by V. S. Holmes
"I know." He dipped his head to catch her eye. "But you might want to get that over with before we're swarmed by students."
"Martos, the anthropology department is never in danger of being swarmed." She offered a smile she didn’t feel. "What are you going to do about North American Lithic Analysis and Anthropology of Food? Two of our students need those to graduate on time."
"I found an adjunct to take over your intro courses. You'll take over Mikey's stuff."
Nel winced. As if reading his notes wasn't hard enough. "And his grad students?"
"Are now mine."
"Right." She stared at her coffee, wondering absently if the milk was sour and that's why her stomach churned.
"You have three weeks before classes actually start, but I need to know if you can handle this."
"I handle everything you throw at me, Martos."
"I'm not worried about whether you'll get it done. I know you will. I'm worried if you'll break in the process. I've barely spoken to you since you came back, other than the funeral. I don't really know what happened down there. And yesterday morning I got this on my desk." He handed her a slim envelope.
Nel drew out the papers, eyeing him warily. The forms indicated her interest in publishing her findings from Los Cerros Esperando VII and requested involved parties to begin compiling their data for publication. Though the signature was hers, she was certain she never wrote this up. Thanks for throwing me under the bus, Lin. "What about it?"
"Well you've barely begun excavation on the site, and as far as I know your permits were revoked twice, the second time permanently. Why do you want to publish this mess?"
Because I was exhausted and promised someone I would. "What happened down there is really complicated. I can't even explain it; wonder if I'm dreaming half the time."
"Death’s a complex thing, Nel, and I don't think you've ever dealt with this kind of death."
"Peers have died before."
"Mikey wasn't just your peer and we both know it. Stop the tough-girl act. You didn't even make it to Phase III. If you think this will somehow give Mikey a good name, I'll remind you his name is better than yours in a lot of cases."
His warm steady gaze made her squirm. She hated when someone saw through her. "There's more to it, Martos. It's politically complicated. Mikey was just the beginning." She chewed on her lip, debating how much he could hear without threatening to commit her.
"Two days ago I got a phone call from your backers. Said they couldn’t get ahold of you and needed to speak with you immediately. It wasn't the woman I normally speak with. They said she was on a new project."
"What else?" Nel forced her tone to be neutral.
"Politically complicated is fine, Nel, but this is me you're talking to.” He leaned forward, elbows propped on the arms of his chair. “Are these people dangerous?"
"Dangerous? Like a mob?" Nel scoffed. When Martos's expression did not change, she looked down. It was possible. She saw their weapons, knew firsthand their influence. Certainly, it was just a fraction of their actual might. Giggles threatened to escape her throat at the idea of a space mob. "Honestly, I don't know. They have deep pockets and long arms. I just think they’ll do far more good than harm."
"What about tenure? Are you still interested in that? You were going to apply for it this fall, but the deadline is almost passed."
"Of course I still want it! And sorry I'm a bit late. I've had a funeral to deal with. I was planning on tenure, on running another site with Mikey. I was going to start my own field school out of the university." She looked away. "I was going to do a lot of things."
"It sounds like you were the one who died down there. Your life’s not over." He drew out another stack of papers, this one the much more familiar application for tenure.
"Not over, just different, and I've got to come to grips with that."
Martos nodded once in his crisp, yet caring way. "Here. You have a week to look over things. Apply for tenure when you're ready, but don't forget your dreams just because you're grieving."
She scanned the papers, though she didn't really retain most of the information. "Thanks, Martos.” The smile she flashed felt tired, tattered.
"Nel, do you have anyone to talk to? Are you seeing anyone, professionally or romantically in whom you can confide?"
"Not really. I was, I mean, but things are still really new and she's got her own stuff. I met her down in Chile."
"Long distance isn't your style. More like arm's length."
She glared at him, but he was dead right. "Ouch. And it's not long distance. She came down to smooth things out after they attacked him." She couldn't bring herself to say the names, not in that context. "Her name is Lin."
