Moonbeams

By Barry Morgan

Who is randomly destroying Earth's settlements on other worlds, and why have they apparently spared Earth itself? The truth is stranger than anyone could have imagined!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barry Morgan
• Release date: Apr 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9780955094736

Barry Morgan

Born 1952 in West Yorkshire and have gradually migrated north-west ever since. Any further and I'm in the Irish Sea so guess this is where I'm staying now! Life-long reader of science fiction though the day job now precludes much reading (now tend to listen to plays/books etc on radio), being a self-employed computer repair guy.

Book preview

Chapter 2

Paul Trevell sat at the ship’s console and surveyed the systems status board yet again. All lights were showing green. Power level was at maximum. All dials remained steadfastly on 'Normal', as they had been for the last hour. In fact, all that was required now was final launch clearance from Lunar Control. He could not help but allow a wry grin to show. As far as he could make out, the launch procedure itself would involve no physical movement whatsoever. So it didn't really matter whether there were myriads of craft in front of him; also he was in free orbit around the Moon, and the only thing remotely near was a small observation ship which had been positioning itself at varying distances, as if it couldn't quite make up its mind where it wanted to be. At last the communications panel gave a brief chime as the awaited message came through:

Lunar Control Gamma 5 calling Deep Space Probe Alpha. You have clearance for launch. Sorry for the delay Paul, top brass are very good at getting others to move fast but when it comes to themselves... Anyway, good luck to you. Over.

Message received and understood. Launch will commence 60 seconds from my mark... MARK. See you soon Phil. Deep Space Probe Alpha over and out.

A small orange light came on to verify that control had acknowledged his time mark and Paul knew that all eyes, and a good many instruments, were now avidly watching for his departure. This was it then. What all the months of theory cramming and simulator training had led up to. He was going to be the first man to visit another star system and return to tell the tale, he hoped.

Paul swivelled the pilot’s chair to face the drive panel, locking it into place. He briefly checked the destination co-ordinates, not that he hadn't done so ten thousand times already, then positioned his finger over the launch button. The seconds ticked away... 20 seconds to go... 10 seconds... 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, he pressed down sharply, knowing that once activated the entire process was automatic, and unstoppable.

Outwardly, Deep Space Probe Alpha was no different from the many craft that plied the supply lanes between Earth and its colonies on the Moon and Mars, functionality tended to take precedence over aesthetics in space craft design, but when the Hyperdrive kicked in the true difference was startlingly obvious. To the many observers of this historic trip the ship just vanished from sight. No yellow rocket flare or white hot ion jet flame issued, instead it was as if they had been viewing a holographic projection and the laser had simply been turned off.

A small group of people in the observation craft orbiting at a mutually agreed and respectfully safe distance watched the departure. These were the same people who had delayed the launch in the first place for want of a better view. One, in the full regalia of a Fleet Admiral, turned away in obvious disappointment and spoke to his companions.

Something of an anti-climax after all these years of effort. Not so much as a whimper as lord knows how many millions of dollars of hardware vanishes before our very eyes. There'll be some sad faces in the financial sector if she doesn't return.

A dour looking woman turned around to face the Admiral. The lapel badge identified her as Sandra King, the head of the Hyperdrive project.

Admiral, she began, that is as typical a militaristic statement as I have ever heard. You people always seem to judge the effectiveness of a piece of hardware by the amount of noise it makes.

Not at all I assure you, young lady. Immediately that he had said the phrase he regretted it. Someone who could rise to the level of project leader, be it a man or woman, would not take kindly to being patronised. 'I must be getting old', thought the Admiral, 'don't usually make such an obvious gaff.'

And ‘gaff’ it certainly was. The woman's eyes lit up in fury and she spat out the words, For one thing Admiral, there is no sound in a vacuum, and had we been in an atmosphere I can assure you that the results of such a mass as a ship vanishing would be very spectacular indeed. Furthermore, I find your comments about the monetary side of this experiment decidedly in bad taste. A brave man has gone out and done what I for one, and I suspect every one of us here as well, would find impossible. There was no guarantee of a safe return you know.

Admiral Stern held up his hands in mock surrender to her verbal onslaught, but the look on his face was still one of mild amusement. Someone in his position has had to surmount much worse than that.

