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

you even know it. It’s called Rockets Plus. The company has just completed its second model. It’s scheduled to launch on March 30 from Kiruna, Sweden. Sending the CubeSat to Sweden is not a problem.”

“A first flight, then. Isn’t that risky?”

“It is the first launch into orbit. The new rocket has already had a few test launches. Rockets Plus offers a sensational price per kilogram.”

“So no hitch, after all?”

“Well, you’re not going to find insurance that covers a first launch. But if I understand you correctly, April 4 is the final date anyway.”

“That’s right. After that, the project no longer matters.”

“I don’t quite understand that, but it’s not necessary that I do. The fact is, if there is a launch failure on March 30, no one in the world can construct a new CubeSat and put it into orbit by April 4. So, to be honest, you can save the money on insurance.”

“That’s right. So, how much is all this fun going to cost me now?”

“All in all, that brings us to 348,000 euros.”

“Excuse me? Last I understood, we were at 317,000 euros. There’s no insurance, and Rockets Plus offers a super price, you said. Shouldn’t it be less?”

“Unfortunately, there is another surcharge for this during production. The CubeSat has to be in Kiruna at least two days before launch to give them time to integrate it into the rocket’s payload. We need at least ten days to build it, so the only option is an individual courier flight from the U.S. to Sweden. We can’t send your CubeSat by mail.”

“Okay, then so be it. After all, I have now already transferred 150,000 euros. What about the remaining payment?”

“It should definitely get to us before we launch.”

“You’re not taking any chances.”

“No, we can’t afford that.”

“One more question.”

“Yes, Peter?”

“Can I watch my CubeSat launch?”

The idea had just come to him. If he was investing this much money in his spaceship, he’d like to be there for the launch.

“You mean via the net?”

“No, locally. In Sweden.”

“I’ll have to check on that. Normally, it should be possible. But please wait to book airline tickets.”

March 18, 2026 – Passau

Evaluating the stacked photos was the most tedious part of his research. He stared at black images for so long that he eventually saw dots where there were none. And that was after a long day of work with students who were even more stressed than he was.

It was a wonder how they kept motivating themselves. That was why he couldn’t understand his colleagues who whined about a lack of motivation. After all, they got to teach their favorite subjects every day. On the other hand, their students had to learn what the schedule and curriculum demanded of them.

Next photo.

Peter stared intently at the center of the picture until he found a point. Great, another checkmark on his list. So far, he hadn’t uncovered another missing star. It was strange that he was glad about it. After all, it confirmed his theory that in less than three weeks, the sun would die, too.

He still hadn’t quite let the drama inherent in this short time period get to him. Shouldn’t he be glad if his ideas proved to be wrong? Somehow being right seemed to be more important to him than the survival of humankind. Or was it about the unique chance to become the savior of the world? Even though no one would ever know about his involvement, he felt pride rise at the thought of it.

He swiped the picture aside.

If he saved Earth, Franziska would have to return to him after all. Well, she didn’t have to return, of course. She wouldn’t believe him any more than anyone else would.

He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. The small dot in the center was hard to see. Peter swapped black and white tones, and a dark dot was clearly visible on the light background. But the screen brightness soon strained his eyes, so he switched back to the original colors. It would have been better if he could have automated the process, but he trusted an algorithm less than he trusted himself.

Peter yawned. He had finished going through all the images shortly before ten. He had found a star in every single shot. The area of the sky he had sifted through corresponded to the one he examined on the spherical dish. There, five stars were missing, and here, none—statistically significant. The phenomenon, the nature of which was still unknown to him, really did seem to be confined to the spherical shell. That was good in that it confirmed his theory. However, it also meant that the sun was still awaiting destruction.

He must get his beacon into orbit. If it emitted a signal with a frequency of 418 megahertz, the solar system fulfilled all conditions to be spared despite its position on the spherical shell. Didn’t it? Had he perhaps overlooked something else? What if the mere existence of the signal was not enough now? Frantically, he checked the website of the Federal Network Agency. His WLAN was transmitting at 2,400 and 5,000 megahertz. Some other service might have been transmitting at 418 megahertz.

In fact, Germany reserved the range between 410 and 420 megahertz for professional and military radio applications. He’d never investigated what exactly was transmitted on the corresponding channels. Maybe it had to be a specific message? Leave us alone. Attention, intelligence on board. Something like that?

Peter wrote a message to Thomas at the Effelsberg observatory. His former fellow student must have recorded those messages. Right?

11 41 03.01 +34 12 05.88

Oevtug fgne! jbhyq V jrer fgrnqsnfg nf gubh neg–

Abg va ybar fcyraqbhe uhat nybsg gur avtug

Naq jngpuvat, jvgu rgreany yvqf ncneg,

Yvxr angher’f cngvrag, fyrrcyrff Rerzvgr,

Gur zbivat jngref ng gurve cevrfgyvxr gnfx

Bs cher noyhgvba ebhaq rnegu’f uhzna fuberf,

Be tnmvat ba gur arj fbsg snyyra znfx

Bs fabj hcba gur zbhagnvaf naq gur zbbef–

Ab–lrg fgvyy fgrnqsnfg, fgvyy hapunatrnoyr,

Cvyybj’q hcba zl snve