The Dreamer Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set Vol I - III: A Sci-Fi Parallel Universe Adventure (The Dreamer Chronicles - Science Fiction For Kids And Adults)

by Robert Scanlon

  She liked him even more. Down-to-earth. She giggled at her description; ‘down-to-earth’.

  “Something funny?” He was twinkling those eyes again. Giggling had left her a little out of breath, so she took as deep a breath as she could, and felt the drawing she’d shoved between her jumpsuit and the launch suit rustle. She wondered about her own father. Had he had eyes that twinkled?

  “Sort of. Only a week or so ago, I was being told I had no future as an artist. If someone had told me I’d be flying to a space station a few days later to try to save two universes from annihilating each other ...”

  He nodded. How did he do that? She couldn’t move anything except her eyes.

  “I hear ya. I was kinda enjoying retirement, and looking forward to spending time with my kids—they’re all grown up now, too fast of course—when ol’ silverfox calls me out of the blue while I’m watching you on TV and asks me if I’d like to lend a hand.”

  “How many children do you have?”

  “Three. But let’s talk about you. I told you what people remember me for. What do you want to be remembered for?”

  Apart from messing the world up and then saving it, you mean?

  “I wanted to be an artist who teaches kids to feel better through their art. I’m so sick of the way people treat each other, and the stupid bullying that goes on at school—”

  “Not just at school. But go on, I interrupted.”

  “I thought it would be a great way to help, that’s all. I know when I paint, I feel good about the world.” She attempted a sigh, but the pressure on her chest turned it into a weak cough. “Now I’m going to be best known for helping silly scientists fix their stupid mistakes.” A hot flush ran through her. Would she have said that to her own father? “Er ... sorry, I didn’t mean to insult—”

  “None taken. We don’t always get the things we want when we want them. But life can surprise you with the opportunities it gives you—and sometimes those things end up helping you get the thing you wanted in the first place.”

  His voice was ... reassuring. She wondered what it would have been like to have had him as a father, then blushed. She already had a father. If she could have hugged the drawing any closer to her chest, she would have.

  Colonel Hadfield was speaking again.

  “When I was younger, I’d have loved to have been a rock star. Instead I had to put up with serenading the earth from space a little later in life. Science and engineering have been my life, but I think you might be being a little harsh on us scientists. We’re just as passionate and creative, even if some of us are a little dry. Not all though.” He gave her a mischievous grin. “Albert Einstein was a terror, I believe. Always teasing people.”

  “He was?” She managed a frown, even though her forehead felt ten-times heavier than normal. “Nathan’s always going on about him. Some of the kids at our old school used to tease him with it—you know, call him names. Some of them nicknamed him Einstein. His great-great-grandfather apparently worked with him.” And my great-aunts. But let’s not go there.

  “I know, he told me.”

  Sarina giggled at the thought of Nathan pestering Colonel Chris Hadfield with his stories. “He tells everyone ...”

  “But?”

  “He’s been a really good friend to me. He’s super smart. He even saved us from some of those horrible S.E.E.K. people by hacking into some phone network. He’s so jealous of this trip. I wish he could have taken my place.”

  “You’re scared, I guess.”

  She shivered. “I think that’s an understatement.”

  “But you know there’s a very good reason why you’re here and he isn’t.”

  “There is?”

  “I will quote our friend Einstein, who supposedly said something like this: ‘I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.’” He sighed. “Sarina, science has brought us within reach of peace and happiness many many times, but each time we only seem to come closer to the brink of extinction. Scientists like Nathan will keep pushing those boundaries, but it takes people like you, who understand how both art and science affect humanity, to reassure us we’re on the right path, and bring us hope we will succeed. We are all in your hands now—and I and my family are more than grateful to be so.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “No pressure, then?”

  He shook his head inside his helmet. “No pressure. There never was—only you can apply that.”

  They heard a yawn in their helmets and Malden’s voice streamed through. “Are we there yet?”

