Never-Ending Day

By Graham Storrs

In the epic setting of an ancient Dyson sphere, two people discover themselves and each other. Together they change the fate of countless civilisations.

Taras Fraser, an agent of the League of Worlds, is chasing the terrorist known as Yuna through deep space. They are far from human habitation when they are both hijacked and taken into a gigantic and mysterious sphere, a massive structure built around a white dwarf star. From that moment on, their lives become ever more entwined as they struggle for survival in an adventure spanning the vast interior of the sphere, a world populated by thousands of alien species – most of them hostile to the two humans and to each other. It is a struggle that takes them to the heart of the mystery of who built the sphere and deep inside a plot which threatens to end with the deaths of billions.

Never-Ending Day is the latest novel from best-selling science fiction author, Graham Storrs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Graham Storrs
• Release date: Jan 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9780645363258

Graham Storrs

Graham Storrs is a science fiction writer who lives miles from anywhere in rural Australia with his wife and a Tonkinese cat. He has published many short stories in magazines and anthologies as well as three children's science books and a large number of academic and technical pieces in the fields of psychology, artificial intelligence and human-computer interaction.He has published a number of sci-fi novels, in four series; Timesplash (three books), the Rik Sylver sci-fi thriller series (three books), the Canta Libre space opera trilogy. and the Deep Fracture trilogy. He has also published an augmented reality thriller, "Heaven is a Place on Earth", a sci-fi comedy novel, "Cargo Cult", a dark comedy time travel novel, "Time and Tyde", and an urban sci-fi thriller, "Mindrider."

Book preview

Chapter One

The ship brought Taras Fraser into the system on an easy sublight glide, sliding along the spacetime geodesics in an unpowered approach that he hoped would be hard to spot.

I still can’t see it, he complained.

Well, I assure you it’s there. The ship adopted a tetchy tone, as well it might. Taras had made the same complaint three times now.

You’re telling me there’s a star, right there, in front of us, not two billion kilometres away? All I can see is, like, a dark patch. Maybe.

Hang on. Let’s try it in infra-red.

The view that surrounded Taras on all sides, a brilliant vista of stars and black empty space, changed to a swirling haze of deep reds. The stars remained, joined now by even more bright dots. But at last, Taras saw what he was looking for. Dead ahead, a ball of deep claret, banded in lighter shades, was clearly visible. Even so, Taras couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

Have you magnified it?

No. That’s it’s true size. I believe we’re looking at a spherical construction, about four-point-five million kilometres across, which completely contains a white dwarf star.

Taras stepped towards the dim red ball in the display, peering to see the detail. As well as the bands, there were other patterns, a series of tiny black squares on the surface, a web of criss-crossing lines…

You’re saying that’s a – a – whatchamacallit?

A Dyson sphere, yes.

But that’s impossible. Who the hell could build something that big?

No-one we know. A complete Dyson sphere is supposed to be impossible. According to scores of studies – some dating back to the Twentieth Century – the stresses would—

Never mind that. Taras was in no mood for the ship to lecture him about the technical difficulties of building a monstrous shell around a star. Why doesn’t anybody know this thing is here?

You can see for yourself. It only shows up in infra-red. There are no planets in this system. We’re off the galactic plane. Unless you were looking for it, it would be very hard to spot.

Taras felt a tiny knot of anxiety building in his chest. Whoever built a thing so staggeringly huge would have technology hundreds, maybe thousands of years more advanced than humanity’s.

And you’re sure this is where Yuna went? he asked.

Unless she flew right past it without noticing. Which is possible, I suppose, although its gravity would definitely have perturbed her trajectory.

So, how did she know it was here?

How should I know?

Because you’re a Sundancer 5 ship’s mind. The pride of Covelis Corp Cyber Division. It’s your business to know.

Yes, indeed, but I am not clairvoyant. You’d need the Sundancer 6 for that.

Funny. So, what do we do now? I want tactical options for finding Yuna’s ship – and for landing on that overinflated beachball if we have to.

