“Put that spanner down before you hurt someone. Besides we’re too far out to send for spare parts.” The stowaway glanced out of the porthole, directed by Taylor’s hand. “What have you done to the Earth?” he demanded. Then the realisation hit him, and he let the wrench float from his hand.

The two men had met six months ago, at the Advanced Propulsion Research Centre in Brisbane. But that was a lifetime ago, and a little over twelve light hours away. Lance Taylor was everything Ritso Grundowich was not. Where Lance looked like an Adonis, Ritso’s weedy frame gave him a permanent stoop, as his body fought gravity. It suited his permanent view that the world was on his shoulders. Some people bore their woes, pessimists to a man. But Ritso knew the world was out to get him. And only his insuppressible will, and the genius God had given him, stopped it crushing him down to mediocrity, like so many of his peers. His rich parents by contrast buoyed up lance. And an open view that the infinite possibilities awaited those who sort them. It complemented his perfect mind, the one thing the two men did share.

And so given this common ability, it was obviously a given that they would end up together, on the Dimensional collapsing field project. It was a revolutionary new way of looking at the faster than light problem. The father of the theory professor Geoff Kipplehoth, had tragically died in a freak lift accident. And all the two young men had to go on were his extensive notes. A complex set of equations that few could fathom, but some far seeing philanthropist had set up a trust fund, with only one stipulation. That any patients derived from the work, had to become public property; available to anyone who could make use of it. Of course speculation was rife. Most T.V. pundits put their bets on it being James Conrich. The man who brought the world his sky towers, making the task of leaving the planets surface an affordable possibility. He always denied the clandestine involvement. “Why would I give away such a valuable commodity? But whoever they are, they sure have given Humanity a gift. It’s the real key to all our futures, if this research ever comes to anything.”

And so like dutiful sons of one dead parent, and a mysterious benefactor, Ritso and Lance had pored over the dead professor’s incomplete work. “This is a nightmare” Ritso complained, as he walked round their shared lab. He was following the complex set of equations written on the blackboards, and the occasional diagram the two had resorted to, as a sort of explanation of the effects they sort to recreate. Lance scratched the three-day-old growth of beard and grinned. “Perhaps we should strike at the heart of the beast, and work out from there.” He pointed at a particularly complicated equation, just between the door and a cabinet. Ritso gave a sarcastic laugh and turning to his co-conspirator, he shoved in his hands in to his pockets. “You’re thinking of Hinstein’s experiment. But with exotic matter?” Lance nodded. “That should do it. Let’s see what the boys down in supplies can rustle up for us.”

When the two haggard men presented their list of requirements for the experiment to the stores man, he didn’t even sucking air through his teeth in the age-old tradition. He just took the list, and called over his shoulder. “Bill, come and have a look at this.” Bill ambled out of the shelves, and took several moments before his looked up at the two scientists, with a barely contained grin. “Who put you up to this? I suppose you’ll be wanting a left handed screwdriver to assemble it too.” But the sincere look on Lance and Ritso’s faces soon wiped the grin off Bill’s. “Out of the question. This set up could blow half the building up.” “Maybe half the state” concluded Bill’s friend.

It was a despondent Ritso that led Lance back to the lab. The stores men always seemed to be the last word, so they knew better than to argue with the likes of that. But by the time they had got back to the lab Lance had got an idea. “Why not set a lab up in space, ride the sky lift and hire a unit.” Ritso stared at him then slyly grinned “Or better still get something on the moon. I hear there’s plenty of free space where we could experiment away from people.”

So after a lot of safety sign-offs, the following week saw the various parts of the experiment being personally shipped by Ritso and Lance. They sometimes met at the top of a sky tower, going back and forth. Then they compared notes on the progress of their Moon lab. “We’ll need more solar collectors Ritso.” “It’s O.K. I’ve just got permission to use a nuclear pile. It’s waiting for you at Benson air base.” Then the two would head off again. And so on the eighth day after their run in with Bill, the two scientists stood in a moon cave in Cleomedes crater, carved from basalt.

The experiment itself could be conducted in the vacuum of the Moon. While the two men took readings safely within their “pressurised portacabin”, as the units had been dubbed early on in their use in this environment. It was a little bit of Earth on this new frontier. “Have you checked the power coupling?” Ritso asked as he adjusted the thermal sensor. “Bolted down and double locked.” Lance was just adjusting his helmet, in case he had to go out for any final technical glitches. Ritso was in a suit too. Although his reason for wearing it even in the safe environment was, “you never know what might happen up here.” He had spent most of his time Moon side in this suit, which had exasperated Lance at first. Until he had finally had to accept the fact, and so let it slide.

