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Lachesis Publishing
www.lachesispublishing.com
Copyright ©2008 by David Lee Summers
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Other Books by
WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING ABOUT
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
About the Author
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THE
SOLAR
SEA
by
DAVID LEE SUMMERS
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www.lbfbooks.com
Published Internationally by LBF Books,
Imprint of Lachesis Publishing
Kingston, Nova Scotia, B0P 1R0
Copyright © 2008 David Lee Summers
Exclusive cover © 2008 Laura Givens
Inside artwork © 2008 Carole Spencer
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher, Lachesis Publishing, is an infringement of the copyright law.
A catalogue record for the print format of this title is available from the National Library of Canada.
ISBN 1-897370-83-0
A catalogue record for the ebook is available from the
National Library of Canada.
Multiple ebook formats are available from
www.lbfbooks.com
ISBN 1-897370-84-9
Credit: Giovanna Lagana, editor
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Other Books by
David Lee Summers:
The Pirates of Sufiro
Children of the Old Stars
Heirs of the New Earth
Vampires of the Scarlet Order
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WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING ABOUT
The Solar Sea
"In The Solar Sea, David Lee Summers creates a page-turning yarn with some of the most dramatic characters I've read in years. You won't want to put it down, and when you're done, you'll only want more."
—J. Alan Erwine, author of The Opium of the People
"The Solar Sea is a high-tech science fiction adventure that spins a new twist on space exploration and alien encounters. Summers’ descriptions of technology and scientific theories, along with his alien species, work together to raise the stakes and makes for an entertaining read for teens or adults alike.
—Erin Durante, author of the Damewood Trilogy
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CONTINUE YOUR EXPLORATION OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM ONLINE AT:
TheSolarSea.com
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Acknowledgements
Much like the journey recounted in this novel, the story of its writing is something of an adventure. I conceived the idea for this novel in 1983 and started writing it then. A few years later, after I had grown as a writer, I found the first humble chapters and, embarrassed by them, threw them away. I tried writing the novel again around 1994 and again, I wasn't satisfied with where it went. Finally, in 2004, Jacqueline Druga-Johnston, then editor of LBF Books, challenged me to try the National Novel Writing Month. I decided it was time to finally write this novel and complete it. The novel you hold in your hands is the result. So, first and foremost, thank you, Jake!
Many thanks also go to my first readers who gave me valuable feedback and helped to improve this novel: Janni Lee Simner, Laura Givens, Kumie Wise, Myranda and Verity Summers. Finally, I would like to send thanks to my physics and astronomy professors: Paul Heckert, Mike Zeilik, Jean Eilek, and Steve Shore. You gave me the tools to lend plausibility to the journey recounted in this novel.
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Dedication
To Myranda and Verity;
may you both go where your hearts will take you.
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Prologue
Thomas Quinn
Thomas Quinn was nine years old when he went to his father, the trillionaire technology magnate and said, “It's been over a hundred years since the Apollo missions and humans still haven't gone farther than Mars. Even that was only two missions. Why is that?"
"It's a matter of practicality, son,” said Jerome Quinn. He was an imposing man—tall and muscular. While many men of his social standing jogged or played tennis to stay fit, Jerome Quinn boxed.
"What's practicality mean?” asked Thomas, a slim wisp of a boy who liked to lay atop grassy mounds on his father's estate late at night looking up at the stars more than he liked to run and play with the other boys at the private school he attended. In that way, he was very different from his younger brother Henry who took a strong interest in the family business and was constantly surrounded by friends.
"Space flight costs a lot of money.” Jerome stood. The light streaming in from the tall window behind his great mahogany desk caused the big man to cast a shadow over the little boy. “In this case, practicality means that people want to make more money than they spend. The two Mars missions cost taxpayers too much money. All people ever saw were some red rocks and fossils of long-dead creatures—and they weren't even interesting creatures like dinosaurs.” Jerome laughed at his own comment, but the boy remained serious.
"What if spaceships could be built cheap? Cheaper than the Mars rockets?” he asked.
"That would be a start,” his father said.
"What if I could find a way for a spaceship to earn money?” pressed the boy.
Jerome threw back his head and laughed even louder. “Then you might just get me to invest in your dream, son."
Young Thomas Quinn pursed his lips. “I'm gonna do it, Dad."
Jerome looked down at his son with good humor in his eyes. “I'm sure you will, son. Now run along and play. I've got work to do."
Thomas turned and sulked to the door. He looked over his shoulder as though he were going to say something, but seeing his father already back at work, he sighed, thrust his hands in his pockets, and continued through the door.
