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SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA

In 1788 Lord Sydney renamed Port Jackson to ‘Sydney’ to found the city that became the state capital of the New South Wales territory. The natural harbour is famous for the dramatic swooping layered roof of the Sydney Opera House resembling sea-shells, or glistening white upturned boat hulls and the steel bridge nicknamed the ‘Coat-Hanger.’ Sydney is also the financial and industrial hub of this region, home to the offices of ‘Franks, Swindles and Gentry’, a long established firm of solicitors, well known in the city for handling high level legal cases, and industrial negotiations. 

Senior partner in the firm, George Franks, lifted the handset to his classic colonial phone, in black and ivory, and dialed a familiar number.

NELSON BAY, NSW, AUSTRALIA

The phone rang in Professor Douglas Storm’s laboratory. The display showed it was George Franks, not only a family friend, but a man whose network of contacts spanned the globe. One of the few contacts the Professor would give the time of day.

George was the kind of man who you immediately felt at ease with; and trusted. Not because of his impressive legal chambers, height, and immaculate dress sense, but because of his relaxed Churchillian facial features, fine rimmed gold spectacles and neatly trimmed moustache. George had the ability to slow time down just by engaging you with his intense blue eyes, demanding the utmost respect and attention lest you missed just one of his carefully considered words. 

For all that George looked like a regular lawyer. If he hadn’t engaged you orally, you’d probably not have given him more than a passing thought for the considerate gentleman that he was. Once engaged, you could not help notice that everything about his appearance was faultless. He was wearing a dark pin-stripped suit exquisitely cut from the most expensive wool blend.

“Douglas,” George’s voice crackled through the line, “any idea how to help John with his extraordinary hobby. Since he’s been rather vocal about his, shall we say, enthusiasm for DNA.”

Douglas chuckled. “John’s always been captivated by the building blocks of life, George. It’s in his blood, you could say.”

“Indeed,” George replied dryly. “But his public pronouncements… they’ve raised a few eyebrows. Especially given your own, rather hush-hush projects.”

By way of contrast, Professor Storm usually dressed in very worn casual clothes, or overalls when working on a project. He was five feet eleven inches tall, well built. He was thinning on top, clipped short, with a grey trimmed beard, but still ruggedly handsome for his age. He was very fit for his age and practiced Yoga.

Douglas’s smile faded as he took in the words. He knew what George was implying. His work on a revolutionary hydrogen-powered vessel capable of autonomous travel, was shrouded in secrecy. And his parallel research into advanced bio-digital conversion technology, a field he’d pioneered, was even more closely guarded. The implications were staggering: not just for understanding life, but for manipulating it, recreating it, even seeding it across the cosmos.

“I understand your concern, George,” Douglas said. “I’ll speak with John.”

The subsequent conversation with John was brief but impactful. Douglas recognized the spark of scientific zeal in his nephew’s eyes, a reflection of his own younger self. He also recognized the potential danger. John’s openness could attract unwanted attention.

“John,” he began, “your discovery is remarkable. But your… pronouncements… they’ve made you a person of interest on radars you should be careful to avoid.”

John looked surprised. “Interest from whom, Uncle Douglas?”

“Let’s just say certain organizations are always looking for an edge. Your work, combined with my own, could be… misinterpreted.”

Douglas decided then and there. He would safeguard John’s research, and his own. He established a secure, state-of-the-art archive deep beneath his research facility. Then, he focused on upgrading the hydrogen ship’s onboard AI, a powerful supercomputer named ‘Hal’, was enhanced to manage the vast library of DNA samples. The bio-digital conversion system, capable of translating biological strands into digital code and back again, was refined to an unprecedented level of accuracy.

Douglas understood the potential: terraforming distant planets, seeding them with Earth-based DNA, ensuring the survival of life beyond Earth's tragic global warming and species depletion.

These advancements did not go unnoticed. NASA and other space agencies began to track Douglas’s seemingly innocuous purchases: specialized cryogenic storage units, high-performance computing components, and advanced genetic sequencing equipment. The NSA couldn't quite put their finger on what he was doing, but they knew it was significant.

Then, Douglas vanished.

One crisp autumn morning, he failed to arrive at his lab. His office was undisturbed, the hydrogen ship was still in its hangar, disassembled as before, and the archive was locked and secure. But Professor Storm was gone. No note, no trace, no explanation. The only clue was a cryptic message left on his computer: “The seeds are sown.”

George Franks was beside himself at the mysterious disappearance of his great friend and ally.

Time passed without any clues. Eventually, Professor Storm was declared legally dead.

OFFICES OF FRANKS SWINDLES AND GENTRY, SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA

The humid Sydney air hung heavy as John Storm stepped out of the airport, the scent of frangipani and salt mingling in the breeze. He was a world away from the crisp intellectual atmosphere of London, a world away from the shadow of his uncle’s disappearance. He'd been informed that Douglas Storm was presumed dead, presumed lost at sea during a test run of a new military-grade submersible, a fact John still struggled to accept. Now, he was summoned to a will reading, a strange coda to a life tragically cut short.

