Pyr

By Dale Parnell

In the 24th century, as rival corporations compete to strip-mine newly discovered planets for valuable mineral deposits, one man holds the key to the single most important resource of all – energy.
Benjamin Waxl, CEO of Waxl Industries, has found a way to cross into the Pyr, an alternate dimension comprised of pure, limitless energy.

Captain Vik Gathen and the crew of the Deep Space Transport Ship Sela scrounge a living dealing on the intergalactic black-market, providing people with the goods they need to survive, no questions asked.
But now, with the help of a stolen Waxl Industries automaton, Captain Gathen and her crew may have found a way to siphon some of that energy for themselves. And if they can stay ahead of Waxl Industries’ ruthless security forces long enough, they may also be able to make the most powerful man in the universe finally pay for his sins.

Pyr is the first novel by Dale Parnell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dale Parnell
• Release date: Apr 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215818435

Dale Parnell

Dale Parnell was born and raised in Norwich and now lives in Staffordshire with his wife and their imaginery dog, Moriarty. Dale has been writing, in various forms, for most of his adult life and finds short stories the most enjoyable. His first collection, "The Green Cathedral" includes some of his oldest works along with more recent pieces.Following on from his acceptance in two charity poetry anthologies, Dale published his first collection of poetry, "If I Were Not Me" in February 2019. He has been reading his poems at a few local open mic events and festivals and enjoys being a part of the local poetry community.Dale released his second collection of short stories, "Bramble and Other Stories" in 2019, this time exploring science-fiction and horror as well as contemporary fantasy.

Book preview

PYR

Copyright © Dale Parnell 2023

Smashwords edition.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is a coincidence.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any way without prior permission of the author.

For my wife, Thelma

With love forever

1

The universe operates according to certain laws and forces. Matter and energy are constant, fixed. Gravity dictates the order, matching stars and planets and moons, and everything that lives will one day die. Most people would look at the universe and see a natural order, a way of working within the available framework. But some people will not. Some people will look for the other, for a way under, a way through the framework. And of those people, only very few will ever succeed.

Benjamin Waxl was decades ahead of his contemporaries when it came to theoretical physics and sub-particle mechanics. He was also an ambitious man, and thanks to his father’s company, an incredibly wealthy one. Waxl Industries was the richest deep-space exploration and mining company in operation, and under Benjamin’s direction, they began spending trillions on research and development, all with a single goal. Benjamin had proven, theoretically, that a separate dimensional plane existed outside of the known universe. He proposed that this plane was formed of pure energy, infinite and unmatched in its potential. Benjamin hired the best minds, developed cutting edge computing processors and ran billions of simulations, searching for a way to breach this new dimension.

The automaton programme, pulse drive technology and real-time hologrammatic rendering all grew from this research as by-products, and made Waxl Industries richer than ever. And yet Benjamin still wasn’t satisfied. His theory was right, he knew it. But no matter what he tried he couldn’t find a way through.

After almost three decades of research Benjamin was growing increasingly obsessed with finding the answer. Several of the researchers he had worked with had grown despondent over the years, and Benjamin’s increasingly erratic behaviour and cruel temper had given them no other option but to leave his employ.

On the third day of interviews to find suitable replacements, Benjamin met Dr Iris Stockwell, a graduate in Dynamic Bystian Physics, a field that Benjamin had previously rejected as having no applications to his work. Dr Stockwell was hired none-the-less, since Waxl’s reputation had made for slim pickings, and Dr Stockwell was put to work on the dimension project.

A little under four months later she had approached Benjamin with her findings. She had found it. The answer, right there on the page amongst her jumbled handwriting. It sat so innocently, so elegant and obvious and inexplicable. She ran on, talking to Benjamin non-stop about checking her equations and the testing parameters and how they would change what people knew about physics forever, and all Benjamin could think about was how she had beaten him to the answer.

I just can’t believe it, sir, Dr Stockwell repeated, her nervous energy starting to irritate Waxl. I mean this will change everything.

Benjamin sat staring at her notes, the drone of Dr Stockwell’s voice blurring into the background. He cast a glance at the clock on his desk. Eleven-thirty. Most of the building would be locked down, the only people still on duty would be the security staff stationed in the lobby.