He hoped that would not be necessary. The thing scared him. It was too damned big. The kind of big that dwarfed human achievements. The kind of big that made the whole of human civilisation look like nothing. He didn’t want to feel like a microbe falling onto the hide of a whale. Or into the mouth of Hell, he thought, studying the infernal, red-hued monstrosity. Taras was a man who liked to be in control and he was feeling way out of his depth. He shuddered and was immediately irritated that the ship would be tracking his vital signs and would know precisely how shaken he was.

I want exact tracking on Yuna’s ship. That thing is the diameter of a planetary orbit. It would take us months to scan the whole surface.

A line arced out across the image, from Taras’ current position towards the sphere. As it curved off into the distance, it widened until it covered about a quarter of the sphere’s surface.

Best I can do without further information, the ship said. If she turns on her main engines, I can get a fix. Otherwise, her last known trajectory is all I’ve got to go on. If she goes into orbit and then manoeuvres on the other side of the sphere, we will have lost her for good.

The ship hesitated. May I make a suggestion?

Sure.

We should break off this pursuit and return to League Headquarters. This sphere is a find of enormous significance and the League needs to know about it. Its importance far outweighs the capture of a single political dissident.

The ship was right, of course, but Taras had not chased Yuna across half the inhabited worlds and far beyond to give up now. Besides, she wasn’t just another agitator.

When we have her in custody, we’ll go back. Understand?

It’s your decision, of course, I just think—

Taras felt his jaw tighten. OK, enough of this stealth pursuit nonsense. We need to close the gap on her before she gets over that thing’s horizon. Give me full burn. Ready weapons. Maximum—

Taras, we have just been scanned.

By Yuna? Can you locate her?

It was by a group of satellites. They probed us in multiple EM frequencies. All the ship’s systems – including your implants and my mind – have been compromised. Security measures were ineffective. All our data has been accessed.

What?

Another impossible thing. Taras’s ship was state-of-the-art. It had military grade systems security; its hull was all but impermeable and non-reflective to just about every kind of electromagnetic radiation. No-one should have been able even to know they were there, let alone penetrate their hull and scoop up their data. He felt the knot in his chest tightening. His eyes were fixed on the sphere. It was a technology beyond human understanding. Who knew what it might be capable of?

Weapons locks? he asked, his voice weak.

None, so far. Wait. There is a ship approaching. Or it could be a missile.

Evasive manoeuvres. Get a lock on it. Scan it.

The view outside slithered and twisted as the ship began to alter course on a fast, random pattern. Within the ship’s inertial bubble, Taras felt none of the fierce accelerations that were twirling the ship through space.

Taras, may I remind you that this is a first contact situation and there are League protocols we should be following?

Shut up. Show me that ship.

The view swerved and centred on a tiny black dot between them and the sphere.

Magnify it.

Best I can do. The object is about the size of a grapefruit and is a billion kilometres away. However, it is closing fast.

Any weapons lock yet?

To be honest, Taras, I don’t know if I’d recognise one if it was there. As far as I can tell, we haven’t been scanned since that initial burst of activity. But, for all I know, they are still reading our data in real time. It is impossible to tell. Wait. We’re receiving a message.

Taras’s breath caught but the demand to surrender he was expecting did not happen. Instead, a smooth, human voice said, Welcome to Ailodonea. Please do not be alarmed by your approaching guide. All strangers are welcome to visit our world and to enjoy its amenities. Your guide will lead you to a suitable docking area where you may leave your vessel and enter our world. We are the Ailodoneans. We look forward to making your acquaintance.

Taras blinked in silence as he adjusted to the new situation.

Ship, did that sound like a person to you?

The voice was artificial, not from a human throat.

And how on earth could it speak League Standard?

It didn’t. It spoke an unknown language that your implants’ translation model was updated to understand.

Taras felt a chill.

Updated? You mean it remotely upgraded me?

Yes. And me.

They were both silent for a while.

I want to talk to them, Taras said.

Go ahead.

