Pandora's Sister

By Paul Dayton

SIS agent Coleman, RCMP officer Michelle and Professor Sanchez thought they had it easy with their multi-million dollar 'Eye of the Idol' inheritance.

But when Sanchez received the strange email from a man seven thousand kilometers away begging for help, his curiosity was piqued. When his hard drive fried immediately after from a virus, he was frustrated, and when his attempts at researching an unusual death led to an attack on his own life, Sanchez got angry. An angry Sanchez is a very bad thing, as his enemies are just about to find out.

What do you do when twelve people instantaneously ignite on the twelfth day of the twelfth month at twelve o'clock?
Follow Sanchez, Michelle and Coleman on their new mystery as they unfold stunning four-thousand-year-old evidence that uncovers advanced technology, a secret society and a 'master plan' for the human race.

NOTE: THIS BOOK IS ILLUSTRATED, AND IN THE SPIRIT OF 'THE EYE OF THE IDOL' (www.pauldaytonscifi.com) MANY OF THE FACTS YOU WILL READ ARE REAL.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Dayton
• Release date: Jun 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458026378

Paul Dayton

I retired at 45 to be a self-supported community volunteer in Central America with my wife. For almost a decade we worked with individual families in communities and loved every minute of it. When we have some spare time, we travel anywhere our curiosity leads us. If you want to find out how, read my book on how to reitre at 45, or my upcoming book on how to live working from anywhere, in your fav spot by day trading and making money even when stocks are down. Sounds too good to be true? Stay tuned...

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Pandora’s Sister

Copyright © 2011 by Paul Dayton

First electronic edition published by Paul Dayton on Smashwords

Written by Paul Dayton

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Smashwords Edition License Notes

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DISCLAIMER

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This is a work of fiction, which means that all characters in this work are fictitious. This ebook is provided for your entertainment ONLY.

Pictures courtesy of Wikipedia

Paul Dayton has written numerous books, ranging from Comedy to Scifi and Adventure. Hit the links below for any that may interest you:

And You Thought Your Family was Dysfunctional!

Written originally for my future grandkids, this is a hilarious account of the goings-on of a regular, run-of-the-mill Pork family. From Aunt Vampira to Uncle Caulk, you’ll be needing paper towels to wipe the tears of laughter pouring down your face as you read these toilet-sized true stories.

The Eye of the Idol

A 400 year-old box, the sinking of an ocean liner, murder, a DPRK master plan and one man to connect the dots...

Follow the incredible, true facts as you piece together the mystery of the ‘plan’ that could bring about WWIII.

Liked Sanchez, Coleman and Michelle in Pandora’s Sister? Want to know how it all began? Read the stunner - The Eye of the Idol!

We’ve Seen the Enemy

700 years of post-apocalyptic fighting and running, against an enemy that can’t be beat. Until now... Do you have questions about the Council mentioned in Pandora’s Sister? Find all your answers in We’ve Seen the Enemy!

Visit my website for purchasing options on all my books: www.pauldaytonscifi.com

Pandora’s Sister

Prologue

August 6th, 1916, Bombay

Dinner is ready, Tal.

Talpede looked up reluctantly at his wife, who was standing at the doorway with a frustrated look on her face. Her arms were crossed, the index finger on her left hand tapping her right elbow in a steady, rapid rhythm. He knew trouble when he saw it, and this was trouble. He tried ignoring it by giving her a friendly smile as he reached down to continue tightening the aluminium bolt. He had already broken four and he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t over torque this one.

Just one minute...

No, not ‘just one minute!’ Her finger stopped tapping. He could see her hands dig into her arms in anger. Talpede knew what was coming, and after thirty-four years of marriage he still didn’t know what to say or how to prevent it.

