Trafford Publishing: The Unknown

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The Unknown

by Gary Jarvis

230 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-1298; ISBN 1-55395-582-X; US$21.50, C$24.95, EUR17.50, £12.50

A thrilling ghost story set in the future in which a group of travellers must face an unknown evil.

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about the book about the author sample excerpts or Table of Contents catalogue info

About the Book

Some regarded him as the father of modern space travel. Yet first attempt at building an interstellar gateway cost him his life and ended in disaster, his machine destroyed. Those that followed learnt from his mistakes and in time they produced a working gateway. However, few understood the full consequences of that first failed attempt at linking to a fourth space dimension. For a gateway had been opened, a gateway to a far darker realm than the one the scientist had aimed for, and a ripple of evil was cast out across time.
A few centuries later in 2210, a group of nine travellers are sent on a rescue mission to find a missing ship lost in the outer regions of the known universe. As they near the stricken and now apparently deserted vessel, ghostly occurrences start to haunt the crew and soon they are drawn into a deadly game with the curse created with the scientist's fateful experiment. The travellers, however, are not the first to experience the wrath of this curse for it has plagued mankind for centuries, first surfacing in the early part of the 17th century when an enslaved voodoo priest is found to have powers far beyond his humble earthly beginnings. Then in 1932, a luxury cruise liner sinks under mysterious circumstances with all lives lost. The puzzle of its loss remains hidden until, in 2001, a diving team investigating the wreck is attacked by an unseen wraith. Now, deep in space, far from any help, the group of rescuers must succeed where others over the centuries have failed and end the nightmare that began with one scientist's small step into THE UNKNOWN.

About the Author

After gaining his PhD in physics from Birmingham University, England Gary Jarvis spent some time working in a laboratory in Berkeley, California. He now works for a small software company in the UK where he lives with his wife and two daughters.

Sample Excerpts or Table of Contents

Chapter 2

As the Belsarius blasted into the sky in another part of the galaxy, Arthur Sellers sat deep in thought in his bedchamber onboard the Taurus III. The past few days had been pretty chaotic what with Sienfeld having apparently gone insane and Dacombe's body having been found in pieces. And it was not just Seinfeld whose sanity was in question. Others on board had claimed that they had seen things that could not possibly have been true. The captain suspected that some of the crew had been infected by a virus that they had picked up from a small capsule they had found floating in space and had taken on board. It had been Sienfeld who had been working on the capsule initially, trying to open it. The captain believed that he had pierced the integrity of his protective suit somehow, which then had led him to become infected and to lose grip of his capacity to think clearly. After slicing both of his wrists, he had strolled through the ship, before finally collapsing, having contaminated most of the living quarters with whatever infection he had acquired. No one else had been affected as seriously yet. Apart from Dacombe, of course, if you could count him. Nobody quite knew what had happened to him, for all they found were tiny bits of flesh and lots of blood spread about his chamber. A DNA test was all they could do to prove the origin of the mess. The captain had tried to signal base-camp for help, but the long-range transmitter had been damaged a few days previously. He suspected that the power fluctuations they had been experiencing had caused this by sending high surges of current through the circuits, thus melting them. He had a couple of the crew fixing the transmitter, but they were not hopeful of it being operational again for at least another four days. And so they were alone. Alone in the serenity of the universe.

Arthur gazed out of the porthole at the silent night sky to ease his anxieties, the eternal darkness broken only by a thin spattering of colour here and there. Spiralling galaxies many light years away produced beautifully erratic patterns, each one moulded from many different colours of the spectrum. The burning gases of evolving stars closer by, cut through the black curtain of the night, like speckles of flicked paint on a clean canvas. Gazing out at such beauty, he felt an overwhelming sense that his life was only playing a tiny inconsequential role in the story of existence.

Arthur liked to dream about the wonders they might find in the dark ocean through which they drifted, beyond the boundaries of previously navigated space. This was where he sought refuge from the madness that had become reality on board the Taurus III. He had not joined the pioneering team of explorers as head chef just to create meals out of the limited supplies that they had on board their vessel. It was his curiosity to discover what was "out there" that needed to be satisfied and this had been his main reason for signing up.

As he watched the slowly passing sky, a tiny glimmer of reflected light absorbed his gazing inquisitiveness. Adjusting his seating on the narrow bed, he frowned as it gambolled towards the ship with so much randomness in its course that it seemed curiously unnatural. Perhaps unnatural was the wrong word, he corrected his own thoughts, for it actually seemed in possession of that most natural of all ingredients -life. It looked a bit like how he imagined Tinkerbell from Peter Pan would look, buzzing around in the distance.

As the entity neared, he realised it was travelling at a velocity far greater than it had seemed to be when he had seen it from a distance. He suspected, however, that the reasoning for this phenomenon was purely a physical one, the way an aeroplane appears to be casually gliding when seen at an elevated height above ground level, when in reality it may be travelling at a speed close to that of sound. However, one thing that could not simply be put down to the laws of physics was that its chaotic path now seemed to be gaining a certain purpose, as if it truly was a living entity and its destination had been ascertained. At first, he had believed that the object was metallic and that it glowed merely because of the reflection from the local stars. Now he was certain that this was not the case. It was far too bright for one thing and appeared to be creating a luminescence all of its own. He wondered briefly if the ship's sensors had picked up the presence of this apparently foreign existence and if they had, why the warning sirens were not now sounding. Perhaps there was a malfunction with them too.

