The Newton Protocol: The Paul Brennon Chronicles, #1

By Phil Stuart-Douek

Nearly 1000 years into the future, a space battle which will determine the fate of the human race, and that of all of their allies in the Dunai alliance, has reached a stalemate. All ships of the Dunai alliance and those of the mighty Rohal fleet are damaged and desperately attempting repairs. It is clear that whichever side can get a fighting ship operational first, will win the war. One ship - the Xanos, attempts a daring maneuver though a temporal rift, in order to gain extra time to make repairs, but instead of gaining the few weeks expected, is thrown back in time over 3000 years. Abandoned by her crew, and severely damaged, the ship makes her way back to the planet earth and settles on the moon, patiently waiting for mankind to evolve technologically so that her computer can enlist the help she needs to repair the ship and rejoin the battle. Now the time has come - it is the 21st century and Paul Brennon, a gifted electronics and Computer engineer receives a strange communication from someone calling themselves 'Xan", requesting help from him to repair her ship. In taking on this task, he finds he is also taking on the British Secret service, the CIA and an underground organisation bent on reviving Mother Russia as a Communist superpower. Each knows about the "ship from the future" and each wishes to claim the technology for their own. In order to help Xan and possibly save mankind, Paul needs to master an entirely new technology, circumvent 3 national security agencies, and figure out a way to get to the ship, to finish repairs, on the moon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Phil Stuart-Douek
• Release date: Mar 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215046029

Book preview

Chapter 1

It took Paul a little time to get motivated in the mornings.

Padding downstairs in just his shorts, he went into the kitchen to start the coffee brewing, before going back upstairs.

Glancing in the bathroom mirror Paul could see he was starting to look his age. Many sleepless nights in his workshop had conspired with his habit of frowning in concentration to etch lines into his forehead and around his eyes, and there was just a hint of grey beginning to show in his otherwise dark hair.

Sighing he switched on the shower.

A short time later, showered and dressed and holding a cup of the freshly brewed coffee, he finally made his way down into his workshop which had been constructed in the lower floor of the three storey town house he called home.

Paul’s house was entered from the front, onto the middle floor, with only two floors visible from the road. At the back of the house a small paved courtyard was set below street level, with a set of narrow steps leading up to the alley. Once there had been a door, but this had been bricked up and now there were neither doors nor windows at the back of the house. Inside, a broad spiral staircase led up to the bedrooms and bathroom, and down, through a locked gate, into the workshop below.

It was easy to tell that this was the home of a single male. Sparsely furnished with a general air of neglect only kept at bay by Mrs Bruce, the cleaning lady, who came in twice a week, tidied up and took care of the laundry.

The workshop was a different story.

The whole bottom floor of the house had been opened up into an area roughly thirty yards square with workbenches around the walls, excepting in the corner opposite the stairs which had been partitioned off.

Here was an industry standard clean room, complete with double door airlock entrance and particulate filtration systems to prevent even the smallest amount of dust entering.

Around the walls of the workshop, above the benches, were various tools and pieces of electronic equipment, all neatly labelled and stored in their designated slot. In the middle of the floor stood a hexagonal stand covered in containers and drawers each showing a neat colour coded label and containing all kinds of electronic components.

Paul Brenner was a thief.

Not the type of thief that would hit you over the head and make off with your wallet, nor the type to hold up a bank at gunpoint. Not even the type of thief who sits at home on his computer and steals identities.

No, Paul Brenner was a technology thief, a professional reverse engineer. Companies paid him very large sums of money to dismantle patented electronic equipment or software, find out how it worked and find ways to circumvent the patents.

Since he worked freelance, he occasionally found himself reverse engineering products that he himself had built, from designs he had stolen from yet another company. Life sometimes got complicated.

Life got even more complicated when the men in suits and dark glasses arrived, bearing schematics, microfiches or even complete devices for him to decipher, build or reverse engineer. The government itself was not above using the services of one of the most talented and infamous people in his chosen field.

Things had become ridiculously complicated when he had been approached by an agent from a foreign government, asking if he would like to do some freelance work for them. He had politely declined the offer. Not out of any particular sense of patriotism, but more out of a sense of self-preservation as he reasoned that putting himself in the firing line between rival governments would not be good for his health, and he had plans for a long and healthy retirement.

Closing and locking the gate to the workshop, Paul clicked on the lights and moved over to the computer set into the workbench on the far wall. He placed his left hand on the pad next to the keyboard, and typed in a 12 digit password on the keypad, with all the dexterity of an accountant using an adding machine.

