Beyond Uranus

by Stewart Bruce & Nigel Moreland

  I knew about the moon landings as a child because I had watched documentaries about them. I had seen the shuttle taking off for the first time and the explosions in later years. Even though I knew it was dangerous, as a child I had always wanted to be an astronaut. As I got older I realised that only American and Russians went into space. I then realised that only the very best special test pilots got to fly the shuttles. My dreams were shattered as I became aware of my lack of ability and nationality. And here I was looking back at the Earth and I felt five years old again.

  “Good afternoon Mister McCormack. Congratulations on completing phase one of your training which is arriving here without having a nervous breakdown.” I turned to see a very strange looking man with very white, albino-like skin, white spiky hair, black jumpsuit, and black rimmed glasses with lenses that had a pink tone to them.

  “Simon! How the hell did you get here so fast?”

  “I’m not that Simon.”

  I paused for a few moments and said “But you look like Simon. Is this a joke?”

  “Sorry, this is not a joke. I am not Simon.”

  “OK. So what do I call you?”

  “My name is Simon.”

  “I’m so confused. You’re not Simon but you are Simon. I don’t get it.”

  “Let me explain. The Simon you met on Earth is the recruiting officer for the company. I am Simon the pilot instructor for the company. We are two separate people although we obviously share common characteristics.”

  “So you look alike and have the same name.”

  “Yes, well done. We share both names. I am also Simon Philberts.”

  “So are you twins?”

  “No.”

  “Clones?”

  “No. We are a combination of the two. Cloning is a very messy method of continuing a genetic line because there is a degradation of the genetic material that exponentially deteriorates with each subsequent clone. We are identical but not twins. Twins have similar, almost identical, but not quite, genetic codes but all Simons are identical like a clone without the problems of genetic degradation.”

  “Oh, I see.” I didn’t get it but didn’t want to appear rude, or thick.

  “Excellent. If you’d like to take a seat and strap yourself in I will tell you some information before we depart.” I sat and strapped myself into a seat behind Simon the pilot instructor. Simon was sat at in a chair that swivelled around to face me. Behind him was a flight deck that looked very minimal. I didn’t know what to expect but when I’ve seen images of the cockpit of the shuttle it looked like a sea of dials and computers. In comparison this cockpit looked empty. A few dials, a couple of joy sticks and a few screens.

  “Are you ready for some new information?”

  “I think so,” I said.

  “We’re going to depart soon, enter Hyper Travel for thirty seconds and arrive at Earth Station Three. When you arrive you will be taken to the Doctor for a routine reconstruction. After that you will spend a little time acclimatising yourself to the station and then you will enter training with me. Any questions?”

  “What’s reconstruction?”

  “I will let the Doctor explain that to you, for now, let’s say that it will make a new man of you.”

  “If we’re diverting intergalactic traffic so it cannot be detected by earth then how come we’re in Earth orbit now? Aren’t you afraid we’ll be detected?

  “Good question. First of all we’re black and second of all we are totally absorbent to all sorts of radar and we emit nothing, like radio frequencies, that can be detected by Earth. We love SETI but it’s like Native Americans trying to detect satellite transmissions by checking for smoke signals. The ships we divert don’t bother to try and camouflage themselves and don’t bother using radar absorbent materials, so they can be easily seen from within the orbit of Mars and easily detected by your Earth systems.”

  “Nice. What training am I going to do?”

  “Well, you’re wearing white with a red stripe. That makes you, or will make you a pilot once I’ve finished with you.”

  “Brilliant, flying, I love it. What’s powering the shuttle we’re in?”

  “This shuttle, Earth Station, your new ship and almost everything that needs some form of power or energy is supplied by a Quantum Singularity Drive.”

  “A black hole?”

  “Well done, I’m impressed. Not many people give me that answer. Even some of the Doctor’s of Physics miss that one. A black hole is super compressed mass and we use varying amounts to power almost everything. The more power we need the bigger the mass. Have you noticed the gravity? That’s the Quantum Singularity Drive.”