  ~ 75 ~

  Laser Show

  The group of wild-eyed protesters broke ranks and charged down Oxford Street, screaming and yelling.

  A line of riot police held transparent shields in front of them and wielded long batons, stretching across the junction with Regent Street, where the protesters were headed.

  The TV anchorwoman waited until the raging crowds were passing behind her, and began to speak with urgency into the microphone she held close to her mouth, looking straight into the camera lens.

  “There’s panic in the streets this morning in London as angry extremists demand answers. Rumours are spreading that industry heads, politicians and religious leaders are being ferried to safe bunkers. Some say that fresh food is being diverted from general supply to those in power. An undercurrent of anger is growing among a small, but powerful group of sceptics.

  Despite an outpouring of support across the world for the young girl, Sarina Metcalfe, no one knows if the collapsing universe theory is true, or just a conspiracy to shift yet more power into the hands of the few. There is one thing we do know for certain, the violent weather patterns and the fact that the moon is hurtling towards the Earth is defying expert agreement on the exact cause. In London today, there’s no doubt the balance of power and civil peace is hanging by a thread, unless someone, somewhere is able to provide the reassurance this young girl’s plea for help is genuine.”

  The swarthy man in the empty conference room pressed a button on a remote pad, and the screen turned dark momentarily, before returning to an array of six silhouetted, and impossible to see faces, set out in two rows.

  The man spoke to the screen. “Our efforts to provoke unrest appear to be bearing fruit. Once we have sufficient momentum against this supposed rescue mission, we will be able to turn it to our advantage. I believe The Shadow’s failure to retrieve the weapon has presented us with an alternative plan that may serve us even better.”

  “Hmmph.” The woman’s voice came from the second-left silhouette at the bottom of the screen. “Empty words. You make grand claims about how we will make everything play into our hands, yet evidence supporting your claims is scarce. Tell me, what do you propose now—selling secret underground bunkers to the rich?”

  The man waved his hand as if to dismiss her. “We are too late for such initiatives anyway. No, I believe we may employ a bold tactic, one which will place us in an ultimate position of power. One where we will no longer need to skulk around using fake identities.”

  “Ultimate power? A big statement, yet one that is appealing, especially in these times of unrest. Speak your plan, we will hear it.” The words from the older man at top left were delivered with a hunger betraying a long-held desire.

  The man sitting at the table nodded. “You sense the opportunity too. Here is what I propose: we destroy the International Space Station just as our naive young heroine is boarding”—he ignored the collective intake of breath from the six others gathered virtually—“and we blame it on an extreme wing of S.E.E.K. I will name names of course. Prominent people who refuse to live in a world dominated by telepathic mind-readers.” He could barely disguise his own disgust for the so-called Dreamer Kids. It was his destiny to be in control, to have power, and no one would be allowed past the steel bars protecting his thoughts and his ambitions.

  “The rest of
Harrison’s self-important rabble will flee underground to safety—away from the orchestrated campaign I will stir up.”

  “What good will that do us?” the woman snapped. “We will control nothing!”

  He smiled. “You misunderstand. They will flee to us. We will provide the safe houses; we will advertise secretly to those sympathetic to their cause.”

  There was silence. The fools. They still had no idea that their positioning would prove impeccable, and allow them to take control from all sides in one swift move. He stood and paced.

  “We will force the Professor and his legion of followers to fix this rift—if indeed there is such a thing—or we give them up to S.E.E.K. Then when they have acquiesced to our demand, we will come forward as the defenders of the now-dead heroine’s vision, and provide the remaining evidence of foul play inside S.E.E.K.”

  “But what of the superpowers: they are not children to be bent under our thumbs. They will not give in so easily.”

  He heard the sneer in the woman’s voice, and stopped his pacing to face the screen. “Oh, but they will. Because if they don’t surrender control to us, however invisibly, we will force Harrison’s Dreamer Kids to manipulate them. There are those in power who would not wish to take the risk mind-reading children could reveal their corrupt deeds to a suspicious public. They would never survive the backlash. Faced with that threat, and the power of our existing network of, ah, well-equipped mercenaries, shall we say, they will capitulate.”