Once the computer was unlocked he immediately clicked onto the internet to check the price of gold. He scowled briefly as he noted that it had dropped three cents an ounce overnight. A quick mental calculation told him that had cost him just over £1500.

Anyone wanting to employ Paul had to pay in gold. Paul had decided some time ago that this was one commodity that, in the uncertain world of political and financial upheaval, would be the least likely to devalue. He had briefly considered diamonds but had read that there were conglomerates hoarding vast quantities of the precious stones, which if released onto the open market, would make all but the largest of stones worthless.

No, He had decided it has to be gold.

The one obvious drawback to this would be the sheer size and weight of his investment. Even though he had deposited a million pounds sterling in gold in one of the more exclusive London banks, against which he drew money for day to day living, this still left him with another 23 million, some 8200lbs of gold to store.

Had he been of a mind to look at his gold, which this morning he was not, he would have to type no less than eight separate 10 digit passwords on his computer, which would apparently do absolutely nothing. He would then go over to the hexagonal rack in the middle of the room and open several drawers, apparently at random and then put his eye to a retinal scanner cunningly hidden in the crack between two sides of the rack. One of the sides of the rack would swing open to reveal another spiral staircase leading down to a narrow passage ending in an opaque Plexiglas door. Touching a small concealed button on the wall would cause another Plexiglas door, two inches thick and bulletproof to spring into place behind you, before the fingerprint reader on the concealed button would register the print and open the door ahead. Once through the door another short passage terminates in what appears to be a blank wall. To get into the vault beyond the wall, Paul would have to place both his hands on unmarked spots on the wall and recite the first line from Robert Frost’s poem Gold. This would cause the wall to slide silently off to the side and allow him access to his vault, roughly half the size of the workshop above.

This subterranean Aladdin’s cave had cost him four years earnings to complete, had been done entirely in secret and was fitted with every security device that Paul’s very active imagination could devise. Set into the wall by the door was a small opening, a dumb waiter ten inches by twelve which could send a platform up into the workshop above. This was how gold was transferred, four bars at a time, down into the vault, from a compartment concealed in the workshop above. Currently Paul had just over three hundred bars of the soft yellow metal. He had set himself a target of five hundred bars and he would retire. He expected to reach the target shortly after his forty-fifth birthday. That gave him ten years.

Once he had finished checking the price of gold, Paul checked his email, for this was how most of the work coming his way was announced. Usually in the form of a cryptic message, or vague request for help with the development of a new and revolutionary product and nearly always with a number, anywhere five and upwards which signified the offered fee (in standard 12.5 kg gold bars)

He was very surprised to see that his inbox was, unusually sparse. Normally there were at least seven or eight job offers in the pipeline at any one time. Indeed the company he had just completed a rather complicated bit of theft for, were so pleased with the results that they had promised another job offer would be in this morning’s email. Instead, sitting there staring at him, all alone, was a solitary email from someone calling themselves simply X with the subject I HAVE WORK FOR YOU.

Always suspicious of emails from unknown parties he subjected it to a barrage of commercial virus, spyware and Trojan scanners, followed by a further barrage of scanners not available to the general public, the military, or even the government, having been written by, and for the sole use of the author, Paul Brennon. Satisfied that there was nothing out of the ordinary with the email, he clicked it to open it.

Nothing happened.

This disturbed him. In his experience, things that appeared to do nothing when activated were usually doing something very big and nasty in a very quiet way. He hit a red button set into the side of his keyboard. This isolated the machine on his desk from the rest of the network in the house, and from all the control systems. (Access to the vault was not the only thing that could be controlled from this computer)

Pulling out a small laptop from a slot below the workbench, he powered it up and attached it to the network. He spent the next twenty minutes inspecting every byte of network traffic that had been sent or received since he had first logged in that morning.

Again, finding nothing out of the ordinary, he once again ran his entire virus and spyware program collection, this time checking the entire machine and not just the email. Still not finding anything wrong he decided to try and delete the email.

He opened his mail program and was surprised to see another email waiting for him in his inbox.

Once again from X, the subject line read IT IS TIME TO START WORK.

He switched off the computer.

The next eight hours was spent completely stripping the computer down to its component parts, checking that there were no additional items that should not be there, and also that all boards and devices were performing to specification.

Having satisfied himself that all was well with the hardware he spent a further 6 hours comparing the data on the hard drive, byte for byte against the backup copy, stored on an optical disk each night in case of computer failure.