You’ve barely said anything to me for the last two weeks. Jazmeel hasn’t seen you, and when the children were here for dinner two nights ago, you spent a whole ten minutes with them. Every day when you’re not teaching, I bring you breakfast and lunch into the shop. I refuse to bring you dinner, which means I have it alone with Jazmeel because you can’t take the time to join us. It also means you don’t eat dinner when we do, but instead take it at midnight when you decide to finally come in! I’ve had enough of this.

She paused, waiting for the correct answer as her finger started tapping again.

Talpede didn’t know what the answer was. He looked up sheepishly, and she replied angrily, Today, eat a meal with me like a normal husband.

He sighed. He knew his wife’s aggravation stemmed, not so much from their overextended budget or his... focus, but from worry. And she was right – he did spend an inordinate amount of time on the machine. He reluctantly straightened, his fifty-two year-old back creaking from the time spent bent over in the odd position.

Priya...

Don’t ‘Priya’ me! You know you shouldn’t be working on that.

Talpede put the wrench down, walked over to his wife and gently wrapped his arms around her.

She gave a half-hearted attempt to push him away, but eventually softened in his embrace.

Priya, you know I love you. And you know I love the children too. You’ve done an incredible job raising them...

Alone, these last few years...

Yes, alone while I worked.

You call this work?

My Priya...You’re a fine wife and a fine mother. He could feel her softening further as she relaxed her arms.

Tal, why do you spend so much time on this? You know the warning we received on your first attempt. The family is worried. I’m worried! And besides, all of our money goes to this! If it weren’t for the garden and our cow, we would not have survived the last summer. You’re fifty-two! Now’s the time to think about our older years. As it’s going now, you’ll have to work until you die. Her voice trailed off in a pleading tone.

Tal knew his wife was right. He couldn’t count on his children to help them. One of boys was sickly, two of his daughters married and moved away, and the other men were struggling themselves under the burden of a new family. He looked back at the nearly complete machine, partly cloaked by the tarp covering most of it. His mind wandered back to the horrible sight that assaulted him one night years ago, and to all his efforts since then in the pursuit of the seemingly impossible, now just within reach.

Twenty-seven years had been consumed in an attempt to achieve a dream. It wasn’t enough that flight was possible. After all, the Wright brothers had just accomplished that, as had that Brazilian man... But of what good was compressed air powered engines, or flights lasting a few seconds, or rising a few meters off the ground? The new combustion engines and the electric motors were all limited and served no practical purpose. What he was working on was generations ahead of the simplistic and dangerous machines everyone else had. Who could ever imagine a machine powered by the heart of the sun?

He remembered clearly his first meeting with the oriental, who called himself by one name – ‘Kaba.’ Talpede had laughed when Kaba told him the word was Tibetan and what it meant. Why on earth would any parent call his son ‘Coffee’? Years later he found out the name was a derogatory nickname given the man, as his most important job at the Lhasa monastery was grinding and brewing coffee for the monks who worshipped the sacred artefact and protected the holy writings.

On that day, the diminutive, furtive man with the crooked nose introduced himself, and quickly followed the introduction by nervously looked out the window in the school Talpede taught at. After satisfying himself that all was well, he unfolded several pieces of paper and one large drawing on Talpede’s desk.

His eyes immediately fell on the carefully drawn technical print. Although the paper was large, it was covered with information, each item drawn to the tiniest detail. There was so much there Talpede couldn’t even recognize what it was. After a few minutes of trying to make sense of it all, he turned to the man with an inquisitive look.

It is a flying machine.

Oh. Just another flying machine, Talpede said in jest.

One like no other. And it works. The machine is far more advanced than anything anyone has ever seen.

Where is it you come from? He couldn’t quite place the odd accent. If he knew what school the man had been educated at, he would know how to gauge this information.

The Tiger’s Nest. I came from the Tiger’s Nest.

The Tiger’s Nest? I’ve never heard of that school. Where is it?

It is me, was his only reply. No matter how much he persisted, Kaba refused to say anything further on the matter but instead continued to describe the machine.

