Chapter 2 - Stefan goes aboard the Alien Spacecraft after speaking
with several of the occupants. While on the craft he recieves a mental download of a great amount of information about the alien's home world.
Chapter 3 - Planet Iarga
Chapter 4 - Iargan Society
Chapter 5 - Iargan Spacecraft
In 1982, Wendelle Stevens reprinted the text of a contact case which
had been published in 1977. Stefan Denaerde (not his real name),
a Dutch business man was sailing off of the Netherlands when his sail boat
ran aground on the top of a very large disk that was just beneath the surface
of the water. Stefan had a rather extensive contact with the
extra-terrestrial beings aboard this space craft. The story was
orginally published as science fiction because Stefan believed that
he could not get it published as a true story.
Stefan's boat could not detach from the disk because it had a magnetic
hull plating. Stefan ended up having a contact with the beings on
this ship. In just two days Stefan was given a large amount of information.
The transer of information took it place by means of a technology.
They can induce memory mutations by means of radiation. Stefan was
placed before a big screen on which they show 3-D Images. Stefan says
that the information was added to the big screen by means of some
kind of radiation.
This is a true story of a UFO contact from a planet called IARGA - by the alien astronauts visiting our Earth. They say that
their Sun is about 10 light years as we count time from us, and that they have been observing us for some time.....
This story was first published in Dutch by Ankh-Hermes of Deventer, Netherlands in 1969 and has gone through 11
Editions and 40,000 hardbound copies in Dutch since then. It has been published as science fiction up to now because the
publisher originally felt that this story would not sell as fact. Nevertheless it is a true account of real events and we
are publishing it as such, here, for the first time, together with the very extensive follow-on data as the contacts continued
right up to the present time. We have investigated this case extensively over the past 4 years and conclude that the facts do
in reality verify and support the story. The witness is a very well educated and highly articulate master mechanical engineer
and an architectural artist as well, a rare combination ideally suited for this contact if the alien visitors wanted their
information to be understood and presented with any degree of accuracy.
The witness is also a well known multinational industrialist in Europe whose real name would be immediately recognized.
He is the owner of several companies doing international business. To preserve his identity in order to protect his private
life, we are using a pseudonym given him by the extraterrestrials themselves. They referred to him as "Stef van den Earde"
(Stef of the Earth) from which Stefan Denaerde was derived. When I first met this man I was surprised by his size.
He is a big man, about 6'4" tall and weighing perhaps 220 to 230 pounds.
This part includes the initial contact with the extraterrestrial visitors
and the nearly 8 hours of events and discussions that took place aboard
the alien spacecraft as the witness was shown and experienced scenes
and conditions in the life of the Iargans, both on their home planet
and in their spacecraft.
Iarga; I can talk about it now, the fascinating dusky green planet
with its somber pink sky is no dream but-just a moment. I must first
sort out the mass of information gamed during my astounding experiences
and relate it logically and coherently.
I need to do this for myself as well. Any explanation of my chaotic
memories may help me to become my old self gain. It is difficult for
me to remember the man I used to be. How I felt that beautiful summer
evening on board my yacht that drifted like a huge white swan on the
windless waters of the Oosterscheld (An art of the sea in the southwestern
delta of the Netherlands.)
"Hey, Dad, do you know that the compass is broken?"
I took no notice; it was probably just one of my son's childish jokes.
I sat stretched out in a deck chair, contentedly sipping my coffee
and surveying the distant coast of Schouwen-Duive-land (An island
in the delta.) where we planned to arrive before dark.
On the small strip of land above the horizon, I could see the light
that marked the harbor entrance at Burgsluis. "Honest, Dad, it's
broken. Come and look," persisted my son. Still disbelieving,
I forced myself to stand up and walked over' to where my wife, son
and small daughters were standing looking at the compass as though
they had never seen it before in their lives. Something was definitely
wrong. The map was hanging at a crazy angle, but worse still, the
north indicator was pointing in the direction of the Zeeland bridge,
to the east! I looked accusingly at the discoverer of the trouble.
It wasn't out of the question that my young son was playing a joke
on his father with a magnet. I was disappointed to find that this
was not the case and so I started a serious investigation. In the
meantime, Miriam did the dishes and put the children to bed. By the
time I decided to return to Burgsluis on the motor, it was getting
quite dark, and the fact that I had been unable to find the cause
of the trouble irritated me immensely. Miriam was right in saying
that I should not let a compass spoil such a beautiful day, but I
could not rest until I knew what was wrong. Ah well, I could do that
in the harbor.
