The solitary planet, swathed in a gaseous cocoon, glistened softly, like a sapphire adorning a cloak of infinite black.

Vaporous clusters, mingling in the ether, drifted gracefully above a wash of azure broken only by a lone continent. 

This single landmass had been two at the rise of the oceans, but the movement of the lithospheric plates had resulted in a merging and now, like the spiny back of an immense beast, a vast mountain range ran its length at the point of impact.

All the ingredients had been present from the start and the proximity of the twin suns – a red giant and a lesser yellow star with a biannual orbit – had brought the planet into the habitable zone.

An ocean rich with nutrients, created after the planet cooled from its fiery birth, saw the advent of DNA and the emergence of single-celled creatures which began the pattern of life and the subsequent development of more sophisticated species.

A billion years of evolution had left this world rippling with life.  It wasn’t technological, but it was intelligent.  It was a time before writing and a time before primates, but communication was good and knowledge passed down.  Despite this, an extraordinarily bright star, seen briefly in the daytime sky a thousand years ago, would have never been linked to the end. 

Those by the coast had advanced warning that something was wrong, when the tide suddenly swept an incalculable distance out to sea.  A violent wind followed; then as breathing became laboured and the air thickened, a glow emanated around the horizon.  This was not unusual on a world with two suns, but the speed and intensity with which the light grew was a different matter.  It climbed over the edge of the planet to fill the sky until, further and higher than sight allowed, a wall of blue fire sped towards the land at a phenomenal pace.  

Fear and wonder held some in place, but for those who did run there would still be no escape.

The ferocity of the wind climbed the closer the flame drew.  It ripped at the trees and undergrowth to combine animals and plants in a terror-filled roar.  Then moments later, a sonic blast reached the shore: a solid wall of air which tore across the land to smash any strongholds in its path and leave most dead, or dying, when the inferno arrived and burned all to ash in its wake.

CHAPTER ONE

March

The high wrought-iron gates swung open as the black Mercedes swept through onto the grounds, allowing Edward Ashby his first clear view of Larse House. 

Commissioned in 1587 by Elizabeth I, its original purpose had been as a summer retreat for visiting royalty until it was given to Parliament as a gift in 1838 and became the headquarters of the Ministry of Defence.  The maze of corridors, intertwined throughout four floors, had been witness to many historic events and as the car drew to a halt outside the entrance, Edward knew he would play a major part in a further episode that was about to take place here today.

He stepped out of the vehicle.  Placing his briefcase on the ground, he attached a security pass to his lapel.  The door clicked shut behind him, then, as the car pulled away, Edward stooped to retrieve the attache;. 

“Ready?” 

He stood and looked at his colleague, Joseph Hunter. 

“Just.”

The two men smiled as the response reduced tension.

Edward was grateful for Joseph’s assistance and would have found the situation intolerable if it hadn’t been for his presence, although both men knew that his support was more than just emotional.  As the head of the Solar Observations Bureau, a semi-independent agency dedicated to the study of stars, Joseph was there to back Edward up with his own professional expertise. 

The pair, who had originally met at a conference eleven years ago, rarely came together socially and their meetings were usually work related.  Despite this, they still considered the other a good friend and came together regularly to discuss the latest findings in the field of solar and nova research. 

Joseph, a self-confessed workaholic and bachelor, who was happy for his life to revolve around astronomy, never came close to marrying.  When quizzed on the subject he often stated he had never met the right woman.  This was only partially true as the right woman had never been in his observatory or found in his books.  When honest with himself Joseph had to admit he was never actually bothered as he was happiest at work and study.  His tall, slender frame and ash blonde hair, now white in advanced years, made him instantly recognisable, even in a room full of people.  As a result he became a natural choice for press conferences and events, to promote the science, where his effortless ease with public speaking and undeniable expertise in numerous fields including planetary, satellite and solar astronomy had audiences mesmerised.  

Edward was the contrary.  He loathed the spotlight, being quite content to remain in the background.  He was almost as tall as Joseph, but more proportionally built and lacked the lankiness of his friend.  Married for thirty-six years, he felt it was important to balance his career so that his personal life remained undisturbed; a key reason he believed his relationship with his wife was so strong.  Similar interests he knew were also a major factor as Jenny, who was now a teacher, had started her career as a physicist.

Edward rubbed his beard as they made their way toward the building. 

He’d originally grown it when studying for his doctorate at university, which was where he and Jenny had also met.  He had felt a beard would help him to be taken seriously as he’d always been mistaken for someone younger than his years.  Jenny confessed she loved it, a few years later, on their honeymoon and said it added a masculine edge to his boyish good looks.  Since then it had become a permanent part of his, still handsome but slightly older, features and, despite the peppering of grey throughout, he would never consider shaving it off. 

They climbed the front steps.  As Edward stepped through the ancient arched oak doors, framed with intricate stone carvings, he felt humbled by the great people who had gone before him.  Despite this, he knew the information he was about to present here today was more profoundly grim than anything these walls had heard before. 

A richly decorated marble floor with a renaissance design covered a large open entrance hall.  Mahogany panels lined the walls and tall marble pillars rose to a highly ornate ceiling embellished with gold.

“Where’s the meeting?”  Edward spoke quietly.  It seemed as though the building commanded reverence so he felt the need to whisper.

“Don’t know.”  Joseph scanned the hall for information.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?”

Edward turned to face a young man who had approached from behind.  He was dressed like a businessman but had the air of security.  “We’ve come for a meeting with the Deputy Prime Minister.”

The man’s eyes flicked at their passes.  “Doctor Ashby.  Professor Hunter.”  He gestured across the hall.  “Mr. Wendell is waiting for you.  If you take the elevator, the meeting is in B102.”

A metal plate to the left of two sunken panels gave the only clue to the position of the lift. 

Edward pressed the call button; moments later, the doors opened and the two men stepped inside. 

An elderly guard stood, with his finger poised, by the internal panel.  A small stool, upholstered in dark red velour, sat discreetly in the corner behind the man’s legs.  “Floor please?”

“We’re here for a meeting in B102,” Joseph replied.

The doors closed and the lift began to descend.

Edward was surprised.  “Do you usually have meetings in the basement?”  His question remained unanswered. 

Moments later, the lift came to a halt and the doors opened to reveal a long passageway.

“Room 102 is at the end of the corridor, gentlemen.  You can’t miss it.”

“I’d always presumed nothing but wine cellars lay below Larse House,” Edward said as the lift doors closed behind them.  He paused to check his tie before they continued.

The smell of new carpet intermingled with fresh paint, as the two men made their way down the passage.  The starkly decorated white walls, cream carpet and harsh overhead lighting contrasted sharply with the olde world charm of the upper floors. 

There were only two doors in the passage.  The first, to the left of the lift, led to a flight of stairs to be used in the case of a fire, and the second was directly ahead.

“I’ll bet there are cells down here,” Edward surmised.  He was joking, but only just. 

Joseph stopped.  “Did you tell them Jack knows?”

“Yes.”

“If they wanted to hold us they would’ve insisted Jack came along.”

Edward nodded.  Joseph was the voice of reason, as always.  They continued towards the door.  He was nervous enough as it was without imagining things. 

Stress had suddenly become a way of life.  The meeting, and tension which had gnawed at his gut since their horrific discovery almost two weeks ago, had seen to that.

As the head of the Nova Observations Agency, he was more accustomed to giving talks to school children and astronomy clubs, on outings to the observatory, than high-powered ministers and military personnel.  He would usually be hosting their monthly astronomy group tonight, but was booked onto a late train and wouldn’t make it back to Norwich on time.  He and Jenny had run these sessions for the local children for the past fifteen years in the hope of inspiring a generation of future physicists and astronomers.  Tonight, she would have to host the meeting, the last until October, alone.  This would not be a problem as an abundance of keen helpers would see to that; a testimony to the success of their sessions, he felt.

Edward’s interest in astronomy had also started as a child and he could not remember a time when he didn’t turn his head skyward, at least once, on a clear night.  This became a passion when he received his first telescope for his ninth birthday.  Still, astronomy had remained a hobby until he visited a large observatory when he was seventeen.  There, as he witnessed the death of a star in a nearby galaxy, his choice of career was made.

“Besides, they might decide to announce it to the press,” Joseph continued.  “Although I think that’s rather doubtful.”

If this was B102, where was B101, Edward caught himself wondering as Joseph stopped at the door.  “Why did this happen now?  I retire in five years.”

Joseph looked down, nodding gently.  “I know.”  He returned his eyes to his friend.  “Sometimes when it comes to it, you’d rather not know.  I could’ve happily lived in blissful ignorance.”  His face hardened.  “But the decision to tell or not to tell is out of our hands now.”  He reached for the handle and opened the door.

As Edward entered the room, he immediately realised why they were in the basement.  The windowless walls, surrounded by thick stone, took the meeting beyond the reach of telescopic lenses and laser microphones.  Absolute security certainly seemed to be on the agenda.  His tension moved up a notch; he’d never been involved with anything top secret before.  He took in their surroundings. 

There were seven high-backed, black leather chairs around a long table.  As he scanned the furnishings, he realised there’d been a meeting before they’d arrived.  Empty cups and scribbled notes were positioned before the delegates. 

He checked his watch.  “Are we late?”

“No, early,” Joseph replied as the Deputy Prime Minister, Terence Wendell, stood and crossed towards them. 

Edward resisted the urge to touch his beard; he was feeling a little warm. 

Terence Wendell was the sort of man who looked out of place in a suit.  His broad shoulders and close-cropped red hair created the air of military rather than parliamentary paper pusher.  PR assistants had wanted to ‘tweak’ his look when the party first came to power, but Terence had resisted as he was fully aware the intimidating air his image portrayed was a good way of getting things done and to his liking.  “Professor Hunter, Doctor Ashby.”  Terence extended his hand to each in turn.  “I’m pleased you could make it.”  He guided the pair across the room where two chairs were set apart from the rest.  “Do you want a drink before we begin?”

Silver trays with pots of tea and coffee along with jugs of iced water sat atop the highly polished mahogany table.

“No, thanks.  I’m fine,” Joseph replied.

Edward simply shook his head.

“All right, let’s get started then.”

As Edward sat, the smell of fresh wax briefly wafted from the leather before being dispersed by air conditioning.  He scanned the faces across the table and smiled when he recognised another colleague. 

Professor Harry Johnston of the Helix Observatory was considerably younger than Edward and Joseph and most probably the youngest man in the room, but his youth was not to be associated with a lack of expertise.  Edward had met Professor Johnson at a conference two years ago and was well aware of his credentials.  These included a paper on gravitational forces which was now standard reading for students studying degree level astrophysics. 

Professor Johnston wasn’t here to support Edward, though, as today he sat with the opposition.  Edward was aware of his purpose; it was to tell Steven Holbridge, the Minister for the Environment; Gerard Smythe, the Minister of Defence; General Francis Colbroke, Head of Civil Defence; and the Deputy Prime Minister, Terence Wendell, whether he was talking nonsense or not.

Terence returned to his seat.  He looked at Edward expectantly.  “When you’re ready, Doctor Ashby.”

Edward stood.  “I shall assume no-one in the room, apart from the physicists present, know anything about the subject I’m about to discuss here today.  So I’ll give you a little background information before we get to the point.”  He passed each of the men a bound document. 

“There are still pockets of hydrogen left over from the Big Bang travelling around the universe, some of them close to the speed of light.  Hydrogen is the most abundant substance in the cosmos and is essential to the formation of life and the prime ingredient in a sun.  700 million tons of hydrogen are converted into helium every second by our own Sun and when all of its hydrogen is nearly consumed – which should take about another four billion years – it will initially expand and then collapse.  The cataclysmic explosion that follows is called a supernova.  The remaining hydrogen and outer shell of the Sun at this point will be blasted into space. 

Just over a week ago my colleague Jack and I were searching for the remnants of a sun which went supernova five and a half thousand years ago.  A collapsed star, called a pulsar, remains where there had once been a sun.  There wasn’t enough debris to quantify the death of a star anywhere near that area of space, so we searched for the remaining material.  We followed a thin trail which led from the pulsar and were surprised to discover the remnants of the supernova, which covers an area the size of the asteroid belt, had travelled over five light years and was approaching the outer edge of our Solar System.”  Edward paused.  These were highly efficient and intelligent men but he appreciated this was not their specialised subject.  “Are there any questions at this point?”

The room remained silent.  “Please continue, Doctor Ashby,” Terence said.

“If you turn to page three, you’ll see an image of the cloud which was taken using X-rays.”

Steven Holbridge retrieved his reading glasses from their case.  He turned to the designated page to find a slightly fuzzy photo of a large, orange, mottled substance, spotted with yellow and white clusters.  It thinned slightly at the far edges, allowing the background stars to be seen behind its veil, but grew more dense and compact towards the centre where it appeared almost solid.

“At first we were excited by the approaching phenomenon and decided to send a probe to gather information.  However, when we began to plot its trajectory, we realised the path of the cloud was on an intersection course with Earth.”

The Minister for the Environment adjusted his glasses, leaned forward and looked first at Joseph, then back to Edward.  “I’m sorry to appear ignorant, but is this serious?”

Terence looked at Professor Johnston and immediately wished he hadn’t. 

Harry Johnston, who had noticeably paled, simply nodded before reaching forward to grasp a jug and fill a glass with water.

Terence returned his attention to the speaker.  “Could you expand on that, please?  What exactly are the implications?”