I stand corrected. However I still maintain that flinging an object like a space ship vast distances at unimaginable velocity should be more spectacular. He waited to see if she would care to reply, but instead she only shook her head as if to concede that further discussion was pointless. Taking this to mean that a truce of sorts had been called he attempted to lighten the mood of the small company. After all, they would be cooped up inside the observation ship for a little while yet. As far as he understood the theory, the ship would be away for the period of time that Paul would take to make the necessary measurements plus the journey times. An estimated six hours. The thought did not sit well with him.

Well. I expect the celebrations to begin shortly. A marvellous feat, and the beginning of a new age of space exploration deserves more than a little praise.

His words fell upon the proverbial stony ground. Miss King spoke without facing the Admiral, When that ship is back in Moon orbit and its passenger verified as safe is when we'll celebrate Admiral Stern. Not one moment sooner.

He sat resolutely back in his seat and muttered under his breath. "If I'm a militarist then you are an unmitigated kill-joy, Miss King, and I know which the better of the two is." Scanning the rest of the group, who had silently made every pretence of ignoring the brief conversation, he also noted that the head of project obviously carried much weight and none would dare to risk her wrath. Dismissing the sorry bunch as not worth the effort his thoughts turned to Paul Trevell. If she could but know the high esteem in which he held that young man. He had taken a keen interest in the career of one Paul Trevell, and was actively promoting it with the kind of subtle help that a man in his position could offer. That young man was destined for great things, but he was for now completely unaware of it.

Meanwhile, totally oblivious of the altercation that his departure had caused, Paul Trevell was staring at the bank of screens. To him, the universe he had known all his life had just disappeared. True, his training had tried to prepared him for this, but nevertheless it was a somewhat disquieting experience. The view outside was of total blackness. Nothing he saw gave any clues as to his position or velocity. There wasn't even any sensation of acceleration to indicate that anything at all had actually happened. Only a steadfast green light indicated that the screens were actually still operating.

He tore his gaze away from the screens and looked at the co-ordinates indicator. Three sets of numbers were changing rapidly, each moving towards the pre-set destination value. Already the values were almost halfway towards the point where he should return to normal space. 'Should return?' thought Paul, 'Will return, Paul Trevell. Put your trust in this bucket of nuts and bolts and fancy hardware. You're already further away from home than any other man-made object, including the first Voyager probes, so it's all you can do.'

There was very little for him to actually do in flight. Routinely he scanned the status display, but if anything did show a fault there was not much that could be done until the hyperspace transfer was completed and so he was able to watch as the return to normal space occurred. Suddenly, when the target destination and location co-ordinates agreed, Deep Space Probe Alpha flipped back into normal space. Paul blinked as the universe once again was visible in all its glory, but it was a different universe to the one he had been used to seeing. Proxima Centauri was centred on the starboard screen. The theorists were correct.

It took several hours to establish his actual distance from the star system, then he set the destination co-ordinates to bring the ship a little nearer. A hop of only a few tens of milliseconds was required. Paul casually pressed the launch button once more, and jumped back in amazement. He had been watching the screen in the instant of launching and had been startled to see stars suddenly leap at him at a tremendous rate, yet he still felt no physical motion.

In many ways this short trip was more spectacular than the first jump of around 4 light years. The effect was similar to switching to a higher magnification whilst viewing a projector, or looking down a microscope. The intervening period of blackness was too short for the eye to perceive therefore the brain tried to interpret the sudden change in size as being due to movement, and seeing an entire star system shoot towards you at a perceived velocity of some 90 billion kilometres per second was not something to be taken lightly.

Recovering from the surprise Paul made a note on the console ships-log screen Blank out screen whilst Hyperdrive jump in progress. Fade up slowly when complete. He knew that this initial trip, momentous as it was, could only be a crude and piecemeal affair. When the equipment was developed further he was sure that the need to approach cautiously would be removed. Only when in close proximity would problems of relative motion have any relevance, but even that could perhaps be automatically allowed for. In time, planetary hops would no doubt be a routine process of 'select and go'.

For the present however he was stuck with this prototype set up and to prove where he had been to all but the most stubborn sceptic he set to with taking spectral recordings and photographs, the relative viewpoints of which could only have been from within the vicinity of Proxima Centauri.