He wound his way through the corridors until he arrived in the den. His brother Henry sat in front of a wall-sized video screen, playing a computer game. Henry's warrior lunged and stabbed a monster through the heart, then swung around and sliced another monster in the leg, disabling it.
"Not bad.” Thomas grudgingly admired his little brother's skill.
"Yeah.” Henry shrugged. He dropped the keyboard to the floor.
“But it's kind of boring. The characters behave the same way each time."
"You know,” Thomas’ eyebrows came together, “I think we could reprogram the game, so the characters are a little more lifelike."
"Can you really?” Henry's eyes grew wide.
"Sure.” Thomas shrugged. “Quinn Corp owns the company that makes the game. Shouldn't be too hard to find the source code and change the character stats.” Thomas took the keyboard from his younger brother and searched for the appropriate files. As he thought about the ways he could make the characters in Henry's game more realistic, he saw a way he could get his father to take his ideas more seriously.
* * * *
Thomas Quinn was fifteen years old when he brought a set of crudely drawn blueprints to his father. He dropped them right on top of a stack of papers in the center of the great mahogany desk.
Jerome—a little grayer, muscle beginning to turn to fat—looked up from the computer. “What's this?” he harrumphed. Several investors had recently pulled out of Quinn Corp when earnings did not come in as high as expected. In spite of the fact Thomas knew Jerome was working hard to recover his losses and did not appreciate interruptions, the boy was anxious to show his father the blueprints.
"Plans for a heliogyro,” announced Thomas proudly as he pointed to the top sheet of the plans. The drawing looked a little like a flower constructed of steel beams and aluminum foil.
"What's a heliogyro?” Jerome Quinn inclined his head and Thomas knew he had captured his father's interest.
Thomas Quinn, who'd grown taller, though he was still quite thin, explained, “A heliogyro is a spaceship. You might call it a sailing ship to the planets. The crew quarters are in this ball in the center.” He pointed to the picture. Then he pointed to the ‘petals’ of the flower. “These are giant reflectors made of aluminized quinitite.” He referred to the plastic-like substance his father had invented that had revolutionized the computer industry. “Sunlight could push this ship all the way out to Pluto. When the crew was ready to return, it would just need to slingshot around the last planet in its voyage, adjust the sails, and it would be homeward bound. Sunlight also makes the ship spin like a giant pinwheel, so the crew would have simulated gravity."
"Sunlight?” Jerome rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If it's a sailing ship, wouldn't it be pushed by the solar wind?"
Thomas rolled his eyes, exasperated at his father's ignorance. “The solar wind's just charged particles, it doesn't produce enough energy to move the ship."
Jerome folded his arms across his chest, not appreciating Thomas’ tone. Thomas stood his ground, well aware that an employee would have been dismissed by now. “If it's propelled by sunlight, I'm guessing this thing wouldn't go very fast."
"Theoretically, it could get to Mars in about six months ... to Jupiter, about a year after that ... beyond that, it depends on planetary alignments, but with gravitational assist from Jupiter, the ship could make it to Saturn in as little as six more months...."
Thomas’ father's eyes went wide and his hands dropped to his knees. “I applaud your imagination, son, but it all sounds like science fiction."
"No, it's not. The Planetary Society launched Cosmos II in 2010, but it had problems because of heat absorption. Carnegie Mellon University built a nanosatellite using an improved design back in 2017, but it was expensive because they used aluminized Mylar for the sails. Your quinitite is vastly cheaper to produce—and better for the job, I might add. It doesn't absorb heat as badly as other plastics,” said Thomas, hopefully.
"How much would it cost?” For a moment, Jerome appeared caught by Thomas’ dream.
"I think we could build this ship for about ten billion dollars.” Thomas was proud he'd performed a cost analysis in spite of his distaste for financial matters.
Jerome Quinn whistled long and low, then shook his head again. “That's hardly cheap, son."
"But it's only a fraction of your fortune, Dad,” pleaded Thomas.
"What would I get in return?” asked Jerome Quinn, darkly. “Ten billion dollars is too much just to throw away. You've got to tell me how I'll benefit from this."
"I don't know.” Thomas thrust his hands into his pockets. When his father said nothing further, he sighed and gathered the plans. He caught sight of one particular paper, and his frown momentarily flashed into a grin. “Who's Thomas Alonzo?” He did his best to sound nonchalant.
"Company business,” muttered Jerome, already looking back at the computer.
"Yeah, but,” Thomas rolled up the plans and struggled to return them to a cardboard tube, “his first and last names are the same as my first and middle names. I'm just curious, that's all."