“Presuming the cloud continues on its present path, in about six months’ time it will encounter the Earth at a speed of over 200 miles per second.  The entire planet would be engulfed in less than a minute.  As the hydrogen mixes with the oxygen in the air, it would produce water, but the bonding process creates heat.  In seconds our atmosphere would become a furnace and once complete, every living thing on the surface of the planet would be incinerated.”

Edward returned to his seat and sat silently waiting for the questions to begin, as he knew they would.

It was Terence who spoke first.  “What can we do to stop it?”

“Unless some gravitational force alters its path, the course of events are inevitable.”

General Francis Colbroke leaned towards Edward, the buttons on his uniform clicking as they caught the edge of the table.  “Doctor Ashby, could we not ignite the cloud with a bomb before it reaches the Earth?”

“In the vacuum of space, hydrogen is inert; it needs oxygen to become flammable.”

“We could add oxygen,” the Minister of Defence suggested.

Edward shook his head but it was Joseph who spoke.  “Oxygen would only ignite the cloud, until the oxygen was consumed.  It is so vast there wouldn’t be enough oxygen in the entire Solar System to completely burn it off.  All possibilities have been explored.”  Joseph said in Edward’s defence, “What Doctor Ashby has told you, horrific as it is, is absolutely correct.  We consulted the world’s experts on this subject and the outcome of our discussions were extremely grim.  They only confirmed our worst fears.  If the cloud continues on its present course, there is nothing we can do to stop it.”

Edward waited for Joseph to finish before informing them softly, “All the data is in the booklet before you.”

The Deputy Prime Minister sat back.  He’d been told the meeting today was to discuss a dire situation but had presumed possible options would also be on the agenda.  “Our fate, it seems, is in the hands of the Gods.”  He suddenly felt very tired.  “I’ll pass this document on to the Prime Minister.  In the meantime, this information is to go no further; it’s on a strictly need-to-know basis.  I won’t be responsible for causing worldwide panic.”  He pushed his seat back and stood.  “If there are no further questions, then I doubt I’m the only one who needs to get some fresh air.”

Steven Holbridge remained seated when the rest of the delegates stood.  Staring blankly at the table, he robotically returned his glasses to their case. 

General Colbroke gathered his notes and prepared to leave.  “You coming, Steven?”  He looked around and stopped when he saw the minister’s pallor.  “You all right?” 

“Rebecca’s only one month old.”  He replied so softly, the general could hardly hear.

“Rebecca?”

The minister looked around.  “My daughter.”

“Oh… yes.”

“How can I face my wife and child now?”  His voice cracked.

“More information than you’d care to know is sometimes the price of power.”

Steven nodded, then dropped his gaze.  “She’ll be dead…” he took a deep breath, “before she’s even one.” 

“Come on, Steven.”  General Colbroke hooked a hand beneath the minister’s armpit and pulled him to his feet.  “There’s a pub across the road.  I’ll buy the drinks.”

Edward stood as Terence crossed towards him.  “Doctor Ashby, I need your office to give me daily updates on the situation and I’ve been told only this morning there’s some debate about funding.”

Edward nodded.  “Our present budget barely covers costs.”

“Well, it’s one hell of a way to get it, but I can guarantee you’ve got your money.”

CHAPTER TWO

April

The clatter of the observatory door closing resonated throughout the dome, and as Jack Bedford looked around, he guessed the new appointment had been made.

The original observatory was built in 1927 to study neighbouring galaxies.  The office was added later, onto the old entrance, in 1986 when the telescope was updated with computer controls and a variety of wavelength capabilities to allow solar observations.  The following year, Edward and Jack took up permanent residency and had been working together studying the various moods of Sol ever since.

“Jack, I’d like you to meet Lauren Rutherford.”  Edward led the way with the young woman trailing slightly behind. 

As she approached the bank of computers behind the old astronomer, her head was tilted back to take in the full scale of the telescope, a huge reflector with a twenty-foot mirror which dominated the centre of the dome. 

She wore a smart, black trouser suit that was classy yet still appropriate.  A lacy blouse could be seen through the open jacket and high heels, which clattered on the stone floor, allowed her to stand almost head height to Edward.  Jack guessed she was probably about five feet ten barefooted.  A slender figure, long, black, wavy hair and delicate features combined to give the appearance of a model rather than an astronomer.  He questioned whether she would go stir crazy working in a job like this.

At 57, Jack was only a few years younger than Edward – although he was often mistaken for older because of a limp – and under normal circumstances he knew it was essential they train up young blood, but these weren’t normal circumstances.  Edward had been his friend and colleague for at least two decades now and Jack knew, even though he adored his wife, he still had an eye for a pretty face.  As the woman stopped, lowered her head and smiled at him, he seriously questioned whether his boss’s reasons for the appointment were not more hormonal than qualification based.

“Lauren has just finished her degree in astrophysics.  She’ll be helping us to plot and analyse the data from the hydrogen cloud.”

“Pleased to meet you.”  Jack leaned forward and took Lauren’s hand.  “It can be lonely, mind you, rattling around in this old observatory.”

“It sounds like I’ll be too busy to worry about that.”

Jack winked and nodded his head in Edward’s direction.  “Oh yes, he’s a mean slave driver.”

She laughed. 

“Ignore him,” Edward snorted.  He turned her away.  “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Jack found Edward back in the office later that evening.  It had been a long day but then every day for the past month had been the same.  “Here’s today’s report.”  He dropped the sealed envelope onto the desk.

“Thanks.”

It would have to be sent by special courier before Edward could go home.

Jack pulled up a chair and slowly sat down.  His face briefly twisting in pain, he urgently rubbed his right knee. 

It had been five years since that fateful night when he was injured and tragically lost his wife.  They’d left a Christmas party at Edward’s early when the weather turned bad and joined the main road out of town just after nine.  Ten minutes into a seven-mile journey, they’d turned onto a minor road, which practically took them to their door, and several seconds later had a head-on collision with a drunk driver who’d lost control of his vehicle and swerved across the lane.  Alice died on impact and on many occasions over the following years Jack wished he’d gone too.  He had managed to pick up the pieces of his life, with some difficulty, since then, and now regularly attended a singles club where he enjoyed the many parties and functions.  Despite this, the bulk of his time was still spent with Edward and Jenny who, he often declared, saved his life when he thought he couldn’t survive the early days alone. 

As the twinge subsided, Jack sat back in his chair and gave a tired moan.  “When does Lauren start?”

“Monday.”  Edward stopped what he was doing and saved his document before looking up from the computer.  “She’ll collect data on the cloud and check whether the gravitational pull in the region is altering its course.”

“Will you tell her what’s going on?”

“No.  The Deputy Prime Minister said it was on a need-to-know basis.  Lauren doesn’t need to know to do her job.  Besides, do you want to tell a 24-year old she’s only got five months to live?”

Jack shook his head.  “No, I don’t.”  He looked at his friend, concerned.  “How are things at home?”

Edward sighed and sat back.  He had been so weary recently.  He was finding the strain of secrecy increasingly wearing.  It was against his nature to hide things from his wife and he felt like he was cheating, withholding the truth.  Revelation would not offer any relief, though, as this problem could not be reduced through sharing, and to tell his beloved she would die very soon, then watch the fear grow in her eyes would be unbearable.  This was a burden that had to be carried alone.  Besides, exposure risked imprisonment and that was not how he planned to spend his final days.  “It’s a nightmare.  Jenny came home yesterday, full of excitement, and told me her sister Sarah is pregnant.”

“Pregnant!  Wow!”  Jack paused to absorb the enormity of the news.  “To lose your husband to a stroke and discover you’re pregnant after years of trying, all in the same month.  If it were anyone else other than Sarah, I’d say they’d have a breakdown.”

Edward nodded.  “It seemed they were going down the same route as Jenny and I before we stopped trying.  You can imagine her surprise when she discovered she was pregnant a couple of days ago.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Bobby’s death destroyed her world.”

Jack looked distant.  “He was a really sweet guy.  Her life revolved around him.”  He smiled gently as he remembered Sarah prattling on her favourite subject.  “They were such a loving couple.”

“Jenny said Sarah feels a part of Bobby is still alive now she’ll be a mother.  She doesn’t understand why I’m not enthusiastic.  I told her I’m just tired.”

“Does she believe you?”

“I think so.  She knows we’ve been working long hours.  So, how are things with you?”

“Well, I suppose I don’t have to lie to Alice at least.”  Jack forced a laugh but it didn’t sound right.  “Still, rather surprisingly, I’ve never felt better.  Every blade of grass, every leaf looks so beautiful and the air never smelt so fresh.  I want to savour every last second.”

“I know what you mean.  It’s difficult not to dwell, though, isn’t it?”  Edward’s features shadowed as sadness gripped his being.  “I planned the final moment the other day.  I’ll take Jenny on her favourite walk through the Dales; so we’re out in the open; so it’s quick.”  His voice trailed off.  He suddenly felt cold.

“You’d better hope it doesn’t rain.”

Edward smiled, then as the mood broke, both men laughed.

Jenny loathed the rain and Jack was referring to their last walk when it suddenly started to pour halfway through a pub lunch.  A firm refusal to move any further until it stopped a couple of hours later had left them just enough time to hurry back to the car before nightfall.  Since then, Edward had purchased some good waterproofs which he hoped would prevent a further episode in the future.

“Richard’s coming up from London on Friday for the weekend.  I’m really looking forward to it, although it might be a strain.  He’s so perceptive, it’s hard to hide anything.  He can always tell if something’s wrong.”

Edward slipped on his jacket.  “He rang us regularly after the accident, to check how we thought you were doing.  The fact that he’d lost his mother never once made him selfish; his only concern was for you.” 

Jack tightened his mouth into a thin smile and nodded gently.  He had an excellent relationship with his son and loved him very much.  It would be hard not to discuss their findings.  It took a great deal of discipline to stop himself blurting it out on the phone the other night.  To tell his son to leave his job and simply enjoy his life between now and the end had been almost irresistible.

Edward perked up.  “Why don’t you and Richard come over for dinner on Saturday night?  Jenny would love to see you both.”

Jack smiled.  Time with Edward and Jenny was always a pleasure.  “Yes, that would be nice.”

****

Following week

Edward looked at the clock and was surprised to see it was already past seven.  He’d promised Jenny he would be home an hour ago but still had to organise the courier before leaving.  He reached for the phone, but before he lifted the receiver, it rang. 

“Doctor Ashby,” Lauren blurted.  “Thank goodness you’re still here.  Could you come to the observatory, please?  I’ve something very important to show you.”

Edward hurried from the office.  She sounded upset so he wasn’t surprised to find her waiting anxiously in the corridor.

“I did some additional calculations on the hydrogen cloud and I’ve made a terrible discovery.”  She urged him into the observatory.  Lauren hurried ahead to stand beside the control panel, where an image was displayed on a monitor.  “The cloud will pass through Earth’s orbit.”  Her bright blue eyes were large and fearful.

Edward stood silent for a moment.  He hadn’t anticipated this and wasn’t really sure where to take it from here. 

“I am right in thinking this is very serious?”  She was unsure whether Edward’s continuing silence confirmed or denied her hypothesis.

He gave a reluctant nod.  “We are, actually, already aware of it.” 

Lauren reached out and grasped the bench; lowering herself down, she sat perched on the edge. 

Quickly, Edward pulled two chairs together, then took her by the arm.  “Come, sit down.”

To tell men who were used to dealing in matters of public safety and war that the world was about to end was one thing, but to say the same to a young woman was a different matter altogether. 

“I greatly admire your initiative but nobody is supposed to know about this.”

She shook her head in disbelief.  “So how long have you known?”

“Just over a month.”

“Who else knows?”

“The ministerial offices, certain members of the military and by now most heads of state.”

The conversation felt unreal.  It couldn’t be happening.  She was twenty-four years old, in good health, with the bulk of her life ahead to live.  It never once crossed her mind she might die over the next few years, never mind months.  It was too much to absorb.  She felt sick.  “Do you know when it’ll happen?” she asked quietly.  “I mean… do you know the date?”  Somehow it seemed if she whispered the reply would be more favourable.

“Just over four months.”

She sat stunned.  That was it; the remainder of her life was now only four months.  She could feel herself trembling.

“We don’t know the actual date yet.  It’s still too far away to be accurate.”  Edward felt increasingly like he was telling someone they have terminal cancer.  The situation was bad enough as it was without having to worry about his young assistant.  Her reactions and the possibilities of what she might do were an additional burden he could well do without. 

“So can anything be done to stop it?”

“No, nothing,” Edward replied flatly.  “We went through every possibility.  Our only hope is if the gravitational pull from the outer planets alters its course enough for it to bypass Earth.  That’s why you’ve been monitoring its path.”

“You did know it’ll pass through Jupiter’s orbit?”

“Jupiter?”  Edward stood and crossed to the control panel where he entered a string of commands to activate an orbital program.  “The results of the analysis we did two months ago told us that the trajectory of the cloud would only bring it through Earth’s orbit.”

He waited for the program to complete its calculations, then drew a finger down a list of decreasing numbers on the screen until he reached a figure which matched the orbital path of Jupiter.  He turned to Lauren.  “You’re right.  Its path has moved slightly.”  He was impressed.  “Though,” he returned his attention to the screen, “it’s so huge, a thousand times the diameter of the Sun, at this stage it will still encounter us.”  He pointed to the figure which matched the orbit of Earth.  “At least we’ll see what happens when the cloud mingles with another planet’s atmosphere.”  Then as an afterthought, “Is it travelling at the same speed?”

Lauren activated an additional program and the display on the monitor changed.  “Just short of 800,000 miles an hour.”