Ailodonea, this is Senior Agent Taras Fraser of the League of Worlds, Department of League Security. I am here on League business in pursuit of the fugitive known as Yuna. She is wanted for crimes against League states and I have a warrant for her arrest.

He waited for a response but none came.

Ship, what’s the round-trip travel time for a radio signal between us and the sphere?

Nearly four hours. The guide they sent would only have about a two-hour lag. Some of their satellites are also about that distance.

Never mind. I suppose we’re already on an intercept course for that guide thing. Just let me know if they contact us again.

There’s a signal coming in now.

Let’s hear it.

Senior Agent Taras Fraser of the League of Worlds, Department of League Security, Ailodonea welcomes you.

How did they do that? Taras whispered in an aside.

Haven’t a clue, the ship whispered back.

We note that your vessel has a space-warp drive, capable of low, super-luminal velocities. When the guide arrives, it will engage your navigation controls and bring you to us as quickly as possible. Please do not try to use your engines while the guide is operating them. Your safety is important to us.

Now just a minute!

His heart was racing. This was no longer an invitation; it was a kidnapping.

We look forward to meeting you.

The hell you do! Ship, under no circumstances allow anybody or anything to take control of your functions.

I’ll try, of course, but I’m not sure I can. We’re dealing with technologies we don’t understand.

Then turn us around. Set a course for League territory and engage the warp drive. I want a couple of light years between us and that thing.

Understood.

The stars in the immersive display slewed to the right as the ship turned on its axis, finding its new trajectory. Then they stopped. But the ship did not engage its main engines. Taras felt his heartbeat kick up another notch.

Ship? What’s going on?

I’ve lost control of my engines. We’re turning back.

Even as the ship spoke, the stars slewed back to the left. The sphere slid into view in front of them. This time there was another sphere in front of it, ridged and patterned in dull, metallic colours.

The hell is that? Taras demanded. His voice had grown taut and his muscles were tensing.

I believe it is our guide. It’s much smaller than it seems in this magnified image but it is now only a thousand kilometres ahead of us.

Weapons?

Still no.

How can something that small move a billion kilometres in a few seconds?

Perhaps it has its own space-warp capability. Or maybe it uses a method of propulsion we don’t understand. It is keeping a fixed distance in front of us. I think it means to take us back with it to—

Space blurred and, when it steadied, half of the stars were missing. Taras staggered from the sudden, disorienting change of position.

Ship. Status, he gasped.

We seem to be in orbit around the Dyson sphere, or, I should say, around the star on the other side of it.

Taras had never heard the ship sound confused or uncertain. Even when it didn’t know something, it told him confidently. Maybe these events were disorienting for the ship, too. He hoped the artificial mind could cope. He hoped his own mind could cope.

The guide is still ahead of us, the ship said. To Taras’s relief, it sounded more sure of itself. It is leading us towards one of the poles.

Taras studied the starless void on one side of the ship. With a mental wrench he realised it was the sphere itself, blocking the stars on that side. It was jet black and ran out in all directions as far as he could see. There was no visible curvature anywhere. The horizons were all so far away that the structure might have been a flat wall dividing the universe in half. There were no surface features and no way of knowing how far above it they were or how fast they were moving. He tore his gaze away from it and looked at the stars instead, letting their stark familiarity steady him.

Show me some data for heaven’s sake, he told the ship. As much as you’ve got.

Graphs and displays appeared, overlaid on the vast, virtual display: speed, altitude, orientation, all the familiar data. Gridlines glowed on the sphere’s surface, making it feel real and not like a gaping hole in space. He took a slow, steadying breath.

Any sign of Yuna’s ship?

None.

Any idea where this thing is taking us?

There seems to be an irregularity near the pole. We’re moving towards it and descending. We should arrive at the edge in a few minutes.

Explain.

My data is incomplete but I think there is a cliff, five hundred kilometres high, at the edge of a raised plateau. The plateau may cover the whole polar region from a latitude of about five degrees.

Taras tried to visualise it.