This is exciting work, Waxl said, finally looking up from the notebook and addressing Dr Stockwell directly. Have you had a chance to log your work or run any of the simulations?

No, nothing, Dr Stockwell replied, rather embarrassed. I wanted you to be the first to see it, and to have someone check the calculations before I went any further.

Of course. Wise, very wise, Waxl said, his expression unreadable. Shall we then?

Now? asked Dr Stockwell, noticing for the first time how late it was.

No time like the present, Dr Stockwell, Waxl beamed, standing smartly from behind his desk.

Waxl ushered Dr Stockwell out of his office and towards the elevators at the far end of the corridor. I believe your lab is on the fifty-seventh floor, is that correct?

Yes, but it’s a terrible mess at the moment, sir, Dr Stockwell answered, reddening slightly.

No matter, Waxl said, waiting for the elevator to arrive, his hands clenched firmly behind his back. We are people of science, are we not? The detritus of the world shall hold no sway over our convictions.

Henrik Alioski, Dr Stockwell smiled, recalling the quote from a university lecture, years earlier.

Indeed, remarked Waxl, his tone clipped and ever-so-slightly cold.

The elevator arrived with a melodic note, and they boarded in silence, Dr Stockwell pressing the button for the fifty-seventh floor, her back turned to Waxl for the briefest of moments. But it was all he needed. Lunging towards her, Waxl wrapped his thin, bony fingers tightly around her delicate neck and squeezed, his teeth bared in a furious snarl. Despite being in his late fifties, Waxl remained in good health, and his relative strength combined with the suddenness of the attack gave Dr Stockwell little chance of offering any kind of fight. In two minutes it was over, and Dr Stockwell’s lifeless body slumped to the floor of the elevator.

The elevator doors opened silently and, after a brief pause, closed on the morbid scene. Waxl stabbed the button for sub-basement C, sliding his pass key into the waiting slot. The sub-basements were occupied by his most sensitive research laboratories; Lab-24 containing a prototype pulse drive generator. Work had been progressing well, and they were only a few months away from unveiling the new technology.

After confirming that the lab was unoccupied, Waxl hauled Dr Stockwell’s body awkwardly across the vast space, dumping her unceremoniously into the drive chamber. Closing the hatch, Waxl entered the code for a full pulse burst, waiting anxiously as the system ran through its safety protocols. The drive chamber was designed so that it couldn’t fire if a person had become trapped inside, however the scanners were programmed to detect body temperature and heartbeat. Waxl only hoped that Dr Stockwell’s body had lost enough heat so as not to trigger the safety lockdown. A few moments later, green lights blinked on across the display screen, and a five second countdown began.

Waxl watched through the tiny viewing porthole as the new pulse drive span up, blue sparks of energy flickering off of the conductor coils. As the drive reached critical output, the pulse emitter fired in a single, blinding white flash, incinerating Dr Stockwell’s body and breaking it down into its component atoms instantly.

With the test cycle complete, the pulse drive powered down, and Waxl switched the system back to stand-by mode.

Returning to the elevator, Waxl calmly pressed the button for the main lobby, taking a moment to straighten his suit before stepping out into the wide, open atrium.

A single security officer sat behind the desk, watching as he approached.

Sir, she said, standing to attention as Waxl drew close to the wide desk. Is everything okay?

Yes, everything is fine, Waxl replied, quickly scanning the officers ID. I just wanted to check in and make sure everything was in order down here.

Of course, sir.

Do you have anything to report, officer?

Nothing, sir, she replied firmly, casting a brief but deliberate glance to the far end of the security desk and a bank of small, high resolution security monitors.

Waxl followed her gaze, and after taking a moment, returned to face the officer.

Now that you mention it, there was an issue upstairs earlier. An intruder, in my office, Waxl said calmly.

Yes, I was monitoring the situation closely. I would have intervened; however our systems appear to have suffered a temporary glitch, and unfortunately we lost track of the young woman. I trust she has been escorted from the premises, sir?

Indeed, Waxl replied cautiously.

Then I will consider the matter dealt with.

Yes, very good, Waxl said, turning to leave.

Sir, if I may? the security officer interrupted. I think that on the whole, it would be beneficial for the company if all records of this intruder were removed from our systems.

