The Beacon: Hard Science Fiction by Brandon Morris (red white and royal blue hardcover TXT) 📕

what the simulation predicted about the sun’s fate. Peter read the numbers glimmering brightly in the void.

We have three months left!

The universe stood still. Peter sat on the sofa. So... was he really right? His numbers were too imprecise to commit to. And anyway, what would that look like? Help, the sun is about to be extinguished. I have no idea how that’s going to happen, but I’m sure it will. We’re all going to die.—Yes, yes, Mr. Kraemer. Please put on this comfortable white jacket.

Peter laughed. It would be his own fault if it came to that. Doomsday prophets were never well-liked. He would probably share the fate of the Trojan Cassandra, whom nobody believed. But she was stabbed to death because of her prophetic gift. He’d just be put away somewhere.

There was only one way—he must eliminate the danger himself. The signal at 418 megahertz had been found coming from all the stars that were being spared from disaster. Somehow, he must make it so that the sun also emitted such a radio signal.

He must construct a beacon!

March 12, 2026 – Passau

A beacon? How do you build a damn beacon for something like this?

Peter announced a change in the day’s lesson for his 11-C physics students in order to brainstorm together with them. The students appreciated the change, especially since he had promised them an impromptu assignment. After he’d clarified the origin of the term from seafaring and traffic, he described the problem to the class as one of a purely theoretical nature.

The main problem they quickly encountered was that Earth-based radiation was too uncertain. There was the varying cloud cover, for one thing, but also the fact of the Earth’s rotation. Earth itself would effectively shield a transmitter on the lawn behind his house for half the time. One student had suggested a balloon, but that was also stationary for all practical purposes.

So they had discussed space as an alternative. A satellite in Earth orbit had a better view of the universe, but was also repeatedly shielded by our planet on its way around the globe. A probe orbiting the sun would be better. They had researched the costs together and had come up with an amount in the millions of euros—considerably more than he could ever get his hands on.

Maybe he could manage to convince one of those Internet millionaires of his theories? They were bound to be besieged by crazies like him. He needed a better idea. Peter flipped open the notebook and started a search. What was the cheapest way to get a satellite into space?

He came across a concept that struck him, one having been invented by a Swedish furniture giant. CubeSats were small, cuboid boxes in standardized sizes. The smallest possible specimen, a Unit, or U for short, was 11.35 by 10 by 10 centimeters and weighed no more than 1.33 kilograms. These mini-satellites were then launched into space with many other CubeSats on a large rocket, often with a sizeable primary payload that did not fully utilize its payload capacity. This made launching CubeSats particularly inexpensive.

Peter kept looking. Building and launching CubeSats seemed to be profitable, and many companies offered their services to him. Some only facilitated the launch, while others also built the satellite according to user requirements. But when he looked at the promised deadlines, the CubeSats had to already be assembled. Most providers promised flight-ready delivery within two weeks. Special requests were extra, of course. Two years ago, he had ordered a new car online, and it had taken six whole months for delivery.

His stomach growled. He ran downstairs to the kitchen, took a pizza out of the freezer, unwrapped it, and put it in the oven. He set the temperature to 210 degrees and looked at the clock above the sink. He had to take the pizza out of the oven at 2:32 p.m.

Peter ran back upstairs and sat down at his desk. A new window had opened in the web browser where he’d searched for CubeSats.

“Good afternoon. I’m Miguel, your account manager at SigmaLaunch,” it said in English. “Can I be of assistance to you? If so, click ‘Yes,’ please.”

Obviously a chatbot. Peter was about to close the window when he remembered his questions. Would a CubeSat be capable of emitting a strong enough signal? Maybe there was a human behind this invitation after all?

He clicked on ‘Yes.’

“I’m glad to hear that. How can I be of service to you?”

“I would like to order a CubeSat that can broadcast a radio signal.”

“You’ve definitely come to the right place at SigmaLaunch. May I ask your name?”

“Peter J. Kraemer.”

“Thank you, Peter. It’s nicer to be able to address you personally. Of course, we only store your data if a contract is signed. A radio signal, then? With what destination? That’s important so that we can plan for sufficient signal strength.”

Well, if he only knew. How far must the signal of the beacon reach to protect the solar system from annihilation? The intensity of electromagnetic radiation decreased with the square of the distance. As a physics teacher, he knew that well enough. But it never entirely died out. With a sufficiently sensitive receiver, one could still receive the Earth’s TV transmissions on Alpha Centauri.

However, he did not know how sensitive the recipient of this unknown threat was. He didn’t even know if a recipient existed, let alone what it was. But if he told this to Miguel, Miguel would think he was crazy. And rightly so.

“Peter, are you still there?”

“Yes, Miguel. I was just doing some checking in my records. The satellite should be able to maintain data communications to the outer solar system.”

“I see. Wouldn’t it be cheaper to rent capacity on the Deep Space Network? They guarantee a service level of 99.8 percent, and billing is based on usage. So you would be reliably online, but you would only have to pay for actual usage. We currently have a