The offices of Swindles & Gentry Associates were sleek and modern, a stark contrast to the antique charm of his London study. George Franks greeted John with a somber nod, his usually jovial face etched with concern. 

It was turning into another sweltering summer, when John Storm arrived a few minutes late, at these plush offices in downtown Sydney, for the reading of his uncle’s last will and testament. Gliding through two automatic glass doors into the reception area, a well-presented receptionist caught his attention.

"Mr Storm?"

John nodded appreciatively.

The receptionist motioned silently pointing left to give direction.

"Next-door down on the right," she smiled.

John smiled back, pointing to the door himself, by way of acknowledgment and confirmation. The receptionist had obviously been primed to direct participants of the gathering.

He let himself in carefully without knocking. 

Uncharacteristically, John was sporting a blue blazer and tie, chinos and dark brown brogues. The door opening created a sudden inrush of air demanding attention as the few relatives gathered in the room, turned to acknowledge the late arrival, apparently recognising him after years of little or no contact with smiles and nods. He blended into the background as best he could and prepared himself to listen. Everyone was formally dressed in dark clothes.

A well-spoken suited man sitting behind an impressive wooden desk, said in a stout English accent:

“Good you could join us. Make yourself comfortable John,” intending for John to sit in one of the sumptuous padded leather seats lining the rear office walls. 

John vaguely recognised the solicitor.

As the Will reading continued, other distant relatives - cousins several times removed, received substantial cash sums, as George Franks read from a short list of names methodically from behind his French polished Jacobean Oak, leather topped fortress.

On hearing of their good fortune the person being named smiled appreciatively, with varying degrees of animation, as others in the group softly murmured approval, trying to mask their delight in being remembered. Close friends were left mementos, while the remainder of the estate went to various research charities and it was beginning to dawn on those in the room that John would not be left a cash sum. John grinned inwardly; this was just like his uncle. He’d always been taught to fend for himself – to be self reliant. This must be the final lesson. 

As the reading concluded, the room emptied slowly, everyone shaking hands and exchanging polite cheek kisses. George Franks got up from his desk and shook hands with everyone as they filed past him toward the door like a vicar after morning service. As John turned to leave the by now empty chambers, George, the most senior partner in this most respected law firm, and trusted to handle his uncle’s affairs called out commandingly; arresting his exit. 

“John!” 

George directed John to his desk with a unassailable hand gesture. He stretched out his hand and as John got closer to shake it, he noticed that the solicitor’s crisp white handkerchief was folded to a perfect pinnacle. On shaking George’s hand firmly and unhurriedly, John smelled a combination of exotic spices that he could not quite place, but wanted to sample more. The handshake lasted just that bit longer as the two men finally considered each other. They had spoken on the telephone before, but they’d never discussed anything of consequence. 

George could see that John was all that he’d been led to believe. He’d heard about the lad’s wreck diving exploits searching for treasure trove, from his uncle, and read about him rock climbing at difficult archaeological sites. From his deportment it was obvious that John could handle himself in a tough spot, but he had a ready smile and preferred negotiation to physical altercation. George could not help but admire John’s rugged good looks and military-cut dark brown hair. He knew that John walked unpredictably on the wild side. He knew that John had once dropped everything to join an expedition looking for anthropological relics, about which he was thought to be developing an obsession. 

“John, I’m so sorry about your uncle,” he said, his voice low. “It’s… a great loss.”

“Thank you, George,” John replied, the grief still raw. He’d always looked up to Douglas, a brilliant scientist and a kind, if somewhat eccentric, man.

The will reading was brief and anticlimactic. Douglas’s estate, substantial as it was, was divided amongst various charities and research institutions. John received nothing. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, quickly masked. He hadn’t expected anything, not really. His relationship with his uncle, while warm, hadn’t been one of financial dependence.

“There is one… item,” George said, clearing his throat, “that Douglas specifically wished to pass on to you, John.”

He produced a small, intricately carved wooden box. Inside, nestled on velvet lining, were a set of keys and a sealed envelope.

“These were found amongst Douglas’s personal effects,” George explained. “He left a note for you.”

John’s heart quickened. He took the box, his fingers tracing the smooth wood.

It was like a scene from a Bond movie, where ‘M’ hands 007 a dossier on a suspect. Somewhat reluctantly, John leaned over the desk for a rather exquisite paper knife, which he carefully slid under the larger end flap and cut open. 

The envelope was very high quality velum and rather tough. Inside were two sheets of paper, which he removed, and unfolded the notes. One sheet was a personal letter, the other some instructions and an address. The handwriting was unmistakably his Uncles. The letter read:

John my boy,

I'm passing this to you hoping you might appreciate the concept. The family are trusting you to use it in the spirit intended.

Modify her as you see fit. I didn't have time to put her to good use.

