The Beacon: Hard Science Fiction Brandon Morris (love story novels in english .txt) 📖

He was already lying in bed again when Franziska called him.

“I wanted to thank you for the nice welcome home,” she said, “I appreciate it, even though it was a shame you had to travel.”

She didn’t sound as upset as she had yesterday.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go through with this now,” he said. “I think our futures depend on it. Our children’s, too.”

“I admire you a little bit for that,” Franziska said, “even though I think you’re wrong. But you’re really committed to it.”

“You’ll see that I’m right.”

He said that, although he hoped it wasn’t so, because Franziska would only realize that he was right if the CubeSat project failed, and then they’d all be dead.

“After all, we don’t have to sort it out now,” said Franziska. “Anyway, it was a beautiful day in the garden, with sun and Aperol Spritz. And, your day?”

“I went to see a mine, where we were taken down to five hundred and forty meters. Just imagine that feeling, five hundred and forty meters of rock above you.”

“Thank you, no. Just the idea is enough for me.”

“We could have rented snowshoes or skis.”

“Thank you, Peter. I’ve really had enough of snow now that we’re at the end of March. I was delighted to be able to lie in the sun today. The only thing that would have appealed to me if I were there would have been the northern lights.”

“Are you... Will you still be there when I come back on Tuesday? I’d be glad.”

“I can think about that tomorrow. In any case, I’ll spend the night here again tonight. It feels good to sleep in my own bed again.”

Peter was still lying awake and thinking about the conversation. Franziska didn’t seem to be as angry with him anymore. What else did she say? The aurora borealis would have delighted her.

He looked at the clock. It was now shortly before ten. That should be a good time to search the sky for them. He crawled out from under the covers and got dressed again.

It took a while to find a place where the trees did not interfere with the view of the sky. Sure enough, there they were. Pale, rather gray flags were waving in the black firmament. At first glance, they resembled thin veils of clouds, but when he looked closely, he recognized a greenish tinge. A few meters away, a man had mounted a cellphone on a tripod and was using it to photograph the sky.

“May I?” asked Peter in English.

“Gladly,” the man said.

Peter looked at the display of the cellphone. The northern lights were visible in much richer contrast. But he didn’t have a tripod, and handheld, long exposures wouldn’t work. It didn’t matter. He had the images in his head, which were enough to describe them to Franziska.

March 30, 2026 – Kiruna

It was still dark when the alarm clock on his cellphone rang. Peter got up and switched on the light. Today was the big day, and the thought made him a little nauseous. He quickly put on some clothes, freshened up in the toilet hut, and went to breakfast.

It was icy and clear. He looked up at the sky, and a thousand stars stared down on him. They blinked and winked much less than at home in Passau. It was as if the heavens were much more serious about him here. He stopped and looked for Sigma Draconis, but he couldn’t find the star, not because it was no longer there, but because the night sky was figuratively overflowing with stars. How was anyone supposed to believe that some were missing?

The door to the communal hut opened with a loud creak that echoed off the trees. A sonic boom could hardly be louder in this wilderness. He looked around, but the lights didn’t suddenly go on in any of the other huts.

It was lukewarm inside. The young woman was not here yet, but yesterday she’d put everything he would need in front of him. He only had to turn on the coffee machine himself. He had also already checked out, as he would not be returning to Reindeer Lodge. It didn’t take long before the smell of coffee permeated the room. Peter calmed down. He didn’t give a damn about these strange feelings.

The launch would succeed, of that there was no doubt. Rockets Plus had done everything to ensure the maiden flight of their new rocket did not fail. A lot depended on it for the company, not the least its IPO. The company’s engineers were unaware that failure would also mean the end of the solar system.

It was slowly getting light as he made his way to the launch center. The trees along the roadside emerged from the darkness as if reporting for duty in the Lapland tree army. Peter yawned. He opened the side window, and the icy air quickly dispelled the rest of his tiredness. A rickety Volvo overtook him. It was the quintessential Swedish cliché.

After a while, he saw a couple of large white satellite dishes on the right side of the road. That must be the ESA ground station mentioned on the launch center website. It was therefore exactly seven kilometers farther. The odometer had advanced six more kilometers when he saw the illuminated entrance. The wooden building beside it was the visitor center. Even though there was light in the sky, the center would not open until eight.

He saw a light on inside the glassed-in porter’s lodge. Peter parked the car at the side, walked to a small window, and knocked on it. A woman was sitting inside. She pointed to the back with her left hand. He walked around the little house to a door at the rear. He kicked the snow residue off his shoes, opened the door, and went inside.

“You must be Peter Kraemer,” the woman said in English. “I