"Ms. Nalawangsa? I spoke with her on the phone. Sounded young and passionate." His delicate brow rose. "I suppose that is your style." He straightened and pulled his jacket on. "I've got go. Appointment’s in twenty, care to walk me out?"
She hummed in response and popped his empty mug into the sink before following him out the door. "Thanks for stopping by. I'll be in tomorrow to talk to the board about the site and the semester. You'll be there?"
"I will." He hoisted himself into his Hyundai and collapsed his chair. "You talked to any of the students yet?"
"I've emailed back and forth with a few of them. I know Annie is taking time off. Why?"
"Well, sometimes helping someone else grieve makes it easier. Hearing their stories and thoughts might bring you some peace, knowing you weren't the only one who loved him." He pointed to the house. "Look over those papers. And do more than shuffle those lesson plans. You've worked hard and could do this." He shut the door with a smile and pulled out of the drive.
Nel waved him off before returning to the kitchen to stare at the paperwork. Is this the life I want? Martos's words about talking to someone irked her. Of course, she had friends, had family to talk to, but it had just been her and Mikey for so long. Sometimes she forgot where he ended and she began. Maybe, in some ways, she also died in Chile.
Continue the adventure now!
Discover Lin’s Story in
Disciples
Cryosleep was a temporary death. The lights were dim, a twilight between waking and sleep. Lin blinked and rolled her shoulders, stretched her neck, curled her toes. Viscous stasis fluid drained silently, leaving goosebumps across her beige skin. Nausea shuddered through her. She ignored it. Instead she drifted in the peace of momentary amnesia. The hiss of heated air punctured the stillness. She flexed her fingers and tapped the smooth metal embedded in the flesh of her wrist. “Commence waking sequence in five….” She counted the seconds down silently.
“Good morning, Opsir Nalawangsa.” The low voice was male, and just shy of truly human. The lights rose, gradual and faintly yellow.
“Good morning, Phil. Where are we?” She pushed out of her tank, rising in the zero G of her cryo tube. The lights were fully bright now.
“We’re in orbit, 437 km from the surface of the planet Earth.” There was a pause, and she almost thought the ship’s voice held a smile. “Welcome home.”
She snorted. “My genes may come from that ball of dirt, Phil, but I certainly don’t.” The air rolled over her skin, drying as it went. A click and pop echoed from beside the closed door of the cryo tube. She grabbed the vial from the ship’s delivery system and held it up.
NALAWANGSA, LIN
IMMUNIZATION LEVEL 2
STABILIZERS
PROTEIN
CARBOHYDRATES
ELECTROLYTES
VITAMINS A, D, B, C
SALINE
She groaned. “What does a woman have to do to get proper grilled fish with her breakfast in bed?”
“When you cure cryo-sick I will personally deliver you a plate of fresh milkfish in bed upon waking.”
She rolled her eyes and snapped the vial into the port in her arm. A moment passed then her nausea subsided. Aching
in her head ebbed. “How was the trip?”
“Uneventful. You are wanted in Trajectory.” Phil’s tone often trod the line between a butler’s deference and a captain’s rebuke.
“Dar?”
“Yes. It appears Komodor Muda Nalawangsa has requested you personally. Shall I tell him you’re on your way?” Probably just to rub in his new rank of Komodor Muda and the fact he’s now senior enough to just ‘request’ me. “Thanks, Phil. I’ll see you there.” She unwrapped the plastic from her uniform and slid it on. After seven years of drifting naked in a vat of saline, the stiff electro-fiber felt cumbersome. She flexed her hand, aligning the contacts inside with the conduits tattooed on her skin. A hum. A rush of energy not-quite-her-own. Paired. The word wasn’t spoken, not heard in the traditional sense, nor was it a thought. It least, not hers. Increase temperature by 0.5 degrees C.
