Tales of the Sentinel

Jason Farmer

Description

The aeons passed on Earth, its evolving simians unaware of a strange artefact that patiently waited for them to make their introduction. Inevitably, as the ancient guest continued its orbit around the Sun in the void between Venus and the blue world the humans noticed its presence. However, would their inquisitive nature truly want to know the story recorded within the artefact? Was humanity prepared for the revelations that the ancient object had to offer? A set of ideas and mathematical understanding that would gift them a means to take control of their technological destiny. Yet as a notable human once said, nothing is free. So what price would have to be paid to claim their quarry?

Sujets

• Spectrum
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse UK
• Date de parution: 09 février 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665590884
• Langue: English

Extrait

TALES OF THE SENTINEL
SPECTRUM
JASON FARMER


AuthorHouse ™ UK
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403 USA
www.authorhouse.co.uk
Phone: UK TFN: 0800 0148641 (Toll Free inside the UK) UK Local: (02) 0369 56322 ([phone] from outside the UK)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
© 2023 Jason Farmer. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 02/06/2023
 
ISBN: 978-1-6655-9089-1 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-9090-7 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-9088-4 (e)
 
 
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
Epilogue
I
‘Seventy two hours.’ Lamented William Hayle as he tried in vain to avoid looking once more at a wall mounted digital clock.
Sitting on a coffee table in front of him was another silent frustration. A circular dial telephone that he would glance at ever more frequently desperate for it to ring.
The expected call, Will hoped, would clarify a start date for his new employment.
Having previously been contracted as a junior engineer maintaining jet engines for the air force, Will’s highly merited skill was much appreciated by his former employers.
Yet, as comfortable as he was in the job, there was always a nagging urge to expand his horizons. An ambition to not just repair engines but also design and build them.
Inspired by the fast evolving space age and it’s call for new technologies the ambitious technician began writing thesis which if published could rapidly advance his career.
After years of research and garden shed practice he submitted to the usual scientific journals another revised paper describing an inventive new method of ionized propulsion.
Will ruminated his numerous designs that had failed at the patent level and decided the newest proposal was a last gasp attempt at success. Accepting the notion that failure could well be the ultimate fate of his idea.
However, upon this occasion, optimism did not have to be so easily denied.
Although Will had not received any formal letter confirming a patent there was an informal request for him to wait until contacted by contract executors.
So on a dull rainy day, similar to that which rattled the sash windows of his temporary apartment, Will was approached by representatives of the most prominent transport agencies, N.A.S.A.. And on their person a contract describing the preliminary time frame in which to build his engine.
Contrary to William’s original design, which had modeled a craft unable to push anything more than a hundred pounds in weight through the vacuum of space, the contract suggested a payload of sixty tonnes.
The imaginative engineers first speculative thought was that of a Luna swing-boat. A craft with low fuel cost that could regularly ship large amounts of cargo between Earth and Moon orbit.
However, William’s Swing Boat concept was neither acknowledged or denied as being the reason for the build.
‘All we can say is that it is a once in a life time opportunity.’ Said the space administrations representative.
As far as William was concerned nothing more needed to be said. He was easily sold on the notion that momentum could be added to his career by signing the contract.
After happily inscribing his signature on a disclaimer preventing him from speaking about the meeting Will was taken to the address at which he now waited for further notice.
Concluding that staring at the telephone was not going to make it do anything Will sighed, lifted himself from the couch and wandered over to the window in search of some entertainment.
The street was in the middle of a squall. Driving rain and hail pummeled those unlucky enough that their daily routine required them to battle against the English weather. Their enduring faces hidden either by wet newspaper or umbrella made Will feel relatively happy that he was indoors. With the caveat that it was becoming mind-numbingly boring to be so.
‘I should have asked for a guitar.’ He said to himself feeling morbidly inspired by the gray scene.