I pushed the tjalk (an old-world, flat-bottomed sailing ship) at
full power through the darkness of the Oosterscheldt. There was the
light buoy. I read the number automatically and turned sharply to
port. In the distance lay the next buoy, marking the channel to Burgsluis.
About six miles and we would be home. But things didn't go quite the
way I had planned. Something unbelievable happened.
Suddenly, out of the darkness, a strong, blue-white searchlight shone
in my eyes from a point directly in front of the bow, and at the same
time I heard a high-pitched whining noise above the noise of my motor.
My heart pounded. It came so unexpectedly, that it must have been
several seconds before I acted. Reverse, full power! Damn, it was
too late! With a frightening noise the tjalk came to a standstill
against something solid, but what? Who on earth would be in the middle
of the channel without lights? With shaking hands I stopped the motor
and in the sudden stillness saw the startled face of Miriam appear
in the cabin doorway.
"Is anyone there?" I yelled over the water. In answer the
light went out, but no reply. Miriam came on deck and behind her stood
the children, wide eyed with fear. "Look... there... that flat
thing in the water." It looked like the hull of an overturned
ship or pontoon, but we were at least thirty feet away and couldn’t
possibly have hit it, whatever it was. "Is anyone there?"
I called a second time. The searchlight flashed on again; the strangely
small beam of light swept over the water and cast a cold glare on
the side of the tjalk. I caught my breath. Floating on the incoming
tide was a body, face down, apparently dead. The actions that followed
were carried out at nerve-racking speed. There was only one thought
in my mind: to do something quickly, before the body drifted away
into the darkness.
how they stood on the ship floating when he first saw them
Instinctively, I carried out the motions that I had so often gone
over in my mind in the event of one of the children falling overboard.
Seconds later, I jumped overboard with the line from the lifeboat
in my hand. But what now? I was standing in less than three feet of
water, and my knees and ankles hurt from landing on something as hard
as steel. In my confusion, I saw the line from the dinghy drifting
away. I stood up and dived to catch the rope, and, swimming with the
small boat behind me, managed to grab the body. It wouldn't move.
How would I get such a weight into the boat? First, tie the rope around
him, climb into the boat myself and pull his head above the water;
yes, that was it. Just then an alarm signal began to sound somewhere
in the back of my mind. What kind of a man was this? He was wearing
a kind of metallic suit and around his head was a rubbery ball which
reflected the blue light so strongly that I was unable to see his
face. I began to think about astronauts, but how on earth did he come
to be in the Oosterscheldt? I started the outboard motor and began
slowly back toward the tjalk, but what now? What should I do with
this strange burden beside me? Why had I gone to all this trouble?
My indecision grew by the minute.
The blue light made it plain that I must carry on. It was kept in
my direction by someone who followed the rescue closely from beginning
to end, but what did they want? In terrible confusion, I came at last
alongside the tjalk, tied up the dinghy and stopped the outboard.
In the silence, I heard the voices of Miriam and my eldest daughter.
Thank goodness everything was all right there. Then my peace of mind
received its death blow. There was suddenly a sea of light, a great
diffused light under the surface of the water. A sound made me turn
toward the strange object in the water and I saw a dark shape wading
quickly toward me. It was a perfect copy of the being I had fished
out of the water, with the same shiny metallic suit and a transparent
ball around its head. Step by step, it came closer, and I instinctively
grabbed the boat hook to defend myself. He held out an arm in a friendly
gesture and turned his face toward me. I sprang back as though bitten
by a snake; a wild fear cut off my breath. It was a nightmare. A terrible,
indescribable feeling took hold of me. The being in front of me was
not human! An animallike face, with large square pupils in the eyes,
eyes which were both hypnotic and self-assured. It struck me like
a thunderbolt. Here I stood, facing an alien being from a race more
intelligent than my own! But why was I still so afraid? I cannot explain.
If it had been a gorilla, for example, then I would have quickly sprung
on board my ship and put up a fight with the boat hook to prevent
the animal from coming on' board. There would have been no time for
the fear that came from the feeling of helplessness in recognition
of his superiority.
