Jubilee Year: A Science Fiction Thriller (Erelong Book 1)

by Gerard O'Neill

  “She won’t have to because she’s going to study, pass all of her exams, and work inside a nice air-conditioned office. Isn’t that right, Sum?” She put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and squeezed.

  “Hey, quit it! You’re hugging me too tight.”

  “I love you,” Stella bent over Summer and kissed her on the top of her head.

  Then she turned and smiled at Storm.

  “You too, sweetheart. You’re still thinking of going to university, aren’t you? Things are going to come right. You’ll see.”

  “Sure, Mom. Hey, is your phone working?”

  “I think so,” she said with a look of surprise. Sometimes the boy could be a little too cryptic. “What makes you ask?”

  “Every time I use mine, the signal breaks up. I’ve made calls to old man Harris, Penny, and Ben, and there were dropouts all the time. I hardly got a complete sentence.”

  “That’s strange,” Stella said, wrinkling her brow.

  “Ben said he’s noticed his phone doing the same thing all afternoon,” Storm said. “Yeah, I thought I’d broken mine.”

  “One of our teachers told everyone in my classroom she needed a new smartphone,” Summer said.

  “Well, I only bought mine a year ago,” Storm said.

  “Why not get yourself a new one? You can give that old one to me.”

  “Nice try, Sum,” he said, walking over to the television set and switching it on.

  “Wonder if the news says anything about phone tower problems. Might even mention the strange stuff Dad mentioned.”

  “What’s he on about now?” Stella asked.

  “He thinks sunrise and sunset are happening at the wrong times,” Storm told her.

  “Was he drinking?”

  “No more than usual,” Storm said.

  “He’s a great one for staring at the horizon and missing what’s in front of him,” Stella said with a chuckle.

  They fell into silence as they watched the latest reports from Eastern Europe and the Middle East. Behind the anchorwoman rolled a continuous loop of images: Presidents and generals talking from podiums, naval ships sailing the high sea, squadrons of missiles leaving plumes of fiery exhaust vanishing into the sky, multi-story apartments erupting in flames, and dead children carried on bloodied stretchers.

  A reporter on the roof of a high-rise hotel spoke in urgent tones. His mic capturing all the background noise from around the hotel swimming pool: The splashes and merry hoots from the happy bathers, and the clink of glass from guests drinking at the poolside bar.

  Then, with a brilliant flash filled the screen with white, a fireball erupted into the sky, and the image broke into a scattering of white pixels. A black column rose over the buildings. Flames, dust and charred remains sucked up into the dark swirling funnel above the blast. The column continued to climb higher until it towered over the mountain range where it folded over on itself like the cap of a mushroom, and all the while came screams amid the unfolding chaos. The news station broke away from the live report and went back to the studio and the shaken anchorwoman who stared wide-eyed off-camera.

  Stella stood up, her hands placed on her hips, staring at the television screen.

  “This is madness! The whole world’s gone crazy.”

  “Take it easy, Mom,” Storm said. “It’s the same news we’ve been watching for years.”

  “All these wars and all the while at home there's unemployment, rioting, and police shooting up homeless camps and raiding homes to find terrorists under our beds. The government wants to close every second factory and mine. The price of rent, electricity, and food is through the roof. But most of the news on the telly is all about the latest divorce in Hollywood, or another sporting club scandal!”

  “Mom!”

  “And you know I like my sport!” Stella said, throwing up her arms. “But honestly, this is ridiculous! The weather report ought to be worth watching, but they can’t even get that right!”

  “Kind of what Dad’s saying,” Storm said.

  “How am I supposed to do my homework?” Summer hollered, glaring at her mom.

  Storm massaged his mom’s neck, watching Stella's shoulders slump and her head roll forward.

  “Oh, that’s what I was wanting,” Stella told him softly. “Thanks, love.”

