The Jamie Drake Equation Page 11

  “Have we done it right?” I ask, holding up my phone so that Buzz can see it through the camera lens. “Will it work?”

  “I don’t know,” Buzz replies. “Your technology is so primitive. What we have built here is a mere shadow of the work of an age for the Hi’ive.”

  “We don’t have an age,” I snap, glancing down at my watch and seeing with a sickening lurch the time that’s left. “We’ve only got an hour until Dad’s oxygen runs out.”

  “There is only one way to find out. You must step into the light.”

  “Then let’s do it,” I say, desperate to get on with the job of saving my dad. I turn towards Professor Forster. “Open the hatch.”

  Standing by the observatory controls, the astronomer looks torn.

  “I don’t think you should do this, Jamie. It’s too dangerous. If you look at the Sun through a telescope you will go blind, but if you step inside this you will be torn to pieces.” I can hear the fear in her voice. “There are seven trillion billion atoms inside your body. Even if the Hi’ive can teleport and reassemble them all on board the Lux Aeterna platform, there’s no transporter room there to bring you back.”

  I look at the ramshackle tepee – a far cry from any Star Trek invention. I can feel the black hole beating inside my chest. I don’t care how dangerous it is – I’ve got to bring my dad home.

  I glance down at the phone in my hand. Buzz has reprogrammed the ISS tracker app to fix on the location of the launch platform, while Professor Forster has connected my mobile to the observatory’s wifi. I’m running out of time, so I ask Buzz the only question that matters now.

  “There’s no way I could build anything like this up in space. How am I supposed to get back?”

  “The light will be inside you,” Buzz replies. “That is all you need.”

  I don’t really understand what Buzz means, but as my watch ticks, there’s no time to ask anything else. I call out again to Professor Forster.

  “Please,” I beg. “Open the hatch.”

  With a reluctant shake of her head, the astronomer presses a button to open the hatch in the roof of the dome. The telescope is already aimed straight at the Sun and, as the hatch slowly opens, daylight floods into the observatory.

  At the base of the telescope the makeshift structure is enveloped in a golden glow. Its surface crackles with untamed energy as an intense buzzing sound fills the observatory.

  Taking a faltering step forward, I peer fearfully into its interior. All I can see is a blinding white light.

  “You can’t do this, Jamie!” Professor Forster shouts, raising her voice above the deafening hum. “You’ll be killed.”

  Clutching my mobile phone tightly, I shake my head.

  “My dad’s up there,” I say, fighting against every urge that’s telling me to turn and run. “And I’m going to find him.”

  I step forward into the light, the buzzing noise silenced as the light surrounds me.

  And then I swarm.

  25

  I don’t know which way is up or down. The light surrounds me – inside and out – red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet. I’m floating in an ocean of colour, the light waves shimmering in perfect silence.

  My mind tries to make sense of what’s happening to me. People who’ve nearly died say they go towards the light. Is this what death feels like? Am I still alive?

  I try to blink, the single flicker of my eyelids seeming to last for an eternity.

  I open my eyes to see the blackness of space, the darkness studded with thousands of stars. And stretching out below this, I can see the curve of the Earth.

  The green lights of the aurora are still dancing across the horizon, but it’s the sight of the world spinning beneath me that takes my breath away.

  I look down on a green-grey quilt of fields and towns, blood-red mountains and silver lakes, the deep-blue shades of the oceans stretching as far as my eye can see. As I stare in wonder, familiar forms seem to emerge from the contrasting colours: leopard spots of clouds floating across a golden desert, snow-topped peaks rising like teeth from the red gums of the earth, the sparkling blue and silver tiles of cities sprawling in geometric shapes.

  On the globe in my bedroom, thin black lines are drawn to mark the shapes of the different countries, but from up here, these lines are invisible. No borders, no countries – just one world rolling by beneath me.

  It’s so beautiful.

  A tear creeps out of the corner of my eye. Instead of rolling down my cheek, this tiny ball of liquid hangs suspended, pooling in the corner of my eye.

  According to Mrs Solomon, there are seven and a half billion people alive in the world today. And they’re all down there. All my friends, all my family, everyone I’ve ever met, everyone I’ve ever watched on TV, everyone that I love – Mum, Charlie, Granddad – everyone except for one person.

  Pushing myself away from the observation window, I spin around. Floating weightlessly, my eyes slowly adjust to the bright interior of the launch platform. And that’s when I see Dad.

  He’s standing in front of the Light Swarm delivery system, all of its drawers now fully loaded, except one. Resting in the palm of Dad’s hand I see the diamond shape of the final Light Swarm probe.

  Calling out his name, I push myself forward, soaring through the empty air towards him. My mind whirls as my stomach flips, the sensation dizzying.

  I’m flying like a superhero. I’m going to save my dad.

  I keep waiting for him to turn around, but Dad just stays frozen, motionless. The black hole thuds inside my chest. I reach out my hands to stop myself from flying straight past Dad, one hand still holding on to my mobile phone.

  Grabbing hold of the edge of the Light Swarm delivery system, I come to a stop with a sickening lurch, spinning round until I’m facing Dad.