The fear grew into panic, a panic which told me to get away from there
as quickly as possible, before it was too late! I sprang overboard
again and raced through the shallow water toward the ship as though
the Devil were at my heels. Panting, I pulled myself on board and
started the motor. Reverse full power. I wanted to get away from there
as quickly as possible. The ship didn't move an inch. Over the bow
I saw the being pull the dinghy onto the dark platform, lift the body
in his arms and walk away with robotlike steps. It suddenly went dark
and they were gone. With a feeling of apprehension, I stopped the
motor. The situation on board was surprisingly peaceful, for they
had no idea of the real drama. There was a feeling of satisfaction
over father's ability as a lifesaver. My eldest daughter had developed
the theory that we had rammed a submarine, which was not so unlikely,
considering we were dose to a naval training area. Only Miriam realized
that something was wrong. She looked at me as though I were a stranger
and her uneasiness grew by the minute. She had never seen me like
this before. She poured me a whisky and sent the children to bed with
the excuse that we had something to talk over. The alcohol did me
good, but now it seemed that I had another problem: Miriam didn't
believe me! "This trip is too much for you, Stef. There are no
men from Mars in the Oosterscheldt." She kept talking, perhaps
to try and talk some courage into both of us. I couldn't just stay
inside; I had to see what was happening outside.
With a flashlight in one hand and a boat hook in the other, I stood
on deck and let the beam of light play over the platform. It lay just
above the surface of the water, a sinister4ooking dark-gray thing.
Its diameter was about the same as the length of our ship, certainly
fifty feet. It was resting on a ledge, which reflected the light so
strongly that it looked like glass. In the middle was a pillar, slightly
twisted, about six feet wide and eight feet high. The total size of
the thing surprised me. I knew what was under the water. I could walk
at least the length of a swimming pool without falling off the edge.
Could this be one of the much talked-about flying saucers? Were they
really so huge and could they also operate under water? I turned the
flashlight out and began systematically probing around the ship with
the boat hook. In front, by the bow, about two feet, and aft, about
four feet. It was strange that each time I had to use force to pull
the boat hook off the bottom, as though someone were holding it.
Suddenly I remembered the strange trouble with the compass-magnetism!
We had collided with a huge, magnetic monster! We were imprisoned,
stuck fast on a huge magnet. In the grip of strange, unearthly beings.
The only possibility of escape was the plastic dinghy. In case of
emergency there was room for all of us. The dinghy still lay in the
same place on the platform, and in the peaceful stillness of this
complete isolation a daring plan was born in me. After all, the dinghy
was only about thirty feet away from me. For the third time that evening
I jumped into the water, waded as quickly as I could to the boat and
pulled it free. Within half a minute I was back on board with the
dinghy alongside. So, that was that! I began to regain some of my
self-confidence. But my uncertainty came flooding back as I heard
a scraping, hissing sound. I grabbed the searchlight and shone the
beam on the platform. On the edge, a sort of lid hinged open slowly
and steadily. Out of the hole crawled two figures, dressed in the
now familiar space suits, who pulled out some objects after them which
were joined together by cables or wires. Their movements reminded
me of the old-time silent films, fast and jerky. What were they doing
now?
They stood on the platform and, with one hand against their ball-shaped
helmets at about the height where their foreheads would be, made slow,
respectful bowing movements in my direction. I understood. What a
relief. It was a greeting, a friendly, respectful greeting. With quick,
short paces they walked to the edge of the platform, where the bowing
was repeated and emphasized, and then they stood like statues in the
light of my flashlight. A strange and dramatic scene; on the Oosterscheldt
a man is confronted with an alien intelligence. But the man was poorly
prepared for the meeting; he was nothing more than a sailor in difficulty
who could feel his legs trembling in his wet clothes. The two figures
in front of me were about five feet tall and from a distance looked
deceptively human-arms, head and legs, all in their proper places-but
their legs were shorter than ours so that their arms reached down
to their knees. Their metallic costumes were smooth and seamless.
Only by the shoulders and elbows were folds to be seen. The short,
heavy legs ended in broad feet that also stuck out behind, and the
front part of their footwear was split in the middle. The hands were
covered by supple, ribbed gloves; these were different from ours too
in that not only the thumb but also the second finger was enclosed.
They were heavy, clawlike hands.