Like a cap on the pole? Is that what you’re seeing? Like an ice cap, or a gigantic mesa?

Yes but this is nothing natural, of course. The whole of the ground below us is artificial, including any ridge or polar cap.

You keep calling it the pole. Does that mean this thing is rotating?

Yes, it is, at about thirteen thousand kilometres per second.

To create an artificial gravity inside?

A reasonable assumption. If the skin of the sphere is not very thick, we can expect a pseudo-gravity inside at the equator of about two-thirds of Earth’s surface.

At least that will be comfortable. You think they’re going to bring us inside?

Since the sphere is rotating, it is reasonable to assume that whoever lives here utilises the interior surface, not the exterior.

The ship’s tone changed, becoming more serious.

Taras, I need to tell you something. If the Ailodoneans park me – perhaps in a docking bay inside the raised polar cap – I may not be able to maintain a comms link to your implants. I have no idea how thick the skin of the sphere may be or what it might be made of. I’m assuming they will take you inside the sphere and therefore beneath whatever place they might park me. They may also lock me down or deactivate me, destroy me, or simply jam my signals. Even if I could communicate with you, this sphere is so large, there may be significant signal delays if you are taken far away from the hangar. At worst, you could be four-and-a-half million kilometres away, across the whole diameter of the sphere. That would be a 30 second round trip for radio waves, even if there wasn’t a star in the way. It would make conversation difficult and it might also leave you in danger.

You want me to take a partial.

I know you don’t like me ‘yammering in your head’ as you put it but it would be wise. Remember that time on Xīn Běijīng, where my partial saved you from that robot pimp?

You know, I don’t remember it quite that way.

Or on Rancis Two, where that lady wrestler’s husbands would have removed your favourite body part if my partial hadn’t suggested—

Yeah, all right. I’ll take a partial. Download it now but don’t activate it until we’re actually separated. I definitely don’t want two of you yammering in my head.

Something’s happening.

Taras waited, peering through the display to see what was going on. They were lower now and the grid was moving past more quickly. He still could not make out the surface, or the cliff ahead of them.

Well?

Just a course change. I think I can see an open door in the cliff ahead. We seem to be heading for it.

Show me. A red rectangle appeared on the grid overlay. A possible trajectory led from their position to the door. Is that to scale?

No. The door is only a few hundred metres high by about a thousand wide.

That’s… It’s huge. These people weren’t shy about building big, were they? The Agency patrol ship Taras was flying in was only twenty-five metres long, twenty metres wide and five high. He could have flown it manually through a doorway that size, wearing a blindfold. The ship’s mind would have no difficulty at all.

And is the door open?

It’s hard to say. I hope so. I think I can detect a higher internal temperature, perhaps even some visible light.

Taras wondered how long it would take to open a kilometre-wide door, hundreds of metres high. It seemed like something that would take a long, slow grinding of gears and screeching of metal. How long had it been since the Ailodoneans had spotted them? How long until they reached the cliff? He decided not to ask the ship.

Do you suppose they brought Yuna in this way? he asked, instead.

If they did, I haven’t detected her engines. If they used the same pattern with her as with us, her ship would have used its warp engine and then the Bergen Drive. I haven’t seen any sign of either but she was well ahead of us when she entered the system. It’s quite possible it all happened before we got here.

In a sudden outburst, Taras snapped, Kill the display!

The stars, the overlays, the oppressive black wall of the sphere all disappeared. In their place was a small room – the command deck of the Agency patrol ship – plainly decorated, with a pair of high-backed, deeply padded chairs and no other features. Taras paced across it and back in a few steps.

What do you think their plan is? he asked. Will they kill me? Imprison me? Torture me? Should I fight them? Blow up the ship? This is first contact, for heaven’s sake! The big one. In all our three hundred years in deep space, we’ve never met an alien species: never so much as found an alien microbe. And here I am about to meet one for the first time and I feel like a bug in a fly trap.

He spoke to the ceiling. He always did when he addressed the ship, like people in a bygone age might have looked up to speak to their god. He strode to one of the chairs and flopped into it.