Edward pursed his lips.  “That’s increased slightly.  We probably have even less time than originally thought.  Either way,” he did a quick mental calculation, “it should encounter Jupiter in about a month.”

“It’s a pity Jupiter isn’t oxygen based, it might have burned it off before it reached Earth.”

Edward smiled.  “That would have been a sight to see.”  His eyes sparkled briefly at the thought before he suddenly became solemn again.  “This information is top secret.  You mustn’t tell anyone what you know.  You do realise that, don’t you?”

She gently shook her head.  “I disagree.  I think people should be told.  There might be disjointed families who want to make their peace.  Or loved ones who would want to be together at the end.”  Her eyes hardened.  “My father died of cancer when I was two years old.  My mother said they made it quite clear to the doctors they wanted the truth and needed to know how much time he had left.  She told me it was important because it allowed them to plan and enjoy every last second remaining.  Because of this, they managed to visit all the places they’d wanted to see before he was too ill to travel and when he died, six months later, they had no regrets.”  Her voice broke slightly as she relived the conversation. 

She was surprised by how much she missed her father, as she never really knew him, but always felt there was a hole in her life as she’d grown.  Still, she’d had a fulfilling childhood thanks to her mother who always strove to encourage Lauren in every aspect of her life.  Lauren knew this had helped to make her strong and instilled a desire to achieve, to the highest standard, to make her parents proud. 

She took a deep breath and fixed her eyes on Edward.  “I think this situation would be the same for a great many people and I think they have a right to know.”

During his discussion with Lauren before her appointment, Edward had viewed fragments of her personality beyond the controlled interview persona she’d portrayed, and he’d surmised a strength and morality that their present conversation confirmed.  Still, the security of the situation was outside his control and the consequences of exposure, he knew, would be very severe.

“I see and understand where you’re coming from.  But the pointless panic that would ensue means there is very little to be gained from revealing this information.  Do you seriously think the vast majority would continue to work?”

Lauren thought briefly, then gently shook her head.

“Civilisation would grind to a halt, almost immediately.  The next four months would become a living hell.”  Edward grimaced as he visualised the world that Lauren proposed.  “What about the services we take for granted?  There’d be no one to run them.  What would happen to the old and the sick?”

His words touched a nerve.  Her mother’s asthma required regular medication on prescription. 

“I have no doubt that a lot of people will die long before the cloud arrives.”  He stopped and paused a moment to calm himself.  When he spoke again his voice was softer.  “When the cloud encounters Earth, it will be over in a matter of minutes.”  He didn’t want to be perceived as a callous man, but it was essential she understood the other side of the argument.  “A great deal of unnecessary suffering would occur in the meantime.  Instead of living in fear of the inevitable for the next four months, don’t you think it’s better if people continue in blissful ignorance, to remain unaware of what the future holds?”

Lauren’s stance relaxed.  “I understand,” she relented.  “Although I don’t agree with everything you say, I do agree with most.”

Relieved, Edward breathed deeply and sat back in his seat.  “Besides, the order of absolute silence comes from the minister’s office.  I have to trust you on this.  I would hate to spend my last four months in prison.  Is that how you plan to spend your time before you…”  He averted his eyes.  He was surprised by how difficult he found it to say the word ‘die’ in reference to the young woman.  He looked back and twitched his mouth awkwardly.  “Well… you know what I mean.”

Lauren gave a mute nod, then, “It’s all right.  Now you’ve explained, I can see your point of view.  Although some people would benefit, on the whole it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Edward smiled.  “Good!”  He sat upright and braced himself to stand, then suddenly thought better of it.  “I can stay longer if you want.  I could ring Jenny and say I’ll be late.”

Lauren shook her head.  “No.  You should have been gone hours ago.”

“Are you alright?”

She gave a slight laugh.  “As alright as anyone who’s just been told they’ve got four months to live.”

Edward looked at her pointedly.  “Welcome to our horrific world of awareness.” 

She tightened her mouth and gave a gentle nod.  She now fully understood what he was talking about; some things were best left in the dark.

“I still have to organise the report before I leave.”  He stood.  “Continue to check whether the path of the cloud alters any further and in the meantime, I’ll make the necessary arrangements for its encounter with Jupiter,” then, wearily, he left the room.

****

May 

The team watched in the control room of the observatory as the hydrogen sped towards the gas giant.  By now its approach was less than five million kilometres and the full size of the cloud could finally be appreciated.  Jupiter, a planet whose mass exceeded that of the remaining planets combined, was spectacularly dwarfed by the advancing colossus.  When the cloud drew closer still, tentacles of hydrogen began to accelerate away from the leading edge as the planet’s gravitational pull overpowered the much smaller gravitational field within the remnant’s densely packed centre.  Drawn at increasing speeds, they thinned into finer wisps which spun out like threads before finally vanishing into the atmosphere.  A short while later, the spectacle of the initial encounter came to an abrupt end when the titans collided.  As the hydrogen enveloped Jupiter, swirls of gas could be seen rolling away from the outer fringes of the cloud.  Like giant flames, they licked for hundreds of thousands of miles into the blackness of space, where they swirled and climbed for several hours before Jupiter’s gravitational pull slowly forced their return.

“I never dreamt,” Lauren gasped, as the vaporous giant engulfed the last of Jupiter’s moons, “I would ever see anything so spectacular in my entire career, never mind in the first month.”  She hadn’t initially appreciated the reason for Edward and Jack’s excitement earlier this morning as they’d prepared for the celestial event.  But as aspects of the universe, usually invisible to the naked eye, were revealed in radio and hydrogen alpha waves, she realised how overwhelming and uniquely significant this occurrence was.

Jack looked away from the monitor, his eyes dancing with excitement.  “Breathtaking, isn’t it?”

“Nobody on Earth has ever seen anything like this before and they won’t see it again,” Edward beamed.

Lauren nodded.  She knew this would be a pivotal moment in her potentially short career.

The three had become very close over the last month.  It was easy to do so when they had such similar interests and also the same demon to bear.  She was aware that Edward and Jack were already good friends and had questioned, when she first started, whether she would ever really feel like a complete part of their team.  The day’s events had quashed those fears and she felt as if the excitement and comradery which had ensued had taken all their relationships onto an entirely new level.  It was a nice feeling, one that brought comfort over the terror which grew by the day; it was more like family than friends. 

As the planet continued through the cloud, other elements revealed themselves in the swirling, unsettled mass.  Trace metals from the dead star’s core appeared as thin veins of blues and reds before being swallowed up by the seething, boiling gas.  As the view of the planet became increasingly obscured, the team switched their optics to infrared.  A large elongated haze could be seen extending for millions of kilometres into space.  Behind its thick veil the hot powerhouse of Jupiter and its much smaller but hugely volcanic moon, Io, could be seen glowing faintly through the red mist.

The event mesmerised the team for a further two hours before the heavenly show finally came to an end when Jupiter swung below the horizon in the early hours of the morning.

Lauren beamed.  “I can’t wait to see what’s changed tonight.”

Jack tried to suppress a yawn, failed, then looked at his watch.  It was nearly two o’clock and he was due to start his shift in about five hours.  Lauren was covering the night shift this week and had come in early to watch the event unfold.

Edward grasped the bench and pulled himself up.  It had been a long day but only now it was over did he appreciate how exhausted he was.  He turned to Jack.  “If you want, you can come in a little later and I’ll cover the shift from seven.”

Jack nodded.  “Thanks.”  He’d been feeling very tired recently and had put it down to stress.  He rested his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed himself slowly to his feet before retrieving his jacket from the back.

Edward waited, then when Jack was ready, “We’re off.  Have fun cataloguing the data.”

“I get to do all the good stuff,” she called as they headed for the door.

****

Lauren had been preparing a report on the position and status of the cloud since taking up her post at the observatory, but since the gas had encountered Jupiter the previous day, her task had taken on an entirely new dimension. 

She sent the document to print and looked at the clock.  The work had been so engrossing she hadn’t noticed the time and was shocked to see it had gone 11.  Jupiter would have risen half an hour ago and she was keen to see the results of the encounter.  Quickly, she stood and made her way to the observatory.  As she opened the door, she remembered Edward hadn’t left.

“I’m the only one on night shift this week.”

He turned to face her as she crossed the room.

“You should have gone home hours ago.”

He looked at his watch; it was 11.15.  Jenny was a patient woman but even her tolerance was being pushed to the limit at the moment; this was the fifth time he’d worked past ten this week.  “I didn’t realise it was so late.”  He stifled a yawn and rubbed his beard, then swivelled his chair to face the consoles.  “I’ve been studying the behaviour of the hydrogen cloud.”  He narrowed his eyes and gently shook his head.  “It’s very puzzling.” 

“What’s wrong?”  Lauren leaned towards two monitors displaying images of the planet in different wavelengths. 

One allowed the full size of the massive cloud to be viewed through the use of X-rays.  The red image showed a slightly bulbous end which seemed to hold Jupiter like a clenched fist.  Trailing out, not behind but actually in front of the planet like the tail on a tadpole, was the remainder of the hydrogen whose depth and density dwarfed Jupiter itself. 

The second display was in infrared.  At a distance of 778 million kilometres from the Sun, the heat produced by the planet’s core had a greater effect on its surface temperature than the solar rays.  Optically, a foggy haze – created by the dust and minerals expelled along with the hydrogen at the point of the star’s death – glowed softly like a thick morning mist, obscuring the view of the planet within.  But infrared cut through the dense veil and displayed a rosy globe in the centre of a thick and concentrated portion of hydrogen.

“The cloud should have passed beyond Jupiter and continued with its journey through the Solar System,” Edward explained.  “Although it approached the planet at a phenomenal speed, it hasn’t moved any further since.  The planet’s gravitational pull could have possibly slowed it down.”

Lauren looked at Edward excitedly.  “Do you think the atmosphere might absorb the cloud?”

“Any thoughts I have on the matter are pure speculation.  I’d be reluctant to jump to too many wild conclusions at this stage.  However,” he turned to face his young assistant, “there are people in the profession who call Jupiter the sentinel of our Solar System.  I’m sure its massive gravitational pull has saved the Earth from potential devastation on more than a few occasions in the past.”  Edward pushed back with his feet and moved his chair from beneath the counter.  He stood and stretched his back.  “I’d better go home.  I’m sure Jenny’s given up and gone to bed by now.”  He slipped his jacket off the back of the seat.  “Can you tell Jack I’ll be a bit late in the morning?  I’m off to see Joseph.  I want to discuss this present situation.”

Lauren’s eyes sparkled.  “It looks good though, doesn’t it?”  She was desperate to hear the catastrophe had been averted. 

“I’m sorry, Lauren.  I know what you want to hear but don’t get too excited.  You’ve seen the size of the cloud.  It travelled towards the planet at a very high speed.  Jupiter might have only slowed it down.  It’s only been a day.  It could still yet break free.”

She reined in her excitement; she knew it was too early to say they were safe.  “Well, go on then.  Get yourself away.”  Her voice cracked slightly and she forced a smile.

Edward returned to his seat and leaned towards her.  “Do you need to talk?”  He couldn’t leave her like this.

“No.  I’m alright,” she said softly, averting her eyes. 

He waited.  He could see she needed to discuss something but wasn’t quite ready to speak out.

She sat in silence for a few more seconds then voiced her concern.  “Do you think…”  She returned her attention to Edward.  “Do you think it will hurt?”

He sat back and sighed deeply.  “I don’t know.  I don’t think you’ll feel much.  I think it’ll be quick.”  He was saddened he’d never discussed this with Lauren and angry he’d been so thoughtless.  “I think the degree of suffering will depend on where you are.  Outside would be quicker.  Either way, we’re only talking seconds.”  He hoped to give reassurance, but knew there was small comfort in his words.  She looked so young and helpless.  He wanted so much to make it better, but, without lying, there was nothing he could do or say that would bring any ease – except death would come quickly.

“Would it definitely ignite?  I mean, people might just suffocate.”

“No.  It would take just one spark to set it off.  There must be trillions of sparks, every second, around the globe.”

“It’s unavoidable.”

He couldn’t decide if this was a statement or a question.  Either way, he knew she was aware of the consequences of mixing hydrogen with oxygen.

“The surface air would be unbreathable.  You know that.  The end result is inevitable.”

She nodded, fiddling with her necklace nervously.  “I know I sound silly…”

He shook his head vigorously.

“But I’m not ready to die.”  She blinked as a tear escaped the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek.

Edward retrieved a tissue from his jacket and handed it to Lauren. 

“I’m sorry,” she choked.

He was riddled with guilt and now she was apologising, he felt it all the worse.  “No!  It’s me that should be sorry.  We should have had this talk ages ago.”

“I just keep visualising, over and over, how it’ll be.”  She took a deep breath and tried to remain calm.  “So it’s definitely death by fire?”

“Not necessarily.  Beyond the point of ignition, a wall of compressed air will be forced ahead of the flame.  Like any explosion.  It’ll be like a high-speed train.  You wouldn’t expect anyone hit by a train to feel much, would you?”

Lauren shook her head.  “So you wouldn’t really know much about it?”

“No.” 

She sat silent for a moment, thinking.  “That’s not so bad.” 

He was relieved she appeared to have taken some solace.

Her features relaxed.  “The thought of burning to death absolutely horrified me, but that’s not so bad.”

“I think not being able to discuss it amplifies the burden.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Well remember, we’re all in this together and if you ever need to talk through your fears again, you must tell us,” he said firmly.

She smiled gently.  “Yes, I will.  Now go on; you really must go home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.  I’m a bit happier.” 

Edward was pleased to see a touch of colour return to her cheeks. 