Arthur*s eyes gazed without blinking as the ball of light dodged sideways and then upwards to avoid collision with the ship. He pressed his face against the reinforced glass in a vain attempt to see where it had gone. He appeared not to realise the futility of his act, like a small child, full of wonder, looking behind a television set to see if he can see whom it is that makes the pictures.

Without warning, two short tapping sounds, dull yet sharp in the solitude of the steel walled room, resonated from the window. The shock jolted his muscles into spasm and made him withdraw from the window with a sharp intake of breath. His gaze was instantly drawn by the new sight that had appeared outside the porthole, a ghostly hand wavering at the lower edge of his window. It was human in shape, but was an unearthly, pallid-green colour, which every so often seemed to fade into transparency. A whole set of feelings rushed with violent urgency through his senses, bombarding his brain. His childhood nightmares of supernatural beings had until now been disproved by the apparent lack of evidence to prove their existence. However, now his views were rapidly being revised. His mind tried desperately to pretend that the vision was merely an overzealous blur of his imagination that had somehow strayed from the recesses of thought to pollute his visionary senses. Its stubbornness to disappear, however, made the fear of reality pump adrenaline into his circulation.

With an even bigger shock to his nervous system, which made him leap as if a bolt of electricity had suddenly coursed its way through his veins, a nightmarish face, translucent in its composition, drifted upwards. Its features were drawn and its forehead bowed forward. Its eyebrows formed a sharp V of sinister intent above its glinting eyes that were almost lost in their recesses as its thin lips, which were encircled by a scraggy beard, grinned smugly. If one were to peer out of their curtains on a night and see a face gazing back at them as if it had been waiting for you to peep out, one might be able to imagine the fear that now sent freezing shivers down Arthur's spine. The shock caused him to breathe in gasps as his mind considered opting for insanity, rather than having to live with the notion that the apparition might be real. To shut his wide-open eyes would rid him of the vision that caused him so much distress, but that would leave his imagination to rampage through the closets of torment that are present in all of our minds. Therefore, he did not even allow himself the relief of blinking, as beads of sweat leaked into his eyes.

The disease that Sienfeld had contracted must have got to him, he decided briefly. That must be the answer. None of this was real. None of this could be real!It was just a hallucination, caused by some sort of chemical reaction that the disease was causing in his brain. He was not convinced however, and was further unsettled by the fact that this being was aware of him, just as much as he was of it. Its deathly eyes seemed to stare directly into his innocent soul and pick at it with evil delectation. He was beginning to understand why Sienfeld had slashed his wrists.

And then, the thing's hand moved again, this time closing twice in a wave before it disappeared, falling downwards as a blur of light in a rainbow of colour. Arthur stopped in mid breath, mouth still gaping and his eyes furtively searching the void of space. As he watched, the ball of light returned, but this time it seemed to create itself out of the non-matter, and then hovered not far from his window. It hung there, shimmering beautifully like a sunbeam shining off the sea. But the sea Arthur knew was a long way away now and he feared the hidden intent of this ball of apparent intelligence.

With the breathtaking speed that it had already revealed, it covered the space between its initial position and the porthole. There was a deafening crash, and Arthur leapt backwards, falling off the bed and turning to shield his face from the expected flack and debris from the collision. While he lay there curling up with an inner atavism inherited from one of our more hunted ancestors, he envisaged a great deal of pain from injuries caused from flying metal shards. He awaited the sudden rush of air as the sealed off atmosphere of his chamber was released to the harshness of space. However, none of his expected fears came to fruition and they soon passed to leave his senses to work out what had really happened.

First, he listened. Curiously, the sound of wind as well as the rustling of fabric and a splashing sound like that of running water whistled into his auricles. And then the feeling of movement, a rocking almost rhythmic pattern, as if the chamber were now floating, awoke his curiosity further. His first view was of the floor, which had been partially metamorphosed. Some of the metallic ground remained, but in patches, it had disappeared and woven into the holes were wooden slats, green with slime. This unexpected sight made Arthur spin over to look about at the rest of the chamber. Most of the far wall was missing and he gazed unimpeded by glass or any other such transparencies directly outwards at the vacuum that should have already claimed his life. His senses were sent further into confusion by the fact that parts of the remaining wall had also mysteriously turned into wood and a mast, half created out of the mystic light that now filled the room, raised out of the floor before him. It was as if some ancient plane of existence had mixed itself up with this one and had placed itself on top of Arthur's bedchamber. A sea bird' s call echoed down to Arthur and he watched in a complete daze with his mouth agape as the bird alighted on part of the magical mast, its spirit having been stolen from some other time and not altogether present in this one, judging by its diaphanous appearance.

With a gulp, Arthur heard another crash. This time it was the sound of breaking wood and he felt a sharp twinge as splinters dug into his back. Rapidly following, he felt something stabbing him in the centre of his spine. It was not a particularly sharp implement that struck him, but it hit him with an immense force that sent a convulsive throw of pain through his body. With horrifying awareness, he felt his spine split apart as the thing ripped into his torso. A muffled scream crept from his lips as his lungs were penetrated and a fear of death leapt to the forefront of his numbed brain. A tear of anguish trickled down his cheek, which was now stretched into a grimace of ultimate suffering. Finally, his chest exploded, and the snake-like thing that still pushed through his body was revealed to him covered in his own gore. His head shook uncontrollably as his nerves echoed their last impulses to his neck and he looked down at the ghostly hand he had seen at the window before him. Now, however, it seemed far from immaterial. It rotated, letting the dark, oxygenated blood drip from it as if in dreadful fascination of the damage it had dealt, before realising Arthur' s worsening condition. It closed twice in a wave as the cook of the Taurus III blacked out.

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