The Jamie Drake Equation Page 10

  It looks like a video I saw of those strange lights that they get in the sky near the North Pole. The Aurora Borealis, or the Northern Lights. But those only come out at night and, as I lift my eyes from the phone, all I can see is broad daylight.

  “What is this?” I murmur, my brain unable to process what Buzz is showing me on the screen.

  “The solar flare erupted from your star with a force equal to a billion nuclear explosions. Its super-heated particles are hitting your planet’s atmosphere, each photon of light giving off a unique colour as the storm heats the sky.”

  On the screen the colours dance and swirl, so beautiful in their fury, as an icy-cold fear grips my heart.

  “But my dad’s up there—”

  The sound of a shriek from inside the house spins me round. It sounds like a wild animal caught in a trap, but then I hear Mum’s voice screaming out a single word.

  “No!”

  21

  In the living room, Mum is holding Charlie in her arms as she rocks back and forth on the sofa. Granddad just sits there helplessly, holding his head in his bandaged hands as if trying to understand what Hayley’s telling us.

  “The solar flare caused catastrophic damage to the ISS’s on-board computer systems. The Command and Control MDM, telemetry and communications interfaces, and life-support systems have all been fatally compromised. Failures in the electrical systems have caused multiple fires to break out in all sections of the space station and its orbit is rapidly deteriorating. Mission Control has ordered the crew to evacuate using the docked Soyuz.”

  “But what about Dad?” I ask, still trying to make sense of what this means for him. “He’s not onboard the ISS – he’s at the launch platform. What’s going to happen to him?”

  Hayley’s face looks even paler than before.

  “Mission Control is trying to re-establish contact with your dad. The solar flare knocked out all communications systems and, even if Mission Control manages to restore any of these, the ongoing solar activity could take them out again at any second. If your dad has been able to follow emergency protocols, he will have taken shelter in the launch platform’s HabZone module.”

  I let out a sigh of relief, unaware until then that I’d been holding my breath for Hayley’s reply.

  “So he’ll be safe there,” I say.

  Hayley hesitates. She glances down at Charlie, my sister’s face a mask of puzzled tears as Mum holds her tight.

  “Tell us,” Mum pleads.

  Hayley shakes her head, a tear running down her cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “Even if Dan managed to take shelter in the HabZone when the solar flare hit, we don’t know whether any of his life-support systems have been compromised. If the HabZone is still pressurised, he’s got a maximum of six hours of oxygen, but with the ISS falling out of orbit and the Soyuz evacuated, he’s stranded there.” Hayley’s crying now, the words juddering out. “There’s no way to bring him back.”

  A black hole opens up inside me as Hayley’s words sink in. I feel like I’m falling off the edge of the world, my thoughts reaching out in desperation for something to grab hold of, but there’s nothing there. If Dad’s alive, then he’s trapped on the Lux Aeterna platform. Six hours of oxygen left and no spaceship to save him.

  The black hole beats inside my chest.

  It hurts so much.

  From the TV comes a sudden burst of static, the blue screen replaced by a pixelated picture. For a second, I glimpse the bright white interior of the launch platform, the empty drawers of the Light Swarm delivery system still waiting for their payload. Then the picture disappears in another swarm of pixels, static buzzing from the speaker before the picture returns.

  For a second I think this is the same blank blue screen as before, streaked now with white bands of interference, but then the picture shifts and I see the curve of the Earth and, beyond this, the darkness of space. The picture is framed by a rectangle of polished steel and I realise that Dad’s looking out from the HabZone observation window. The blue is the ocean and the white bands of interference are clouds drifting above the surface of the Earth.

  Between the blue of the Earth and the blackness of space, I see rippling lights dancing across the horizon, curtains of green and gold enveloping the world in a rainbow embrace. It’s just like Buzz showed me – the solar storm raging across the sky.