“I’m glad we talked.  It’s brought me comfort.”

“Not much,” he snorted.

“It doesn’t matter.  There’s not much to have.  Even if it’s only, it’ll be quick and violent, then that’s enough.  That’ll do for me.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The Young Observatory 

Lauren heard Edward call her name and looked around to see him waving from the far side of the room. 

She turned her attention to the reporter blocking her path.  He’d been flirting for the last ten minutes and was working himself up to asking her out, but she’d already decided there was no way she would agree to a date.  She’d met his sort before, vacuous men who wanted an ornament for their arm.  His attempts to impress with possessions and grandiose claims were more annoying than desirable.  Lauren was delighted for the opportunity to make her excuses and leave.  She pointed at Edward.  “My boss.  I have to go.”  She flashed the man a stunning smile.

As she turned and started across the room, Stuart Baldwin glanced at his cameraman, a smug, she’ll-be-back, sneer dominating his face. 

The sectioned area at the back of the control room inadequately accommodated the number of people who’d arrived for the event.  Still, despite the overcrowding, a party style atmosphere had developed and the excited chatter grew ever louder by the minute.  As the time drew near, technicians checked the uplinks to ensure the moment was captured, but for most, nothing more could be done except wait. 

Lauren struggled through the crowd.  It wasn’t just the people, but the amount of equipment that made the passage difficult.  When she finally reached Edward’s side, he introduced her to his friend. 

“Lauren, I’d like you to meet Joseph Hunter.”

She shook the professor’s hand.  “Delighted we’ve finally met.”

“Likewise.  Edward has told me so much about you.  He said it was you who initially discovered the changes occurring on Jupiter.”

Lauren nodded.  “My job was to analyse the cloud.  I suppose it was just luck.”

“Luck.”  Joseph waved a dismissive hand.  “Nothing to do with it.  You have a keen eye.  To recognise the storm system was breaking down so quickly proves you know your business.  It would have taken most several days of study before even starting to pick it up.” 

Lauren smiled modestly and shrugged.

“What time did you arrive?” Edward asked Joseph.

“A couple of hours ago.  I’ve been giving interviews all morning.”

Lauren gazed around admiringly.  “I didn’t realise the Young Observatory was the headquarters for the Solar Observations Bureau.”

A tape barrier separated the crowd from four rows of computers and at the front of the room a large screen displayed an image of Jupiter in real-time. 

A foggy haze obscured the planet’s surface, which increasingly resembled a Martian landscape.  Its position in the Solar System was now the only confirmation of its identity.

“Yes, we’ve been based here for the past five years.  We monitor and analyse solar activity and give advanced warning of solar flares, so the telecommunications and power companies can switch systems in case there’s a breakdown.”  Joseph pointed to two small monitors, which displayed a list of technical data, on either side of the screen. 

Lauren smiled broadly.  “Is that real-time information from the Sun?”

Joseph nodded.  “We sometimes use Saron to observe changes in the Sun but we also have our own orbital telescope which constantly monitors the solar winds and magnetic radiation bombarding the Earth from Sol.”

Lauren was bumped from behind with a camera; she looked around annoyed, then shuffled forward, rubbing the sore patch at the base of her back.  “Are most of these visitors reporters?”

“Most, but not all.  There’re also a few astronomers, like you and Edward.”

“Do you think Io will be destroyed at its next pass?” Edward asked.

Joseph glanced at the screen.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s already gone.”

“We only have a limited view from the ground but even then it wasn’t looking good yesterday,” Edward said.

“Where’s Jack?”  Joseph scanned the crowd. 

A hush descended upon the room as a man standing by the screen suddenly became very animated.

“He took the opportunity to have the day off.  He’s been really run down recently; he opted not to come,” Edward replied distractedly. 

“Professor Hunter!  It’s begun,” a technician informed.

Lauren stepped to the right of Edward to clear his view, as the images on the screen captivated everyone’s attention.

The stricken Io still hadn’t appeared, but a long line of molten fragments had.  Pulled at increasing speeds, they dragged a trail through the cloud towards the planet, which already displayed evidence of a previous encounter.  A scattering of dark holes could be seen expanding in the tawny cloud system like drops of blood in water.  Then moments later the fragments encountered the atmosphere.  Within seconds they were flaming globes tearing across the face of Jupiter.  The diverse mineral composition of the shattered moon revealed itself in the white-hot blaze – like a spectacular, celestial, fireworks display – as ripples of oranges, reds and purples.  Then, as the fragments sank below the upper cloud system and disappeared from sight, a succession of fiery plumes leapt high into the atmosphere.  The surrounding nova dust sparkled like jewels amongst the stars as the infernos raged, until finally the firestorms fell leaving further dark scars, pitting the planet’s surface in their wake.

As she stared at the screen, Lauren became aware of someone moving towards her, on the right.  Briefly, she looked away from the image to find Stuart Baldwin sidling up alongside.

“Stunning isn’t it?” he said, his previous air of arrogance now subdued.

“Yes, it is,” Lauren replied, her voice tinged with irritation.  She returned her gaze to the screen and attempted to ignore him. 

“It’s frightening to think the Solar System will never be the same again,” he continued, despite the frosty reception.  “I mean, Jupiter looks completely different and Io…”  He swept his hand towards the screen.  “I think ‘wow’ just about covers it.”

Lauren couldn’t resist a smile.  His enthusiasm was infectious. 

“Can you imagine if that hydrogen cloud had hit Earth instead.  Phew!”  He whistled.  “That would have been it; the end of everything.  Talk about going out with a bang.”

She flashed him a shocked look.  He couldn’t know.  No one was supposed to know.  But the reporter was once again staring at the screen and didn’t notice her alarm.

“I studied chemistry before going into journalism,” he said, nodding knowingly.  “I’m telling you, it would have been spectacular.  Well, briefly,” he added more solemnly.

It dawned on Lauren he was only speculating.  She had just relaxed when Stuart’s face suddenly crumpled into a frown. 

He pointed at the screen.  “What’s that?” 

“Here it comes!” Joseph called.  “We’re definitely recording?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” a technician nearby confirmed.

“I suspect that’s what’s left of Io,” Lauren replied, her attention fixed on the drama.

The flash of camera bulbs burst intermittently around the room as the ruptured satellite cleared Jupiter’s horizon.  Tilting on its axis, like an upended ship, the mangled moon rotated erratically as it drew ever closer to the morphing planet.  A wide, sulphur-filled fissure ran between the poles as its fragile gravity held two continent-sized fragments together.  Then, as the ruined face spun around, Io’s exposed core came into view.  Molten larva bubbled from the heart of the moon and poured over the mutilated landscape to cover the virgin rock in a trail of burnt oranges and reds.  On the far side, active volcanoes could be seen spewing sulphur high above the surface, as though in a final act of defiance, before the gravitational pull from Jupiter ultimately proved too much and the two parts began to separate. 

As the fracture widened, whoops and cheers could be heard from the journalists and reporters scattered about the room.  Carried along by the excitement of the event, they clapped and whistled, as a string of larva and rock stretched out, bridging the gap between the two parts for just a fraction more until, unable to resist the massive forces any longer, the molten centre finally yielded. 

A tear escaped the corner of Lauren’s eye as the fragment was dragged downward and plunged towards the planet.  Quickly, she wiped it away, then turning to the reporter, she said, “I guess you’re right, Mr. Baldwin; things will never be the same again.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

May

Hope Arctic Science Station

“That’s it.  That’s everything,” Gilbert Warren yelled over the noise of the engine, as the last of the supplies were unloaded from the helicopter.  He stepped back, clear of the downdraft from the blades. 

As the noise of the engines changed pitch and rose to a painful shriek, the helicopter began to lift skyward.  Gilbert watched as it steadily climbed and began its journey south.  He waited until it completely disappeared before deciding to join his colleagues inside. 

This was not his first trip to the Arctic, it was actually his third.  The unique beauty and natural rawness always created a feeling of excited awe whenever he arrived.  Despite this, a dreadful sense of vulnerability and isolation still dominated as the last of the choppers flew from sight.  They were a hundred and fifty miles from the nearest landmass and any rescue would take some time to organise.  They couldn’t afford mistakes and he was painfully aware that a bad weather front would leave them trapped for weeks. 

It was 20 below, warm for May, which was the reason for their trip.

For the past month coastguards and weather satellites had been carefully monitoring the progress of a number of large icebergs which had drifted south into the shipping lanes.  An update of the position and status of these frozen, floating mountains was transmitted on an hourly basis to crossing vessels but the British Environment Agency wanted to investigate the situation further.

The four scientists had been at the Hope site, just south of the Eurasia Basin, in the Arctic Ocean, for just over a day now.  They were surprised to discover, upon arrival, they were only thirty or so miles north of the pack ice, which should have been approximately 120 miles further south this time of year.  They had been expecting changes in the region, brought on by a wet and mild winter, but their findings were more alarming than initially anticipated.

“You timed that beautifully,” Sophie Graham, the only woman in the team, said sarcastically as Gilbert stepped back inside.  “We’ve only just finished putting the last of the supplies away.”

“That was the plan,” Gilbert retorted, with a wry smile. 

Gilbert was project leader for the team that was to spend the next month taking readings of ice thickness and global currents in and around the Eurasia Basin.

Terence Stafford, the most senior member of the group, clapped his hands and rubbed them together enthusiastically.  “Right!  Who’s for breakfast?”  He crossed to the stove.  “We must have something hot before starting work.”

Gilbert stooped and raked in a cupboard for pans.  “I’ll help.”

“What do we do today?”  Twenty-six-year-old Lewis Carver was the youngest of the four and this was his first trip to the Arctic.  His flight in had only served to stoke his exuberance when the helicopter passed the icebergs in the far North Atlantic and the frozen Arctic Ocean had first come into view.

Sophie beckoned him across the room where she stood beside a computer, waiting for the system to boot.  “We always check the weather before we do anything.”

Once the computer finished loading, Sophie showed Lewis how to log into the Eagle Alaskan weather station. 

Lewis pointed to the screen as the weather systems over the Arctic were displayed.  “What’s that mean?”

Sophie raised her voice so the two cooks could hear.  “A front of low pressure, being driven by 60-mile-an-hour winds, is heading south, south west.”

Gilbert crossed from the stove and checked the display. 

“It’s hard to tell whether it’ll hit the base,” she continued. 

Gilbert studied the image for a few seconds before voicing his concern.  “I’ve seen these storm systems suddenly change direction in the past.  Today we’ll just set up the equipment and stay near the camp.  The core samples can wait until tomorrow.”

Raithwaite, North Yorkshire, England

Thomas Taylor slipped over to his wife’s side of the bed.  Stretching out lithely, he snuggled his face into her pillow and gently breathed in her scent, still warm on the cover.

“Sally!  Make a cup of tea?” he called, as the toilet flushed.

“Okay.” 

Seconds later he heard a scream.  He threw back the covers and leapt out of bed. 

“The house is flooded!” she shrieked as he ran to the landing.  “Water’s halfway up the stairs.”

Thomas stared for several seconds, disbelieving his eyes, before deciding on a course of action.  “I’ll check outside.”  He returned to the bedroom and pulled back the curtains to find only the roofs of cars visible above the water level – which climbed five foot up the front of the houses opposite.

Sally came up behind and peered around her husband.  “What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know.  The river must have burst its banks.” 

He left the window and began to dress but quickly stopped when his wife burst into tears. 

“Everything will be ruined.”

He hurried over and held her close.

“It’s typical,” she sobbed.  “Just when we get the house finished.”

“It’ll be alright.”  He looked down and wiped her eyes with his thumb.  “Come on, don’t cry.  It’ll be fun to start again.”

She laughed.  This was why she loved him so; only Thomas could turn such a horrible situation around.

“Come on,” he urged, “let’s get dressed, we have to get outta here.  Wear something light, it’ll dry quicker.”

Sally pulled on some cotton trousers and a shirt, then followed her husband to the stairs. 

Thomas, leading the way, tentatively approached the water line, then stopped just before he was forced to make the plunge.

“Don’t get it in your mouth; it might be full of sewage.”  Then he moved to the next step down.  

Thomas grimaced, as the water soaked through his trainers and pants.  “Strewth, it’s cold,” was quickly followed by a gasp when the level reached his groin.  As he arrived at the ground floor he turned and watched Sally carefully pick her way down the stairs.  The water by now had reached his chest and he was concerned that his petite wife might have to be carried.  “Can you manage?  Will you be alright?”

She left the final step to discover only her head and shoulders remained dry.  “Yes, we’ll just have to take it slowly.”  She shuddered as her skin turned a delicate shade of blue.  Cautiously they waded through the water but, when they made it to the door, the step outside proved too much.

“Wait here,” Thomas instructed.  “I’ll see if I can find out what’s happening.”

Outstretched arms helped to maintain his balance as he moved slowly away from the house.  It was impossible to see below the first few inches of the murky water, so Thomas had to rely more on memory than sight to make his way safely up the drive.  Flower borders and cars had to be carefully negotiated to prevent a fall and uneven paving on the path outside increased his feeling of vulnerability.  He steadied himself, where possible, on the roofs of nearby cars, until finally the situation improved when the road started to gradually climb, a short way from the house.  The water level reduced as the incline increased and by the time he rounded a bend outside of the estate, only his lower half remained submerged.  He looked ahead where a small group were gathered in the square on the edge of the village.  Amongst them was Harry Dobson, a neighbour from across the street.

“Harry!  Do you know what’s happening?” Thomas called as he drew near to the large man who stood with his eight-year-old daughter on his shoulders.  She looked cold and scared.