In all the stories, the human ambassador stands tall and introduces themself as the representative of our glorious civilisation. But we’re clearly nothing compared to the people who built this sphere. We must seem like gnats to them. Less than that.

And yet, said the ship, they went to the trouble of capturing us and bringing us in. Don’t forget, they have scanned us and read our data. They know all about us. Yet they still want to meet us. It is possible that they really are as friendly as they sound.

Friends don’t kidnap you.

They may have different customs, a different kind of ethics. We should keep an open mind.

You mean, I should.

True.

Taras jumped up from his seat. He went to a panel in the wall. It opened at a touch. Inside, was a rack of equipment along with a set of weapons.

Well, I intend to be prepared, he said, strapping on a harness. He grabbed a variety of scanners and attached them. Then he picked up a handgun, inserted a power cell and hung it at his hip. Then he grabbed two more cells and pocketed them.

I suggest you leave the weapon behind, the ship said. If you carry it, there is a risk you will end up using it. You could make things a lot worse than they are.

I really don’t see how. He went to another panel, opened it and took out a med unit.

You could start an interstellar war. And, from what we’ve seen of Ailodonean technology, that might not be the best way to go.

Yeah, well… He opened a door at the back of the room and went through to the ship’s tiny galley. Into a backpack, he began pushing emergency ration packs and water bulbs. If they really want to learn something about humans, I plan to teach them that we don’t go down without a fight.

I can see the doorway more clearly now. It is definitely open. The interior is lit. It might be some kind of very large cargo bay or hangar. There are shapes inside that could be machinery, or other vessels.

How long before we get there?

Three minutes at this speed. Fifteen if they let us slow down to a rate that won’t kill us.

Sometimes your sense of humour sucks, you know. I’m going below to get an environment suit. Who knows what they breathe in there.

Senior Agent Taras Fraser of the League of Worlds, Department of League Security, a voice on the comm said in its usual smooth, friendly tone. You will be landing at Outer Spaceport Fifteen in seventeen minutes. Please prepare yourself for disembarkation. You will not need an environment suit. Adjustments will be made to your physiology as required. Once again, we are looking forward to meeting you.

Hey! No! I don’t want anyone adjusting my physiology. I’ll wear a suit. Do you hear me? There was no response. Ship, can they hear me?

The radio is definitely transmitting but they seem to be ignoring you.

Hey, Ailodonea! I’m not kidding. If anyone tries to interfere with me, I will defend myself.

They’ve shut down the transmitter.

Shit! Arm the missiles. I want to show these people I mean what I say.

I can’t comply. I have no control over weapons or… well anything much. Besides, as I say, a violent reaction is probably the worst thing you could do.

Oh, yeah? Give me another option then. Come on. Anything.

You could try co-operating and trying to understand them.

No deal. Suggest something that doesn’t violate my basic human rights to freedom and bodily autonomy.

It’s quite possible the Ailodoneans don’t understand the concept of human rights.

Is that your idea of an ‘open mind’? You just roll over and let them trample on you?

Taras, I think you’re scared and you’re overreacting. Perhaps a sedative would help.

Damn right I’m scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I’m about to be dissected by aliens and all I get from my ship is pacifist philosophy and pharmaceuticals.

The ship did not respond. The techs always told Taras that ship minds had no feelings to hurt but sometimes it really felt like they did. Right now, if felt like the ship was sulking. But that was the least of his problems.

What’s the most defensible position on the ship against boarders?

Armaments?

Everything in that locker. Guns, gas, stun and explosive grenades, and pain sticks. Most of which he was already carrying.

This room. It has only one entrance, it is protected by the hull’s external armour on three sides and the chairs will provide minimal cover. Could you explain the point of making a stand here?

You know the point.

Yes, but I don’t understand. Are you saying you’d rather be dead than submit to the Ailodoneans’ medical procedure?

I suppose I am.