A broad, gold-colored belt around each of their middles, sewn with
motifs and tools, was particularly noticeable, one piece of which
was dearly a hammer with a sharp striking edge. And on their right
side was something that vaguely resembled a pistol. A kind of drum,
wound with thin glistening thread, rested on the middle of their stomachs.
The remainder of their equipment was unknown to me. I gamed the impression
of immense physical strength, not only from their long, heavy arms
and enormous shoulders, but also from their quick movements. The round
ornaments around their heads were less transparent than I had originally
thought. When the beam from my flashlight fell on them, they changed
into glistening Christmas-tree balls, and only with more indirect
light was it possible to vaguely make out their heads.
The silent confrontation was suddenly broken by a bud voice. "Do
you understand English?" I nearly jumped out of my skin. Owing
to my surprise that they could speak English, I didn't realize that
they had asked me a question. The voice was totally devoid of any
questioning tone. It sounded more like a statement.
"Do you understand English?" The same statement floated
over the water.
"Yes, I do." "We want to thank you for the rescue of
our crew member."
....... of course. Who are you?"
"We come from another solar system."
"My God," I called back. The situation was so strange that
at that moment I couldn't think of anything else to say. There followed
a short silence and I wondered about that strange accent which, in
fact, wasn't English at all. To my ears it sounded more like Dutch,
my own language. I could understand it perfectly, but I couldn't repeat
a single word of what they actually said. The voice came again, and
over the still dark water an unbelievable conversation began. "Is
your ship damaged?"
"No, I don't think so." "Will you turn the light out?"
"All right."
"Thanks. Does the ship belong to you?"
"Have you a radio transmitter on board?"
"We would like to show our appreciation for the rescue of our
crew member."
"You can do that by simply explaining some of this to me. It's
just too much. How long have you been here?"
"We have been near Earth for some time."
Why do you hide? Why haven't you tried
to make contact with us? Our reason is that you do not know the laws
of a higher civilization.
I don't understand. "There is still a great deal that the people
of this planet do not understand." I hesitated.
How much did they know about us? "You know us well, then?"
"We have studied you for some time."
"You don't have a very high opinion of us, I gather."
"Your remark shows some insight."
"Are your people more intelligent than mine?"
"No, only more developed."
"If that's so, then I don't understand why you haven't made contact
with us. You could help us
That would constitute a breach of the laws of nature.
I shrugged my shoulders. Despite the strange situation, I began to
feel more at ease. This was an unimaginably important meeting, and
I began wondering how I could manage to squeeze some information out
of these beings. I could learn things that man, for centuries, has
only been able to guess at, and I could find out about their spaceships!
"We wish to give you something as a token of our thanks. If we
give you an object with which you can prove our existence, it will
surely also be worth a great deal of money. We hope that you will
accept it. It is sterilized."
"What is it?"
"It is a block of inert metal that is many times stronger than
your best steel and only half as heavy. It has a superconductive structure
that is so straight that current can only flow through it when a positive
pole is placed directly opposite a negative pole, in line with the
structure of the metal. If one of the electrodes is moved only one-thousandth
of an inch, the current ceases to flow. With this structure it is
possible, with correctly placed electrodes, to form a spiral current
pattern, the result being that when a direct current is connected
to two feed wires, a supermagnet is created with a negligible current
consumption. Also, the metal has a melting point much higher? than
anything known on Earth. We use this metal for the outer skin of our
spacecraft. That is the gift. We hope you will accept it."
I was greatly impressed. "This is incredible. I am grateful.
I expected no gifts for saving your crew member, but I imagine that
your intention is to help us and I accept it with heartfelt thanks."
"We admire your unselfishness, but we must point out that the
block of metal represents a far too advanced technique to be of any
use to you in your research. Technically speaking, it is useless,
but you are right in thinking that something else is behind it. We
wish to give you proof that you are being observed by intelligent
alien races, who know you so well that they are able to communicate
with you, but refrain from doing so. We live in the perhaps desperate
hope that people exist who, with this information, will be able to
understand the reason for our reluctance."
"And what is the reason?"
"You do not have the values, the ethics, of a developed civilization.
Because of this, the human race has, as yet, no chance of eternal
survival. It blocks the way to cosmic integration."
I shrugged my shoulders. I had never heard of "cosmic integration."
They also began to irritate me. I found them a little too arrogant.
"You regard us as children, then?"
"No. An adult does not blame a child for the fact that he is
not yet grown up."