It can fly itself or have a human fly it. I’ve been told that when it flies by, a sound like instant thunder strikes, deafening anyone listening. It flies so fast it can only be heard after it passes the watcher. Any glass in the vicinity shatters...

Talpede put up his hand. Enough. I don’t enjoy being mocked. And anyway, everything is in...

Sumerian, said the oriental. But I can translate. This machine is capable of flying through the ether...

Talpede cut him off again. The matter was getting ridiculous. Next he would say it can travel to the moon, like the famous story from Mr. Wells. I’m sorry. I can’t help you.

The man paused, then folded the papers and carefully placed them into his duffel bag.

I will come back after one week, in case you change your mind.

Talpede watched the man leave. Ridiculous! He shook his head and pushed the matter out of his mind. It was enough that he had to hear his students’ preposterous superstitions, but this? No doubt one of his friends, or perhaps one of his adversaries had set this up as some sort of prank.

And yet as he went to bed each night, dreams of machinery flying through the air, making its way to the ether and travelling to the moon, or better yet, to the lush gardens on Mercury or the canals of Mars had woken him up in a cold sweat of excitement.

During class, his mind would wander to the strange documents and diagrams he had seen. He would pause in mid sentence and stare off into space as one detail or another dropped into place, to the amusement of his students by day and the chastisement of his wife in the few evening moments he spent with her.

One week later when the oriental came back, Talpede could no longer hold his curiosity - or his excitement. The papers came out, and he was happy to see most of the phrases already translated into Sanskrit.

Five years of intense study and prototype construction later, a miniature version of the machine was ready to fly. Talpede walked the beach that night, worried that the dark mass of clouds might turn to rain the next day – the day scheduled for flight and the one day a week he had off. As he walked, an uneasy feeling came over him – as if someone were watching his every move. On the left was the ocean, and on the right the abandoned fishing huts of those who had gone home to sleep. He turned to look behind him and as he did he saw a tall, dark, hooded figure walking a few steps behind. A surprised gasp escaped but the man quickly replied, I’m sorry, Mr. Talpede – I didn’t mean to startle you.

You know my name? he said, his heart still hammering from the adrenaline.

Of course. Your machine is famous. Even in my country people have heard of it. I would love to see it, and perhaps have you explain its workings.

Talpede looked the man over. As the man removed his hood, all Talpede could focus on was his inky black irises, irises so dark not even the full moon could illuminate them. After staring at them for a few seconds, he shook himself off and looked the man over. His clothing made it clear he was obviously foreign but he certainly was well dressed and didn’t seem like someone who wished him ill.

Are you a reporter? I’ll be going over everything tomorrow...

No, not a reporter. I represent... business interests for a large but private consortium. Perhaps your machine can become a part of our interest? If so, and if I’m interested, you would be well rewarded.

Very well then. Up until then, Talpede had been mostly mocked in his attempts. Perhaps with this man came change...

He took him back to the room he had rented that housed the flying machine and equipment necessary to ready it and went over the device, explaining all the individual features – the solar array, the heat chamber, the fuel that powered the ionic engine and so on. Where he would have expected ridicule, the man instead praised him for his ingenuity and asked detailed questions as to how he had come up with such highly advanced features.

Talpede never did give his source – Kaba had made it clear his involvement was to be kept the utmost secret. Little did Talpede know what was about to happen.

The next day, a group of Talpede’s friends and students had congregated to watch the inaugural launch of the machine. Two reporters from the Kesari newspaper were also there, as was the man who had visited him the night before. He stood in the background watching the proceedings sternly. Talpede was surprised to see Kaba missing.

