Pegasus Colony (People of Akiane: A Colonization Science Fiction Novel Book 1)

by Phyllis Moore

  “There she goes again,” Rona whispered genially.

  It didn’t bother her when someone like Olivia rattled on endlessly. In her mind, there might be something to learn.

  “Plankton can double in size in one day. In just a few days they can become as large as eight tons covering a thousand kilometers then die out in 72 hours.”

  I tuned Olivia out.

  For Jorg’s ears only, I said, “Once inside the habitat, I’m not leaving.”

  “For two years?” he asked. This was difficult for him to understand since his plans were to spend as much time outside doing as much research as possible. His field of study was snow, snow ecology, algae, and algae ecology.

  I, on the other hand, didn’t need to be outside for any reason. “If I get stuck here, yes. I’m staying inside until the next transport comes.”

  “You’ll get cabin fever.”

  “The habitat was built so that 5,000 people could comfortably live in it. According to one of the messages from the colony, it sounded as if there were a lot less than that living in it. WSC sent 100 scientists, two cooks, and me. There’ll be plenty of room to roam about. I’ll be just fine,” I said with definite assurance.

  He looked at me with confused disbelief. “But, why?”

  “I have a major aversion to the cold,” I said.

  “You’re from northern Minnesota. You should be used to the cold.”

  “When Mom left, Dad moved us to Oconto Village. It’s only a few hours farther north than my home in St. Paul, but those latitudes had a major affect on temperature. It was colder, the blizzards lasted longer, and the snow piled higher. One year, the snow was so bad I had to crawl in and out of the house by an attic window. I didn’t just hate it. I loathed it. And there was nothing I could do about it.”

  “Why Oconto?” Jorg asked.

  “Dad said he wanted a quiet place to write.”

  And there it was, that look of recognition. It had finally dawned on him who I was.

  “You’re Loy Hewitt’s daughter,” he said with full admiration.

  “Yes.” I turned away, steeling myself against the emotion.

  “All this time. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I shrugged.

  “Jessie, I read all his books. It’s because of him I study snow.”

  “Good for you. Personally, I never read any of them.”

  “Why not?”

  “I hated the cold. I hated Dad for dragging me to the end of nowhere. I hated Mom for leaving. I hated me.”

  “You, Jessie? Why did you hate yourself?”

  I didn’t answer. How could I tell him what an awful child I’d been?

  He didn’t press, instead he said, “May I ask why she left?”

  “Mom preferred a career as an art director to being a wife and mother,” I said. “She wanted to inspire conceptual ideas that worked in different media formats.”

  “And did she succeed?”

  “Dad and I were too far off the electronically beaten path to know. We lived in communication isolation.” It was funny now, but back then I was angry about it. “Believe it or not, there are still places where one can live unplugged from the electronic age.”

  He gave me a half smile, one of those charming smiles that melted my insides. Once again, I had to remind myself that we were just friends.

  “No, I didn’t know there were places like that left in the 25th century. My father would have loved it. He always made me leave my virtual games behind when we went on vacation. Drove me crazy,” Jorg said.

  “I had serious withdrawal that lasted for weeks,” I said. “Although, I have to say, moving us there was a bit of an oxymoron.”

  “Why?”

  “He typed all his manuscripts digitally and communicated with his publisher electronically.”

  Jorg raised a questioning eyebrow. “I read his books digitally and they made me dream of coming to a place like this. I’m surprised he was so anti-innovation.”

  “Yes, well, Dad said computers had their place, but they shouldn’t rule one’s life. I didn’t have a choice; I read everything the traditional way. A book with pages I could hold in my hands. Books are still printed, for those who want them.” I’d never admit it out loud, but I still preferred traditional books. But with limited space on a ship, I had to leave all of them behind so all my books were now digital.

  In my mind’s eye, I saw my books neatly sitting on their shelves, and I jumped back to my bedroom in St. Paul. We lived just off the southern end of Cleveland Avenue, a few blocks from the Mississippi River.

  A memory of Dad laughing and chasing me around in our backyard flashed before me. We never played like that in Oconto. There were a lot of things we never did after Mom left.

  “I think he really moved to the edge of nowhere hoping to forget Mom. The divorce was a lot harder on him than he admitted, but I knew.”

  “Children are more aware than their parents think,” he said.

  It had been over nine years, and still I wasn’t ready to talk about Dad, or admit to my part in his death.

  “I remember when he died,” Jorg said. “It was a terrible accident. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  Whenever I thought of that day, I could smell the salty sea; the sound f the waves rolling in; I remember screaming and my stomach spiraling. I never cried; the tears just wouldn’t come.

  Jorg didn’t know the whole truth. No one did, but only because the media didn’t know. Otherwise, they would have spread my shame across the world. I’d never told anyone what really happened or the real reason why my fiancé left.