Her goosebumps sank back into her skin. She slid the door open and slithered from her cryotube. The lights here were brighter, the snaking lines of green and blue illuminating the stark white of walls and the sharp silver of glass. Her finger brushed the pad in the wall, changing a panel from cycling photos to a mirror. She scraped her hair back and straightened her collar. It was always alarming how little her face changed during years of cryosleep.
“Opsir Nalawangsa—”
“Yeah, Phil, I know. On my way.” She shoved through the next door into a corridor. The steep curve told her still-disoriented mind she was on the interior of the ship. A gentle press indicated they were just inside the gravitational field. Planet-side is starboard. She kicked off the floor and sailed along the corridor. Other than several bots and the usual techs, the hall was deserted. Debriefing already started then. It took days for the ship and crew to recover from a cryo-trip to open space. Longer when they arrived at a planet’s orbit. She found the first drop-door to the exterior rings of the ship and pressed the symbol for Trajectory. The ground trembled with the rings’ gentle turning. When the doors between the outer rings and a transport shaft were aligned the door slid open. Lin dropped, her grin broad. This was her favorite part. The slight artificial gravity brought by the rotation grew the farther from the core she got, so what started as a gentle drift accelerated into a true free fall.
WARNING: Falling from high places can result in damage or expiration. Engage mag-catch. She ignored the suit for another moment, enjoying the rushing air. Lights flickered past as she hurtled through dozens of levels. She clenched her teeth against biting her tongue. Suit: Engage mag-catch. Electromagnets in her suit kicked on with a hum and lurch. By the time she arrived at the door emblazoned with the symbol for Trajectory she was floating. A panel slid across the transport tube and she touched down. Gravity settled over her like a blanket. Even her organs felt heavy. Her palm on the door granted access to the waiting area. Another palm on the next door prompted a cheery robotic voice very unlike Phil’s.
“Good morning! Please state your rank, full name, and purpose clearly into the speaker.”
Lin leaned forward. “Opsir Muda Udara First Class Lin Nalawangsa, to see Komodor Muda Udara Dar Nalawangsa.”
“Accepted, have a lovely day!”
Lin smiled, wondering if the security bot’s voice grew irate when you weren’t allowed through. The door slid open and she stepped through. Trajectory was as messy and chaotic as the rest of the ship was tidy. The bank of screens to the left showed their past trips, and those of other ships in the fleet. One blinked with a digital scan of Phil’s face as he debriefed the crew and discussed issues with other ships’ minds. The right was a whirlwind of orbit physics and gravitational maps. Her brother stood within the ring of navigation and communication computers that dominated the center of the room. He snarled something at the image of Phil’s head on one of his screens. “I don’t really care what the ISS has to say. Our orbit takes precedence. It’s much harder for us to navigate then for them.”
“Sir,” Phil offered, “I think they feel differently. They’re expecting a shipment and new crew. Their flightpath has been planned for months, and the weather won’t hold forever—”
“I’ll show them fucking weather…” His mutter almost drowned in a chorus of beeps that rose from Navigation. “Then put me on the comm with NASA.”
“Paging NASA.”
Lin saw her opening and stepped up to the raised floor of the Captain’s Ring. “You wanted to see me, Dar?”
Dar frowned, but did not look up. He could have been her twin: black, smooth hair, warm beige skin, and deep oval eyes. Their features and parents, however, were the only things they shared.
“I need you to go planet-side.”
Lin’s stomach lurched. The tingle crawling up her arms had nothing to do with electromagnets or her suit maintaining temperature. “Excuse me?”
Read the rest of Disciples for free!
CHAD
The character of Chad is born from a man of the same given name--Chad Di Gregorio. I met Chad in Greece during my first dig. While I only knew him for a short time I learned quickly that he was a man of kindness, dedication, and intelligence. He was a fantastic archaeologist who impacted many lives. He left this world far too soon, and it is in his honor I wrote Nel's colleague.
Chad was a wonderful human, of whom I can only hope to portray a fraction.
