The Contact Episode Four
Page 8
“This affects our ships, but most of all it affects our most powerful space weapons. If we should suddenly decide to make a foray beyond the bounds of the Solar System, we would come up against something like an invisible wall. The further they were from the centre, the more energy such craft would require to overcome this barrier. And as the barrier was approached, the energy required would increase to infinity.
“The same applies to our weapons. Most likely, once they were far away from the sun, they would prove to be completely useless. That is, outside the particular zone which we cannot leave, we are also disarmed.”
“If the anomaly really is induced by the incomers, it amounts to a declaration of war,” commented MacQueen without emotion.
“Well, having some experience of communicating with the object, I would say that they would justify their actions by their own security. Nevertheless, I agree with you. It is a clear intrusion into our life. Not to mention the economic aspect of the matter. It means we are forced to expend much more energy on space flights.”
“What do you think? Can we do anything to oppose it?”
A tired smile passed across Shelby’s face.
“The only technology capable of acting on space-time is that by which we changed the orbit of Mercury. But it’s not worth relying on naïve illusions. We have only just begun learning about it, and its application is of a very limited nature. On the scale of whole star systems, it is not within our grasp.
“Considering how much energy it cost us to conduct the experiment with Mercury, the induction of a neutralising counter-anomaly would be millions or possibly billions of times more expensive in energy. Even if we can think up some way of spreading the effect of our technology over such a vast space, we simply couldn’t mobilise the quantity of energy required.”
“So it appears that the intruders have far-reaching plans for our Solar System, seeing that they’ve already locked us in an invisible jar, does it not?” asked the General.
“It would be foolish to deny it. Perhaps we ought to prepare for numerous visitors.”
“In the army, that’s called an invasion.”
“You know best.”
“Well, thank you, Professor.”
Life goes on
Breathing in the scent of wet grass after the night rain, and presenting his face to the rays of the morning sun, Steve only now realised how much he had missed live nature, sitting there in a sterile underground bunker.
After the video conference with MacQueen, Shelby insisted that Steve and Clive should take a break and breathe some fresh air before, as Shelby put it, one of them dug up another anomaly or something even worse.
“It’s been nothing but bad news from you boys. First Steve set the ball rolling by discovering the object, then it was you, Clive, with the anomaly... I really ought to ban you from approaching a telescope or any other scientific apparatus,” joked Shelby as the three of them were ascending from the underground tunnels in the elevator.
Finding himself free again, Steve looked into the situation room and asked Maggie to take some fresh air with him. She agreed willingly; she was also sick and tired of the artificial light and the endless tedious discussions with her colleagues.
Now she was strolling unhurriedly with Steve along an avenue in the small park laid out inside the military base, enjoying the cool morning. Here, the thick greenery hid the armed guards from sight, so it was possible to switch off from the hustle and bustle of recent days, and to imagine they were not on the military base at all, but in the university park.
Steve at last had the opportunity to tell Maggie about the adventures he and Clive had experienced during their absence, including the events on Mars. She had a lot of questions. It turned out that most of the scientists in the situation room had noticed Clive’s new appearance, and amazing rumours had spread round the hall. When he was taken away with Steve by the military to work in the protected bunker, many of the eminent scientists gathered in the hall were seriously offended. What is so special about these two students, they asked, that so much attention is paid to them?
Before his conversation with Maggie, Steve had had no idea that he and Clive were so famous. He found such a quantity of glory somewhat embarrassing. After all, they really were only students, whereas those working with them included dozens of Nobel Prize winners.
“I think we were just lucky. It was the telescope’s computer that first discovered the object. I just happened to be on watch at the time, so I was the first to see it. And it was Clive who discovered the anomaly; I was asleep at the time. Clive and I were simply put together for company,” said Steve somewhat apologetically, realising that he was obliged more to chance than to his own astuteness for his importance in the project.
At this point, Steve’s tablet bleeped, signalling that a message had been received. Steve sighed wearily and looked at the screen. A moment later, his face took on a serious expression.
“An alarm has been declared. We all have to assemble in the hall at once,” he said in explanation.
When they got back, everyone was already assembled and in their places. As soon as they crossed the threshold of the hall, Steve and Maggie stopped to look where the gaze of all those present was directed. A message on the main screen read:
“The object has been attacked. All take your places and await further instructions.”
Steve read the message at the same time as Maggie. Turning to face her, he saw that her eyes were wide open in agitation. If he had still been the same person he had been a month ago standing here, he would probably have been no less scared than Maggie. But having undergone his baptism of fire on Mars, he had become different. Instead of alarm, he simply felt curiosity.
Steve cautiously touched Maggie’s shoulder. She turned away from the main screen and looked at him. Strangely, this was the first time he had noticed what expressive eyes she had, framed by such thick dark eyelashes.
“It looks as if we have some jolly times ahead of us,” he said in a joking tone, no less surprised than Maggie at how calm he was. “While our civilisation still exists, shall we have a cup of coffee together?”
# # #
THE END
Thank you for reading my book!
The sequel “Beyond the Event Horizon” is now out and available on Amazon!
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“Beyond the Event Horizon”
In 2177, close to the Solar System, scientists discover a source of disturbance to the space-time continuum: radiating gravity waves that did not appear to have the signature of those caused by natural processes.
On the basis of the approximate distance to the source and the intensity of the waves generated, its mass ought to be compatible with the size of a binary star and exert a strong influence on the movement of the planets in the Solar System. However, such a system of heavenly bodies is not known to exist.
Attempts to detect the mysterious object with the aid of Earth-based observatories and orbital telescopes are unsuccessful, but astronomers succeed in determining the location of the anomaly. Its distance from the Sun is estimated to be six light hours, which is within the range of high-speed spacecraft. A research expedition is being equipped to go to its location...
