey. He told them there was no hostile action, especially since I had waved at them. It took every ounce of my willpower to resist giving them the finger.”
Another night at 10:00 p.m. Nuke was smoking his last cigarette before going back to the Station. (Yes, he liked to smoke, but protected Marjie’s body from any harmful side effects. She never woke wih a smoker’s cough). We were walking around the yard enjoying a beautiful moonlit sky and a cool, westerly breeze. I looked skyward to the east, I saw a white light slowly pass by.
I asked, “Who is that?”
“It’s one of ours, but I can’t say who the pilot is. It’s no one I know.”
My emergency call telephone rang, but when I hit the talk button, all I got was a dial tone. I said, “No one’s there. I wonder why it rang.”
“Maybe he called you,” 8 said, pointing to the craft.
“Hey, that’s neat! I haven’t had anything like that happen in a long time. Thanks, friend!”
“That was just so you know they’re aware of us. Now you have a story to tell.”
Nuke posted a note to the internet chat group he had joined which described the incredible features of yet another personal craft given to him by the friendly Red Star Federation: She is sleek and incredibly fast. She is powered by first generation red crystals (rubies) and secondary quasar energy, the very latest technology. She weighs seventeen tons, comfortably holds six occupants with form-fitting lounges, has state of the art Alliance communications and weaponry with sentient override, ablative and solar/atomic shields, a personal communicator with telepathic activation, a galley with life support for 23 Station cycles, space and terra safety gear for six, and her system is programmed for language recognition and translation. She has a conforming hull, and I prefer the chevron shape. She is silent, can run with or without exterior lighting, and is undetectable by your radar. I will admit that on a recent flight her hull was slightly marred and that the individual responsible paid dearly for that action. I feel quite protective of her, since her system is sentient and she has a consciousness all her own.
I learned that ET craft can be fantastically durable. I once asked 8 about the accuracy of a You Tube video, purportedly taken by an Apollo 20 astronaut, which shows a very large, alien craft on the Moon’s surface. Its hull was covered with deeply engraved, hieroglyphic-like markings and appeared to have craters caused by small meteorites. Nuke said the craft was deliberately left there 40,000 Earth years ago by the Anunaki adding, “It is fully functional and ready to go. NASA has known about it for at least twenty years.” He further stated that the Anunaki are not members of the Alliance. Their intrusive interactions with early humans are described in ancient Sumerian legends that Zecharia Stitchen describes in detail in several volumes of The Earth Chronicles,
In one of our combined trance journeys, Nuke and I had boarded an extraordinary vessel that I wanted to visit again He said we would have to travel backwards in time in order to do that, which required getting Metatron’s permission. We entered his vacant office, levitating above the circuit-filled floor. I saw wall panels which had many triangles on them. Nuke confirmed that they were portals into other dimensions, time zones, and locations. He said, “The walls come apart in sections and can be reassembled elsewhere, but the floor must be moved in one piece. Metatron designed it, and none of us fully understand how it works. We believe it’s directly connected with Source.”
Metatron arrived, and we telepathically expressed our love for one another. Nuke said, “We are here because we need your assistance to travel through time. Counselor, tell him what you want to do.”
I mentally communicated, “I want to know why I was on that beautiful ship, why it was where it was, and how it relates to present circumstances.”
“She is gesturing toward a portal. Do you see it?”
“I see a large black portal on my right. Is that it?”
“Yes, and we are to go through it.”
We entered and were rapidly transported through a
tunnel of Light to the vessel, which resembled a gigantic, oblong, golden Chinese temple bell. It was festooned with beautiful raised images of various life forms over every inch of its surface. Feeling its tremendous energy, I began to vibrate. Nuke said, “My goodness! Do you feel all the energy here? It’s making my chest hurt.”
I realized that this was my personal vessel and said, “Tone it down a bit. That’s better.”
We effortlessly levitated to an entrance at its top, and once inside, were immersed in intense red light that felt like being immersed in a very thick atmosphere. As we slowly descended until we arrived at the bottom opening, Nuke complained, “I feel as if I am enveloped in a womb. This opening looks like genitalia to me.” Though it seems absurd, the opening looked and felt like a giagantic vagina. White, flesh-like projections reached inward around the opening.