“Hello, Cara,” Thomas said, trying to soothe the child.

“My boys have gone to the police station to see if they know what’s going on.”  Harry pointed down the road.  “They’re just coming back now.”

The two teenagers struggled as fast as they could through the water towards the group before breathlessly reporting their findings.

Thomas hurried back to the house.  “We’re being moved into camps further inland,” he called once he was within earshot of his wife.  “The entire area is flooded.  Your parents’ street is under water as well.”

“Camps!” Sally repeated, scarcely able to believe what she’d heard.  “For how long?”

“Until the waters drain away.”

He reached the door and turned his back to his wife.  “Come on, I’ll have to carry you.  At least up the street.”

“Was it caused by the rain?  It’s rained a lot recently.”

“It’s not just here.  East Anglia and Northern England are below water as well.  The coastal defences were breached last night.”  He looked over his shoulder as Sally climbed aboard.  “Apparently, the sea levels are rising.”

Quintin Distribution Centre, Angola, Africa

Tasha Richardson looked around as she stepped out into the baking heat. 

The brick walls of the distribution depot stood three stories high and focused the rays of the Sun.  The bleached white, concrete yard soaked up the relentless heat and only thick leather boots provided enough protection for her delicate feet.

She sighed and took another sip of water, then repositioned her hat to offer more shade.  Her pale skin was thickly smothered in factor 50 sun cream, giving her the appearance of a geisha girl.  Her swept-back, blonde hair, stuffed firmly beneath her hat, was dry and unmanageable.  She’d been forced to admit, but only to herself, that she’d been unaware of what to expect when she’d offered her services as a volunteer.  But, a month ago, it seemed to be a good way of seeing more of the world whilst on a study break.  Fluent in French, Arabic and Portuguese, Tasha had particularly asked to be placed in Africa, but working in the office at the distribution centre in Luanda, Angola, wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

She pushed against the frame of her glasses, when the glare of the Sun escaped the corner, and started to make her way across the depot.  Luanda was just like any other city apart from the merciless heat.  It was a world away from the open plains and stunning wildlife Tasha had envisaged.

“Tasha!”

She stopped and turned in the direction of the voice.  Tony Henderson was hurrying across the yard towards her. 

A large man of ample girth, he found it difficult to walk quickly in this heat, never mind run.  “Tasha, could you travel with Laurence Urwin?” he gasped as he drew close. 

“Where’s he going?”

Tony paused to regain his breath.  “He’s travelling to the Gideon centre.  It’s about a half day’s journey.”  Then as an afterthought, “Do you know Laurence?”

Tasha shook her head.

Tony shrugged his shoulders; it didn’t matter.  “I know you’ve been keen to get out of the office, so when Laurence asked for an interpreter I suggested you.”

“Does he know how to get there?”

“Yes.  He was there last month.  He’s keen to be off, he wants to get back tonight, so you’ll have to go now.  Is that alright?”

Tasha nodded.  “Yeah, sure.”  She was happier than she was letting on; it was an opportunity she’d waited a long time for.

Tony guided her towards the lorry.  “He has enough food and water for the journey.”

A hulk of a man was sitting inside the cab.  A sprawl of brown hair cascading down his back and a full beard made it difficult for Tasha to define his features.

“Laurence, this is Tasha.  She’s your interpreter.”

He opened the passenger door and held out a hand for Tasha to take.  “Hi.”  He hoisted her into the cab.

“What are we transporting?”

“Grain, dried milk, flour and medicines,” Laurence replied as he pulled the lorry around and drove out of the depot.

“How long has there been food problems in this region?”

“Two years – they’ve had a drought for two years.”

They joined the main road then stopped, a short while later, when the traffic lights turned red. 

Tasha looked at the buildings nearby.  “You’d never think there was anything wrong, inside the city.”

“Cities are always the same – very insular.”  Laurence pulled away when the lights changed to green.  They turned onto the central highway.  “It’s too easy to forget the suffering of others when you’re cocooned in bright lights, supermarkets and restaurants.”

She stared out the window as the high rises whistled by.  Mountains of steel, competing for space and racing for the sky, filled her view beyond the road.  Eventually the skyscrapers gave way to flats and finally houses, and the further from the centre they travelled, the greater the signs of poverty became.

“Tony said you hadn’t been out of Luanda yet,” Laurence said as they finally left the suburbs and entered the open plains.

“Not by choice.  I’ve always wanted to see the African wilderness.”

“Not like this, you wouldn’t,” Laurence told her flatly.  “I drove through this region two and a half years ago.  The land was then lush and green.  It supported a vast and diverse range of wildlife.  Look at it now.”

Dust, kicked up by the lorry, swirled around the vehicle like a yellow fog.  Beyond the road, the parched earth was barren for as far as she could see.  Shrivelled shrubs and naked trees stood like the bleached bones of lost lives, and deep cracks, like the shadows of storms, littered the hardened soil.

“The heat caused the biggest problem.  As the summer arrived, it just got hotter and hotter.  It’s been the hottest summer on record.  There’s still water in the wells and below ground but it was the end for most of the rivers and lakes.  Tankers carrying fresh water travelled to the Gideon centre a couple of days ago because the situation was getting desperate.  It won’t be long before the city starts to feel the effects.”

The pair travelled for a further hour – only the gentle twang of country and western music breaking the silence – before they noticed a work party near the road up ahead.

“Are they doing repairs in this dreadful heat?”

“They’re probably burying bodies.  When I passed this way last month the landscape was littered with dead animals and cattle.  I’d heard mutterings about work parties being organised to dig graves to stop the spread of disease.”

As the lorry drew near, the workers stopped digging.  It was a welcome excuse for a break.  They stepped back and once the vehicle had passed, they waited for the dust to settle before continuing. 

Tasha peered out the passenger window and glimpsed the emaciated body of a male lion to the side of a freshly dug hole.  Sadness swelled in her gut and she returned her eyes to the road.  “I see what you mean.  This isn’t what I thought I would see.”  Her attention drifted upward and she suddenly noticed a light, glowing brightly in the sky.  At first, she thought it was a low flying plane, but when it continued to stay stationary, curiosity overwhelmed.  “What’s that?”

“What?”

She pointed upward, squinting in a vain attempt to clarify the object.  “That.  There.  In the sky.”

Laurence glanced in the direction of her finger.  “That’s Jupiter.”

She looked around surprised.  “In the daytime sky?”

He nodded.

“You can’t usually see it in the daytime sky.  Can you?”

“No.  At one time you couldn’t, but you can now.  It’s been increasing in brightness for the past six months.”

“Why now?  Why should it suddenly become brighter?”

Laurence looked at Tasha, aghast.  “I can’t believe you don’t know what’s been going on.”

A flush of colour filled her cheeks.  “I’d heard something was happening to the planet,” she admitted, a little flustered, “but to be honest I don’t pay too much attention to the news.”

“Jupiter’s becoming a sun.”

“A sun!”  Tasha glanced at Laurence, then suddenly her face opened up into a smile.  “You’re joking,” she laughed. 

“No, I’m not.  The solar flare that caused the massive power outage across North America and Europe four months ago came from Jupiter.”

Her face once again fell when she realised he was deadly serious.  “Is that why it can be seen in the daytime?”  She returned her eyes skyward.

“Yes.”

“So how do you know all of this?”

“Astronomy is a hobby of mine.  I love it out here.  No light pollution; it’s great.  But that aside, it’s actually been all over the news,” he snorted.  “I’m also an environmentalist.  I’ve been fighting against global warming for over a decade now.”

Tasha scanned the desolate landscape.  “So do you think this is caused by global warming?”

“I don’t know.”  Laurence shook his head absently.  “I really don’t think anybody knows.”

Hope Arctic Science Station

“Where’s Lewis?” Gilbert called over the howl of the wind.  A storm had blown up within minutes and he wanted the team inside.

Terence moved his mask.  “At the drill site,” he yelled, then quickly returned the thermal protection to his face. 

The Arctic wind had dropped the already subzero temperatures a further twenty degrees; it would take seconds for any exposed skin to begin to freeze and even their high-tech clothing was proving inadequate.

“Stop what you’re doing and get inside with Sophie,” Gilbert called.  “I’ll get Lewis.” 

He lowered his head and began to push forward against the driving wind.

The drill site was less than a hundred yards away but he knew that the storm could leave him disorientated and lost in just a few feet.  He followed the station wall until he encountered the first of a number of poles holding a guide rope which provided a safe lead around the camp. 

The storm had sprung up with frightening ferocity but had been raging for ten minutes now and he was surprised that Lewis had not yet returned. 

Whipped up ice and snow brought visibility down to no more than four feet and as Gilbert grasped the pole, he was pleased for the additional security of the perimeter guide.  The first yard followed the station wall but as he moved away from the protection of the building, he felt the full force of the wind battering his body from the front and side.  As he pushed forward into the blizzard, a shadowy figure started to take form up ahead.

“Lewis!” he called, but the wind carried his voice away and Lewis didn’t hear.

He appeared to be struggling with something, and it was only as Gilbert drew closer he realised one of the drill bits was jammed.

Gilbert leaned into the wind and waved to catch his attention.  “Lewis!  Come on!  Leave it!” he yelled at the top of his voice.

Lewis looked around and raised a hand to acknowledge he’d heard.

Gilbert beckoned.  “Leave it!  Come on, let’s get inside!”

Lewis released the drill piece and began to follow his safety tether.  He had just reached the guide rope when suddenly a shudder rippled through the ice.  Both men stood rigid, fixed to the spot in terror.  Gilbert looked down.  He tried to see the cause; then it happened again.  This time it was more violent, almost like a quake.  He waved his hand urgently.  “Come on!  Let’s go!”

Lewis took one step forward, then the ice at the point of the drill bit gave way and he suddenly disappeared. 

As the guide rope in Gilbert’s hand pulled tight, the next pole along was dragged from its seating and vanished off the edge of the newly formed fissure.

“Lewis!” Gilbert screamed.  He quickly moved forward until he neared the edge of the crevasse where he lowered himself down and looked over the brink. 

Lewis was clinging to the pole ten feet below, his hold made all the more precarious by the ferocity of the wind.  Battered off the jagged wall of ice, he bounced and scraped with ever increasing force in the relentless gale.

“Hang on!” Gilbert screamed. 

Lewis glanced up, before quickly returning his gaze to the icy cliff.  He’d lost the feeling in his hands and his left arm had been injured in the fall.  Ice crystals whipped up in the gale stung his face and it was starting to hurt to breathe.  Every attempt to improve his hold had been foiled by the wind and his legs were wet from the plume created when the shattered ice shelf hit the Arctic Ocean. 

Gilbert stood and took a firm hold on the rope.  He wedged his feet into the ice, then began to heave Lewis upward.

Lewis went rigid as he felt the rope lurch but quickly realised he wasn’t falling when he slowly began to rise.  At an agonising pace he inched up the shelf face with snow and ice falling from above, where the rope dragged against the edge.  The nearer to the top he drew, the more ferocious the wind.  It buffeted and bashed him off the face until suddenly – just short of the top – the pole jammed into compacted snow.

“Gilbert!  I’m stuck!”

Gilbert felt the pole wedge but didn’t have the strength to pull it free.  The pounding wind and frigid air were taking their toll.  As he stood and held the weight, he couldn’t decide what to do next.  They were stuck here, locked in their struggle against death, neither able to go forward nor able to go back.  Then suddenly, from behind he heard a voice. 

“Gilbert!  What’s going on?”  Then, “Dear God,” Terence gasped as he saw the situation.

Lewis also heard Terence speak and had just braced himself when suddenly, he lunged upwards as the pole was dragged free.

Terence pounced as Lewis’ arms cleared the precipice and he hauled his colleague onto solid ground. 

Sophie had started to pace when the door to the station burst open and Lewis was dragged in.  A trained doctor, she immediately knew the danger when she saw his pale, translucent skin.  “Keep him away from the heat.”  She went to work.  “What the hell happened?” she asked, as she peeled back his clothing to reveal frozen flesh.

“A section of the shelf broke away,” Gilbert stammered, shaking uncontrollably. 

“The shelf?  How much?”

“I don’t know.  Either way, we’re gonna need to be airlifted out the moment this storm breaks.  I think we’ve got quite enough information to make our report.”

She looked down.  “Damn!”  She closed her eyes, shook her head in annoyance, then sighed.  The dusty marks weren’t a tragedy; it was nearly time to leave in any case.

She had been filing all afternoon and was relieved the task was complete.  The Town Hall basement gave her the creeps at the best of times, but late on a Friday, when the building was virtually empty, the feeling of being ‘watched’ intensified.

She checked the time.  There were a few more things she needed to do before going home.  If she hurried, she could still beat the traffic out of Morpeth.

She moved towards the stairs, but had only closed half the gap before suddenly the basement was plunged into darkness.

Sarah stopped, the pitch black was complete.  She scanned for a glimmer, but found there was none.  Not even a slither escaped the door leading to the foyer above.

Afraid to move, she visualised the position of the stairs before slowly making her way in the perceived direction.  Inch by inch she shuffled until, a short while later, she found a supporting spindle.  Groping further she quickly reached the banister, but her relief was short-lived when suddenly the whole building shuddered as if hit by an immense force.

She fumbled for the bottom step, her panic rising, when there came screams from above.  An assumption that the building was ablaze drove her on until, at the top of the stairs, she stopped to check the door.  Still cool to the touch, she opened it and emerged into the foyer to find it illuminated only by the moon.