It was the most pointless waste of time he had ever experienced. There was absolutely nothing he could find that would explain the reluctance of the email to be deleted, nor how a second email had arrived on a computer that was in no way connected to the outside world as even the electricity supply in Pauls' house was filtered and monitored to prevent the transmission of signals down the line.

Paul was on his sixth pot of his special blend coffee and was completely wired. He recognised the tremor in his hands that signalled he needed to both eat and sleep and he left the workshop, climbing the stairs wearily.

Locking the gate behind him and moving into the kitchen he emptied the coffee pot down the sink, emptied the filter into the bin and put his cup, the pot and filter holder into the dishwasher.

Taking a pizza out of the freezer and putting it on a plate in the microwave, he stood and gazed at it intently as it turned round and round while his mind revolved similarly on the day, the computer and the emails.

As often happened when he hit a problem like this, ideas started to present themselves to him after he had left his workshop. He resisted the temptation to return and start work again as he knew from experience that the best thing to do would be to eat, sleep, and face the problem fresh in the morning.

The ping of the microwave startled him out of his revere, and placing the pizza on a plate and grabbing a bottle of orange juice from the fridge, he retired to the living room to eat his pizza and try and divert himself enough so that when he went to bed he would actually sleep.

Turning on the radio he settled his six foot frame into an overstuffed leather armchair in which he spent the few minutes of the day when he was not either in his workshop or in his local gym. (The body needs to be fit so that the mind can function.)

Paul had toyed with the idea of turning one of the middle floor rooms into a home gym, but he reasoned that if he did not go out to the gum, either to work out, or attend Tai-Kwan-Do classes, he would never actually leave the house, or have human contact with anyone except Mrs. Bruce. To this end he forced himself to the gym at least three times a week and at other times when he met a problem when he needed to think through. This gave him a fit lean look.

His love life was non-existent and the last girl he had met at the gym, who, captivated by the green of his eyes (and his obvious physique), had persuaded him to agree to meet her in the local pub that evening, had fallen foul of a job offer that had kept him in his workshop for six days solid.

He hadn’t even remembered that he had a date, let alone to phone and cancel or even apologise. She occasionally saw him in the gym and pointedly ignored him but her efforts were completely wasted as he had totally forgotten about her and didn’t even notice that he was being snubbed.

Paul was a great believer in learning from experience, which is why he carefully placed his pizza plate on the table at the side of his chair, and why he always bought orange juice in the kind of bottles that runners use.

It was no surprise to him therefore when he was woken up about an hour later by the noise of the orange juice bottle hitting the floor.

Picking up the bottle (which had not spilled a drop thanks to the clever top) he stuffed the remains of the last slice of pizza in his mouth, chewed quickly and washed it down with the orange juice.

The kitchen clock showed it was just after 3.30 am as he loaded his plate into the dishwasher. His little nap had taken the edge off his tiredness and once again he was tempted to return to his workshop to attack the problems of the emails anew. Instead he turned off the lights, and by the light of the streetlamp shining through the front windows of the house, made his way to bed.

Chapter 2

Paul’s eyes snapped open, it was still dark but there was nothing unusual in that given the time of year. He felt wide awake, and his mind was buzzing, ready to take a new look at the email problem.

Almost bouncing out of bed, he decided to forgo his morning coffee ritual, showered and dressed quickly. He grabbed another bottle of orange juice from the kitchen on his way down to the workshop, failing to register that the kitchen clock indicated it was only 5.30am and he had been in bed for less than two hours.

Once in the workshop, he booted the computer, still isolated from all its connections and opened his email program.

His first surprise was that both the emails from the previous day had disappeared; his second was that there was a new email in his inbox. Once again from X this time the subject line read YOU ARE WASTING TIME.

Paul regretted bypassing his coffee and went up to the kitchen to put the coffee pot on.

Being unable to open, delete, move or in any other way affect the email, he clicked the REPLY button. To his surprise the REPLY TO SENDER window opened up. He typed. What is the job?

Not knowing exactly why, he clicked on the SEND button; he expected that it would not send as he had removed all the connections to the computer the previous day, but this detail did not seem to concern the computer and the MESSAGE SENT message flashed up cheerfully.

He wondered how it had managed to send as he distinctly remembered removing the network cable, the modem cable and....

Straightening up suddenly he remembered removing another cable from the computer the previous day, but had no recollections of reconnecting it. Slowly he got to his feet and peered over the top of the tower case. It was as he had remembered; the computer was not even plugged in to the electricity supply.