  “Wow. How do you get it?”

  “There is a lot of information we do not divulge to Earth. Does it work Roy?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all you need to know. If you’re ready I will take you through your first Hyper Travel jump.” Simon swivelled his chair around to have a look over a couple of the dials. He then swivelled his chair back and said “By the way, what did you have for tea last night.”

  “Pizza.”

  “Pizza? That’s OK, especially if it is one that you baked for yourself, however the ready-made type are often less nutritional and high in saturates.”

  “Not very nutritional? Are you kidding? Pizza has the lot. It’s got carbs, some veggies and protein all included in one easy to cook meal.”

  “If you say so Mister McCormack, did you consume anything else? Coke, water, juice, biscuits...”

  “No, just Pizza and lager. Actually I had a bit of a celebration so it was quite a few lagers.”

  Simon reached inside a pouch at the side of the cockpit and pulled out a brown bag. “Take this,” he said, “you will need it.”

  “OK but I’ve flown on a number of occasions and I’ve been fine. I once came back from Spain with the biggest hang over of my life after a last night binge in the local taverns and I was fine, compared to that I’m in top condition.”

  “Very good, and did you travel back via hyperspace? I didn’t think so, hold the bag close please.” Simon swivelled his chair around and faced the cockpit. “Computer?”

  “Yes Simon,” replied a quiet voice from the front of the cockpit.

  “Are we ready with the Hyper Travel and have you set the co-ordinates for Earth Station Three?”

  “Yes Simon we are all set.”

  “Power up and engage the drive.”

  There was a slight whine and then my world turned upside down. I saw all the stars from the front window disappear and the view became total, sucks the light out of your eyes, blackness. It felt like my head turned through three hundred and sixty degrees and my whole body had been turned inside out and I puked and puked and then puked some more. This was the full degree level sickness and continued long past the complete emptying of my stomach contents. And I’m sure that I heard Simon that wasn’t Simon but is Simon laughing.

  *

  Thirty seconds after entering Hyper Travel we returned back to normal space. Simon turned to me and said “Shouldn’t have had the lager. For some reason in humans the breaking down of the alcohol doesn’t mix with Hyper Travel. The next time you Hyper Travel you’ll find it a much better experience. After a while it will seem like nothing. Unless you drink alcohol and then you will be sick.”

  “Thanks for the advice Simon, but next time could you give it me before the event.”

  “I’m surprised Simon the recruiting officer never said anything?”

  “I’ll have to have words with him.”

  Simon gingerly took my sick bag and put it into a bin. I looked out of the front window and saw the second fantastic thing of the day. The space station was massive. I didn’t know what to expect from Earth Station Three but I wasn’t expecting something this big. It looked like two huge round metal tyres joined at right angles to each other supported by struts linking to a central hub which was a large globe. I could see what looked like large windows with
huge sheets of glass at various intervals around each side of the tyre structures. The station hung stationary in space like a child’s mobile suspended from a string.

  “That is fantastic,” I said, “Does it spin? Do we live on the edge with one-g centrifugal force sticking us to the floor? What happens with the other ring because they won’t feel the effects? Hang on you’re going to tell me it’s done with a Quantum Singularity Drive.”

  “Well done Mister McCormack. It doesn’t spin. The drive is located in the central hub. The outer rings are placed a distance from the gravity well to give a comfortable one-g environment, computer.”

  “Yes Simon.”

  “Can you take us into the docking bay for the UK sector please?”

  “Yes Simon.”

  “The UK sector?” I said.

  The shuttle started moving towards the station without the feeling of any acceleration and Simon explained “We have sectors on the station based upon the countries we recruit from. When we first started the stations we mixed the races. However, we found that whatever conflict was happening on Earth, and there have been several hundred since we started the stations, would frequently spill over onto the stations. Having trouble on stations that are packed full of energy is a recipe for disaster so we decided the best thing to do was to have national areas. You may be human but you still possess all the basic instincts of your primate past monkey boy.”