  On the TV screen the angle shifts as Dad rests his helmet against the observation window. That’s when I see it. The International Space Station silhouetted against the blue of the Earth below. The familiar shape of its solar array is twisted out of recognition, jets of gas venting into space in multiple places from the damaged modules.

  A growing cloud of debris is billowing behind the space station and, in the shade of this, I see the smaller shape of the Soyuz capsule, its main engine firing just like Dad said it would as it prepares for re-entry. The last lifeboat leaving as the ISS burns. And Dad’s not on board.

  Tears are running down my face, the sound of Mum’s sobs echoed by Charlie’s wails. I can’t imagine what Dad must be thinking right now.

  There’s a hiss of static then I hear the crackle of Dad’s voice from the TV speakers.

  “—like the ISS has suffered catastrophic damage. I hope everyone got out of there OK.”

  At the sound of Dad’s voice the black hole of my heart hammers even harder.

  “I don’t know if you guys at Mission Control can even hear me now,” Dad says. “But thanks to some kind of miracle it looks like the Lux Aeterna systems are still fully operational, so I’m going to complete my mission and launch the Light Swarm probes.”

  There’s another burst of static – the picture on the screen freezing and pixelating before juddering back into life. I can see the banked units of the Light Swarm delivery system, the sleek white drawers still waiting for their cargo.

  “—tell Jamie and Charlie that I love them and I’m sorry I couldn’t make it home.”

  I hear a sudden hiss as Dad releases the catch on his helmet. Reaching up, he lifts it off his head and then turns the helmet to face him.

  On the TV screen I see Dad looking back at me. His dark fringe is slicked to his forehead, his face drenched in sweat as he stares down the lens of his helmet-camera.

  I watch as Dad places his hand against the visor of the helmet.

  “Bye, Jamie,” he says, his words echoing across space. “I love you, son.”

  Then his voice is cut off by another burst of static as the picture on the screen freezes for the final time.

  With a sob, I run towards the TV, pressing my hand against the screen as if I can just reach out and pull Dad through. But then the frozen image of Dad’s hand disintegrates, the coloured pixels collapsing into a blank blue screen as a dead dial tone rings out.

  I turn round to see Mum holding Charlie tight, their faces stained with tears just like mine.

  “He’s gone.”

  22

  Big Ben lies toppled, the ornate dome of the Taj Mahal crushed to smithereens. The White House, the Eiffel Tower, Brandenburg Gate – all shattered into hundreds of pieces, just like they’ve been blown to bits at the start of some sci-fi film.

  I slump against the bed, my knees drawn up to my chest as I try to control my tears.

  The Lego models lie where they landed. The landmarks of the world all turned to ruins with a swipe of my arm as I swept them from the shelf above my bed. No chance of Dad helping me to finish building them now.

  Everything’s ruined.

  From downstairs I can still hear the sound of Charlie crying, nobody able to comfort her. Hayley’s still on the phone to Mission Control seeing if they can restore the communications link with Dad on the launch platform. She says this will give us the chance to say goodbye.

  I don’t want to say goodbye.

  Pulling my mobile phone out of my pocket, I stab my finger hard against the screen. Buzz’s golden spiral starts to turn as the words pour out of me in a t
orrent.

  “You’ve got to help me,” I plead. “My dad’s up there on the Lux Aeterna launch platform. The ISS has been abandoned and the Soyuz is returning to Earth. He’s stranded there in space and there’s no way to bring him back. Mission Control can’t even reach him any more. He’s only got six hours of oxyg—”

  “Hush.” Buzz’s voice cuts me off mid-flow. “Show me.”

  Hovering above the phone screen, the tip of my finger suddenly glows with a golden light. A strange tingling sensation washes over me as Buzz’s words vibrate in my mind.

  “Synchronising.”

  On the screen the golden spiral fades to be replaced by a brand-new picture. I see Dad staring back at me, his face drenched in sweat. The black hole inside my chest aches as I watch his gloved hand reaching out to me.