  The older figure silhouetted at the top leaned forward to the camera. “How do you plan to destroy the ISS?”

  He knew the question was coming—had they all forgotten? “Perhaps you remember a particular arms deal involving access to several supposedly defunct missile satellites? A satellite never decommissioned from the Strategic Defence Initiative?”

  “That old star wars program? I didn’t know it ever worked.”

  “It didn’t—but there were laser-equipped test satellites sent up before Clinton put the kibosh on it all. And we have access to them. One of them happens to be within range of the ISS. Rather delightfully coincidental, don’t you think?”

  “Does it work?” The woman was showing interest now.

  The man shrugged. “To my knowledge it does. I plan to find out. If it does, then its lasers will make short work of the ISS. All in favour say ‘aye’.”

  There were six ayes.

  ~~~

  Colonel Hadfield floated helmet-less through the lock, and grabbed a handhold, twisting himself around ninety-degrees to straighten up. A cord floated from his waist back to Sarina, and from her back again to Professor Malden. Hadfield pulled gently, and the two of them floated in to join him. He pointed to the handholds. “Use these wherever you go. You’ll get used to it pretty quickly—and all those stories about difficulties in very low gravity? Nonsense. It’s actually a breeze and totally fun.” To prove his point, he kicked out, did a head-to-toe three-sixty and halted himself by grabbing another handhold. “See?”

  Sarina was about to reply when she caught sight of the view from an observation window. From the Soyuz capsule, they’d seen very little, other than what was on the screens and through the window in front, but now ... the observation port was filled with a glorious vista of the green and blue orb below—or above—them. “It’s ... beautiful!”

  Hadfield chuckled. “Such a cliché isn’t it? But no photo I’ve ever seen does it justice. Just another magnificent view of nature brought to you by science, eh?”

  Even though she was transfixed by the sight, she flinched at his dig about scientific achievements. The same ones she’d ridiculed all her life. But what he said was true. How would they have envisioned their own world in such a way if inventors hadn’t dedicated their lives—often literally—to make crazy things like space flight happen?

  “Come on. We have work to do. Let’s get onto the main deck.” He kicked off with the ease of a sailor used to walking the decks of a ship on a rolling sea, and Sarina and Professor Malden followed. The two rookies pulled themselves along grab-rail by grab-rail, frequently twisting out to one side by mistake and having to wait until they came to rest—now facing the wrong way—to continue.

  They floated into the main deck and met the three cosmonauts on the current shift at ISS: Sergey, Gregor and Tatiana. Colonel Hadfield was already laughing and joking with them. He turned back to Sarina and Malden, the smile replaced by a serious expression. “Alright you two. Let’s get you plugged in and talking to your folks back on Earth.”

  He guided them over to two spare places equipped with computer screens, dials and keypads at an observation port, and connected them up. He shoved headsets into their hands. The Earth glittered in the blackness, as if to remind her of the importance of her quest. She looked at Professor Malden and took a deep breath. “Ready with the plan, Professor?”

  He nodded, all humour gone. “Harrison and I will get the Comms dishes reprogrammed and ready to align with the two locations, once we see them.” They’d agreed everything needed to happen in unison. The Professors would work on the technology to turn the ISS into a giant rem-focusing tool—much of which had already been worked out Earth-side. What remained was to put that into action once Malden was up in place at the ISS.

  Sarina was to work with Nathan and Lena and make contact with Paolo, Rona and Andreas, and between them all, confirm where the precise rift entry and exit points were, but most importantly, where the energy flow was being pulled from and to.

  And then rally a world of Dreamer Kids.

  She pressed the mike button on her headset. “Er ... hello. Space Station to Nathan, or whatever you say.”