As this realisation hit him he noted that another email had arrived. The subject line read MODULE A4-C11 IS NON OPERATIONAL.

What do you want me to do about it? He sent the reply.

REPAIR.

Not usually being in the repair business, Paul had a mind to tell this strange X to go find someone else to repair module A4-C11, but the issues of his computer was baffling him. He couldn’t understand how they, whoever they were, were managing to use it to talk to him when it shouldn’t even be running.

To give himself time to think, and also because he needed the coffee, he went back upstairs to the kitchen. As he was pouring the first cup of the day he glanced up at the clock and finally realised that it was not even 6am.

On his return to the workshop, he could sense that something was different. A feeling of static electricity filled the air as if a storm was brewing. He could almost taste the metallic tang of it. Moving down the stairs and into the workshop he noticed immediately that there was something on his workbench; something that had definitely not been there before.

Looking round the workshop, everything seemed to be in order. He started towards his computer before remembering that it was no longer attached to the network.

He returned upstairs and went to the computer in his living room and called up the security logs. No external doors or windows had been opened that day, and after checking the footage from all the motion activated cameras installed in the house, the only thing  he could find moving in there was him.

Once again he returned to his workshop.

Approaching the workbench slowly he eyed the object sitting there with suspicion. It was rectangular, roughly ten inches in length, six in width and about three inches deep. Grey in colour it looked like it had been pulled out of a fire, being charred at one end and covered in soot.

He stared at the object for a number of minutes while it did absolutely nothing, and then approached a little nearer. He could smell the familiar smell which accompanied electronics that had been too hot, an acrid bitter smell, but there was something slightly different to the smell, something he had not smelled before.

The object continued to do absolutely nothing as he edged towards it, curious but afraid also. Questions were tumbling through his mind, not least of which being;

Where the hell did that come from?

Finally plucking up the courage, Paul stood over the object and examined it more closely. It seemed to be constructed from a kind of plastic, and there were some markings on one of the shorter edges which he could not decipher. He put on a pair of surgical gloves (latex free and a fetching shade of purple) and gently picked up the object, which proved lighter than he had expected.

Turning it over in his hands he noted that there were only markings on one edge, so he decided that that was the front. He copied these markings down onto a pad he usually used to make notes when dismantling equipment. On the opposite end of the object he saw that there were a number of tiny circular patches in a different material, set into the plastic. He concluded that these must be some kind of interface and presumed that the whole object was only part of a larger machine.

Module A4-C11 I presume. He muttered to himself.

Paul decided that he would investigate the device as he would any other that he had been given to deal with, and with that in mind he reached for an aerosol of cleaning solvent to remove the grime and smoke damage from the outside of the case.

Having tested the solvent on a small corner of the device to ensure it would not damage it, he thoroughly cleaned the object and found that the case itself had not been damaged by whatever had caused the smoke. He also noted that there was a small recess on one of the longer narrow edges and once the casing was completely clean he gently inserted a small screwdriver into the recess, which as he had suspected, caused the top of the device to pop open.

Inside the device was like nothing he had seen before. Paul’s first impression was that it looked like a child’s toy with coloured blocks of different shapes and sizes. These blocks had corresponding recesses in the bottom of the device, which were edged in the colour of the blocks inserted. There were also some duplicate coloured blocks attached to the lid of the device, and Paul concluded that these must be spares, as they didn’t actually be set into anything and were just stuck to the lid in lines.

Examining the blocks carefully he noted that there were a few which had apparently been dislodged from their respective slots and he replaced these, seating them home carefully. He then methodically removed, inspected and replaced each block in the device, not knowing exactly what he was looking for, but working through a method that had served him reasonably well in the past.

After about ten minutes of doing this, he noted that the block he was currently cleaning, was discoloured in part and he placed it to one side. Continuing to work through the rest of the blocks he found a further two which were also discoloured.

Checking the spares attached to the lid, he found that all three had duplicates attached which he slotted into their respective slots. He put the damaged blocks to one side and closed the lid of the box, amazed to see that the markings he had noted on his first inspection glowed green. This confused him a little as he had seen no power source in the device and he was also concerned that he had been fiddling about inside something live, without even knowing about it.

Placing the device back on his workbench he moved back to his computer. Sitting with his back to the workbench he typed Module A4-C11 Repaired. Now what?