GLOSSARY
Alluvial sands - Soil deposited by running water, such as streams, rivers, and flood waters. (Archaeological Institute of America, 2015)
ALMA - Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array is the largest astronomical project in existence. It is a single telescope of revolutionary design located on the Chajnantor plateau of northern Chile. (Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array, 2015)
Artifact - A portable object manufactured, modified, or used by humans. (Archaeological Institute of America, 2015)
Backdirt - The excavated, discarded material (sediment, dirt) from a site that has generally been sifted for artifacts and is presumed to be of no further archaeological significance. This material may later be used to refill test pits, an action referred to as “back filling.” (Archaeological Institute of America, 2015)
Beringia - land bridge between Asia and North America exposed by low sea levels during the last Ice Age 110,000 to 12,000 years ago. It is now under the Bering Strait. (National Geographic Genographic Project. 2015)
Biface - Stone tools that have been worked on both sides or faces, meaning that flakes have been intentionally (not naturally) chipped off from both sides of the stone. (Archaeological Institute of America, 2015)
Chert - Chert and flint were the main sources of tools and weapons for Stone Age peoples. Because of the uniformly fine grain, brittleness, and conchoidal fracture of flint and chert it was relatively straightforward to flake off chips to shape them, leaving razor edges. (Bonewitz et. al., 2005)
Chipping debris - see debitage
Clovis - Clovis is the name archaeologists have given to the earliest well-established human culture in the North American continent. Clovis were the first big game hunters of the Paleoindian tradition, although they were probably not the first people in the American continents. Clovis archaeological sites are dated between 12,500 and 12,900 calendar years before the present and they are found pretty much throughout North America. (About Education. 2015)
Contract Archaeology - archaeological research, survey and excavation undertaken under contracts with government agencies, private organizations or individual landowners. (Central Archaeological Group Inc. 2016)
CRM - Cultural Resource Management. Profession that focuses on the management and preservation of cultural resources, such as archaeological sites or artifacts, protecting them for future generations. (Archaeological Institute of America, 2015)
Debitage - Small pieces of stone debris that break off during the manufacturing of stone tools. These are usually considered waste and are a by-product of production. (Archaeological Institute of America, 2015)
Dia
gnostics - artifacts that are indicative of a specific culture or time period.
Feature - A structure or physical element, such as a living surface, hearth, or pit altered or made by humans or human habitation. Features cannot be transported from a site, unlike an artifact. (Archaeological Institute of America, 2015)
Fishtail point - A projectile point with a leaf-like blade and a narrow stem that flares out at the very base, giving it the appearance of a fish's tail. Fishtail points are associated with the earliest hunter-gatherers in South America.
Flake - A piece of stone removed from a core for use as a tool or as debitage. (Archaeological Institute of America, 2015)
Fluted point - spear or dart points that have been bifacially flaked, characterized by a central flute or channel flake and a concave base enclosed by small, thin ears. (Museum of Anthropology. 2015)
GIS - Geographic Information System is a computer system for capturing, storing, checking, and displayingdata related to positions on Earth’s surface. GIS can show many different kinds of data on one map. This enables people to more easily see, analyze, and understand patterns and relationships. (National Geographic Education. 2016)
Hematite - a dense, hard iron oxide often red in color. Sometimes used to make ceremonial red ocher. Due to a high iron content of 70% it can be magnetized. (Bonewitz et. al., 2005)
Knapping - A technique for making stone tools and weapons by striking flakes from a core with a hard (stone) or soft (antler) percussion instrument. Individual flakes or cores can be further modified to create tools. Also called flintknapping. (Archaeological Institute of America, 2015)
Lithics - artifacts made from stone. (Archaeological Institute of America, 2015)
Mapuche - The Mapuche people are the original inhabitants of a vast territory in what is now Chile and Argentina. In Chile the Mapuche live mainly in the provinces of Bio-Bio, Arauco, Malleco, Cautin, Valdivia, Osorno, Llanquihue and Chiloe. (Intercontinental Cry, 2015)