  A crackly voice replied. “This is Base Station Rift 1 acknowledging you loud and clear, over.”

  What was she supposed to say to that? She pressed the mike button. “Um. Ready to begin Operation Rift Sweep ... if you are, that is.”

  “Roger that, Rift 2. Lena and I are ready. Good luck.”

  She closed her eyes, and called up an image of Paolo. An insistent beeping behind her distracted her and she tried again, but managed nothing. The beep was louder now, and becoming urgent. She snapped her eyes open and twisted around, forgetting the excess energy would set her spinning in slow-motion. In her balletic gyrations she saw Chris Hadfield intent on a small screen, wearing an expression she had never seen on his face before: fear.

  “What is it, Colonel Hadfield?”

  He turned to face her, his face pale. “As far as we can tell, a laser weapon on a satellite that was supposed to have been decommissioned years ago is alive and well ... and bringing aim to bear on a target.”

  She shuddered. Did the evil never stop? She had no idea what damage a laser could wreak, and she hoped her mother was safe. “Where? America or somewhere else?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not aiming at Earth. It’s moving to aim at us. We’re the target.”

  ~ 76 ~

  Evacuate, Evacuate

  She stared at him, aware Malden had now stopped his tapping and had turned to face Hadfield. “Can’t you get Mr President Silver Fox or whatever his name is on the line and get him to call it off?”

  “I’ve already tried that. We gave away access to those satellites in some media deal, some time ago apparently. The current owners are unknown, but we suspect it is the—”

  “Consortium?” She saw Colonel Hadfield’s surprise. “We’ve crossed paths before. How long before it is ... um ... dangerous? I mean, do we have time to fix the rift before we’re ...” she couldn’t finish.

  Chris Hadfield shook his head. “Not unless you can do it inside the next three minutes. I’m afraid we’re out of options.” He stared at her. “I’m sorry, Sarina.”

  “Wait. Did you say you gave away access?”

  He nodded. “Unless you know someone who can get into the Consortium’s network”—he shrugged—“then all we can do is watch the laser show.”

  She pressed the mike button on her headset, all the wh
ile looking at Colonel Hadfield. “Nathan, we have an emergency. Please listen: can you hack into the Consortium’s network?”

  A scornful voice responded in her ear. “Yeah, right. It’s only the most secure—”

  There was silence.

  “Hold on.”

  “What, Nathan? Holding on is not an option up here!”

  A pause, then a crackle. “I might be able to get in through a back door—I noticed before they’d left some breadcrumbs they shouldn’t have when they set up that first anti-psi kids site. What do you need?”

  “Colonel Hadfield says a weapons satellite will blow us out of the sky in the next three minutes. He thinks it’s controlled by the Consortium, and no one has direct access to the satellite. What can you do?”

  “Gimme a minute.” The earpiece went silent.

  “Well?” Hadfield was looking at her.

  She shrugged. “We’re in Nathan’s hands. If it’s any consolation, he’s the best.”

  “Thanks,” the crackly voice replied. “I’m almost there.”

  She heard him gasp.

  “Holy light sabres! These guys have the Earth surrounded. Let me find the one closest to you ...”

  The beep rose in intensity and frequency. Sergey glanced over his shoulder to Hadfield. “Thirty seconds to target acquisition.”

  “Nathan!”

  “Shhh. I’m almost there.”

  “We’re almost fried, Nathan! Quick!”

  “Fifteen seconds.” The beep escalated to a shrill warning alarm, joined by a station-wide siren and warning system: EVACUATE SPACE STATION. EVACUATE SPACE STATION. EVACUATE SPACE STATION.

  “Ten ... nine ... eight ...”

  “NATHAN!” she screamed.

  “Six ... five ... four—”

  “Got it!” Nathan’s crackly, but triumphant voice sounded in her ear.

  “Two ...”

  The beeping stopped and the deck of the ISS was frozen in silence momentarily, before breaking out in a chorus of cheers.

  Chris Hadfield grabbed a paper towel from a dispenser and wiped the sweat that had collected in wobbling beads on his brows. He nodded to Sarina. “Tell Nathan I owe him.”