MODULE A4-C23 NON OPERATIONAL. REPAIR.

There was a tiny sound, like that of air rushing to fill a space roughly ten inches by six by four which had previously been occupied, but was now inexplicably empty, followed immediately by another sound of the air being shoved out of the way again as the space was reoccupied. The tinny, electrical tang to the air was back.

He spun round on his chair to see that the clean module A4-C11 had disappeared and in its place sat an identical device, this one as dirty and charred as the other had been.

Paul went through the same procedure as he had done with the previous module, again noting that the symbols on the front of the device glowed when he had replaced all the internal components. He hadn’t even had to use any of the spares. Placing the device on the workbench he moved back to his computer and typed Module A4-C23 Repaired but before he pressed Enter he turned to watch the module.

Pressing the Enter key to send the message, he again heard the tiny ‘pop’ of rushing air. It happened so fast that his eyes barely had time to register the change as the clean and repaired module was again replaced by another charred, blackened one.

MODULE A4-C30 NON OPERATIONAL. REPAIR

More and more intrigued now he repaired modules A4-C30, C31 and C43 but then he encountered a problem.

Whilst working on module A4-C45 Paul found that one of the components he had identified as needing replacement did not have a duplicate attached to the lid. He returned to his computer and sent Unable to repair module A4-C45.

EXPLAIN

Spare component required. Paul tapped in.

IDENTIFY REQUIRED COMPONENT.

He looked at the component at a loss to know how to identify something he had no frame of reference for.

Blue circular component with three legs and a rectangular cut out. He typed hopefully.

IDENTIFICATION INSUFFICIENT.  ENTER COMPONENT IDENTIFIER.

Paul examined the component again, looking for any markings but was unable to find any.

No identifier available. He typed.

ENTER LOCATION IDENTIFIER.

Peering into the module, he looked carefully at the slot that the blue component should fit into. He noted a small label just below. Taking the device over to his magnifying lamp he looked closely and was a number of symbols and copied them down onto his pad, alongside the list of symbols copied from the fronts of all the modules he had repaired so far.

There were 4 symbols on each module, he had noted, concluding from the very limited information that the first symbol, like a capital A without the crossbar, and the same on all of the modules so far was an A. The third symbol which had also been the same on all the modules was, by this reasoning a C (an inverted A complete with crossbar). The second symbol, again on all modules was a square. This he concluded must be 4.

He then looked at the final symbols on the modules.

The first module had borne a circle within a circle. He put this against 11.The second showed a triangle superimposed over a straight line which protruded from either side of it, 23, the third a dot inside a triangle, 30, next a circle within a triangle, 31, a triangle in a square, 43 and finally a pentagon inside a square, 45.

He sat and considered this for a while and then looked again at the symbols he had copied from the label for the blue device. It showed the A symbol followed by the C symbol but then a triangle inside a square, a hexagon inside a square, then a square (Four. He thought) then a triangle inside a triangle.

Paul looked once more at his list and then had a brainwave. 11. A circle inside a circle or a one sided symbol inside a one sided symbol, or one, one. 23 a triangle over a straight line, or a 3 sided symbol over a 2 sided one. 30 a triangle with a dot, or 3 sides around what appeared to be a no sided symbol.

That should make 31 a triangle with a circle in it He thought, and checked. Ha he said out loud.

Quickly he looked back to the component identifier and scribbled underneath it AC43464 and then typed into his computer Location Identifier AC43464.

Instantly the tinny smell filled his nostrils and he turned to see a small blue device sat on his bench next to the module. Once he had fitted this into the slot he closed the lid and was gratified to see that the symbols on the front glowed green.

Module A4-C45 repaired he typed with some satisfaction.

Paul was not surprised when the module, plus all the damaged components he had removed from all of the repaired modules, disappeared. He was a little surprised, however that there was no replacement module to be repaired.

Instead, after a few seconds, a small circular device mounted on what appeared to be a band of elastic appeared on his workbench and  he picked it up to examine it.

Instantly his hand touched the device, a voice right beside him said:

Hello Mr. Brennon.

Swearing loudly as he spun around to find the source of the voice, he got his feet tangled up in each other and stumbled. Putting his hand out to save himself, he connected with this computer chair. Unfortunately, as this was on wheels, it scurried away from him as if it too was startled, and he fell heavily to the floor.

He lay there for a moment, waiting for the blood pounding in his ears to recede and then slowly brought himself to his hands and knees, then hauled himself into his computer chair to sit for a moment and regain his composure. He had dropped the device in his fright and it lay on the workbench, mocking his clumsiness.