“Engaging cyclotron” Ritso pressed the red button. If they had been on Earth, the two men would have expected to have put on ear muffs. To protect them from the steady climb in the noise level, as the machine got up to speed. But one advantage of the vacuum was that the sound from the powerful device, wound not carry. As the gauge indicated, the cyclotron was achieving speeds unobtainable in anything but a vacuum. Ritso opened the valve to release the very expensive and rare antimatter in to the device. Ritso clenched his jaw, and even Lance looked apprehensively out of the viewing port at the machine, as it glowed faintly from the heat it was emitting. “Full mix achieved.” Ritso closed the valve, as the exotic material began to form the predicted vortex within the cyclotron. The tension the two felt at that moment could have only be equalled by the sound the device should be making, if only they could hear it. Then as the tip of the twisted cone of antimatter finally reached out and touched the target mass, there was a flash of light blinding the two men.

Screaming Ritso instantly crouched down. When the pain had finally subsided at the back of his eyes, Ritso uncurled and held his hand up. He could see it, and then looking over at his partner. He saw the suit stretched out on the floor. Shambling over as best he could in the low gravity, Ritso looked for vital signs. But the limp form was unresponsive. He had to get the helmet off, but what if the cabin had been breached. He shook his head, to try and clear his confusion. A Claxton and flashing lights; they would be activated if there was a sudden loss of cabin pressure. He remembered suddenly, from the safety lecture they got when the pod was delivered. The cacophony of noise and light should give them the vital seconds to suit up. So no flashing lights meant it was safe to remove Lance’s helmet.

Ritso unclipped the seals, and removed the globe covering Lance’s head. He seemed to be breathing. Quickly Ritso removed his own helmet and gloves, and he was soon checking Lance for vital signs. Finally he began to slap his partner’s face, in the vain hope of rousing him. Lances eyes fluttered open. “Have you checked the readings?” Incredulous Ritso shook his head, that Lance was not only unharmed, but also oblivious of his recent experience. Lance got up, and went over to the instrument panel. “Will you look at those apples?” Lance grabbed the still sullen Ritso, still shaken up by the experience. “The engine moved at a phenomenal rate, yet the acceleration on it barely registers any change.”

He tried pulling Ritso down to confirm his findings, but Ritso was rigid staring out of the porthole. There was a beam of light piercing the cave, like an accusing finger. It shone on the engine and he pointed it out to Lance. Ritso intoned “An equal and opposite reaction. You know what we’ve done.” He wheeled on his partner. “We’ve only gone and invented a super weapon. That target mass is heading towards the sun at phenomenal speeds.” Lance looked perturbed for a second, then as the numbers almost subconsciously fell in to place in the back of his mind, he automatically replied. “It’ll be there already and then the sun’s fusion will take care of it.” But adamant to make his point Ritso stood his ground.“We can’t let this out. Anyone can get his hands on this technology. And if someone started firing one of these off, the world would be more full of holes than Swiss cheese.” “But think of the feats Mankind could achieve with this engine. Perhaps we couldn’t get to the stars yet, but with speeds close to that of light at a relatively low cost, the solar system would be tameable.” But before he could convince Ritso, the man had put his helmet back on; as he stormed off as best he could on the Moon. The last thing he said was “I’ll not be part of this madness.” And then he was gone.

Lance shrugged his shoulders, and gathered up his data pack. This lab could wait a million years for his return, in the unchanging vacuum of the Moon. When he took the sky lift off the moon, Lance looked out for Ritso, to try and get another chance at changing his mind. But clearly his partner needed some time out. So Lance ferried the precious data back down to Earth. The lab back in Brisbane seemed too quiet with just Lance. But diligent to his work, the professor studied the field intensities and forces stretching the engine, which they had built for the Moon experiment. It seemed to scale up, but without his partner to bounce ideas off, Lance found the work slow going. Finally Lance looked down on the plans of a full-scale engine, which should propel a small craft to the speeds needed. And yet not suffer from the vast acceleration forces, needed to make it practical. That was when Lance opened the bottle of Champagne he had been saving, for both himself and Ritso to share their moment of triumph. He raised his glass, and gave a silent salute to his missing partner. After a sip he fell unconscious on the floor.

That was when the surveillance team moved in. They had been waiting for this moment for some time now. Ever watching through a set of cameras hidden in the walls of the lab, for the time when Lance Taylor would succeed. They knew he would, they had faith in him. They also had Ritso incarcerated at a top-secret location. When Lance woke up he was comfortably tucked up in a bed. Even this was a bridge too far for Lance. So he was up and dressed in the clothes neatly laid out for him, on a bedside table. Then he started scouring the bare walls for any sign of an exit, there wasn’t one. What there was, was a window. It looked out on a large and well-equipped workshop. There were a number of lab-coated people assembling a spacecraft. And even from behind the glass, Lance could easily see it was designed to be prefabricated, for easy shipping.