  “Simon, that was almost funny. But slightly incorrect, Earth scientists are moving towards humans having evolved alongside monkeys, rather than from them. Still, the attempt at humour confirms you are Simon that is not Simon. How long have the stations been running?”

  “Since your telescopes became powerful enough to spot ships within your solar system, about a hundred and fifty years.”

  *

  We were almost at the station and were heading for a big glass sheet. I thought the sheet would open up as we got closer but it didn’t. We passed right through the glass which moulded itself to the contours of the ship as it went through.

  “What was that we passed through?” I asked Simon.

  “Plasma glass, it’s a form of high energy plasma that keeps the air inside, it also absorbs the energy from the light emitted by the station so that even your space telescopes can’t see it. There’s enough energy to vaporise most materials it comes into contact with so it’s a good job our hull is indestructible. Try to pass through in one of your aeroplanes and there would be nothing left.”

  “Get many Virgin Atlantic flights out here?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm. Simon frowned at me. “Maybe not,” I added.

  The shuttle glided into a bay and gently landed on the bay floor. Simon and I left via a door on the side where the shuttle docked. The bay was bright and yet again white. For a station that was a hundred and fifty years old, it looked incredibly clean and brand new. As we walked toward a door at the rear of the bay I glanced back at the shuttle that brought us here. It looked like a small plane without wings and although I had spent time looking out of the windows there were no apparent windows on the outside of the ship.

  “No windows,” I said.

  “If you mean like your optically transparent glass, we don’t use them. They are a bit of a design flaw and weaken the structure. Everything is projected inside the craft. It’s the same for all ships and view panels on the station.”

  “No engines pods or bulges or stuff.”

  “It doesn’t need it.” Simon stopped and turned to face the ship. “The amount of matter from a singularity needed to power a ship that size into Hyper Travel is on the microscopic level.”

  “Wow I wish my car would run on that much petrol.”

  “Come on.” We carried on walking to the other side of the bay and through the door. Simon took me down a corridor which yet again was white, to a door marked Medical. “This is where we part company for a while. When you’re finished here and you’ve settled in, we will meet again to collect your computer and then we will start your pilot training.”

  “Thanks Simon,” and I walked through the door.

  *

  Guess what? The room I entered once again confirmed the alien’s preoccupation with painting everything white. On the walls were various monitors, their screens black suggesting they were turned off. To my right was another door and in the far corner of the room was a wooden desk. Sat behind the desk was a very strange, yet somehow familiar looking man with very pale, almost white skin, short white hair, red jumpsuit, black rimmed glasses with lenses that had a pinkness to them.

  “You’re not Simon are you? You’re another Simon that is not the Simon who was Simon, but wasn’t the first Simon,” I said.

  “No Mister McCormack, I am Doctor Philberts.”

  “Of course, silly me. Do you want me to take my clothes off?”

  “Whatever for?”

  I wrinkled my face “Feel my balls, ask me to cough, put things inside me. You know the usual medical stuff.”

  “Mister McCormack, this is not the medieval Earth-science of the nineteenth century. This is the future. You can definitely keep your clothes on, please. What I will do is take you through to the reconstruction room. You will lie down and go to sleep for a few hours. When you wake up we will have scanned your genetic code and reconstructed any biological problems detected by our systems. You will wake up wholly refreshed, a new man so to speak.”

  “Sleep for a few hours? What happens if I’m not sleepy?”

  “Don’t worry, you will sleep.”

  “Exactly how long?”

  “Well that depends. On average about four hours but the record is two hours.” I checked my watch which showed it was twelve twenty five so I’ll be awake in time for tea. Dr. Philberts led me through the other door to the reconstruction room. The room was slightly smaller and there was a circular object hanging from the ceiling above a hospital style bed.