  Early Morning Run

  The clock above the oven gave him a good two hours before sunup. It was time enough for ten minutes of leg stretches before he set off. A half hour of light jogging would take him through the town, and in another fifteen minutes, he would reach the signboard.

  The large sign greeted travelers before they crossed the bridge over the river that marked a town boundary line. There was a large grassy verge behind the signboard.

  It was an excellent observation point that allowed him to see the entire night sky free from the glare from streetlights. He would do the rest of his stretch routine while he waited to see—well—whatever might show up before dawn.

  Under the glow of street lamps, on empty streets and surrounded by darkened houses and shop fronts he imagined he was the last human alive. He felt like he owned the place. His private universe where all the people had vanished along with the Sun and their property was now his to do with as he pleased. In this imaginary world, there would only be room for those he personally selected.

  He ran off the pavement and onto the road, and down the centerline. He weaved to and fro over the white lie. In the distance, he could see the lights of a worker driving home after the end of a night shift. The car turned off down a side road.

  For a few short blocks, a stray mongrel trotted beside him until it caught the scent of something more interesting and skittered off to investigate the source.

  He crossed the bridge and in a few minutes reached the large signboard with its garish yellow greeting lit up under a row of bright spotlights.

  ‘Welcome to Coonabarabran the Astronomy Capital of Australia’.

  To his side stood a cluster of tall trees that blocked his view of the horizon. But otherwise, he was able to scan virtually all the velvet black. His gaze settled on a cord of luminescent clouds. He leaned against the post of an old stock fence and begun to stretch out the tightness in his legs.

  A pale light shone through the gathering cloud mass. The Moon emerged and like the headlight of an approaching train, its brightness steadily increased.

  He was working through Penny’s stretch program, but he was finding it harder than he thought yoga ought to be. He looked about him.

  It was as if a giant spotlight illuminated the landscape. Cumulus clouds moved overhead and all along the edge of the cloud stack there was a dull red glow.

  He touched his toes and began a slow circular movement, swinging his hands over his head, his fingers following the rim of an imaginary giant disk. Now darkness surrounded him once again. Had he imagined the strength of the moonlight?

  He completed a set of twists and when he straightened up the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

  Waiting In The Rain

  He leaned one shoulder against the side of the tiny aero clubhouse, watching her turn her mother's car into the parking lot. When he saw that she was glaring back at him, he wiped his dripping face and straightened up. There was no way he was ever going to measure up to Penny’s idea of a boyfriend, he thought. He sighed and swung the wet backpack up over one shoulder, stretching out an arm to give her a cheerful wave.

  “Oh, my God!” She exclaimed through her open window. “Just look at the state of you!”

  “If you were just ten minutes longer I’d be dry again,” he said with a grin.

  “I doubt it,” she replied, giving him a look of scorn, but meaning none of it. “Haven’t you got a towel?”

  He shook his wet hair showering her through the open window.

  “Hey, stop that!” Penny shrieked. “You can be such an idiot. Why couldn't you just wait for me inside the shed?”

  “It was a freak shower,�
� he said with a laugh. “It’s probably all the rain we are going to get this month.”

  “You want me to drive?” He asked her, opening the back door and throwing his backpack on the seat.

  “Yes, please,” she said, clambering into the passenger side. She reached across to comb a hand through his damp hair. “Jeez, but you’re soaked.”

  “Yeah, I got a cool off and a wash down all in one.”

  He slammed the door shut and pulled up his damp T-shirt to wipe his face.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this party at your dad’s place, all day,” he told her.

  “Have you really?” She said and she laughed, a little surprised to hear him say as much.

  She stared at his suntanned torso, watching as he finished wiping the T-shirt over his hair. She was fighting off a sudden urge to plant a kiss on his wet chest.

  “Siding Spring is a cool place to hang out,” Storm told her.

  “I never realized you liked it so much,” Penny replied. “You always seem just a bit reluctant whenever I’ve suggested visiting Dad.”