Drawings like Egyptian hieroglyphs mixed in with symbols and alphabets of many Earth languages covered the surrounding wall. It occurred to me that we were bringing written language to the primitive inhabitants of this planet! I said, “Would you like to go outside? I believe we just landed on Earth.” Nuke was eager to get out of the viscous, red environment. I said, “It reminds me of being born. It’s a very loving sensation.”
“It doesn’t agree with me at all!”
After a peaceful encounter with primitive, oriental-looking people to whom we had been contributing knowledge and material assistance for some years, we returned to the apex of the vessel, where we were met by Orta, a large dragon, who was a member of my crew! Nuke said, “I must admit that being around the two of you makes me very uncomfortable. All those teeth look dangerous. I think you might devour me.”
“Orta looks ferocious, but he’s really a pussycat.”
“Look at yourself!”
I was shocked to see that I was also reptilian. My finely scaled skin was light green on the dorsal and bright white on the ventral surfaces of my entire body. My head was wedge-shaped like a lizard, and had folds at the neck. My large teeth were designed for tearing flesh and my forked tongue flicked in and out like a snake’s, sensing my environment. I said, “You’re perfectly safe. I don’t eat my friends, and hybrids aren’t a normal part of my diet, anyway.”
“I’m sorry, but that doesn’t reassure me very much. You both look hungry to me. I want to go home.” We were quickly transported back to Mother’s office.
When we arrived, I was a bit shocked when Nuke, sobbing like a small child, wailed, “I was frightened, Mother! I had no security at all! I didn’t want to be in that situation, and I don’t understand why you put me in a position where I felt so vulnerable!”
“It was time for you to grow,” Mother whispered.
“But I didn’t like it! I don’t want to back there again! You frightened me!” I was puzzled by Nuke’s extreme reaction, but later I realized the situation had triggered the lingering fear generated by his traumatic birth and a potentially deadly encounter with furious reptilians who were trying to protect their brood.
He said to me, “Perhaps now I know how some humans feel when they are taken to the Station and don’t understand what’s going on.”
I said, “Many of them feel totally vulnerable and are scared out of their wits by alien beings whose motives and technology they don’t understand.”
Nuke said, “I’m embarrassed. I need a sedative. I will never go back to your ship again!” He withdrew.
Adam was quite aware of our journey and 8’s distress.
He didn’t think anyone else at the Station had been allowed to enter one of Metatron’s portals. He also thought that my very odd ship might have been created by Metatron or might even be a part of her/him! I knew that Metatron can manifest anything he chooses, and his nurturing, feminine aspect could have been responsible for making the craft feel as if we were within a benevolent womb, which could give birth to anything we needed.
When I questioned claims that reverse engineering of alien craft had occurred at Area 51, Nuke informed me that the Alliance had allowed a few small craft to be “captured,” partly because attempts to understand them kept lot of people busy who might otherwise be paying too much attention to what the Alliance was doing in outer space. He said it was true that our military had learned to fly one of them, but they had barely scratched the surface of its capabilities and were not capable of mastering the technologies involved. Furthermore, the Alliance could easily retrieve the “donated” craft if it was considered necessary to do it.
When, at Nuke’s request, we visited Dulce, N.M., he confirmed information we had previously received that an underground military base is located in a mountain just outside of town. We saw some unusually complicated antennae on it. Nuke said they were trying to monitor his signal as we drove nearer to it and he shut down. When we entered the Wild Horse Inn and Casino parking lot, we saw an unmarked black van with two men inside it, visually scanning the surrounding area as if searching for something, before they slowly drove away. After lunch we drove toward the base and parked under some trees. Nuke said he was messing with their signal and we should go, because it was likely that troops would show up at any minute, and he shut down again. We were headed south on U.S. 64 when he said he was going to send scouts to investigate the site more thoroughly. Some hours later he said a pair of F-15s were scrambled to intercept the scout craft. They were allowed to approach but could do no harm because their weapon systems were easily disabled.
On a later trip we were at Taos, N.M. and stopped to admire the sunset and lights of the city on a countryside hill. After dark, we saw flashes of light beyond the southwest horizon, in the direction of Los Alamos. Nuke said he had requested that a few craft would fly by for our entertainment, but along the way, Tesar had decided to play with the installations down there by jamming their signals. They had reacted with deadly force and Tesar got mad, so he was demonstrating his craft’s ability to defeat their weapons, which caused the flashes of light.