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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2167486
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Sci-fi · #2167486
The cure came too late for one world, can it save another?
Thursday, June 1st, 2090. 11:15 AM.

My name is Nomad; Jon Nomad. I am an explorer and adventurer by both trade and hobby. I inherited a vast fortune from my father who was a big tech wizard in his day. I had no interest in science or technology but I learned it well to keep my father happy. It turns out it came in more useful than I could have ever imagined. I'll keep this beginning part brief because there is a lot to tell. I was flying over the Amazon Rain forest after a successful treasure hunt in the Atlantic Ocean. I had found some fascinating artifacts from an ancient ship that sailed from Egypt to Brazil. I was flying the new nuclear battery powered Eagle 7 private jet. I guess the government ran out of places to bury their waste so they made batteries out of them. It was a fine jet; I could go from coast to coast and back and more on a single charge.

Unfortunately, the battery did not protect the plane from sudden storms. One brewed up out of the blue and I found myself caught in it before I even knew it was coming. I struggled with the controls but, not being an expert pilot, I was forced to make a crash landing in a small clearing. When I said small, I was not exaggerating; I hit the trees before I could even get the plane to start to slow down. Both wings ripped off speeding between two trees and the tail snapped as I went into a spin upon hitting another tree. I finally came to a stop in another, slightly larger clearing I did not notice from the air. Cursing just about every word I knew, I limped out of the plane only to find the discovery of the century... A massive crashed space ship...

Friday June 2nd, 2090. 7:45 AM.

The storm had finally passed and I was able to get a better look at thew crashed space ship. It was indeed massive as when I passed over it in my jet, I had thought it was a jagged hill in the jungle landscape. The ship was almost completely covered in vegetation but, to my uncanny luck, I was able to find what appeared to be a hatch leading inside. It was open ajar so I could only guess it meant there were at least some survivors of the ancient crash. With all of the strange stories that come out of the Amazon jungle, it was no surprise to me that aliens had to be included somewhere among them. The hatch was surprisingly heavy but i managed to open it enough to step inside.

I found myself inside a long metal hall with doors leading to other parts of the ship every ten to twelve feet. The air was stale but breathable with a strong scent of iron and copper. I decided to explore a little but made a quick trip back to the wreckage of my jet to grab a can of florescent paint to mark my turns so I can find my way back to the hatch. I explored the first few rooms and soon found myself in a strange room with various square slots in the wall. Upon closer inspection, I found the these slots held what appeared to be batteries. Curious, I pulled one out to discover it was very similar to the nuclear battery from my jet. This lead me to take a chance and I traced my movements back out to my jet and retrieved the battery. It was annoyingly heavy; about forty pounds but I managed to haul it back to the room and push it into the slot.

I was startled when two prongs stabbed into the battery and began to pull in the radioactive material! A few seconds later, the lights in the room turned on though very dimly and a robotic voice began to speak in, of course, an alien language. What surprised me was that is was very similar to the ancient language of the Aztec people. Again, to my uncanny luck, it was a language I knew...

*Emergency power at minimum! Unable to activate backup generator!*

I cleared my throat and called out in the ancient Aztec language, "Where is the backup generator?!"

Lights kicked on in the hall outside of the room. I looked up and found that only the lights leading in one direction had come on; the ship's computer was showing me the way...

Friday, June 2nd 2090. 10:45 AM.

It was three nerve racking hours of walking through dimly lit corridors surrounded by unknown smells, sounds, and frightening shadows before I finally reached the generator the ancient computer spoke of. Like the ship, it was massive. I began to wonder if giants had piloted the ship or if it was designed for something else altogether. The lights led me directly to a control panel which seemed surprisingly simplistic. Only I had learned from very painful experience that nothing is as simplistic as it seemed. I took my time studying the controls and discovered that it was one of seven control panels that worked the generator. I found it a bit overly complex for one person alone to work out. Still, after locating all seven panels, I managed to work them all by running in a circle around the generator. I was completely out of breath by the time the machine activated but I was rewarded by bright lights and a strong computerized voice announcing, *Emergency power at ninety five percent. Fuel supplies at minimum, require refueling.*

I rolled my eyes at that and called out, "What is required to refuel?"

The computer replied, *Any and all radioactive material.*

I sighed. "That's going to be expensive."
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