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

He reversed the car out of the parking space. Then he followed the arrows that appeared on the windshield.

Fortunately, there was no sign of ice on the roads. Navigation initially followed Highway 83, which ran straight for many kilometers at a time. To the left and right were nothing but spruce and birch forests. There was relatively little snow on the trees. They usually had more in Germany in the winter. The asphalt was in such good condition that Peter felt increasingly sleepy. At Lake Raanujärvi, he stopped briefly to stretch his legs. He peed behind a tree, wiped his hands on snow, and dried them with the handkerchief he always kept in a trouser pocket. Then he watched the moon, the light of which was refracted many thousands of times by the snow-covered ice of the lake. The icy cold woke him up again.

The road passed over a mountain ridge. The higher up and the further north he got, the smaller the trees became. It was a pity that he couldn’t see very much of the landscape. He passed a viewpoint but didn’t stop. At the Torneälv River, he crossed the border into Sweden. On both sides of the bridge, the border security buildings were still standing, but there were no guards.

The road was now numbered 99. On the navigation screen, he saw that it went north along the river. The 99 then turned into the 395, but the river remained on his right as a neighbor. Finally, the road got the EU number 45, but somehow without becoming a millimeter wider.

“In eight hundred meters, turn right.”

Peter jumped, as the car hadn’t spoken for so long a time he’d forgotten it had that feature. The intersection seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. A sign pointed to the ‘Ice Hotel,’ which must be nearby. Now his destination was just a few minutes away. He crossed a river, which seemed to him more like the junction of two lakes, and drove through a small town called Jukkasjärvi, where hardly any lights were burning even though it was only half past ten.

To get to Reindeer Lodge, he took a gravel road that he would not have found without the navigation program—he only discovered the tiny signpost the next morning. At least the dirt road had been cleared of snow. After about 500 meters, he came across a row of wooden huts spread between trees.

There was no sign of a reception desk. Two of the cabins had lights on, but cars that were recognizable as rental cars were parked not far from them, so guests were most probably staying there.

Peter studied his reservation. He called the phone number, and a young-sounding female voice answered. It turned out that the reception office was in the village near the church. But the woman agreed to come because he’d be the last guest anyway, after which she could go home.

Half an hour later, Peter was lying in his bed. He was so tired that he hadn’t checked out the hut’s amenities or bothered to brush his teeth.

March 29, 2026 – Kiruna

When Peter awakened in the morning, bright light streamed past the sides of the blind into the hut. Doesn’t the sun always rise late and set early this far north? He looked at the clock on his cellphone. It was only seven, and yet it seemed as bright as day. He wanted to get up to pull the blind up, but when he pushed the thick blanket aside, the frosty air overwhelmed him.

Just beyond the foot of the bed, he saw a cannon stove. A few wood scraps were still glowing in its tube, but they were no longer enough to warm the room, because the walls rose like in a tent and the peak was at least four meters high. To the right of the stove, a narrow side room opened out. He wondered if there was a toilet inside, since his bladder was already pressing. He didn’t remember what the woman who’d welcomed him here had said. He only remembered her saying that breakfast would be served in a communal building.

Peter stood up with the blanket around him. He pulled up the blind. Next to the stove were wood and firelighters so that he could light the stove. He checked the adjoining room, but it was only a small entrance area, so the toilet must be outside. He got dressed, packed his toothbrushing stuff, slipped into his shoes, and left the cabin.

It was not as cold outside as he had feared, but nippy enough that the windows of his car were frosted over. The ground between the huts consisted of compacted snow, but it didn’t feel slippery. The paths to the toilet hut and the refreshment hut were easily recognizable because they were the widest. Peter deeply drew in the air, which smelled of forest and animals, probably the reindeer with which the lodge gave sleigh rides. He remembered that the woman had offered him a ride, but he’d declined.

His bladder was calling again. He had to take care of his physical needs first.

Peter was sitting at breakfast half an hour later. The young woman from yesterday wished him a good morning. He seemed to be the only guest, so he looked for a place as close as possible to the cannon stove, which was also the heating system for this hut. He found cereal, pastries, coffee and tea, already more than he needed, and there was even fruit, which he had not expected.

What should he do with this day? He could borrow cross-country skis or snowshoes rent-free. That sort of activity would be more Franziska’s thing. Peter looked at the surroundings on his cellphone and came across two interesting places: the spaceport in Esrange, which he would visit tomorrow anyway, and the iron mine of the Swedish company LKAB. With that, he made his decision. He booked a reservation online for