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Aaron has cheated death once more... the heart attack didn’t kill him, just made him contemplative, walking the corridors of his life’s memories. Read Aaron’s incredible journey, written in a comfortably lazy, lyrical style that evokes all the senses – all the tastes, aromas and sweet touches of life.
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An excerpt from “Entangled”:
Aaron came to, opening his eyes with some difficulty. He could dimly make out the contours of the room. His surroundings lacked any distinct detail, just random grey-coloured silhouettes and strange shapes which, when looked at more closely, merged into familiar objects.
He tried to raise himself up off the bed to see more but was unable, his arms were not up to the task - his muscles simply refused to do their job. He would have to settle for just moving his eyes. Moving his head also proved impossible. An impotent weakness enveloped his whole body.
OK. Now he understood. It was a hospital. Aaron had absolutely no memory of how he had ended up there, which meant it had happened again. His doctor had warned him that sooner or later it would happen, and it looked like that time had come. He had had a heart attack. The second in two years.
Aaron could feel his teeth chattering as if he were freezing to death. But he was well covered, he was warm, so it was not from cold. It had been the same last time. Maybe fear? No, he was not scared of death. The worst was already behind him. The very fact that he was lying in a hospital bed looking at a hospital ward meant that this time around he had survived again. Everyone died at some point, and one day it would be his turn, but not this time. This time he had pulled through.
In a way, he was already getting used to the thought of his death. After his first heart attack, he had not been himself at all. Back then, the first time round, when he had also come to in a hospital bed, the doctor had told him what had happened and he had almost broken down. He knew that his life would no longer be the same ever again. Tears had run down his ageing, wrinkled cheeks and he had been unable to stop them. This time, however, it was bearable.
Suddenly, the door swung open and a doctor came into the ward, followed by a nurse. Aaron could barely make out the outlines of the newcomers, but he could distinguish the silhouettes and hear steady footsteps. In a hospital, only the doctors walk with such confidence. The patients are too weak and visitors tread softly, trying not to make too much noise. They practically walk on their tiptoes. The doctors, however, are a different matter. They stomp around like soldiers on parade. Also, he could smell them. A smell that only doctors in white coats give off. Even with his sense of smell, dulled by noxious vapours after forty years in a factory, he could tell them a mile away.
"Good morning, Aaron! How are you feeling?" said the taller and leaner silhouette. His voice was encouraging. The atmosphere in the ward seemed to lose some of its melancholy and become more welcoming.
"Sister, would you open the window please? It is a little stuffy," said the doctor.
Aaron watched the second, smaller silhouette obediently move over to the window, pull at the sash cord and open it with a rattling screech. Noise from the street burst into the ward. The twitter of birds, the conversation of passersby, the clicking of heels on the pavement. After a moment, Aaron could feel the cool air flowing in from outside. First it touched his cheeks, then it blew down his thinning, grey hair to his shoulders, and soon it enveloped him completely, hugging him in a cold embrace that he could feel even through his warm blanket. The chilly freshness was more than welcome. It had a particular smell, which for some reason he always associated with the smell of watermelons.
Suddenly he saw an image of himself many years before, also springtime, arriving home from work with a bag containing an enormous, stripy watermelon. He had only been married for a short while and he and his wife had just moved into their first apartment together. Their firstborn could already sit up unaided, and Jessica was pregnant with their second. Hearing the front door close, she popped her head around the kitchen door.
"Ah, it's you. Wash your hands and sit down. Dinner’s on the table already," she said to him, her words coming out in a rush. In one hand she held an empty baby bottle, having only just finished feeding the baby.
The food was already waiting for him on the table, and there was a wonderful smell rising up from the steaming plate. Jessica rocked their child in her arms. The baby was looking at the enormous watermelon in his father’s arms wide-eyed, as though it was an unknown miracle.
Aaron washed the stripy fruit, wiped it dry and took out a large knife. No sooner had he sunk the knife through the thick skin when a crack appeared along the back of the watermelon. The small kitchen was immediately filled with its aroma, an aroma that was the very essence of freshness. He cut off a small slice and tasted it.
"How sweet it is. The baby will love it. Do you want some?" he asked his wife.
"Go on then."
He cut two pieces from the very middle and carefully removed all the seeds, then gave one to Jessica and held the other out to his son. He opened his mouth obediently and Aaron fed him a piece. The boy ate the juicy fruit noisily and happily. As he chewed, he looked at both his parents in wonderment.
"Do you like it, my little teddy bear?"
Their teddy bear reached out towards the table where the fragrant watermelon sat.
"You want some more?"
The child laughed. It would have been impossible for him not to have liked the sweet delicacy. Aaron cut another piece. They stood like that in the small kitchen and watched as their tiny little son ate watermelon for the first time in his life. Aaron hugged Jessica from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder and stroking her stomach. In her seventh month of pregnancy, she was gradually starting to look like a watermelon. And that is what he called her - my little watermelon.
Jessica came up with the nickname herself. Six months ago when they had been planning their holiday, Aaron had not been able to get time off at the beginning of the summer as he had wanted, only nearer the end. His wife was already pregnant, so did not like the idea of having their holiday three months later than planned.
"I'll be bobbing about in the sea like a watermelon," she’d said at the time, and Aaron had laughed, imagining what she was going to look like. It really had been funny, and her description proved to be spot on.
Now, however, he was standing embracing his wife and looking at their son. Jessica tilted her head back slightly and her brown hair brushed against his face. He could smell her hair and feel the warmth of her body. And in her arms their first son sat quietly, unable to tear his eyes away from the watermelon. Aaron knew he would remember this moment for the rest of his life.
* * *
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(or just search for “Entangled Albert Sartison”)
Albert Sartison, 2014