Eventually his time was up and a return had to be made. Since his starting co-ordinates had been all zeros it should have been possible to arrive in the same position as he departed. There were a few practical reasons why he should not attempt that manoeuvre, not least of which was he couldn't risk a possible collision and spoil an otherwise perfect conclusion to the first ever hyperspace trip. He could though emerge a lot nearer than the trip outward so he set the indicators to position himself just outside the orbit of Mars and from there he would move inwards in small hops, providing his nerves could stand it.

Curious to know, he asked the drive computer the journey time for a trip across the galaxy. A time of just over 87 days came up. Not a trip to be taken lightly, especially since there was no way of interrupting a flight once begun. Paul added another note to the log Flight times over a few days to have verification procedure before activation and then casually hit the launch button once more, already becoming accustomed to the mode of travel. 4 minutes 57.38 seconds later he was viewing the old familiar star patterns that mankind had known for centuries and which few ever dreamed he would leave.

The whole process was quick, easy and according to the experts, completely safe. Also, when the little problem of the screens during jumps was corrected it would no doubt prove to be extremely boring. Not at all like the early romantic ideas of interplanetary space travel, which usually involved huge rocket ships blasting forwards on gigantic plumes of flame. The real excitement lay with the implications of this first successful trip. Mankind could now travel to the stars. The actual method of doing so mattered very little.

When he came within hailing distance of Lunar Control Gamma 5 he activated the transmitter. Paul Trevell calling Gamma 5. Over. Almost immediately the familiar voice of Admiral Stern burst forth from the console.

Paul. Am I glad to hear your voice. How soon before you reach the docking bay? the Admiral sounded absolutely brassed off, which Paul had fully expected after being cooped up with that bunch of miserable Hyperdrive project top brass. He had had quite enough of them to last a lifetime and didn’t relish the Admiral’s need to interact with them at all.

About an hour, Admiral. You’ll have to hold out till then I’m afraid. He could well imagine the grimace on the old Admiral’s face.

One more hour then. I might just last that long, but not a second longer you hear?

Heard and understood, he replied, Paul out. The thought of once more being in the company of fellow humans after his far flung trip made him eager to complete the docking as quickly as possible, even so, there was a strict procedure to follow which meant there was no real scope to cut short the operation.

So it was that 56 minutes elapsed before the red light over the airlock door changed to green to indicate a normal atmosphere on the other side. Immediately the door slid back to reveal the grinning face of Admiral Stern.

Well done my boy. Well done indeed. He stepped forwards and warmly embraced Paul like he was a long lost son. This took Paul by not inconsiderable surprise. He knew that Admiral Stern was appreciative of his conduct in the Service, but not that much. A slight unsteadiness in the Admiral’s posture as he guided him down the access ramp to the docking bay reception area gave the clue as to how Admiral Stern had survived his incarceration. Paul chuckled to himself. When the formalities of de-briefing were over, he too would be engaging in a similar diversion. In fact, he mused, it was highly likely the two of them would get themselves totally and wonderfully drunk.

The sight that met him in the reception area however dispelled that idea very quickly. A veritable armada of cameras, video recorders and microphones faced him and as soon as it was noticed he was in view, all of the operators began feverishly recording the arrival of the first human being to travel outside the Solar System. A barrage of questions assailed him.

What did Hyperspace travel feel like?

How did you feel about being so far away from home?

Are there any after effects?

Can you give us your first impressions of the trip?

What will Mrs. Trevell be cooking for your first meal back? That question was a total surprise. Obviously someone had not done their homework properly.

A myriad of similar questions assailed him and numerous microphones thrust in his general direction.

Admiral Stern, for all his pre-celebrating, stepped in to calm the mob. All in good time. All in good time. Mr. Trevell here will be available at the prearranged briefing after his official report has been collected and discussed. Ushering Paul around the crowd he continued to fend off reporters with a firm No Comment.

Once outside the reception area and in a restricted corridor Paul felt able to speak without a microphone being shoved down his throat. Wow. I wasn’t quite prepared for that. Didn’t bargain for celebrity status.

Oh it’ll die down soon enough. commented the Admiral. Flavour of the month for the time being I’m afraid. Ah, here we are. He opened a door and they stepped into a large room containing a table around which were seated the Hyperdrive project team.