The sound of a clattering bell caused the daydreamer to jump in his skin. After a short moments contemplation he flew into action and hastily snatched the telephones hand piece from it’s mount.
After taking a deep breath he patiently placed the cold, plastic speaker against his ear.
‘William...Hayle.’ He said with a nervous stammer.
‘Thank you for your patience Mr Hayle.” Replied a posh Englishman. “Your instructions are as follows. A taxi will take you to Gatwick North Terminal. A representative will be waiting with your flight plan. Please remember your original briefing and thank you for participating in project X-One.’
The line went dead before further inquiry could be made about the project.
Another racket buzzed through the air originating from an intercom at the front door. Noticing that a taxi was already waiting outside Will grabbed a satchel carrying his traveling effects and rushed to leave the apartment.
He would have preferred to head straight for the airport; adrenaline causing Will’s feet to jitter with anticipation. Yet the driver was clearly taking a scenic route through the city.
‘By request of the bill payer.’ Explained the cabby.
It was the long way to the airport. So what the bill payers suggestion seemed to imply was that there would be no return home anytime soon for the passenger.
Thus Will allowed himself to enjoy the spectacle. Studying the passing topography so as to keep a clear memory of the day he hoped his life would forever change.
There was also a nostalgia to be gained from the view. Water stained stone facades, like the moors he and his family would annually walk, constantly changed their mottled fashion as sunbeams came and went with the shower clouds.
The historic structures, even in their obvious age, stood proud against the glass and steel of modernity. The ancient city having found a satisfying balance between the revered past and excitement of it’s future.
After leaving the streets of the metropolis Will was soon at the airport. He was then quickly greeted by a waiting representative.
‘Hello Mr Hayle. My name is Elara Carnegie.’
Her smooth Gaelic accent made his name sound like an ice-cream topping.
Momentarily distracted Will almost did not register the handshake which had been politely offered.
Wearing an earth colored suit that slid over rounded hips and sporting big sparkling eyes which magically parted her loose fringe Will found himself instantly attracted to his concierge. He subconsciously looked for a ring but an envelope she was handing to him blocked the view of her wedding finger.
‘I’ll escort you to the project facility and aid in your inception.” Said Elara. “I’ll forewarn you that the projects scale will be a little vexing.’
From the envelope Will took a ticket printed upon which was their flights, somewhat odd, destination.
‘Chengdu. Shuangliu international. China?’ Inquired Will with bemusement.
The confusion was understandable as to the best of his knowledge there were no United States installations in the red zone. At least not any associated with NASA.
It was all very strange and definitely something that could only have been achieved by high ranking state officials.
‘Don’t worry.” Said Elara as she leaned forward with a subtle grin “We are all friends here.’
‘It’s nice to know that the notion of universal joy still exists.’ Quipped Will.
They made their way through check-in security and passport control eventually reaching the terminal restaurant. All the while Will tried to think of something intelligent to ask yet nothing came to mind such was the vale of secrecy surrounding project X-One.
‘What would you like to eat?” Elara asked drawing Will’s attention from his own thoughts. “Wait. I know. Cod in batter, chips and braised peas.’
‘And I thought we had only just met.’ Will said pedantically; instinctively defending the uncomfortable feeling gained from someone knowing virtually everything about oneself without having previously made their acquaintance.
‘And to drink? I’m having a bloody Mary.’
‘I’ll just have an orange juice, thanks’
‘Suit yourself.’ Said Elara before heading to the restaurant counter.
Drawn to the view of his escorts straight backed and satisfyingly sophisticated stride Will saw a person that did not appear to be just a stiff in a suit. Instead she walked with an air of exuberance. Clearly confident but not power driven.
Will told himself off for staring and subsequently managed to defy the urge to rudely spy on Elara.
Attraction aside Will did have an ulterior motive for his inquisitiveness. That being an attempt to glean clues about the project via profiling it’s staff.
Upon Elara’s return Will was once more lost in thought as he watched through the restaurants panoramic window a production line of planes come and go from their bays. Pondering not only their mechanics but also where their precious cargo wa