Checking around the workshop to make sure that nobody was there (Well if these modules could appear and disappear at will, why not people?) he stood up shakily and picked up the device.

The voice came again.

Are you damaged Mr. Brennon? it enquired.

Although expecting it, he still jumped at the proximity of the speaker, and marvelled at the quality of the sound which was as though the person was standing beside him. He could almost feel their breath.

No, I’m not, er, damaged. He stammered a little, holding the device to his mouth and speaking into it.

Good. I would advise that you place the communication device around one of your limbs. I can hear you at all times, but you will only hear me, when you are wearing the communicator.  The speaker said.

Stalling for time, as he wasn’t about to ensnare himself in some technological trap, Paul asked.

Who are you?

You may refer to me as Xan, Said the voice. And I need your help.

Chapter 3

There was nothing unusual in the fact that it was still dark when Paul woke up later that morning, nor in the fact that he could see by the dull glow permeating the curtain, that the streetlamp outside his house was still burning.

He felt wide awake and his mind was buzzing, ready to take a new look at the email problem.

Almost bouncing out of bed, he decided to forgo his morning coffee ritual, getting straight into the shower and dressing quickly. He grabbed another bottle of orange juice from the kitchen on his way down to the workshop, completely failing to register the fact that the kitchen clock indicated that it was only 5.30am and he had been in bed for less than two hours.

Once in the workshop he booted the workshop computer, still isolated from the outside world, and opened the email program.

His first surprise was that both the emails from the previous day had disappeared; his second was that there was a new mail waiting in his inbox. Again from X this time the subject line read YOU ARE WASTING TIME.

Paul went back up to the kitchen to put the coffee pot on.

Being unable to open, delete, move or in any other way affect the email, he clicked on the reply button. T reply to sender window opened up and he typed What is the job?

He clicked on the send button; he expected that it would not send, as he had physically removed all connections to the computer the previous day. But this minor detail did not seem to concern the computer and the Message Sent message flashed up cheerfully. Paul wondered how it had managed to send as he distinctly remembered removing the network cable to the household network, the backup modem cable to the telephone line and ...

Straightening suddenly, he remembered removing another cable from the computer the previous night, but didn’t remember reconnecting it. Slowly he got to his feet, peering over the top of the tower case he confirmed his suspicion that the computer wasn’t even plugged in to the electricity supply.

As this realisation hit him he noted that another email had arrived the subject line read MODULE A4-C11 NON OPERATIONAL.

Hitting the reply button, more curious now, he typed What is module a4-c11?

The reply came back almost instantly MODULE A4-C11 IS NONE OPERATIONAL.

What do you want me to do about it?

REPAIR.

Not usually being in the repairs business, Paul had a mind to tell this strange X to go find someone else to repair module A4-C11, but the issue of his computer was still bugging him and he was at a loss to understand how they were managing to use it to talk to him when technically it shouldn’t even be running.

To give him time to think, and also because he thought that the coffee should be ready, he went back up to the kitchen. As he was pouring the first cup of the day he glanced up at the clock, and finally registered that it was still not even 6am.

On returning to his workshop, he could sense that something was different. A feeling of static electricity filled the air as if a storm was brewing. He could almost taste the metallic tang of it. Crossing the workshop he noticed immediately that there was something on his workbench, something that had definitely not been there before.

Approaching the workbench slowly he eyed the object sitting there with suspicion. It was rectangular, roughly ten inches in length six in width and about three inches deep. Grey in colour it looked like it had been pulled out of a fire, being charred at one end and covered in soot.

He recognised the smell which always seems to accompany electronics that had been too hot, an acrid bitter smell, but there was something different about the smell as well, not quite the same as he had smelled before.

The object sat impassively on his bench as he edged towards it, curious but afraid also, questions tumbling through his mind, not least of which being;

Where the hell did that come from?

Finally plucking up the courage, Paul stood over the object and examined it more closely.

It seemed to be constructed of a kind of plastic, and there were some markings on one of the shorter edges, which he could not decipher. Putting on a pair of surgical gloves, he gently picked up the object, which was lighter than he had anticipated.

Turning it over in his hands he noted that there were only markings on one edge, so he decided that this was the front. He copied these markings down onto a pad he usually used to make notes when dismantling equipment. On the opposite end of the object he saw that there were a number of tiny circular patches in a different material set into the plastic. He concluded that these must be some kind of interface and presumed that the whole object was only a part of a larger machine.