  “If you pop yourself on the bed we can begin.” I did as he asked and lay down. “I love working with you primates” he said “Your design is so wonderfully simple. There’s so little to go wrong and so easy to fix with just a little bit of time and some patience. I used to work with a species that...”

  I was fast asleep, dreaming of running over endless sand dunes and frolicking in the surf on some desert island paradise.

  *

  “Time to wake Mister McCormack,” said Doctor Philberts. My head felt fuzzy and my mouth was so dry. “Drink this,” he said as if he was mind reading, “it will clear your head and rehydrate you.” I sipped the liquid which almost instantly cleared my head.

  When I finished the glass I asked “What day is it?”

  “It’s Saturday Mister McCormack.”

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s five past twelve.”

  “Did I travel back in time?”

  “No Mister McCormack, though interestingly in theory if we had, we would now be in a time loop and you would be about to undergo this treatment again for the first time. It’s Saturday, one week later and five past twelve.”

  “SHIT! A whole week! What the fuck happened?” I started to feel my body, checking for any abnormalities like a third arm.

  “Well, you broke the record for reconstruction but instead of being quick it took ages to sort you out. You’re body was a total mess. We had to reconstruct your liver, remove all the fat from your arteries and you were in the very early stages of several types of cancer; testicular and pancreatic. Also you were obviously a smoker when you were younger because we had repair some damage to the air sacks in your lungs. Had you continued your current life style back on Earth you wouldn’t have lasted for more than another ten years or so. You need to start seriously improving every aspect of your life when you leave Earth Station Three.”

  “But I feel fantastic.”

  Doctor Philberts’s eyes started a ping pong match. “Of course you do NOW, I’ve spent a week returning your wreck of a body back to normal. I have never in all my time on this s
tation, treated a worse case. A week! The longest, before you was six hours. Six hours and I thought six hours was bad, but a week!”

  “OK Doctor I get it, less pizza and ease the lager.”

  “Less pizza? Ease the lager? I would suggest you radically change your diet to include a balanced intake of nutritious food stuffs and to limit the amount of alcohol you imbibe, and equally importantly to do some regular exercise.”

  “No...” I couldn’t speak. My mouth moved up and down a few times in total silence. When I did finish my sentence, my voice was almost a squeak “...pizza or lager?”

  “I didn’t say none at all, but you’ll never live to be a hundred and fifteen if you continue with your previous life style.”

  “A hundred and fifteen? How old do you think I’ll live to if I do continue that life style.”

  “After this reconstruction, about ninety five.”

  “Really? Only ninety five. I’ll drink to that.”

  Doctor Philberts stood and looked at me. He was completely static except for the crazy windscreen wiper effect going on in his eyes. “You should value your life not throw it away.” He looked up and said “Hello Claire.”

  I swung my legs around and sat on the edge of the bed facing the woman who had just entered the room, also wearing a white jumpsuit with red trim. Around her waist was a black belt with a small black rectangular cuboid attached to it. She was tall with amazing shoulder length red hair and a fantastic figure that was emphasised by the belt which pinched her waist in. She was beautiful and totally stunning to look at.

  ‘Don’t look at her breasts’ I told myself, ‘maintain eye contact. Don’t look at her breasts. Look into her eyes. Don’t look at her breasts.’ She had beautiful eyes. They were green, a light green and her hair wasn’t only red it was all sorts of shades of red like fire dancing in the hearth. ‘Don’t look at her breasts.’

  “Claire, this is Roy,” said Doctor Philberts “Roy, this is Claire. Claire is going to be your buddy for a few days while you settle in and before you start your training. She’s going to show you around and help you find your feet.”

  “Fantastic,” I said with a little too much enthusiasm and sounding like a total dweeb ‘Don’t look at her breasts. Keep looking her eyes. DO NOT look at her breasts. How can I look at her breasts without her noticing? No! Don’t look at her breasts.’ Wow!