"Promising employee,” explained Jerome, tersely. “He's been coming up with some interesting ideas. Not all of them work, but those that do, save us money. I've been thinking about promoting him.” Jerome turned and picked up the sheaf of papers. Thumbing through, he came to a photo. He looked up at his son as though seeing him for the first time. “You know, he even looks a little like you—something in the eyes. Maybe that's why I like him so much.” Jerome winked.
Thomas rolled his eyes, then made sure he had all of his papers and stepped into the hallway. He whistled to himself as he returned to his room.
* * * *
Two years later, Thomas ran into his brother's bedroom, waving a sheaf of papers. “I got accepted into MIT!"
Without looking up from the video game he was playing, Henry Quinn shook his head. “Dad's gonna go ballistic. He wants you to go to Harvard, so you can get degrees in both business and science."
"Harvard's good and all.” Thomas shrugged. “But I don't want a business degree."
"Suit yourself,” said Henry with the faintest suggestion of a shrug. “Dad already told us the deal—no business degree, no seat on the board."
"I don't care about the board of directors.” Thomas slumped his shoulders.
"You'll be lucky if you even get a back corner office somewhere. Dad may have a degree in materials engineering, but he's always said science is nothing without marketing."
"I don't care.” Thomas straightened his shoulders. “All those stupid meetings and all that publicity, it just distracts people from doing anything real—anything productive."
Henry shook his head and sighed as the warrior character he'd been playing died a horrible death on the screen. He turned around. “That just means I'll get the lion's share of the inheritance."
"You can have the money.” Thomas sighed. He looked up at the screen. “You're still playing that game I hacked for you?"
"Yeah, it's great. The characters are so much like real people, I never get bored.” He turned and faced his brother. “You know, you should show Dad some of the computer stuff you do. He'd probably take a lot more interest in that than all the space stuff you show him."
"Computers are just tools.” Thomas stepped over to the window and looked out. “When you know them as well as I do, you know you can only trust them so far. The real adventure's out there."
"In the yard?” asked Henry.
Thomas rubbed the bridge of his nose. He stopped when he saw Henry's smile and realized that his brother was amused by how reminiscent the gesture was of their father. “I'm talking about the sky,” said Thomas, irritably. “I'm talking about space."
"What is it with you and space, anyway? It's just a bunch of nothing that can get you killed real fast."
"It's not the nothing. It's the something—the places we haven't been to—six whole planets in our solar system humans haven't seen with their own eyes—more dwarf planets and moons than I can even name...."
"And if anyone could name them, it would be you,” quipped Henry.
"I'll find a way.” He looked at his watch and realized it was time to leave for the small municipal airport nearby. His father was paying for flying lessons and he nearly had his license. He left his brother's room and thought about Thomas Alonzo. He was glad his father was considering
a promotion. That meant Alonzo would have greater access to Quinn Corp files.
* * * *
Two years later, Thomas Quinn excelled as one of MIT's top physics students. He carried a stack of homework to his dorm room and set it aside while he logged into his computer and called up his email. When finished, he called up Thomas Alonzo's account. There was a message from Quinn Corp's facility on the Moon asking him to look at some data. It seemed they had discovered a new particle and wanted Alonzo's opinions. He looked at the data, then reached over and grabbed his general relativity text. As he scribbled notes and made calculations, his heart raced and his eyes grew wide.
* * * *
Jerome Quinn read the latest report from Thomas Alonzo with growing curiosity. He sent a message asking for a videoconference with Alonzo.
An hour later, Alonzo's face appeared on Jerome Quinn's computer. “You read the report?” he asked.
Jerome Quinn was struck once again by the similarities between the young scientist and his oldest son, who was off at college. It wasn't that Alonzo and Thomas really looked alike, just something about their eyes and their mannerisms. He realized there might be a future for his son—even if he did devote his life to science rather than business. He turned his attention back to the book-sized report. “I'm still reading it,” he admitted. “Have the people on the Moon really discovered particles that can move through time?"
"Not exactly.... “Alonzo hesitated. “They've found particles that seem to jump into the fourth dimension. The dimension of time."
Quinn waved the scientist's words aside as though the details were unimportant. He flipped through the dog-eared copy of the report until he came to the page he wanted. “You say that if you had enough of these particles in one place, you could use them to send bigger objects into the fourth dimension, that it might cause them to move forward or backward through time?"
"Theoretically.” Alonzo nodded. “Although, I'm not sure how controlled such a journey would be. The objects might just disappear from our reality completely."
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