Module A4-C11 I presume. He muttered to himself.

Paul decided that he would investigate this module as he would any other device that he had been given to deal with and with that in mind, reached for an aerosol of cleaning solvent, to remove the grime and smoke damage from the outside of the case.

Having tested the solvent on a small corner of the device to ensure that it would not damage it, he thoroughly cleaned the object and found that the case itself had not been damaged by whatever had caused the smoke. He had also noted that there was a small recess on one of the longer narrow edges and once the casing was completely clean he gently inserted a small screwdriver into the recess, which, as he had suspected, caused the top of the device to pop open.

Inside the device was like nothing he had ever seen before. Paul’s first impression was that it looked like a child’s toy with coloured blocks of different shapes and sizes. These blocks had corresponding recesses in the bottom of the box that was the device, which were edged in the colour of the block inserted.

There were also some duplicate coloured blocks attached to the lid of the box, and Paul concluded that these must be spares as they did not seem to be set into anything, just stuck to the lid in lines.

Examining the blocks he noted that there were a few which had apparently been dislodged from their respective slots and he replaced these, seating them home carefully. He then methodically removed, inspected, cleaned and replaced each block in the device, not knowing exactly what he was looking for, but working through a method that had served him reasonably well in the past.

After ten minutes or so of doing this he noted that the block he had just removed was discoloured in part, and he placed this to one side. Continuing to work through the rest of the blocks he found a further two which seemed to be discoloured.

Checking the spares attached to the lid, he found that all three blocks had duplicates attached there and he replaced all the damaged blocks.

Putting the damaged blocks to one side he closed the lid of the box and was amazed to see that the markings he had noted on his first inspection now glowed green. This confused him a little has he had not noted any kind of power-source in the device and was concerned that he had been fiddling about inside something live without even knowing about it.

Placing the device back on his workbench he moved back over to his computer. Sitting down with his back to his workbench he typed Module a4-c11 repaired, now what?

MODULE A4-C23 NON OPERATIONAL – REPAIR

There was a tiny sound, almost imperceptible, and the tinny electrical smell he had noticed earlier returned.

He spun around on his chair to see that the clean module a4-c11 had disappeared, and in its place sat an almost identical device, this one as charred and dirty as the other had initially been.

Paul went through the exact same procedure as he had done with the previous module, again noting that the symbols on the front of the device glowed when he had replaced all the internal components. He hadn’t even had to use any of the spares.

Placing the device back on the workbench he moved back to the computer and typed module a4-c23 repaired, but before he pressed enter he turned to watch the module, to see what would happen.

Pressing the enter key to send the message he again heard the tiny sound. It happened so fast that his eyes barely had time to register the change as the clean and repaired module was again replaced by another charred and blacked one.

MODULE A4-C30 NON OPERATIONAL –REPAIR

More and more intrigued now he repaired modules a4-c30, a4c31, and a4-c43 but then encountered a problem he had not met before.

Whilst working on module A4-c45 Paul found that one of the components he needed to replace; did not have a duplicate attached to the lid. He returned to his computer and typed unable to repair module a4-c45

INSUFFICIENT DATA, CLARIFY. came the reply.

Spare component required Paul tapped in.

IDENTIFY REQUIRED COMPONENT.

He looked at the component. How do you identify a component that he had absolutely no reference for? 

Blue circular component with three legs and a rectangular cut out. He typed.

IDENTIFICATION INSUFFICIENT – ENTER COMPONENT IDENTIFIER.

Paul examined the small device again, looking for any markings but was unable to find any.

No identifier available. He typed.

ENTER LOCATION IDENTIFIER.

Paul peered into the module, into the slot that the blue component should fit, and noted a small label just below. Taking the device over to his magnifying lamp he looked closely and saw a number of symbols.

He copied these symbols down onto his pad, alongside the list of symbols he had copied from the fronts of all the modules he had repaired so far.

There were 4 symbols on each module, he had noted, and he had concluded from the very limited information that the first symbol which was similar to a capital A but without the crossbar, and the same on all the modules he had seen so far, was equivalent to A The third symbol which had also been the same on all the modules he concluded was C (this was an inverted A complete with crossbar)

The second symbol which had also been consistent to all the modules was a square. This he concluded was a four.

Having got this far he then looked at the final symbols from the modules.

The first module had been a circle within a circle, which he put against 11.

The second showed triangle inside an ellipse, but the ellipse had pointed ends, 23.