He looked at the cloud-covered sky, the clouds still lingering from the night before. They were a surprise - a rarity during the usual summer heat wave. With no direct sunlight, the machine couldn’t work. He waited for a full two hours, and just as he was about to give up a ray of sunlight broke through and quickly expanded as the clouds dissipated. A few minutes later, the power indicator on the small craft started rotating, signalling that the sunlight the solar array was receiving would be enough. Fifteen minutes later, the release valve whistled for a moment indicating full power, and Talpede picked up the machine, flipped the switch, and listened as a fierce and steadily increasing sound could be heard exhausting from the flyer’s outlet. He gave it a hardy toss and watched, his heart sinking as the machine dipped and struck a large rock protruding from the soft Chowpathy beach sand. He was ready to run and fetch it, but after the first bounce the machine slowly climbed again, cutting off the initial guffaws from the observers. The flyer picked up speed, the sound of the rushing air intensifying in pitch as it increased its rate of climb.

Within seconds the tiny machine was all but invisible because of its tremendous acceleration. People gasped and pointed, trying to find the flyer. Reporters scrambled forward in a rush to speak to Talpede. Just as cries of ‘success’ started, a flash of light was seen in the general area of the craft and a pop was heard a second later. Within moments, pieces of the flyer became visible and the observers scrambled for cover as they crashed down.

Talpede couldn’t believe the disaster. Everything had been perfect until this last moment. He analyzed what could have gone wrong, oblivious to the laughter of those around him. It was then that he remembered the man from the night before, but the strange visitor had already turned and was now walking away.

Days later as Talpede was inspecting the wreckage of the flyer in his shop, he was shocked to find the same man staring at him.

I say, you startled me, Mr.... Talpede realized he had never mentioned his name.

What happened to the flyer?

The man’s abruptness was rude but he answered anyway. It’s destroyed. But I can see why it happened – the release valve somehow seized shut, and the build-up in pressure caused the explosion. I’ve already noted improvements and in a few months, my students and I will have a bigger and better one built.

I was afraid you might say that. Someone else said those very words a few years ago and paid a heavy price.

What do you mean?

I mean that perhaps it’s time that you stop this endeavour. Continuing it would put your life in danger.

I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to see this machine fly, for your consortium.

The man didn’t reply to Talpede’s comment, but instead simply said, ...I’ve brought you a gift. Good day. He dropped a package on the counter and walked away without saying another word.

Talpede opened the package. Inside was a carefully wrapped bundle with a note on top. He opened the note, which said, The same will happen to you if you continue. With trepidation, he untied the twine and opened the bag. The sight that greeted him was one he would never forget: The severed head of Kaba was inside, his dried out, opaque open eyes staring back at Talpede as if in warning.

After that event, Talpede had abandoned the project. And yet, he couldn’t forget the mechanics – or the excitement of watching the heavier than air machine fly. To know that it might have flown further had it not been sabotaged made the situation even more difficult. To top it all off Kaba had mentioned one night, after a particularly large amount of imbibing, that this flying machine was nothing compared to the secrets held within the walls of the Preah Vihear. With the proper key and the right person, that secret would lead to humanity’s pinnacle.

Talpede had brushed it off at the time as the mumblings of a very drunk man, but Kaba persisted. He admitted that the reason he had approached him in the first place was because Talpede was not only a well known mathematician and engineer, but that his wife’s name was so similar to ‘Preah.’

Obviously, karma is on our side, he added with a drunken slur. Of course, Talpede had never heard of the place, but those words and the hint of the great secrets within lingered inside him as strongly as the vision of the flight of his machine.

One year later, he investigated this Preah Vihear. It was an eleventh century monastery near the border of Thailand. He read that the ruins of the still-in-use ancient temple were spectacular. What secret did it contain that was far greater than this flying machine? Kaba was no longer around to explain, and Talpede didn’t have the money or ability to investigate another mystery. So after a few years, he had started secretly working once again on the new full sized flyer, with the help of a select group of previous students, all under oath to not breathe a word of this to anyone. After many years and hundreds of partial tests on the separate systems, he was within weeks of having the new craft launched. This time though, it would have a human pilot inside - himself.

"Why don’t you come inside?