Good luck,

Uncle Douglas

John reread the note a couple more times, confusion clouding his features. 

“Modify her?” he asked, looking up at George. “What does he mean?”

George shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest idea, John. Douglas was always one for riddles.”

John examined the keys. They were unlike any he’d ever seen, intricately designed with strange symbols etched into the metal. He tried to open the box with them, but they didn't seem to fit. He felt a growing sense of unease. This was more than just a sentimental keepsake; it felt like a message, a challenge, a call to action.

His uncle was actually 'Professor Douglas Storm,' famous in some circles. He'd worked on many top-secret energy projects and high speed craft. He'd also developed a computer program that had been dubbed 'Hal,' the dawn of Artificial Intelligence, after Arthur C Clarke's Space Odyssey.

Lately, his uncle Douglas had helped John develop a computer archive they named 'The Ark,' where he could store and retrieve DNA samples digitally. He remembered those days fondly. Though he had no idea how advanced or where that development had ended up.

“What’s this all about?” said John looking to George, as he replaced the keys. 

“Well, to be frank, I’m not entirely sure,” said George, “but if you don’t want whatever the legacy is, it’s to go to the new department of light particle research at CERN in Genève, Switzerland, and other learned institutions."

Thinking for a few moments, John was trying to decide whether he needed yet more hassle in his life, but then, no pain – no gain.

“If I decide to check it out, I can always come back?” 

“Of course,” said the older man. “If he’s expecting too much, your uncle would understand.” 

John grimaced. Expecting too much, that sounded like responsibility – he’d spent his life avoiding that.

John stretched out his hand to meet that of George Franks again as if he’d decided to shake goodbye and refuse the invitation. George responded. 

“Oh, by the by, if you need us for anything, we’re here to assist you. I really must emphasize – anything! But, only if you decide to take the keys.” 

“Anything?” said John mystified, “that’s a very broad compass. Just where are the boundaries?”

George responded eagerly, “That’s for me to decide in the field, as it were.” 

This was getting more intriguing by the minute. "Are we to be partners?" 

Just as John went to fire off a barrage of questions, George interrupted. 

“John, I know this is all rather irregular, so could I suggest that you look at the lay of the land, then perhaps give me a call to frame your questions.” He said this holding up the keys by way of a calculated dare.

John couldn’t argue with that, and knew from the tone of voice, that he’d have to see what it was for himself or decline the offer. He’d have to take the keys.

As John left the office, the Sydney skyline shimmering in the afternoon sun, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. He was naive to the ways of the world, too trusting, as George had once warned him. He didn't yet understand the depths of government corruption, the lengths to which powerful organizations would go to secure valuable technology. He was unaware that his uncle’s disappearance was no accident, and that the keys he now possessed were not just keys to a physical lock, but keys to a dangerous world of secrets, a world where the lines between science, espionage, and survival were blurred. He was about to learn, the hard way, that his uncle's legacy was far more complex, and far more dangerous, than he could ever have imagined.

..... >>>>>

V 2.0 CHAPTER DESCRIPTION - ILLUSTRATED SPECIAL EDITION

Tanzania - A young John Storm finds a Homo Erectus skull and becomes a modern Noah

Shard Protest - England, the city of London, John scales the glass icon, unfurls a banner

Whale Sanctuary - The Aleutian Islands, N. Pacific migration begins to warmer waters

Sydney Australia - Storm Legacy, Will reading, John meets George Franks

Bat Cave - John at Nelson's Cove, discovers the Elizabeth Swann, Hal, Ark, & befriends tabby cat

Pirates - Shui Razor and Stang Lee, whalers leave Nagasaki to hunt

Solar Race - Hawaii, the venue for a race around the world for the Solar Cup

Six Pack - The solar boat race begins, starting line, Sand Island yacht club

Whaling Chase - Shui Razor kills Kana, Kulo Luna sinks 'Suzy Wong' whaling ship & is harpooned

$Billion Dollar Whale - BBC Jill Bird hears of the story and online betting begins - Ladbet

Rash Move - Miles in the lead, John abandons the solar race to save the wounded whale

Off Course - Kulo Luna swims the wrong way, into the South Pacific

Shark Attack - Trapped in ghost fishing nets, Kulo Luna is surrounded by hungry great whites

Sick Whale - Kulo Luna is bandaged, but is not well, John and Dan are concerned

Medical SOS - They radio for Suki Hall, marine biologist, cetacean expert

Whale Nurse - Suki Hall pumps out plastic from Kulo's stomach

The Coral Sea - Shui and Stang Lee chase Kulo past the Solomon Islands

K'gari Island - Kulo Luna sinks the Jonah whaling ship near Hervey Bay, strike two, gives birth

Hervey Bay - Shui and John rescue Kuna from ghost fishing nets

Congratulations - Shui wins half a $billion dollars, betting on Kulo Luna to win

This Novel is Copyright © 11th April 2025 Cleaner Ocean Foundation. Protected by the Berne Convention. All rights reserved.