A wash of frightened faces, made more ghastly in the blue-grey light, swept towards the exit in an atmosphere of suppressed hysteria.

The floor and reception area glistened, as if sprinkled with star dust.  As Sarah stepped out into the foyer, and it crunched underfoot, she realised it was broken glass.  Looking up she saw all the windows on the south side of the building were smashed in, with not even a shard remaining in the frames.

She joined the evacuees.  Her arms pulled in, she blended with the crowd which pushed towards the exit.

Moonbeams, briefly illuminating people like a spotlight on a stage, allowed her to see there were some in the foyer injured.  Blood, blackened in the moonlight, covered faces and hands from indistinct wounds.

Suddenly, from behind, she heard her name.  Looking back she saw her friend, Jenny Parker, pushing through the crowd towards her.  As the two women drew close they grasped each other to quell the fear.

“What happened?” Sarah asked, her voice husky with shock.

“There’s been a massive explosion south of Morpeth,” Jenny replied breathlessly.

“What do you mean?  The whole building shook, it couldn’t have been that far away.”  Sarah stumbled, caught her balance, then looked back.

A middle-aged woman had fallen in the rush.  As the crowd surged around her she struggled to get up.  Sarah stopped, turned, then carried on when she saw a young man pause long enough to help.

“What sort of explosion?”

“I think it could have been a bomb.”  Jenny began to cry.  “I think it was an atom bomb.”

Sarah’s eyes widened.  “That’s not funny, Jenny,” she snapped.  “Why would you say that?”

“I opened the door to the payroll office, then suddenly there was a really bright light.  I panicked and shut the door again, just as the power went off.  A few seconds later the whole building shook.  When I opened the door again I found Christine…” Jenny stopped, as a wave of distress overwhelmed her.  Great heaving sobs suddenly leapt forth.  “I found Christine…”

Sarah wrapped a comforting arm around her friend.

“She was dead…” Jenny blurted between howls of despair.  “Flying glass…”

Sarah struggled to hear what Jenny was saying, but the next section came through horrifically clear.

“I looked to the window and the skyline was lit by fire.  It covered the horizon, as far as you could see.  Great rolling clouds of fire.”

“No, you must be mistaken,” Sarah said desperately.

Jenny shook her head.  “It was like the very air was ablaze.”

“You’re hurt,” Sarah gasped.  She’d suddenly noticed the front of Jenny’s blouse was drenched in blood.

“No, it was John Greggs.  He was in the corridor with a neck injury.  I tried to help, but I couldn’t stop the bleeding.”  She held out her hands.

Sarah gagged at the sight of her friend’s blood-soaked skin.  She looked away and saw something more terrible than just fear in the faces, glowing in the moonlight, nearby.  As they drew near to the door she felt the bottom fall from her world.  Jenny must be wrong, or there was nothing left.

They emerged outside into the freezing January air.  No one around was dressed for the cold.

Branches were strewn across the car park and a nearby wall had collapsed in the onslaught.

Some were sobbing, but most just stood, too stunned to think.

“What should we do now?” Sarah asked.

“I’m going home, to check my parents.”

Sarah thought of her own family.  “We live three miles from the city,” she said, her voice quiet and her face shadowed with fear.  “God knows what I’ll find when I go home.”  She turned back to the building.

Jenny grabbed her arm.  “Where you going?”

“For my coat.”

“We have to get out of here.”  She waved a hand towards the city.  “There’ll be radiation on the way.”

Sarah shook her head.  “I have to know what’s happened to my family.”

“Please, come with me,” Jenny begged.

“I can’t.  I need to know.”

Jenny embraced her friend.  “Take care,” she whispered.

Sarah nodded, then they parted.

As the panic-stricken residents headed north out of Morpeth to distance themselves from the city, Sarah turned south in a desperate attempt to return home.  She passed many people on the way, but none travelling in her direction.  Still, it wasn’t long before she found herself alone and the road became quiet, to an eerie degree.  There were no lights, except the unearthly redness in the sky.  The surrounding darkness added to the overwhelming emptiness she felt as she thought of her family.

A few miles down the road she left the town behind and a short time later she joined a slip road leading to the motorway.  As she reached the top of the incline she realised, for the time at least, her journey was over.

A wall of thick black foul-smelling smoke moving in her direction formed an impenetrable barrier across the road.

Reluctantly, Sarah returned to Morpeth vowing to try again when the way was clear.

Four days later she had survived by forcing herself into a routine.  Daily trips to gather water from the river and wood for the fireplace she’d found in the director’s office in the Town Hall had helped to maintain a hold on her sanity.  It also gave her the opportunity to assess the damage caused to the surrounding environment.

Footprints in the snow proved there were animals still alive.  If they could survive, then so could she.

A winter wonderland this was not as this snow was dirty, grey and gruesome.  Dust and dirt thrown up from the ground, by the nuclear blast, mingled with freezing particles to produce snow.

For two days the gloom never lifted and as Sarah looked out the window, she’d felt fear like she’d never felt before.  Could this be the start of a nuclear winter?  Life was hard enough as it was and there was no doubt it would get worse.  The return of spring would at least bring hope; hope for a future; hope for new growth.  The onset of a nuclear ice age would end all that.  If the cycle of the seasons broke down, the repercussions would be devastating.  She didn’t have to be an expert to know this.

When she rose on the morning of the fourth day, Sarah gave thanks.  The snow had stopped and the sun, although still shrouded behind a dense blanket of clouds, was at least trying to break through.

She stepped outside the moment it was light, as she had every day since her return.  She’d become accustomed to the foul, sooty smell that hung in the air like a thick fog, but this morning, she was delighted to find it was different.  The air had cleared, scrubbed clean by the snow, and it was then she knew the fires were out.

This was the moment she’d been waiting for.  She would attempt her journey home again tomorrow.  She knew, in her heart, there was little chance of her family being alive; still, she had to know for sure.  Today would be busier than previously anticipated.

The physics of it seemed as though the machine behaved towards time as if the subject were a heavy ball in the centre of a rubber diaphragm.  The energy required for a traveller to be sent through time was the same as if the ball were being propelled from the centre of the diaphragm towards the outer edge.  The greater the energy input, the further from the point of initiation the traveller could go.  Alternatively a shorter distance could be achieved, but with the same amount of energy the traveller could stay for longer periods away from their own time.  Once all the energy was consumed, as with the ball on the diaphragm, the traveller would automatically return to their initial point in time.

Travelling into the past was naturally a progressive part of Jason’s experiments and his first test in backward time travel triggered a memory for Jessica when Bell disappeared from the pod.

“Remember last year when we saw that rat in the kitchen?” she said, her eyes wide and thoughtful.

“So?”

“Do you think it could’ve been Bell?”

He tightened his mouth and stood silent a moment.  “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said slowly, then smiled and nodded admiringly.  “It’s quite possible.”  He patted his wife’s behind.  “Clever girl.”

Jessica laughed, swatting his hand away.

Suddenly the machine powered up and their playful banter stopped.  They turned their attention to the pod.

Jason was accustomed to the high-pitched whine preceding a subject’s return, but the thrill of seeing them materialise again never dulled.  Each return brought with it new excitements, new discoveries – and this time was no different.  He laughed, a brief throaty laugh.  “Look.”  His eyes sparkled in delight.  He picked up the rat and pulled a finger along a wet streak down her back.

Jessica smiled broadly.  “The water pistol you used when it ran under the unit.”  She raised her brow.  “Nice shootin’.”

Jason made his way to the basement with Jessica behind.

“You could be completely screwed up if you think too much about it,” she said.

He returned Bell to the cage.  “About what?”

“Last year you were destined to create this device, even though back then you were working on teleportation.  Time travel hadn’t even crossed your mind.”

“I see what you mean.”  He laughed.  “It’s enough to make your head spin.”

In bed that night, still buzzing with excitement, neither could sleep.  Instead they discussed the implications of the most recent discovery.

As Jessica raised herself up onto an elbow her long blonde hair slipped from her shoulder.  “What would you do with your time machine?”

Jason paused, thinking carefully before he replied.  “I would go forward in time to study the advances of human development.”

“Oh…  Don’t be so boring.”  She laughed, poking him playfully in the chest.

His face dropped in a mock hurt expression.

“Wouldn’t you want to see the dinosaurs?  Or meet one of your heroes?”

“No!”  He sat up, looking down at her.  “It must never be used to go back.  The consequences could be devastating.  I would never use it for that,” he added loftily.

She looked surprised.  “Well why are you experimenting in backward time travel?”

He deflated.  “I’m just curious.  I needed to see if it could be done.”

“You wanted to be the first,” she teased.

“No, I didn’t.”  He shook his head in emphatic denial, stopped, then smiled, embarrassed.  “Yes, you’re right.”  He justified his actions.  “If I didn’t do it, someone else at the MOD would have.”

“Perhaps.”  Jessica pushed up and kissed him on the cheek.  “It would’ve taken them years instead of the few months that it’s taken you.”

He beamed with pleasure, basking in her praise.

She lay back against her pillow.  “Wouldn’t you want to go back to do something good?” she persisted.

“No, nothing.”

“Wouldn’t you even go back to help your own mother?”  Instantly she regretted the words which had so casually spilled from her mouth.  “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she said, as a look of pain washed through Jason’s face.

He lay down.

“Shall I make some cocoa?”  She softly stroked his chest.  “It might help us sleep.”

He attempted a smile, but failed, then gave a slight nod.

Jessica rose and, without another word, donned a dressing gown, then hurried downstairs.

It was still several hours before Jason eventually drifted into a troubled sleep, disturbed by images of his mother.  His dreams had started happy, but as the night drew on he found himself again lying in his childhood bed, listening to her cries in the night.

Regularly she’d had a recurring nightmare which wasn’t a creation of her imagination, but the past recalled.  She relived the horror of watching her mother being repeatedly raped, then beaten to death.

The brutal monster who captained the cargo ship, ‘The Plenith’, had promised Jason’s grandmother safe passage out of Hamburg after her husband and son were killed.  The first day passed without incident, but on the second she rebuffed his advances when he brought food.  A violent and immoral man, he’d forced his attentions upon her.  Attentions which eventually ended in her brutal rape and murder.  Meanwhile, Jason’s mother had watched the entire incident as she cowered in the bathroom.

Seven-year-old Claudia, too terrified to leave the cabin, was eventually driven out by hunger.  When the captain caught her stealing food from the kitchen, she was told her mother was missing.

“Fallen overboard,” he lied.

In England, Claudia was passed to the authorities where the captain declared her a stowaway.

Once her story was told, the captain was arrested, but with a lack of evidence and all traces of her mother gone, the charges were dropped and the man released.

Alone in a strange country, she was placed into a foster home until relatives could be traced.  Then suddenly war broke out.

Jason woke with a jolt.  He was surprised to see daylight streaming through the window.  It seemed as though he’d hardly slept and he still felt exhausted.  Rising, he started work immediately but, as the day drew on, he found it increasingly difficult to focus on his tasks.  The previous day’s enthusiasm was now gone and his thoughts kept drifting back to his conversation with Jessica.  What if she was right?  What if he could help his mother?  Would it make him selfish?  Would it make him bad?

By midday, unable to concentrate any longer, Jason stopped trying to fool himself he was making any progress at all.

He opened his wallet and slipped out the passport size photograph he always carried of his mother.  It was taken during happier times on a holiday in Jersey.  She was relaxed and smiling on the beach, with the sea glistening in bright sunshine behind.  It was a beautiful day and two years before the string of crippling heart attacks that finally ended her life.

Slowly, Jason indulged himself and allowed a plan of least interference to form.  The more he thought about it, the more it felt like the right thing to do.  Several scenarios were pondered until, eventually, he decided the minimum help he could give would be to stop his grandmother getting on ‘The Plenith’.

Passage on ‘The Plenith’, he’d been told, was all they could afford.  An offer of financial assistance would allow them to travel on a passenger liner instead.

His enthusiasm again renewed, he continued with his experiments.  He now had a goal to achieve.  The MOD would still get their new toy, but a little later than planned wouldn’t hurt.

Initially, he’d thought his car had developed a fault when the engine cut out, until he found himself diving for cover below the dash.  Animal instinct, fine-tuned through years of front line battle experience, had sensed rather than seen the blinding light of the atomic bomb, detonated over the city of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, twenty miles away.

He slammed his foot on the brake and had slowed the car to a stop, just as the shock wave hit.

A wall of air travelling over a hundred miles an hour impacted the car with the force of a train, causing it to jump violently back.

He grabbed the handbrake and pulled it on.  Then, as a deafening roar filled his world, the car shuddered fiercely under the continuing onslaught.  Several seconds passed before it finally came to rest and Briggs emerged from cover.

“Fuck!  Fuck!” he yelled, pounding the steering wheel.  Then, leaping out of the vehicle, he clenched his fists and screamed in fury before turning his anger on his immobilised car.

The driver’s side window shattered when he slammed a foot into the panel and the door smashed into the frame.

“This is great!  This is just fucking great!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Five years working as a mercenary had accumulated Briggs a great deal of wealth.  Being a paid killer had been very profitable, but with nowhere to spend it, except the local shit-hole, he’d decided to return home until another interesting project arose.  He deposited his wealth in a Swiss bank account, then, back in England, started to settle into the millionaire life style when this happened.  He now questioned whether Switzerland still existed, never mind his bank.

Briggs took a deep breath and forced himself to calm.  He was now pleased that amongst his essential supplies, kept securely in the boot, he had everything he needed for such an emergency.