Please take a seat Mr. Trevell, Admiral Stern. Ms. King said, gesturing to the remaining two chairs. They sat down and for the next three hours Paul was forced to go through a comprehensive and closely cross questioned debriefing, the end of which left him physically and mentally drained.

Looking at the retreating team he sighed wearily. Reporters now? The expression in his voice made it quite obvious that was the last thing he wanted.

No way. laughed the Admiral. Tomorrow afternoon, after we go through the text of the official report and discuss your responses to the sorts of questions we’re likely to get.

Tomorrow? Official responses? queried Paul. What if they ask a question we haven’t thought of?

We don’t answer. Looking at Paul’s worried expression he laughed. Don’t worry! Been through this a million times, piece of cake to an old pro like myself. Now. How about a little drink?

A ‘little’ drink? Paul enquired, with a knowing look.

Oh all right then, laughed the Admiral, a bloody large one, or three.

Paul stood up. Lead on, McDufff. Time’s a wastin’...

The pair then made their way down to the bar and very quietly and very thoroughly got drunk, just as Paul surmised they would.

Chapter 3

Monitor station QLM4028 was in a perplexed state indeed, for a machine. On its last activation cycle the planet below had only shown the most rudimentary life forms. Now there were definite signs of intelligence, far above the allowable parameters of its program, though only in a localised area. Probes had been launched to check the surface, as a routine task upon beginning the current cycle, and had unexpectedly returned with this disturbing data. All the previous recordings for that area, and for the planet as a whole for that matter, showed nothing out of the ordinary and some time was spent in a fruitless search for an operational error. The state of confusion did not last too long. The station checked out as in perfect order so the problem lay with the planet itself. Clearly the life forms found were outside the limits set and steps would have to be taken to bring parameters into line. Most of the options available for adjustments were necessarily slow acting, and thus unsuitable. The only course of action was to cleanse the area totally. Some minor disruption to the local ecology could not be avoided but in time it would correct itself and restore the balance. Action was scheduled for half-way through the next revolution of the planet, when the offending area would be within range.

Emily called after her two children as they scampered off.

James. Sophie. Don't go too near the perimeter now.

She was concerned about the recent unconfirmed UFO sightings, even though she was sceptical. Some people ought to know better than spread rumours like that, and there was that large cat like creature that had been prowling about only last week and though the search team that had been out tracking it were sure it had left the area you could never be too careful.

Her children were practically out of earshot by now, too exited at the prospect of helping with the erection of the new barn. Sophie was almost fourteen and her brother had passed eleven. Both had been born after she had arrived on this world and had joined the rapidly expanding list of ‘new worlders’. It was amazing how adaptable all the youngsters had been to the somewhat harsh life of a new colony.

Not like some. A few of the older generation had been heard grumbling about the lack of one thing or another, too blind to see the great future ahead for all of mankind, and too quick to forget the restrictions of living on a horrendously overcrowded Earth with its artificial environment. Here was clean, pure and unspoilt living. It was up to them to see it remained that way. She sometimes wondered at the effectiveness of the selection board's methods. Practically anyone could sign up for the settlement program, and their motives were not delved into too deeply, after all it helped ease the overcrowding. Perhaps they should be more selective.

Turning away from the window with a sigh she prepared to start the day’s duties, it was her turn to...

Monitor Station QLM4028 was satisfied. The source of the infection had been eliminated entirely. A minor whirlwind created by the action would uproot a few trees, and cause other minor damage before it subsided. The large smoking crater where the infection had been would take many years to overgrow and the overall balance had been restored to previous levels so it was an acceptable course to take. No impending repair work had been identified so the present activation cycle could end. Consequently it closed down all systems and went into sleep mode once more.

Chapter 4

I don't mind admitting I'm deeply worried about these events. Admiral Stern paced up and down, clearly a troubled man, and no wonder. Since the start of the settlement program, some seventeen years ago, twenty settlements had been created. Five of them no longer existed. Invariably, all had been reduced to a smoking crater between supply ship visits. We aren't going to be able to keep the lid on this much longer. Too many people have been lost and relatives back home won't swallow the pretty lame excuses for the lack of contact that we've been issuing for much longer.

