Moon base unknown (STAR-DUST Vol.3): Under the spell of nanites

By Jens F. Simon

Together with the female spaceship Paurusheya, Sigurd Westall reaches Saturn's moon Japetus. There he finds a huge lunar station embedded in the ridge at the edge of the dark hemisphere. The station is also the destination of the strangers in the small spaceship he has been tracking. Sigurd first tries to find his two abducted colleagues on his own. But when he is very quickly discovered by the aliens, he is forced to fight back. In doing so, he receives help from a side that plunges him into a personal crisis during the further plot.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S. Verlag JG
• Release date: Oct 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9783966746823

Jens F. Simon

Jens F. Simon war schon immer ein Träumer, der sich mehr in seiner eigenen Fantasiewelt bewegte, als in der Realität. Nach dem Grundwehrdienst begann er Jura zu studieren. Als seine Eltern unverhofft starben, brach er das Studium ab und schlug sich mit Gelegenheitsjobs durchs Leben. Nach dem Scheitern seiner ersten Beziehung traf er dann doch seine Traumfrau und gründete eine Familie. Heute schreibt er die fantastischen Geschichten, die ihn ein Leben lang begleitet haben. Abonniere den Kanal Jens F. Simon auf WhatsApp: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaDCFCkBKfhsJQwosr1M

Book preview

Japetus

Sigurd had almost reached the exit of the prism room when Alethea confronted him. Her black hair shimmered slightly bluish in the semi-darkness of the room, and her gaze irritated him somewhat.

Ish'all, do you really want to go out there all alone? Because of the energetic shielding, I am still unable to scan the interior of the alien station. We don't know how many of them are there. Wouldn't it be better if I accompanied you?

How are you going to do that?

Sigurd didn't quite understand what she meant.

I can materially stabilize my body outside the transporter to two kilometers. I could back you up, for example.

Alethea's eyes shone from within, and she had returned to the seductive smile with which she had addressed him back in Tenerife.

Besides, judging from the scanned exterior dimensions, the station is huge. Two people have a much better chance of finding the missing!

"She speaks of herself as a person," it spontaneously went through Sigurd's mind.

Confused, he still looked into her bluish-shaded eyes.

She's damn pretty. I'd give a lot to be able to be as casual again as I was that night at the Hotel Sombrairo on the island of Tenerife. But she is a mere hologram. A very advanced one, but still only an illusion. Damn, she feels very natural and physical.

Sigurd's thoughts began to turn somersaults all at once. He had grabbed Alethea, the material hologram of the independent prismatic space, which also represented the spaceship PAURUSHEYA, around the waist and pulled her a little towards him.

Her skin felt so soft and smooth. Her lips came closer and closer to his.

What am I doing here anyway? She's not real. Fool, define real!

A second voice seemed to intrude on Sigurd's subconscious.

The ship is of organic origin, remember? So it is also alive. Isn't it completely unimportant in which form the life presents itself? Alethea is PAURUSHEYA and PAURUSHEYA lives. Aren't you allowed to fall in love with a living being, no matter what star it comes from?

Sigurd still looked into her eyes while two souls began to argue inside him.

When her lips lightly touched his, his ratio snapped him back to reality.

He gently pushed Alethea's body back.

We'll keep in touch. If I need help, I'll call for you, all right?

Sigurd took a deep breath, carefully disengaged his arm from her waist, and attempted a smile that failed completely.

Ish'all, I like you very much. Please be careful. I don't want to lose you again, the words of the ship PAURUSHEYA or Alethea still echoed in his mind as the material hologram dissolved before his eyes, leaving an even more disturbed person than he already was before.

With a jerk, Sigurd walked toward the exit of the transporter.

The measured data of the station atmosphere had shown a nearly one hundred percent match with Earth's atmosphere. With mixed feelings, Sigurd left the prism room and immediately found himself in a completely different world.

The room where the transporter rematerialized appeared to be some sort of storage room. Sigurd estimated its size at about twenty square meters.

The walls were made of dark gray rock, and in front of them were rows of rules going from floor to ceiling. The room brightened somewhat when Sigurd was already standing in the middle of the room.

The entire ceiling seemed to be a single source of light but gave off only a dull glow.

Sigurd's first glance was at the steel head of a stranger who was the only object in the rule row opposite him.

He had already seen him on the transporter's screen when they had just arrived here. His concentration was still distracted, however, and Alethea's likeness haunted his thoughts.

Slowly and introspectively, he walked toward the head that lay on the shelf with its face turned toward him.

The door to the transporter closed behind him, but a small part of the prism room remained visible.

In Sigurd's face, you could clearly see the question he was asking himself, Should I touch it?

He had already been wondering all along if the strangers' appearance was just a mask, or if their bodies were really made of metal.

Now he could see it clearly, at least on the head; it seemed to be a full-body mask that enclosed the entire head.

The mask shimmered in a light steel blue, except for the forehead area with the eyes, the cheeks, and the mouth. Here, a silver-gray was predominant. The surface of the mask seemed otherwise smooth except for these areas.

The silver-grey areas, especially at the eye sockets and the mouth area, seemed to have been worked on with hammer blows, at least one could see tiny little deformations.

On the forehead one could see strange signs that looked like dots, but clearly represented writing.

Courageously, he reached out a hand and touched the steel head. Strangely, it did not feel cold.

Without further ado, Sigurd lifted it from the regulation floor. The head was very light, he estimated its weight at no more than one or two kilograms. That was strange.

It must have been hollow inside, but there was no opening. Even at the lower end, where the connection to the base of the neck was, he could only make out a smooth surface, as if it had been cut off.

Sigurd turned the head several times in his hands but came to no further conclusions. Even the closed eyelids could not be opened by him manually, he had tried several times with his fingers.

He put the head back on the shelf from which he had taken it. He could get no further here.

Somewhat