Hidden in a secret compartment below the spare tyre was a small arsenal of weaponry.  A machete and two hunting knives were stored in holsters along with a rifle, shotgun, two sub-machine guns and a large supply of bullets.  There was also enough food and water for a two-day journey.  Tins of food could be stored for years, but the water was replaced every couple of days.  Two days – he hoped it would be enough time to find a naturally filtered spring, or he’d have to rig something up after that.

Clean food and water would be worth killing for any day now, that he knew for sure.  It would take a little longer for the severity of the situation to sink in for most of the surviving civilians, but as a hardened soldier he was already aware of how bad things were going to get.  He had seen what desperate people could do; terrible things they would later not speak of; things best forgotten and only relived in nightmares.  He knew what he was capable of and it was far worse than they could imagine.

The darkness was pitch with all the motorway lights off.  This didn’t phase Briggs who was accustomed to it and actually preferred it.

His primitive instincts were sharpened by the touch of danger and it was then that he felt most alive.  He knew he was addicted to it: the danger, the hunt, and the feeling of power.  The power over the life and death of another, this one gave him the greatest rush of all.  This was why he became a mercenary, to do exactly what he liked to do best.  Being paid huge amounts of money was just a bonus.

A private army was useful even at the best of times, but now it would be essential.  There was an RAF base at Boulmer, so he decided to head off there and see if he could entice some of the men to join him.

He heaved his rucksack onto his back, then set off north at a comfortable pace.  A small LED flashlight, with a red filter to preserve night vision, was used to gently light the way ahead.

Tree debris, ripped loose in the shock wave, crunched gently underfoot for several miles before he finally reached the limits of its range.

He was still a few miles away from Boulmer when, clearing the brow of a hill, he could see the town of Alnwick in the distance.

Fire raged in the forests that spanned between the town border and the coastline to the east.  The RAF base, located near the cliffs, would have been a prime target and he knew immediately what had happened.

He stopped and reconsidered his plan.  A quick scan ahead revealed the motorway, which ran between the base and the ancient town, was blocked by fire.  Even so, he decided it would be best to still continue north.  The Cheviot Hills, just a short distance away, would provide perfect cover and a likely source of fresh water, then beyond there was the Scottish border.

He left the road, then crossed a field to follow a more indirect route which avoided the motorway and took him through Alnwick instead.

A short while later as he entered the ancient town, he could see, although still relatively intact, it hadn’t entirely escaped the effects of the blast.

A car windscreen was smashed when a roof tile, still embedded in the bonnet, had been ripped from its seating.  Windows and doors were cracked or broken, debris littered the road, and streetlamps were shattered.

Despite the lack of power the area was still well lit.  Low clouds, heavy with the first snows of winter, reflected the soft amber of fires below.

Cries for water, punctuated with screams, could be heard from the eastern borders.  If the blaze weren’t contained, it threatened to engulf the entire town.

Despite all of this Briggs walked on.  There would be another change of plan.  There were opportunities here, but not at the moment.  He would move further inland and wait for things to settle.  Then, after a few days when the radiation levels had dropped, he would return to take control of the town.  He had no doubt after such a trauma the residents would take commands from an experienced survivalist – and gladly so.  First, though, he would let their numbers dwindle, give them a serious taste of things to come, then return as their saviour.

Briggs smiled.  Even in the bleakest of times he could turn a situation to his advantage.  Whistling, he turned and headed out of town, travelling west towards the protection of the hills.

His speciality, physics, and hers, maths, overlapped on calculus and late one evening, whilst discussing their approaches to teaching, Jason asked her out.

She’d been reluctant at first.  At twenty-eight she was two years his senior, she felt this a little taboo; also, his laid-back, casual attitude, reflected in his attire, bore no comparison to her usual dates.  She was used to more formal men and found his ‘relaxed’ manner of dress slightly unappealing.  Still, there was no denying he was gorgeous, no matter what, and after some deliberating she agreed.

He’d had a paper published in a scientific journal some time ago, which Jessica had read before they’d even met.  It outlined the conversion of matter into a plasma signature and despite his confidence that teleportation was possible, she’d always felt it was based on flights of fancy – that was, until the evening of their first date.

Jason oozed infectious enthusiasm, but more importantly he was able to explain his theories at the layman’s level.  This was when Jessica’s eyes were opened, not only to the wonders of the atom, but also to the delights of this warm, charming, incredibly intelligent man.

By then, Jason’s theories on teleportation had attracted the attention of the MOD and secret negotiations were under way to provide him with funding to develop his system for the military.

Six months later as his role at the university began to diminish, more secretive work in laboratories away from the institution started to consume an increasing amount of time.

Jessica knew the lab’s location, but was unaware of the details of Jason’s work.  She remained in the dark until the day he asked her to marry him.

A perfect evening – dinner, champagne and a moonlit walk, which ended at the lab – finished in a perfect way.

Upstairs, in his office, Jason revealed a magic trick like no other.  An engagement ring was stored in the teleporter system’s buffer.  When he initiated the program and it materialised in a glass pod at Jessica’s feet, it was then she fully appreciated his genius.

****

Jessica stopped abruptly in the doorway leading from the hall to the lounge.  “Jason!  What’s Bell doing up here?”

He replied from a distant location.  “Bell?  She can’t be, she’s with me.”

“Well it must be Mitsie.  Come and get her, she’ll make a mess.”

The sound of soft plimsoles, running up wooden stairs, resonated from the basement.

“Cream carpet and rat droppings don’t go well together,” she added as he arrived, faster than expected, in the hall.

She waved a hand at the rodent.  “I’ve been shopping.  She was there when I came back.”

The white rat wandered around the hearth, meticulously examining the fireplace, completely ignoring their presence.

“She wasn’t there when I left.  It is Mitsie, isn’t it?  Unless they’re together I can’t always tell.”  Jessica stopped, then looked pointedly at her husband, suddenly aware she was talking to herself.

Jason, his face etched with puzzlement, passed his gaze slowly between the basement door and the rat, as though caught in a loop.

“Were you aware she was up here?  Or did she escape?” Jessica persisted.  She tugged at his hair in a futile attempt to gain his attention.

“It can’t possibly be Mitsie,” Jason replied distractedly.

“But you said it’s not Bell?”

“Well,” Jason lowered himself to his knees and examined the rodent more closely, “it certainly looks like Mitsie.”  He pushed back onto his heels and looked up at his wife.  “But Mitsie’s downstairs.”

Jessica’s face furrowed in a pained look of growing despair.  “So both our rats are in the basement?” she said, exasperated.

“They are now.”  Jason stood.  “But Mitsie did go missing for a short while ten minutes ago.  I did my first live experiment this afternoon using Mitsie,” he admitted reluctantly.  “She successfully dematerialised in Telepod One, but failed to materialise into Telepod Two.  When she still hadn’t returned, several minutes later, I thought the experiment had gone wrong and her signature was lost.”  He turned away as though to study the rat, but it was really to avoid his wife’s gaze; it was her who had chosen the names Mitsie and Bell.  He knew only too well of her feelings towards his experiments with live subjects and expected an angry response.

He was relieved when she simply said, “Poor Mitsie.”

“I was trying to figure out what went wrong,” he continued, “when she suddenly appeared back in the same pod.  I’d just put her away when you called.”

“Could she have teleported from the machine to somewhere else?”

He shook his head.  “No.  It shouldn’t be possible.  Theoretically she should only be teleported to a point where she could be reassembled.”

Jessica moved to the hearth.  “So where do you think this rat came from?”  She stooped to pick up the rodent and was just about to touch it when suddenly it vanished.

For several stunned seconds, the pair stared dumbstruck at the point where the rat had been.

“What happened?” Jessica finally asked, her eyes wide, her voice hushed.

Jason simply shook his head, his features emotionless and blank.  He seemed less phased than his wife, but this wasn’t the first time he’d seen something disappear.  “I’ve no idea.”

He turned and left the room, hurrying back downstairs.

Jessica followed behind.

In the basement both rats were at the food bowl, safely confined in their cage.

“Teleport Mitsie again,” Jessica suggested.  “I’ll go back upstairs to see if that rat reappears in the lounge.”

Jason opened the cage and removed Mitsie.  “Good idea.”

Jessica started upstairs.  “Don’t begin till I’m ready.”

He waited for the call before putting Mitsie into the telepod, then initiating the sequence.  The power charged and again the rat disappeared.

“That’s it!  She’s gone!”

Upstairs, Jessica could see no sign of the rodent.  She checked the floor, then stooped to look beneath units and chairs before eventually reporting back.  “She’s not here!”

“Wait!  She’s returned!” Jason informed.  He moved to the bottom of the stairs.  “She was in the basement last time, when you called to say she was in the lounge.  Stay where you are and see what happens.”  He crossed to the telepod and opened the door.

As he removed Mitsie from the machine he noticed the fur at the side of her mouth was discoloured.  She also seemed more agitated this time.  He cradled and gently stroked her and she slowly began to calm.

“It’s alright baby,” he soothed.  He carefully examined the mark.  “She seems to have cut her face,” he yelled.  The stain was obviously blood.

Jessica suddenly noticed the rodent seen earlier, on the floor of the lounge.  “Jason, that rat’s back!  Did you say Mitsie was hurt?  There’s no marks on this one; its fur’s clear.”  She moved to pick up the rodent, then suddenly cried out in alarm and wrenched her arm sharply away.  She shook her hand in pain, then paused to examine a finger.  A thick globule of blood oozing from a deep cut, caused by the animal’s razor-sharp teeth, was already beginning to clot.

The startled rat turned and ran away, but before it could reach the safety of the hallway it, once again, vanished.

Jason hurried upstairs to find Jessica cradling the wounded digit.

“It happened again.  It disappeared.  But look at this!”  She waved the injured finger in Jason’s face.  “It bit me.”

He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped the wound to stem the bleeding.  “Something has definitely gone wrong.”

“Do you think that was Mitsie?” Jessica asked.  She shook her head.  “There were no marks.”

Jason stopped binding the finger.  “No marks,” he said thoughtfully.

“No.  Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, positive.”

His brown eyes became distant.  “You saw both sides of her face?” he asked slowly.

“Yes.”

“And they were both clear?”

“Yes!” Jessica snapped, annoyed at having to reiterate.

He paused a moment, thinking, then turned and hurried from the room.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to check something.”  He disappeared downstairs.

“Come on, sweetie,” Jason cooed as he removed Mitsie from the cage.  “It’s the last time you’ll be disturbed.”  He took a sample of the stained fur, resettled the rat, then returned upstairs.  “I’m popping to the labs.  I won’t be long.”

Jessica joined him in the hall.  “Have you got a theory?”

“Yes, but that’s all at the moment.”  He pulled on his coat.

“Want to share it?”  Her voice fluttered excitedly with anticipation.

He shook his head.  “Not at the moment.  You’ll think I’m mad.”

She raised her brow and tightened her lips.  Intrigued, she watched him close the door.

When Jason returned home several hours later Jessica was surprised to see he was in a more solemn mood.  She placed down her book as he entered the living room and scanned his features for clues to the cause.  “What’s the matter?”  She patted the couch.

He crossed over and slowly sat down.  “I analysed the fur around Mitsie’s mouth.”

“And?”

He looked distant and worried.  “The results confirmed it was blood… and… the blood was human.”

“Human?  How could that be?”

He turned to face his wife to gauge her reaction.  “Well… I can only surmise the blood was yours,” he answered cautiously.

Jessica shook her head.  “She was in the basement with the mark on her face, before I was bit in the lounge.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“But that could only mean…” she stopped.  Reluctant to complete the sentence she paused, fearful of sounding crazy.

“If,” Jason continued, “she jumped into the future, bit you, then returned to the basement, her lip stained with blood.”  He spoke very slowly as though clarifying all of the facts in his mind as he laid them out before her.

There was a long period of silence as they both absorbed the magnitude of their discovery.

It was Jessica who spoke first.  “This is fabulous!” her face animated with excitement.

“No, it’s not,” Jason replied solemnly.

“Why not?”  His guarded reaction was confusing.

“There’s great danger in the discovery of such a device.  There’d be people prepared to kill to get their hands on it.”

Jessica’s face opened into a wide grin and she laughed.  “You’re being very dramatic.”

“Perhaps, but not a word must be breathed,” he warned.  “Not until I’m sure I know what I have and, more importantly, how to control it.”

“So how could a teleporter suddenly turn into a time machine?  You said it was transporting items quite successfully between pods.  Now it’s suddenly started teleporting them into the future.”

He shrugged.  “The only thing different was the transition from inanimate to animate objects.  This is the first time I’ve used a live subject.”  He drew a circle in the air with a finger.  “Living matter has its own electrical field which could have altered the electrical pulses of the teleporter.”

Jessica smiled, she loved the way he had to use his hands to explain something.

“The introduction of live matter must have forced an additional calculation I wasn’t aware of.”  He stopped, then looked lovingly at his wife.  “Either way you’re right, it is fabulous.”  His mood rose.  “Starting tomorrow there’s lots of work to be done,” he took her in his arms, “but tonight we celebrate!”

The launch of missiles, detected by satellites, set the wheels in motion for the retaliatory strikes to begin.

No nation escaped the cascade that followed; even those neutral in the war.

Detonation was the only warning for most that things had escalated beyond reason as the use of thermo-weapons had never been discussed.  A huge electromagnetic pulse, which fried all electrical equipment inside the strike zone, shut down power grids and plunged the region into darkness.  A microsecond later there followed a flash of intense white light, which filled the sky, as a small sun erupted within the city.