He had been talking to perhaps the one man he could trust to bring some practical aid to the dilemma. Paul Trevell sat still, listening intently as the Admiral explained the situation. It was many years since he had made the first hyperspace flight that had sparked off the settler program in earnest. In the intervening period he had risen through the ranks of the Terran Service Corps and was second only to the Admiral himself, even so it was the first he had heard of this. Initially, his thoughts about the lack of information about the gathering crisis tended towards anger, but then he chided himself mentally. The information would be classified under a ‘need to know’ coding and as such he only now fell within that category.

Has investigation of the destruction sites given any clues as to the method used, and why? He had to swivel his chair to follow the old Admiral’s agitated pacing.

Pausing only for a moment he came over to the desk, picked up a thick report, handed it to Paul, then resumed his pacing. All in here. Nothing conclusive. Apart from the alarming similarity of the sites. There is no conceivable method for us to create that kind of destruction, no radioactivity you see. Crater size is also too damned similar for my liking, and regular. I am reliable informed that they are perfectly symmetrical. Laser beam burn is the closest thing to describe it, but fifteen kilometres in diameter?

Paul had been leafing through the report as he listened, Didn't all settlements have the same type of power plant?

Sitting down heavily in his chair, for which Paul was grateful since he was getting tired of continued swivelling to and fro, Yes, Paul. However that has been looked at already. Apart from it being inconceivable for that type of plant to cause such devastation, the epicentres would have coincided with the plant locations, and they don't.

So far the report which Paul was reading had only managed to discount likely causes. Meteor strikes were out since each outpost had an efficient observation centre which was continually manned. Power plant failure was discounted for the reasons the Admiral had said, sabotage was largely out for similar reasons. Over and over the message was 'unknown agency' for which it was all too easy to read 'alien attack'.

Although mankind had gone out into the far reaches of the galaxy, establishing settler communities, military outposts and mining colonies, he had taken a certain amount of his Earthly fears with him. One of which was the 'alien invader syndrome', hence the military presence which was now increasing at a rapid pace.

Yet in all the travelling done over nearly two decades not one sighting of anything remotely like an 'alien' had been seen. In fact, nothing approaching the evolutionary explosion that was Earth’s ecology had been found either. Although it was certain that man’s knowledge of his surrounding galaxy was still limited, it did seem from the available evidence that our little planet was indeed the unique paradise that many had believed it to be since time immemorial.

Paul continued, trying to sort out the evidence presented, I suppose that there has been an attempt to formulate a pattern to these events?

The Admiral snorted in derision, Huh. Not much, I don’t think. The statisticians have been having a whale of a time. Every scrap of data has been analysed in every conceivable way, all without any link being discovered. The events are to all intents and purposes totally random and unrelated, but I don't see how that could possibly be.

As he finished speaking the communications console 'receive' signal sounded and a printout began issuing. The Admiral strode over to collect it. Blast! tearing the sheet off angrily he brought it over to the desk, Another one Paul. Same situation as before, no distress signal, everything fine on last supply ship visit, now all that's left is another damned crater. He slammed the report down heavily. Here. See what you can make of it, I'm just about done in with this business.

Paul picked up the paper. The initial report was sparse to say the least, only commenting that the settlement had been totally wiped out. The planet name did jolt him though, it had been a long time since he had thought of... snapping out of his unwanted train of thought, he remembered something that might be of significance. This planet Admiral. I believe it has more than one settlement on it. Three, if I recall correctly.

Admiral Stern perked up a little on hearing that and quickly called up the necessary information. After a few seconds the VDU gave what he requested.

Yes, that's right Paul. This is one of the earliest settled planets and was given quite a good deal of press coverage when found. Apparently its beauty surpasses belief, something approaching what Earth was reputed to be like at one time. Hence the name 'Halcyon', and the high level of demand to go there. In hindsight, it was decided that multiple settlements were not a good idea so no more have been sanctioned.

Thinking rapidly, Paul continued, That makes this attack different from the rest Admiral. It may just give us the edge required to begin cracking this mystery. A plan of sorts was forming, but as yet he was moving cautiously. One thing was clear though. He would have to go and take his investigation to the source of the crime.

"Two things Admiral. Firstly, what's the journey time to Halcyon, and when can