Very well. I suggest you put on an environment suit. The suits are armoured against micrometeor impacts, so may offer some protection from weapons fire, and, if the Ailodoneans – or one of your grenades – punctures the hull, you will have air for at least four hours.

Good idea.

He immediately set off towards the back of the ship and the stairs to the lower deck. He’d gone just two paces when he fell to the floor, unconscious.

Chapter Two

Taras came to his senses on a smooth, hard floor. He took a moment to open his eyes, letting the pain in his head subside a little first.

Ship?

Yes, Taras?

Relief swept through him.

He heaved himself off the ground as far as he could, ending up in a sitting position. He still had his pack of provisions and the harness with his weapons was still attached. He looked at them stupidly, not understanding how they could still be there.

He gave his head a quick shake and scanned his surroundings. He was in a place so large it might have been the outdoors. But the absence of a sky, the smooth floor under him and a similarly smooth wall a few hundred metres away, told him he was in an enclosed space. Wherever he was, it must be inside the sphere, he decided, because it had the same monstrous, ego-crushing proportions as the outside. The floor he was on extended in all directions as far as he could see, except where the wall rose up and up until it too disappeared from view.

Strange machinery was scattered across the floor. Some of it small, some of it huge, some dull, grey metal, some brightly painted. Much of it looked like spacecraft. Nothing was of human design. Some of the ships were resting on the floor, others were floating above it. In the distance was a ship so big it could have been an interstellar freighter or cruise ship.

He climbed to his feet. Gravity felt to be about ship standard – two-thirds of Earth’s gravity. He couldn’t tell if it was artificial or real but he was glad of it. There were no people around – and no aliens. He seemed to be completely alone. He supposed he was in some kind of hangar, one clearly not designed for humans.

Ship?

Yes, Taras?

Are you the ship mind, or the partial?

The partial. The ship was shut down when you were removed from it.

Taras swallowed, his anxiety mounting again.

Do you know where it is?

I’m afraid not. You were unconscious and your eyes were closed. From what I was able to gather by monitoring your other senses, you have been moved a very long way.

Existing inside Taras’ head, cut off from ship, the partial only experienced what Taras could experience.

Did they…? He couldn’t even say it.

Operate on you? I don’t believe so. You were injected with something. Since then, your blood chemistry has changed and there may be other changes.

So, I can breathe their air, he said, flatly. And what about the people who did this?

Whoever, or whatever picked you up and carried you off was very gentle, very strong, and hard bodied. I suspect it was a machine. There was no verbal communication, no sound of breathing.

So, there is something out there. He peered into the silent distances. A robot, at least.

Yes.

Could you get us back to the ship?

I don’t think so. Your vestibular organs make very poor accelerometers and that’s all I’d have to go on to chart a course back to the ship.

Taras shook his head again, trying to try to get his brain working. You mean my ear canals can’t sense my movements accurately enough or you could have calculated how I was moved and plotted my route?

Yes, of course. I could still try, I suppose, but, even if I got us back to the ship, we may not be able to use it to escape. Our captors had it completely under their control.

Taras closed his eyes. He wanted to reject everything that had happened, to make it all go away. He didn’t understand what was going on. He couldn’t make sense of the creatures that had kidnapped him. He didn’t know what they wanted from him. Hell, he could barely make sense of the place he was standing in. Why drag his ship in here, fiddle with his blood chemistry and dump him unconscious in this museum of alien hardware?

He opened his eyes.

What about Yuna, is there any sign of her or her ship?

I can only see what you see.

So, that’s a no, then. But why isn’t she here? If they caught her, too, knocked her out and left her here, like they did me, where did she go to?

Her psych profile suggests she would run. She’s resourceful and determined. She would try to get free.

You’re right! That’s what she would do. But how? Would she just hide out among these ships? I don’t think so. She’d know I was coming. She’d want to get as far away as possible.

He looked again at the ships around him. Could she have taken one of these and flown it somewhere? Some of them looked human-sized, even if their designs were strange. Some were very small – the size of ground cars or one-person shuttles. He began walking, moving in among the abandoned ships. There was one that looked like a