  “Your mom doesn’t exactly welcome me with open arms when she’s around, does she? And whenever we visit your father, she’s always there.”

  “She can be a bit aloof,” Penny said with a small smile.

  “Your dad’s got a sense of humor.”

  “So has Mom,” she replied, sitting up in the seat. “You just need to give her some time.”

  She fell silent. Why did it always feel awkward talking about Mom and Dad with him?

  They were drawing close to the hill range. It wouldn’t be long before they reached the observatory. The rumble of distant thunder through his open window had been continuous since they crossed the bridge on their way out of town.

  She stared across the dry plains barely touched by the light rain.

  “It hardly seems like summer. For the last two years, it seems like we have almost always had overcast days.”

  “The farmers would appreciate more rain,” he replied. “That was nowhere near enough.”

  “Yes, but we haven’t had a sunny day in ages.”

  “Missing Sydney, are we?” Storm asked without shifting his attention from the road.

  “A wee bit. It seems to rain there almost every day, unlike here,” she said with a grimace. They were talking about the weather like a couple of grannies. “So how are the flying lessons going, Mr. Pilot?”

  “Kerry told me a couple of days ago, he’s selling his plane,” Storm said. “He says it’s become too expensive for him these days.”

  “So, no more lessons?”

  “He hasn’t taken me up for ages.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.”

  “Well, I should have known it was too good to last,” Storm said with a dry laugh.

  “Sooner or later you will get more lessons from someone,” she said. “Right?”

  “This year's been dead quiet, and I mean deader than usual,” he replied. “If it wasn’t for the flying doctor and the occasional tourists wanting a scenic flight, they would have closed the place down ages ago.”

  He stopped talking to gaze in astonishment as they passed a large group of kangaroos chewing nervously.

  “Hey! Look at those roos under the trees! I have never seen a mob so close to the road before. They look like they’re waiting for a bus.”

  Penny had missed seeing them. She opened her window as Storm turned off the main road and onto a drive winding its way up Mount Woorat. The cool air through the open side window stroked her bare arms.

  “Wow. I love this place. Just look at how green everything is up here.”

  He reached across and gathered her hair from behind her head, holding it in a bun. “Is that better? It’s not sticking to your neck now.”

  “Better watch the road, mate!” She said and laughed.

  Her dark lips, almost purple, pulled back from her perfect small white teeth.

  “You’re beautiful,” he told her.

  “Thank you,” she said, crinkling her nose.

  He leaned over and nuzzled her neck, whispering in her ear. “How come you’re like so—you know? So—fuckable?”

  “Charming,” she replied. “Well, I stay clear of McDonald’s for one thing—Hey! Watch the road!”

  “Nothing wrong with Maccas,” Storm said, pretending outrage at the suggestion. “They’ve been building healthy kids for years.”

  “Oh, don’t get me started on shitty fast food,” she said, refusing to take the bait. “Just wait until you are over thirty years old. Mum says that’s when you find out what your bad diet has done to you.”

  “Wait until I’m as old as you, you mean?” He asked.

  “I’m only twenty,” she reminded him.

  “Close enough to ancient,” he replied with a shrug.

  “Stop being a jerk,” she told him.

  She saw the familiar mischievous smile and the half-shy quality she had thought so endearing from the first time they met. Now it annoyed her. “It's not me who is old! It’s you who is too young.”

  “That—is coming from a cradle-snatcher!”

  “So I stole you from under your mommy’s arm, did I?”

  She saw with delight that he blushed in response.

  “See! You shouldn’t dish out medicine you can’t swallow yourself.”

  “Yeah? Well—tell that to your own mom.”

  Penny blinked.

  “Oh, so what!” She exclaimed. “It’s the nature of her job. She’s dealing with hypochondriacs all day. Can you imagine?”

  All the same, she knew what he was saying. Her mother did have an awful habit of talking about her patients when she was at home. She could be awfully mean when she wanted to be. And it was true she did not take kindly to anyone pointing out her own faults. But then, everyone had their bad points.