You do? Waxl asked, turning back to study the officers face.

I do, sir. It would be in all our best interests, I believe.

Very well.

Waxl dipped his hand into his jacket pocket and retrieved Dr Stockwell’s ID badge, sliding it smoothly across the security desk. Without looking down, the officer placed a hand protectively over the laminated badge, covering Dr Stockwell’s holographic image.

I will leave the matter in your hands, Officer Valles. Waxl said, before turning and walking briskly back across the lobby to the elevators.

Very good, sir, Valles replied, watching Waxl all the way to the far side of the tall atrium, and into the waiting elevator.

One week later, Benjamin Waxl presented Dr Stockwell’s findings as his own, and within two years, Waxl Industries had finished construction of the first and only Dimensional Jump-Gate, situated in orbit around planet WXL-003, and surrounded by eight thousand, five hundred-fifty fully armed hunt/kill drone-satellites. Throughout the course of these developments, Benjamin Waxl came to rely on Security Officer Valles’ professional discretion, and she found herself rising through the ranks, eventually promoted to Waxl’s personal Secretary, overseeing the entire Waxl Security Force, as well as some of Waxl Industries more clandestine operations.

On the date of its first, fully operational launch, Benjamin Waxl, looking sombre and resolute, stood tall at the helm of his private cruiser, and watched as the first Waxl Industries ship slipped through the Dimensional Jump-Gate, into oblivion.

2

I told you it would be easy, the Captain said, her strong voice sounding calm, despite their current circumstances.

That was only the satellite relay, Scopes replied from underneath the exposed scanner console. He poked his head out briefly, his goggles whirring as he shifted focus across the helm to where Captain Gathen stood. I still have to swap over our ID signal for one of their transport ships and disable all three of their back-up security systems.

Are we certain this facility is unoccupied? Mey asked, casting a quick look over his muscular shoulder.

Waxl-2 has been fully automated for five months, assembly plants, warehouse and distribution, the lot, Captain Gathen replied. I told you, there’s no one down there.

There will be if I can’t get into their systems, Scopes said, his voice sounding slightly panicked.

You’re doing fine, Captain Gathen said reassuringly. We’ve got at least… three minutes before their sensors pick us up.

Scopes’ mouth dropped open, and after shooting a brief, startled look at Mey, he ducked back underneath the scanner console, yanking cables and circuit boards free before re-calibrating the Sela’s ID signal in record time.

Like I said, easy, Captain Gathen smiled, as her display screen showed a green light. Mey, take us down. We want warehouse one-one-seven-delta.

Captain, Mey replied, searching his own display console for the coordinates. The pulse drive deep within the Sela hummed to life, and the ship made its descent to the surface of Waxl-2.

Scopes was able to disable the first two security systems remotely, but the third required direct access to a data port. Mey dropped the Sela down into a secluded section of the enormous warehouse complex, letting Scopes disembark before quickly taking off again. Scopes watched the Sela disappear from sight, swallowing hard against the dry, nervous lump that had formed in his throat. If he was caught there was nothing the Sela or Captain Gathen could do. They would leave, and he would spend the rest of his life in a Waxl Security detention centre. And if the stories were true, it wouldn’t be a very long life at all.

Scopes made his way over to the nearby towering antenna, the data junction at its base secured with a sturdy tungsten-alloy lock. Firing up a portable plasma cutter, the lock finally melted, and Scopes set to work. Connecting a data scrambler, Scopes waited for the system to shut down. Sure enough, a few minutes later his comms unit buzzed to life, and Captain Gathen’s voice came over the speaker.

Security is down across the whole sector, well done.

Scopes smiled, and retrieved his equipment. The fault would buy them two hours, more than enough time to be in and out. From Waxl’s point of view, it would look like a temporary glitch, and it would take them weeks to find the real cause, and that’s if they even went looking. More than likely they would simply replace the entire antenna matrix.

Scopes waited as Mey brought the Sela back around, and after picking him up, they set off towards warehouse 117D.

Inside the warehouse it was eerily silent, disturbed only by the occasional soft murmur of automated loaders, moving crates to and from the endless racks. Warehouse 117D wasn’t one of the largest facilities on Waxl-2, it was part of the reason Gathen had chosen it, but even so it still