He banged on the glass, but much to his desperation, the workers on the other side didn’t seem to notice a thing. And just continued working, intent on their jobs. Lance ran over to the bedside table, but it was only then that he realised that like the bed it was fixed to the floor. “You are perfectly safe professor Taylor.” The voice calmly announced from some unseen source. Lance looked about, but he soon realised his incarcerators were not going to show themselves. “Who are you? What do you want? Why am I here?” Lance quickly fired these questions, now his mind was up to speed, and racing through all the possibilities presented to his imagination. “The reason you are here Professor Taylor is because you may have saved or dammed mankind. It is a razor sharp balance, but fortunately for you the decision doesn’t rest on your shoulders. Mistakes were made long before you started on this path. As to what we want. As co-contributor to this project, your unique knowledge in this field is a valuable asset in the development of the sub light drive. We may have your plans, but technical difficulties may arise that could require your expert opinion on.”

Lance considered the proposal. It seemed like a sincere attempt to complete the project, but still niggling at the back of Lance’s mind was the problem Ritso had raised. How could Lance be sure that once out there, the motor’s technology couldn’t be perverted for evil? Perhaps if he knew who his captors were, he could at least make a judgement on their intentions. So he raised the point again. “And just whom would I be working for, if not for humanity in general?” At this a panel opened in the wall, which had been imperceptible before, and an elderly man in a wheel chair rolled in under his own power. “That will be me Mr Taylor, James Conrich, or at least my representatives. For you will have to forgive the whims of an old man, that have to be cleared up by his board of directors. A spider may sit at the centre of its web for only so long, before the web gets too big to handle. And so my trusted trustees are there to catch me, when I reach too far. I had a dream that Humanity could reach out for the stars, and pluck them like jewels in the night.

So when professor Kipplehoth’s equations were explained to me, I not only knew it would lead to the next step in space exploration. But also that even with my vast empire, I felt I wouldn’t be able to create the number of space ships needed for this great push. That would require nations to act. So I put up the money to bequeath the fruits of your labours, so anyone in the world could benefit. But like a two edged sword, it seems your discovery could be used as a weapon. Luckily for us both less trusting men than me, that I have surrounded myself with, found out my magnanimous mistake. And collected all your findings along with yourself. Also the legal documents shouldn’t have allowed anyone to own the rights to this technology. I thought I had made sure of that when I started this whole mess off. Again luckily for us, I have lawyers a lot cleverer than myself in legal matters. And if the only ones who have access to the engines, that will power these mighty star ships, are swore to secrecy in the employ of my corporation, you can see how its devastating power can be kept out of the hands, of those who would seek to turn it to evil purposes. Will you work with me professor Taylor?” James Conrich looked up questioningly. Lance held out his hand satisfied. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“But what about professor Grundowich? He’s just as much and expert in this field as I am.” At that Conrich couldn’t suppress a grin. “Professor Ritso Grundowich has been enjoying my corporation’s hospitality for some time now. He took a bit more persuading than you, but with suitable reassurances and proofs, he has come around to our way of thinking. And he has designed a similar engine to yours, with just a few differences. You see we had access to your experimental data. Which we passed on to him, when he decided to work with us. I think a combination of both your designs should give us an excellent final product.”

Over the next few weeks the reunited scientists oversaw the skilled technicians, as they assembled the craft and more importantly they worked on the heart of it, the engine. One day when the parts had been carefully packed for shipping, Ritso pulled Lance aside. “You realise our lives won’t be our own from now on. For this to work we will have to be watched twenty four seven, to make sure some undesirable power doesn’t try to get this technology from the source.” He tapped his head. Lance just smiled, “well don’t you think having a guardian angel watching over you would be a good thing in your life?” “No I want to live my own life”, hissed Ritso as he stalked off. The operations manager came over to lance. “Professor Taylor, I think we should have an expert on hand for the maiden test flight but”, he looked sheepish. “We don’t want to put all our eggs in one basket so to speak. Could you explain to Professor Grundowich that we really need him to remain on Earth, as an advisor in case you have problems?” Lance took it in, he had never considered himself as a test pilot. But if it had to be a choice between himself and Ritso, he certainly had the temperament for the job. He went and broke the news to his colleague.

“So how did you get on board?” Lance plucked out of the air the discarded spanner, and stowed it safely in a compartment. “Never mind that” countered Ritso, “how did you attain faster than light travel? I had only been adjusting one or two bits on the engine when the power kicked in, and I hid in the compartment back there.” He indicated to the aft of the craft. “But that was only for a few minutes. How far out are we exactly?” It was Lance’s turn to be dumbfounded. “Sedna, it’s taken me a little over twelve hours to get here. I wanted to give it a good run.” Ritso twisted back and forth in the small cabin muttering. “Some sort of time distortion, I can’t recall any effect in the equations, unless.” He paused and Lance completed his thought, “the variance at a distance function? But that’s marvellous, we could work on that, it would be useful.” And so lost in their work once more, the two scientists took the readings before turning the ship home. And the rest as they say is history.

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