  His head is bent over the Light Swarm probe, the expression on his face set in a picture of concentration as he prepares to slide the black chip into the nano-spacecraft. He looks just like he does when he reads the instructions on my Lego kits, making sure we’ve got all the pieces sorted before we start the build. I brush the tear from my eye, this tiny ball of liquid floating free in front of me.

  “Dad,” I say again, waiting for him to lift his head and see me there. “It’s me – Jamie. I’ve come to take you home.”

  But Dad’s eyes stay fixed on the Light Swarm probe, his expression unchanged.

  I hold up my mobile phone, my hand glowing with the same golden light that spirals on the home screen.

  “What’s the matter with my dad?” I plead. “Why can’t he hear me?”

  Buzz’s voice hums in my ear.

  “You are travelling at the speed of light,” Buzz replies. “Every atom of your being is vibrating at 299,792,458 metres per second as the light inside you swarms. Time is dilated. For you, your dad appears to be frozen as you see time passing infinitely more slowly for him. You only have a moment – a lifetime – before the light inside you returns to its source.”

  My brain hurts as I try to wrap my head around Buzz’s explanation. Nothing makes any sense to me. Buzz is a super-advanced alien intelligence, and I’m just a kid.

  Floating in space, I stare helplessly at my dad. I feel as though there’s a glass screen between us – just like there was when Dad was in quarantine. How can I break through this to bring him home?

  As if hearing this last unspoken word, Buzz’s voice echoes around the HabZone.

  “When we went into the light, the Hi’ive hoped that we would find a new home. Light is eternal. From the moment of its birth, a single photon can travel endlessly across the universe. Never decaying, never dying, until it reaches its final destination and is reflected or absorbed. We thought this would give us the greatest chance of survival. But now I am trapped inside this small primitive machine.”

  I can hear the sadness in Buzz’s voice, a cosmic loneliness that seems to ache for the stars. I look at the Light Swarm probe in the palm of Dad’s han
d and suddenly know what I’ve got to do.

  Flipping the phone over, I snap open the back of the case. Next to the battery, I see the phone’s SD card nestling in its holder. That’s where Buzz is now.

  “What are you doing?” Buzz asks, as I struggle to prise it out.

  “Setting you free,” I reply. “The Light Swarm probes are being launched for Tau Ceti – a star twelve light years away from Earth. If you hitch a ride, maybe you can find a new home there – a place for the Hi’ive to start again.”

  “A new home…” Buzz falls silent for a moment as if staring out into the star-studded sky. “We – I would like that. Thank you, Jamie.”

  Outside the window the world keeps turning. The Earth was formed about four and a half billion years ago. The human race has lived on this planet for maybe two hundred thousand years. In that time we’ve discovered fire, invented the wheel, built pyramids, written books, made music and created the internet. Dad has flown into space to launch our first spaceships for the stars. The Hi’ive have lived for so much longer than us, but their greatest achievement is floating in front of me. Buzz has given me back my dad.

  “Thank you.”

  Inside my head, I feel a strange buzzing vibration and as I look down at my hands I see the light start to shine through. I don’t have much time.

  Sliding the SD card out from my phone, I reach out to take the Light Swarm probe. As my fingers brush against Dad’s hand, I feel the vibration inside me start to quicken – the two of us separated by the speed of light.

  Trying to ignore this, I slide the SD card into the heart of the Light Swarm probe. It fits perfectly. Then I load the probe into the final empty drawer of the delivery system, ready to launch Buzz to the stars.

  On the control panel, there’s a large red button that reads:

  ACTIVATE LAUNCH SEQUENCE

  The humming sound inside my head sharpens to a high-pitched whine. Buzz said I had a moment – a lifetime – but it looks like this is almost over…

  I feel myself starting to unravel, the photons of light that are holding me together slowly being tugged apart. With a desperate lunge, I push the red button as spidery beams of light start to vent from my fingers.

  Above the buzzing noise, I hear a hydraulic hiss that tells me that the Light Swarm probes are launching. I’ve done it. I’ve given Buzz the chance to survive, but I think it might be too late for me.

  I’m falling to pieces, my body collapsing into light itself and there’s only one person who can save me. Turning towards Dad, I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in the folds of his bulky spacesuit.

  I thought that I’d lost him forever, but as I hold Dad tightly, the black hole inside me is transformed into a shining star. I hear his voice soft in my ear.

  “Jamie.”

  The star suddenly bursts into supernova. A brilliant light brighter than the entire galaxy surrounds us and then we are gone.

  26

  I follow the new path that leads to the top of Beacon Hill, a carpet of stars glittering beneath my feet as darkness falls. Emerging from the trees, I first see the white dome of the observatory, now scrubbed clean ready for its grand reopening. But it’s the sight of Mum’s sculpture that makes me gasp in surprise.

  Four curving columns made out of glass and steel rise up in front of the observatory. The moon overhead fills these with light, their coloured glass a shimmering beacon in the darkness.

  “Race you to Mum’s swirly thing!” Charlie shouts, running past me with a delighted squeal. With a grin I start to chase my little sister, following the twisting path as it heads up the hill.