  For a second I think that Buzz has managed to restore the communications link with the Lux Aeterna platform. Then the picture on the screen disintegrates into a blur of coloured pixels and I realise that this is just a memory.

  But instead of the pixels fading to be replaced by a blank blue screen, new images now flicker into life on my phone.

  I see Dad dressed in his astronaut’s suit at the Baikonur Cosmodrome, waiting to board the Soyuz rocket that will blast off for the ISS at the start of his mission. He’s on the other side of the quarantine window, holding his hand up against the glass that separates us as I press my hand back against his. I’m not just seeing these images, it’s like I’m reliving the emotions too – feeling the ache inside my heart as I wave goodbye to Dad.

  The buzzing vibration inside my brain seems to quicken as Buzz rifles through my memories, their images filling the screen.

  I see Dad sitting on my bedroom floor as we build the Taj Mahal together, Dad smiling as I slot the final Lego brick into place in the dome. Then I’m riding alongside him on Space Mountain at Disney World, the blue-white flashing lights illuminating Dad’s grin as the roller coaster swoops into the blackness of space. I remember his arm slung around my shoulder, holding me tight as we barrel around another bend.

  The images are speeding up as the memories reach back further in time.

  The picture wobbles as on the screen I glance back over my shoulder to see Dad’s proud expression as I pedal furiously. I remember this moment now. The first time I ever rode my bike without stabilisers. Then the picture shifts and I’m looking up at my dad, his face younger now as he smiles encouragingly. The picture on the screen wobbles again as I take my first faltering steps, Dad’s hands held out ready to catch me.

  I didn’t think I could remember these things, but as the images flit across the screen of my phone, I remember everything.

  A blurry image appears on the screen before the picture sharpens to show a tiny hand. This looks like it belongs to a baby and, as I look at it, I realise that it’s mine. Dad’s face swims into view, his features even younger than before.

  “Hey, Jamie,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. On the screen Dad reaches out his hand, his fingers tracing the shape of my tiny fingers as he gently touches his hand to mine.

  Then the picture slowly fades to black.

  I can’t stop myself from crying, my tears splashing on to the mobile phone as Buzz’s golden spiral fills the screen.

  “Why did you show me this? It hurts too much.”

  “You are connected.”

  “Of course we’re connected!” I cry, a sudden jet of anger erupting from the black hole inside me. “He’s my dad! You don’t know what this means – you’re not even real any more.”

  For a second there’s silence then my phone gently vibrates.

  “We – I understand,” Buzz replies, the words almost too soft to hear. “The light inside you is the light that binds you. To bring him back, you must go into the light.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, my thoughts flickering between hope and fear.

  “Inside the atoms of your body is a library of instructions,” Buzz replies. “When you step into the light, the photons that bind every atom of your being will be unleashed and beamed to the Lux Aeterna platform.”

  “You’re talking about teleportation?” I say, almost unable to believe that this could be possible. “Like on Star Trek?”

  “Your star will guide you, but it will transform you too.”

  On the screen of my phone, a picture of the sun appears – the same sun I can see outside my bedroom window.

  “You must go into the light,” Buzz repeats as sunlight flares on the screen. “And then you will swarm.”

  23

  “I’m so sorry, Jamie.”

  Brushing a braid of black hair from her face, Professor Forster wipes a tear from her eye.

  “Shouldn’t you be at home with your family now?”

  I shake my head, the tears on my own face now dry. Looking up I see the huge telescope towering above the astronomer’s head as she sits at her desk.

  “I need to use your telescope,” I tell her. “It’s the only chance I have to save my dad.”

  Professor Forster frowns.

  “Jamie – I know you’re upset, but you’re not making any sense. You can’t use a telescope in broad daylight.”

  My fingers tighten around my mobile phone.

  “I’ve got to look at the Sun,” I say, my voice cracking as I try to make Professor Forster understand. “Buzz told me…”

  At the mention of Buzz’s name, Professor Forster’s frown deepens, her tearful expression now changing to a look of real concern.