"But you do blame us for something?"
"And what is that?"
"Any English-speaking Negro, Chinese or American Indian can give
you the answer."
The conversation was not going exactly the way I had imagined. I had
to think of something else, and at the same time be careful that the
contact was not broken. I was afraid that they would climb back into
their saucer and that I would never see them again.
"I think I understand what you mean. May I ask a couple more
questions? This is a once-in-a lifetime experience." "That
is correct. The present generation will not have the chance again."
"Answers to my questions seem to me to be much more important
than the block of metal."
"Your insight surprises us. The answer to carefully selected
questions is certainly much more important."
I was surprised that they agreed to my request so quickly and easily;
they suddenly seemed much more friendly.
"In that case, I would like to know what your spacecraft looks
like, and, more important, how it is powered."
"You disappoint us with this question about technical knowledge.
The most dangerous natural law governing the development of an intelligent
people states: a highly technological society does away with all discrimination
or self-destructs. To supply technical information to a people like
yourselves is a serious crime against the cosmic laws. The last thing
that you need is technological information to increase the gap between
your intellectual development and your almost nonexistent social development.
Carry on playing with your Mars 'probes for the moment, as half of
your world's population lives in poverty and hunger. The only information
you need lies in the field of societal standards."
I was terribly disappointed. There went my dream of learning breathtaking
technical discoveries.
"I am afraid that very few people would be interested in that
kind of information."
"We are afraid so too."
"When do you think that the time will be ripe to give us information
about space travel?"
"The cosmic isolation of an intelligent race can only be lifted
when the minimum culture level has been reached; we call it 'social
stability."
"Hmm... and this conversation, then?"
"We feel ourselves justified, because of your actions, in supplying
certain small pieces of information which will set the present generation
to thinking."
"What do you call a socially stable culture?"
"We could give you the answer, but we doubt that you would understand
it."
"I will take that chance. It seems to be important."
"Be sure that you know what you want. This answer demands an
explanation in word and vision for at least two days. Furthermore,
you must choose between the material gift-the block of metal-and the
immaterial gift in the form of information. We cannot give you both."
"I don't understand what one has to do with the other."
"There is still so much that you do not understand, but after
our explanation, this question will also be answered for you.
"Are you really prepared to spend two days explaining this to
me?" My tone dearly showed my surprise.
"We are, for at least two days. A conversation of shorter duration
would have no point; it is the minimum time in which we can give you
the necessary information. We have all the time in the world-space
travelers are never in a hurry-but we must warn you: we doubt that
the information that we will give you will make your life happier,
so be sure that you know what you are doing."
I shrugged my shoulders. It was dear to me that these beings were
devious, but I did not intend to let this one chance in a million
slip through my fingers.
"All right, what do I have to do?"
"We have a small, sterilized decompression chamber, and only
from there will you be able to hear us and see our screen. Food and
drink you will have to bring from your ship, which should stay here.
We must warn you again: you will become wiser for this experience
but not happier."
"We can leave with our ship whenever we want, right?"
"Naturally, but if you leave us it is for good, and with our
blessing. All we ask now is a solemn vow from you and your wife that
as long as we are here you will not contact anyone else and will do
everything in your power to keep our presence a secret."
"I need to talk it over with my wife."
"Naturally." But my decision had already been made. I will
not tire you with Miriam's arguments, nor with the latter part of
my conversation with the aliens, which consisted only of a number
of instructions regarding anchoring, lighting, knock signals and so
on. The visit itself was to begin early the following morning, for
which preparations were needed.
The two statues turned about and, laden with their apparatus, disappeared
as quickly as they had come. As if sleepwalking, I went slowly to
the bow and, as agreed, let the anchor fall onto the hard metal bottom
complete with an extra piece of chain.
Soon afterwards the platform sank with a bud zooming noise under the
surface of the water. A dull shock followed and the ship floated in
its element once again. A short time later my brain received yet another
jolt. The dead stillness of the night was broken by a terrible noise,
a bud zooming combined with the screaming, howling tone of a circular
saw. The anchor chain jerked tight and the surface of the water became
strangely disturbed. The spaceship was acting as a submarine. We were
pulled forward over a broad foam track which was lit from beneath
a dull yellow-green light. The noise was unearthly and frightening.
I stood, fascinated, and began to wonder what I had let myself in
for.