  As I run, I keep my eyes fixed on Mum’s sculpture. At first the four columns stand alone, but as the path curves around, the position of the pillars seems to shift, the curling shapes slotting together to form a shimmering spiral reaching up into the night sky.

  I glance over my shoulder to where Mum and Dad are walking along the path, the two of them laughing together as they watch Charlie and me race for the top.

  They’re still getting divorced, even though I kind of hoped that everything that happened with Dad would push them back together. But it’s like Mum and Dad told Charlie and me – just because they’re splitting up doesn’t mean we’re not a family any more. We’re just one that has a different shape now – a bit like Mum’s sculpture. And we can still come together on a night like this.

  Inside the observatory Professor Forster will be getting everything ready. Dad’s the guest of honour who will cut the ribbon and declare the Beacon Hill Observatory open to the public.

  Nobody really knows how he made it home from the Lux Aeterna platform. Mission Control invented a story about Dad making his escape in an emergency Soyuz module once he’d launched the Light Swarm probes. Only Professor Forster really knows what happened. She was there waiting for us inside the observatory when we fell to Earth, my arms wrapped around Dad as we stepped out of the light.

  The European Space Agency, NASA and Roscosmos – the Russian State Corporation for Space Activities – launched a joint top-secret investigation to find out the truth. Dad and I were interviewed tons of times in confidential debriefings – everyone wanting to know how on earth he ended up sitting with me on top of Beacon Hill as the oxygen on the Lux Aeterna platform ran out.

  I just told them the truth.

  An alien on my phone helped me to bring Dad home.

  They didn’t believe me, but the space agency investigators still took my mobile phone away. It’s probably in tiny pieces now, but they won’t find a trace of the Hi’ive. Buzz is long gone – travelling at near-light speed on a one-way trip to Tau Ceti.

  I hope Buzz makes it.

  Professor Forster calls Buzz the one that got away. At first I thought she was going to be angry that I’d let proof that aliens exist just disappear into the depths of space, but she said she doesn’t mind. She told me it’s enough to know that we found them at last. And with Dad’s help she’s reopened the observatory to the public so that everyone can learn more about the universe.

  Dad believes me. We’re making a model of the Hi’ive’s home planet out of Lego bricks, based on everything that I can remember. And this time we’re going to finish it.

  Charlie’s nearly at the sculpture now. I hang back for a second to let her win the race, then dash to catch her as she runs inside the spiral. My sister shrieks with delight as I scoop her up into my arms. I whirl Charlie round, moonlit rainbows dancing across our faces as we gaze up at the stars.

  There are thousands of them, twinkling in the darkness.

  “Look at all the lights,” Charlie says, her voice squeaky with excitement.

  I used to think that Dad was the star of our family’s solar system, but now I know that the light shines in all of us. Buzz showed me that. Sometimes things go wrong and we might spin out of orbit, but all we need to remember is that we’re not alone. We all get this one brief moment in the sun, and if you’re lucky enough to fill yours with love, let it shine.

  Mum and Dad join us in the heart of the sculpture, Dad slipping his arm around my shoulder as Mum takes Charlie in her arms. For a second, we stand there in silence – all troubles forgotten as we stare in wonder at the stars.

  Acknowledgements

  Writing fiction sometimes feels like setting off on an interstellar journey into the unknown, but I’d like to thank my wonderful editor, Kirsty Stansfield, and my brilliant agent, Lucy Juckes, for helping to guide me on this journey with their wise words of counsel from Mission Control. Thank you too to Fiona, Dom, Catherine, Kitty, Kate, Ola, Tom and all the team at Nosy Crow.

  Huge thanks to Dr Elizabeth Pearson and Professor Dan Tovey for their invaluable scientific advice and astronomical guidance. Any scientific errors and exaggerations remaining in the text are, of course, my own. I’d also like to thank the authors of the following books for helping to light the way as I researched all things astronomical: The Aliens Are Coming! by Ben Miller, An Astronaut’s Guide
to Life on Earth by Chris Hadfield, Human Universe by Professor Brian Cox and Andrew Cohen, Light Years by Brian Clegg, and The Astronomer’s Tale by Gary Fildes.

  The interstellar ambition of the fictional Light Swarm mission is inspired by the exciting work of the Breakthrough Starshot initiative led by Professor Stephen Hawking, Yuri Milner and Mark Zuckerberg. I’d also like to thank Tim Peake and his Principia Mission for inspiring a new generation to look to the stars and wonder.

  Finally, I’d like to thank my family for all their love, support and understanding, especially when I float off sometimes into worlds of my own imagining. You are my universe.

  Also by Christopher Edge

  THE MANY WORLDS OF ALBIE BRIGHT

  Nominated for the 2017 CILIP Carnegie Medal

  Shortlisted for the Teach Primary

  New Children’s Fiction Award 2016

  Longlisted for the UKLA Book Awards 2017

  “Heartwarming.”

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  The Times, Children’s Book of the Week

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  The Herald

  “Hilarious and full of heart.”

  Piers Torday

  “A clever, funny and very touching novel.”

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