As the glare burned the corneas from their eyes, it simultaneously cauterised their optic nerves, but the blindness and pain only distressed for a nanosecond.  Superheated air, expanding at a rate of 400 metres per second, dwarfed all previous torment.  Skin was seared and lungs disintegrated as a last agonised breath choked in the furnace.

On the fringes of the inferno, fires erupted in every direction whilst in the centre, where temperatures reached millions of degrees centigrade, everything was vaporised in a millisecond.  The scorching, dust-filled air tore upward in a fiery plume, looking, to all at a distance safe enough to witness the madness, as though hell had broken loose.  Seconds later it hit the stratosphere where, cooling, it began to fan outwards, forming the terrifying calling card of man’s most destructive weapon.

There was no hope on January 28^th.  The mercy for most was death came swiftly.

On a worldwide scale, billions died immediately following the initial strikes, and in the weeks after, millions more from radiation and starvation.

None of this had to happen; none of this should have happened; and it wouldn’t have happened had it not been for the good intentions of one man.

Two coils, three metres in diameter, were aligned between the ceiling and the floor.  Jointly they would generate the invisible, ectorine, holding field.

As his fog of doubt cleared and Thomas realised there were no more barriers to trapping the creature, a twinge of excitement rippled through his being.  He had been twenty years coming to this point and, as he allowed himself the luxury of revelling in his predicted success, he thought back to the events that led up to his original encounter.

Thirteen year old Thomas heaved his body forward then pulled the embedded boot from the snow behind him.  Lifting his leg high he swung the heavily treaded sole round then took another laboured step onward sinking deeply into the glistening crystals again.

An intense, unnatural silence engulfed the forest like a thick blanket.  As he strained to hear even the smallest noise, searching for evidence he wasn’t alone, only snow crunching under foot and the sound of his own struggles echoed back from the trees to greet him.

Cold ate through his layers of thermal and wool as if they were tissue, exposed skin had been burning from the start and each breath was as though powdered glass was shredding his lungs.  But none of this dampened his resolve.  His grandmother’s life depended on his success after a fall down the stairs had left her unconscious.

Ice-laden lines had been torn from the phone posts two days ago and his parents weren’t due back from their trip until tomorrow.  So Thomas had set off walking the half-mile to a neighbour’s in the hope of getting help there.

The torch he’d brought had been of little use as the light travelled only a short distance before freezing fog, which had settled on the forest floor, scattered the beam into a dazzling array of infinite particles.

It wasn’t long before Thomas strayed from the path – a well-worn walkway – now buried deep beneath the snow.  Disorientated in the thick fog he’d moved further into the forest and soon found himself in unfamiliar territory.  Branches whipped his skin and snagged his clothing as he pushed through the trees, desperate to regain his bearings.

As shadows merged into blackness, beneath the dense canopy, the snow took on an eerie, grey cast.  Then suddenly, a faint light, only visible because of the intensity of the surrounding darkness, drew his focus.  When Thomas realised the distant glimmer could only indicate the edge of the trees he changed direction.

His rising panic was instantly quelled as he broke free of the enclosure and his relief heightened when he saw a road in the distance.  This improved further when he spotted two small headlights weaving their way towards him but, as he hurried to intercept the vehicle before it passed by, he failed to notice a dip in the snow.

He caught his foot on the edge and fell into the opening, striking his knee hard on a boulder, barely concealed, at the bottom.

Pain coursed through his leg instantaneously, causing Thomas to feel faint and nauseous.  Pausing briefly, to gather himself, he waited until the stabbing ache subdued, but when he attempted to stand a further wave of pain forced him back to the ground and confirmed his worst fears.  Chastising himself for his carelessness, Thomas called out in the hope that someone would hear, but it wasn’t long before his clothing was soaked and his body chilled.  As he became drowsy his cries slowed and began to subside – and it was then that Thomas had a vision.

A very bright light appeared out of the darkness directly ahead and as he looked up, his lids so heavy he could hardly lift them, he found floating before him a luminous being.  The bulk of the creature consisted of an intense white light, which glowed with such brilliance it seemed as though it would be essential to look away.  Thomas felt no need to avert his gaze, which was firmly fixed on the only identifiable feature.

High cheek bones, covered in milky white skin, were gently defined with a dusting of rose.  Large, friendly, smiling, eyes, of an indistinguishable colour, looked down lovingly at the freezing child.  And as it hung before Thomas on an aura of light which created the impression of wings in the air, it radiated the most glorious warmth.

Convinced he was hallucinating and the being’s appearance meant his death, Thomas accepted his fate and closed his eyes, waiting to be taken.

There was a period of silence then suddenly voices could be heard.  At first they seemed some distance away but, as the sounds increased and slowly drew closer Thomas became more aware of his surroundings.

The excruciating cold, which had dominated his thoughts, was now gone.  Instead, there was the feel of cotton and his mother’s perfume.  Tentatively he opened his eyes.

He was lying in a hospital bed, his anxious parents by his side.  Reassurance of his grandmother’s safety was quickly forthcoming, but only after he’d submitted to the obligatory outpouring of affection.

Returning from their trip early, they had started a search the moment they’d realised their son was missing.  He was soon found just off the road after his father had noticed a small, but brilliant, light in a nearby field.  He’d thought at first it was a torch beam, but as Edward Granger had drawn near, close enough to spot Thomas lying in the hollow, the illumination extinguished.

Twenty years later the obsession with these creatures, which started that day, still burned strong and had been Thomas’ field of research ever since.

Once his studies, in physics and religion, were completed at University, he began to gather information on hundreds of encounters similar to his own.  Still, a decade later, he felt as though he knew very little about them.  Who were they?  Where did they come from?  These and numerous other questions were Thomas’ driving force.

The only constant discovered, so far, was immediately after an encounter there was always a large amount of quasorial energy in the room.  Small quantities of quasorial energy could be created artificially in the lab.  When he realised an ectorine field would allow him to contain it Thomas began to consider the possibility of holding a being for the purpose of study.  He was unsure at this stage of how he would persuade it to come to him.  Despite this, Thomas built the containment chamber and was now able to begin to test his theory.

Small amounts of quasorial energy was easily created, but his initial experiments in its entrapment did not go well.  The containment field collapsed after only a matter of seconds and further experiments proved that a great deal more ectorine was required to produce a stable environment.

It was late one night, and purely by chance, that Thomas discovered how to attract a being.  He forgot to activate the containment field after initiating the quasorial energy.  He quickly realised his mistake but, before he had the chance to activate the ectorine, suddenly there was a being in the room.  Thomas had barely the time to acknowledge its presence when just as quickly it was gone.  Repeating the experiment without the containment field, he was disappointed to find the creature did not return.  He worked for a further two hours without success and was about to give up for the evening when it happened again.

The being appeared beside the containment unit for barely a second before disappearing.

Thomas’ mind was racing and sleep came only with exhaustion that night.  By morning he had the answer.  It seemed his quasorial energy had been mistaken for the presence of a fellow being.  Once the error was realised, they instantly moved on.

Inspired, Thomas pressed on with his experiments.  Speed was of the essence, with the containment field’s activation, as the creatures only appeared briefly.  With the ectorine on standby, Thomas started the quasorial energy generator.

He had his first visitor within ten minutes, but wasn’t fast enough with the containment field.  It was a further hour before there was another.  Yawning and stretching, he briefly looked away.  When he returned his attention to the chamber he saw he was no longer alone.

The creature, which stood eight feet tall and had black curly hair, was less luminous than the others and seemed quite solid.  Its manner of dress was different also.  It wore the attire of a warrior; light leather armour consisting of a breastplate and a skirt protected by straps weighted with decorative metal studs.  The sword sheathed on the left finished the look, which was every inch a Roman God.  A pair of immense, smoky grey wings, which fanned out from its back, whose composition appeared to be of the softest downy feathers, further enhanced its breathtaking beauty.

For some reason this one had chosen to linger and to Thomas’ surprise it was studying him.  For seconds the pair stood and stared at each other before Thomas remembered to activate the containment field.

Initially the being looked surprised and shock briefly flickered across its face before, just as quickly, it was calm again.  “Why have you trapped me?” it asked.

“So we can talk,” Thomas replied.

“Talk?  About what?”

“I want to ask about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Who are you and where do you come from?”

“My race?”

“Yes.”

“Your people choose to call us angels.”

“Angels!  I thought you were angels,” Thomas said excitedly.  “Tell me about God.”

“God?  Who or what is God?” the being asked, perplexed.

“God, your father, the creator of the universe,” Thomas replied more cautiously.  He found its question disturbing.

“I don’t know who created the universe, but my people have not believed in Gods for millions of years.”

“Your people?  What do you mean your people?”

“We are Seraph.  We are travellers.”

“So you’re not creatures of God, you’re not God’s immortal soldiers?”

“No.  At one time we were just like you, but we evolved in the same way you have evolved.  Some creatures on this planet may think you are Gods.  You encase yourselves in metal and fly above the ground at many times the speed of sound.  When doing so, you exceed your own natural abilities thousands of times over.  There are creatures that live for only one day.  Your species lives for tens of thousands of times longer than they and we live for millions of times longer than you, which is why we seem eternal.  Our planet’s lack of resources dictated our evolution.  We were forced to evolve more cerebrally, until we reached the point where we could study space with our minds.  Eventually, though, we could travel not just mentally but physically also.  So you see, I am no more a child of a higher being than you.”

“For thousands of years,” Thomas said desperately, “the people of my planet have talked about angels and the help they give.”

“Folklore.  Wishful thinking, to ease the horrors of death.  Most of what you think you know about us is untrue.”

“Most?  But not all?”

“Not all of your stories are wrong.”

“Which?  Which of the stories are true?” Thomas asked, his excitement rekindled.

“Fallen angels.  These stories are correct.  They have been cast out of our world, never to return.  This leaves them homeless.”  Then the creature smiled.

This unnerved Thomas.  “Do you have a name?” he asked, slowly.

“Yes.  Nebathan.”

It was a name that Thomas, unfortunately, knew well.  Nebathan was one of Lucifer’s leading warriors.  A member of the elite force, he’d been responsible for the deaths of thousands in the heavenly wars.

As a flicker of recognition crossed Thomas’ face, Nebathan again smiled.  “I like it here.  I may not be a God but, compared to your puny species, I might as well be.”

“You cannot escape the containment field,” Thomas said, slowly.

“Containment field.”  Nebathan laughed.

Thomas felt shock setting in.

“I have stayed only out of curiosity.  I wanted to know why you would construct such a device.  Did you seriously think it would work?  You have no idea of how powerful I truly am.  If this is the best you can do, it’s a joke.”  Nebathan looked at his surroundings.  “I’d never really thought about making this feeble world my domain but, now you’ve entertained me so, I think I’ll stay.”

Thomas realised he was being toyed with and there was nothing he could do to stop it.  At will, the creature could pass through the holding field to the devastation of the entire planet.

Nebathan’s smile left his face as he stepped effortlessly out of the containment chamber.  He stood, as tall as the room, triumphantly before Thomas.  “Now watch in awe as, with a wave of my hand, I destroy all who stand against me.  Each country will be made aware they’ll worship me from now on.”  He lifted his arm, but before he could make a move, suddenly another Seraph appeared in the room.

“Nebathan.  What have you been doing?” the new arrival asked, sharply.

“Nothing!  You have no right to question me,” Nebathan replied indignantly.

“Our father will be very angry with you.”

Thomas, who had been standing silently off to one side wishing he could disappear into the walls, suddenly found the courage to speak.  “Your father?  Are you brothers?”

The new arrival faced Thomas, acknowledging his presence for the first time.  “Yes we’re brothers.  We’re all brothers.”

Thomas’ interest grew.  “Then who is your father?”  But he was cut short when a look from the creature chilled his soul.

“Be warned, Thomas Granger, our father is very angry with you also.  There are things in this universe you are not ready to know.  Nebathan was enticed here to teach you a lesson.  Think yourself lucky it was stopped.  You will know what lies beyond only when the time is right.”  Then turning to Nebathan it said, “It is time for us to go,” and then they were gone.  Leaving Thomas alone in a room, stripped of his containment chamber, quasorial energy generator and notes.

At a high-ranking meeting to discuss their findings they are sworn to secrecy. It isn’t long though, before their young, but brilliant, apprentice, Lauren, discovers the impending catastrophe. As the true horror is revealed she must soon make a decision which will turn her world upside down…

A runaway global warming crisis revolves around more horrific problems which emerge due to the birth of another sun in our Solar System.

Distant Suns is a heart-wrenching, apocalyptic, thriller about love, self-sacrifice and the human ability to adapt and survive in the face of impending extinction.

If you have an interest in astronomy, like drama with a good dash of excitement and enjoy science fiction, which takes place in the present, but is not too deeply immersed in the genre – then this is the novel for you.

Distant Suns:  Sample chapters (the first two, plus a  further two which give a better idea of how the novel evolves) are available to read as a post on this site.  You can own an electronic version of the complete Distant Suns for £1.34 at www.amazon.co.uk and for $1.99 at www.amazon.com from the Kindle Store at both sites.

Praise for Distant Suns:“The subject matter of your book couldn’t be more topical or timely and I found the central premise of your story to be fascinating. All the material in your book to do with the gas clouds, asteroids, superheating, etc., is absolutely brilliant. You manage to put across very simply some ideas that I am sure are actually quite complicated. The inclusion later on in the narrative of those short scenes from various corners of the world helps to establish the global impact of the story. It also opens the narrative out, lending it a pleasing cinematic feel and creating a sense of urgency and community. ” – TLC

“Both Cindy, our publisher, and I agree that the novel is wonderful…” – Ed Lord