  “I hope she doesn’t think all her patients are hypochondriacs,” Storm replied.

  “Oh, give it a rest!” She said and turned her face away to the cool air from the open window.

  “I will when you do,” he said and laughed softly.

  She didn’t answer. The silence between them didn’t last long. In a matter of minutes, they had reached the peak and were driving slowly between the bright metallic observatories scattered over the peak high above the flat dryness of the outback.

  They had left behind the flat land and the tension quickly evaporated at the thrill of seeing Siding Spring once again.

  Parents

  A short distance from the car loomed the high angular observatory owned by the Koreans, and close by stood a large walled open-air enclosure often filled with multiple telescopes when there were visiting students. There were also several other observatories, but the huge dome of Siding Spring dominated all of them.

  The place reminded him of the covers of meditation magazines Stella used to receive in her mailbox. The buildings might just as well be stone monasteries, places of worship, and within each, the telescopes would be the sacred altars. On a quieter day, the place might be pervaded by solitude.

  He parked up the short drive behind Penny’s father’s car. The sweet, acrid smell of barbecue smoke hung in the air, and they could hear the unmistakable laugh of Michael Boulos.

  Michael waved a pair of tongs at the new arrivals. “Good to see you two finally show up!” He hollered.

  “Hi, Dad,” she shouted with a grin.

  She looked forward to showing off Storm to her dad's friends. She knew they would be surprised.

  “I had a horrible idea we were going to find him at work in his office,” she said to Storm. “Can you imagine? We’d have to organize everything ourselves.”

  She rolled her eyes at the thought.

  “Well, you know what Mom’s like in the kitchen,” she said.

  Storm screwed up his face. “I remember the first time I came to dinner at your mom’s house.”

  “So do I,” Penny said. “I think it was chicken—and something else that tasted v
ery bad. She burned it, whatever it was.”

  Penny brushed hair back from her face, suddenly eager to change the subject. She reached over into the back seat for her jacket.

  “Can you bring the beer?”

  “I’m already on it,” Storm said, and he popped the boot release.

  The box in the back was filled with sealed plastic containers of salads Penny had picked up from a local restaurant. He lifted the cans out of the back, catching as he did the sweet aroma of caramelized steaks and onions. He was nervous at the prospect of being surrounded by the university colleagues of Penny's father, but he was really looking forward to the party just the same.

  Michael Boulos lived in a single-story house of sunburned yellow stone bricks, a little down the slope from the great silver dome. The director’s cottage was new, a freak firestorm having destroyed the old building three years earlier. The cottage was the only structure to be destroyed by the flames, and that fact was considered no small miracle among the community of scientists who knew a lightning strike starting a blaze in the dry bush land was always a possibility.

  He was a little stout, his well-groomed beard and black tangle of curly hair not quite hiding a jowly face. And yet, he could not be called unfit or unhealthy for a man of middle age. His legs were strong from long walks up and down the peak whenever he found time allowed him to exercise.

  Beside Michael stood a tall thin man somewhere in his twenties with a frizz of blond hair and a tiny bud of goatee beard. Karl was a Ph.D. candidate gaining practical experience at the observatory.

  A pink-cheeked, chubby man smiled under a wide-brimmed straw hat and raised his glass of beer to greet Storm. He gestured to the empty chair beside him, his small eyes flickering over Storm.

  “I’m Stephen Druitt from ANU,” the soft-faced man said and beamed like an idiot.

  Professor Druitt was appreciating the opportunity to study up close, an unkempt native of the region.

  When it came to shaking hands with Karl, Storm did so without much enthusiasm. Penny had teased that she rather fancied Michael’s new student assistant, or at least she would if she wasn’t already with Storm. But Karl was so cheerful and maintained such an overwhelming friendly banter; Storm felt the bloke couldn’t possibly present a threat to his relationship with Penny. Just the same, he would keep an eye on Karl.