The third a Triangle with a dot in, 30.

The fourth a triangle with a circle in, 31.

The fifth a square surrounding a triangle, 43.

And the final showed a pentangle inside a square,45.

He sat and considered this for a while and then he looked at the symbols he had copied from the label for the blue device. It showed the A symbol immediately followed by the symbol for C but then a square with a triangle in, followed by a hexagon surrounded by a square, then a square (four he thought) then a triangle within a triangle.

Paul looked back to the list and then had a brainwave. 11 a circle inside a circle or a one sided symbol inside a one sided symbol. Or one, one.

23, a triangle inside a pointed ellipse or a 3 sided symbol inside a 2 sided one. 30 a triangle with a dot or 3 sides around what amounted to a no sided symbol. That should make 31 a triangle with a circle in it. He checked, Ha! he said and went on to confirm his supposition that the numbers were in pairs with the number of sides of the shape being the number and the outer shape being the first of the pair.

Quickly he looked back at the component identifier and scribbled underneath it AC43464.

Crossing to his computer he typed Location Identifier AC43464.

Instantly the tinny smell filled his nostrils and he turned to see a small blue circular device with three legs and a rectangular cut out, sat on his workbench next to the module.

He fitted this component into the slot, closed the lid and was gratified to see that the symbols on the front glowed green.

Placing the module back onto the workbench he typed Module a4-c45 repaired.

As before the module disappeared, along with all the damaged components but Paul was surprised when there was not another damaged module in its place to be repaired.

Instead, after a few seconds, a small circular device, mounted on what appeared to be a band of elastic appeared on his workbench. He picked it up. Instantly his hand touched the device, somebody right beside him said;

Hello Mr. Brennon.

Paul swore loudly as he spun round to find the source of the voice, got his feet tangled up in each other and stumbled. Putting his hand out to save himself, he connected with his computer chair, unfortunately on wheels, which scurried away from him as if in fright. This sudden loss of support from the furniture did nothing for his predicament and he fell heavily to the floor.

He lay there for a moment, waiting for his heartbeat to slow, carefully brought himself up to his hands and knees, and hauled himself into his computer chair sitting for a moment to regain his composure.

He had dropped the device in his fright and it lay on the workbench mocking his clumsiness.

Looking around the workshop to make sure that there was nobody there; he stood up shakily and moved back over to the workbench and picked up the device.

The voice came again.

Are you damaged Mr. Brennon? it enquired.

Even though he was expecting it, he still jumped at the proximity of the speaker, and also the quality of the sound, which was as though a person was stood right beside him. He could almost feel their breath.

N-no I’m not, er, damaged. he replied holding the device to his mouth and speaking into it.

Good. came the reply. I would advise that you place the communication device around one of your limbs, as it needs to be in contact with you for you to hear my communications.

Stalling for time a little as he wasn’t about to ensnare himself in some technological trap Paul asked Who are you?

You may refer to me as Xan; said the voice and I need your help.

Chapter 4

Paul sat down heavily on his computer chair.

My help? He asked.

Yes, said Xan. your help.

"You have the technology to make things appear and disappear at will, you have communications equipment that would make a grown sound engineer weep tears of surround sound joy and you need my help?"

The lack of sleep and the excess caffeine were conspiring to make Paul feel a little hysterical. He recognised the symptoms and steadied himself.

Taking a deep breath he said;

What is this device that I am holding?

It is a communicator.

What else does it do?

It has no other function than to enable communication, it requires contact with the body of the person I wish to communicate with for them to be able to hear me. I, however, can hear you, without the device.

Still suspicious and, holding the device up so that the elastic hung down below to form a slack loop he quickly put his hand through the loop, removing it even more quickly lest the elastic should grab him in some way. Nothing happened.

He repeated the process, leaving his hand in place for a little longer this time before withdrawing it quickly, still nothing happened. After a few more repetitions of this he decided that he wasn’t going to be attacked by the device, and having left his forearm through the loop for a number of seconds with no apparent harm, he pulled it up onto his upper arm. There was a momentary stab of panic as the elastic tightened itself around his arm, but it was only some sort of self-adjusting mechanism, and once satisfied that he could remove the device easily he relaxed again and let it be.

Feeling a little self-conscious about talking to thin air, he addressed himself to his computer screen.

Before I agree to anything, he said, I need a lot more information.

What is it you require to know? Asked Xan.

"Firstly who are you? What company are you from? How did you get those devices