  “Jamie, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’ve been looking for the source of your ‘alien’ signal. I’ve gone back through the records and found a seven-second gap in the data feed when Hubble was studying the region of space surrounding Zeta Sagittarii. This must have been the moment when you plugged your phone into my laptop. Today I surveyed the same region of space to pinpoint the source of the transmission that you think you received, but I couldn’t find any signal. No stars, no extrasolar planets, no moons – no sign of alien life, intelligent or otherwise. I really wanted to believe it was true, but it can’t be. There’s nothing there, Jamie.”

  I don’t have time for this. I know that Buzz is real.

  “You’re wrong,” I say, thumping my phone down on the desk. In response, a pile of books topples across the table and as these fall, I snatch the topmost book, the cover of which is filled with constellations. “I’ve seen the Hi’ive’s home planet – there are two suns in the sky.” I wave the copy of the Stargazers Guide in the astronomer’s face. “Hubble must have made a mistake. Buzz is real. You’ve got to believe me.”

  On the desk between us my mobile phone buzzes and glancing down I see the spiral starting to spin.

  “The black star came without warning.” Buzz’s voice vibrates in the silence of the observatory. “We had tamed our own stars, harvesting their energy to build a perfect world. No war, no hunger, no hatred. The Hi’ive lived as one in complete harmony. Our golden age lasted for more than five billion of your years. And then the black star came.”

  The screen of my phone suddenly turns purple as the image of an alien sky flickers into life there. Two suns shine in high definition and we watch as these are slowly torn to pieces by an invisible hand.

  Professor Forster stares at the phone open-mouthed as Buzz continues to speak.

  “We thought we had more time. The Hi’ive would go into the light and then swarm across the galaxy in search of a new home.”

  On the screen the picture shifts and we now see a swarm of the strange alien creatures spiralling towards a golden light, their silvery wings beating to the sound of a buzzing prayer as the light surrounds them.

  “Brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers – we all went into the light.”

  The light that fills the screen now is a star – a sun just like ours – but this star is being destroyed by a black hole. We watch as this golden light is shredded into blazing jets of gas and slowly devoured until only darkness remai
ns.

  “I cannot hear their voices any more. All that is left is me.” Buzz’s words echo with an empty loneliness. “I am the Hi’ive.”

  Now I know why Buzz said he understood. I’m scared of losing my dad, but Buzz has lost everything.

  “This is incredible,” Professor Forster murmurs as Buzz’s voice trails into silence. “An alien intelligence that has transformed from its biological form into a being of pure energy. These photons of light crossing the galaxy to escape a black hole until they hit the Hubble Space Telescope and were downloaded to your phone.” She looks up at me, her eyes filled with wonder. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you, Jamie.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I reply, pointing up towards the roof of the observatory. “I just need you to help me.”

  The astronomer’s gaze lifts to the telescope that towers above us. The hatch in the observatory roof is currently closed, the giant lens of the telescope staring not at the Sun but at a rectangle of rust.

  “But how?” Professor Forster scratches her head. “The solar flare that stranded your dad in space has already done its damage. Even if the telescope spots another solar storm on the way, this still won’t help to bring back your dad.”

  I open my mouth but before I can answer, Buzz’s voice fills the room.

  “We can harness the power of your star inside this observatory. To bring back his dad, Jamie must step into the light.”

  And then Buzz tells us what we need to do.

  24

  Stepping back, I take a final look at the makeshift structure that we’ve built at the base of the telescope. Wooden panels and metal shelves from the cabinets that housed the computer equipment are stacked, seemingly haphazardly, to make what looks like a tepee.

  Glancing through the opening at the front of this, I can see reels of magnetic tape draped in spiralling curtains, hiding the interior from view. Professor Forster has cannibalised the mobile Laser Optical Ground Station, following Buzz’s instructions to patch its electronics into the heart of the structure. Multicoloured cables twist around the outside, humming with an untapped power as the frame rises to meet the eye of the telescope.