  I couldn’t stomach looking at him. Not after that day.

  Talking to Jorg like that, all those old feelings came tumbling back. I needed a diversion before I dissolved into haunting memories.

  “Olivia, will you include the mysterious red line in your studies?” I interrupted her in the middle of whatever she was prattling about.

  She glared at me before she answered. “I wanted to, but was told not this trip. The colony isn’t anywhere near it. And if you were a researcher,” she just had to add, “you’d know there’s too much to learn near shore to risk venturing this far out.”

  “So, only the water near the colony is worth studying?” I asked, purposely needling her.

  “No,” she retorted. “There are underwater volcanoes, which melt rock and release minerals to feed local marine life.”

  “The brine produced in the Antarctic affects ocean currents on Earth. Our ocean currents regulate Earth’s temperatures.” She paused to take a breath. “The amount of brine produced here when the ocean freezes must be unimaginable.”

  “How does it affect Akiane’s ocean currents? In what directions do the currents flow? How do they. . .”

  “All right already.” I didn’t need a list of her plans.

  “In other words, there’s plenty to do, but we have to start somewhere and, in this case, that somewhere is going to be at the colony,” she tartly finished.

  “Besides,” Jorg chimed in, before I had time for a rebuttal, “spring is coming and in a few months all this will be water. Wouldn’t want to get stuck out there when that happens.”

  I knew he was trying to prevent a verbal clash, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Even though I might not be a researcher, Olivia, I’m smart enough to take a shuttle out there just to see what that red line is before everything melts and it disappears. I might even take samples to study.”

  She glowered. Few people got along with her. I wasn’t one of them.

  “If the ship was staying, you could,” the pilot interrupted.

  “Right, I almost forgot. You’re not staying,” Jorg said with a sigh.

  Everyone on the shuttle abruptly quieted at Jorg’s words. We knew the ship was leaving, but somehow it hadn’t become real until that moment.

  Another cold shudder passed through me, as I thought of the crew forsaken some 321 years earlier. To know that for the rest of your life,
you would never feel the warmth of sun or family again. What loneliness!

  The thought of being left on Akiane, light-years from Earth for two years, rekindled the resentment over my orders. Why me? I didn’t understand.

  “No, the ship’s not staying,” the pilot said, over her shoulder. “We’ll be here for seven days to make sure you’re settled in, then we head back. There’s a ship right behind us, arriving in a little over two Earth-Standard years. It will take anyone ready to return to Earth.” She twisted her chair around so she could face her passengers. “Make the most of your time here. If your work is not finished and you miss the next transport, there won’t be another ship for nine years after that.”

  “Two years isn’t nearly enough time to study this planet,” someone complained. Every scientist mumbled his or her agreement.

  “Your choice,” the pilot said, returning to the panel of computer monitors and control buttons.

  The crowd shared a disgruntled moan. It would take a lifetime to fully explore Akiane’s unique, alien composition and conduct the fascinating research these scientists wanted to do. They’d have to spend their lives on this planet to accomplish everything.

  Akiane was a serious commitment. If someone decided to go home for a visit, it was another six-year, ten-month trip back to Earth and six-year, ten-month return trip to Akiane. During that time, someone else would work on the project, making discoveries missed out on by the one who returned to Earth.

  It could be a tough decision: stay on Akiane for the rest of your life with the possibility of never seeing Earth again, or go home and potentially miss out on the greatest discoveries of the century.

  I was glad I didn’t have to make that decision. When my job was completed, I was going home. Nothing, not even a command from Captain Norris, would change that. If I had to, I’d resign.

  Jorg pulled me from my thoughts. “So, Lieutenant Jessie, two years. Think we scientists can get anything done in that amount of time?”

  “I have no doubt that you will.”

  The shuttle rose up as it banked, circled, pointed downward, then leveled.

  Another, “Look at that,” resounded, followed by several, “Wows.”

  At the equator, morning light shimmered on a path of 30 kilometers of open ocean. I had no doubt that the open water circled all along the equator.

  The ragged ice edge jutted in and out like a puzzle missing pieces. Broken and chipped ice floats varied from the size of a mansion to the size of small countries. Rivers of water ran across the top of the ice, waterfalls flowed over ice cliffs into ice lakes or into open ocean water.

  The warmth of Kahair was melting Akiane. Spring has sprung, I thought with little enthusiasm.

  “This section of ice was its own environment,” Jorg said with admiration. “I’d love to study it before it all melts.”

  CAPTAIN’S LOG

  WSC HAWK

  Captain Matvey Petrov

  Landing site on Akiane

  Earth year 2144, November 1

  WSC HAWK was the first to arrive on Akiane. We landed on a section of land near the equator where there was open ocean water. Except for 30 kilometers around the equator, all surface waters of the oceans are frozen.

  Hawk carried the power source for the new colony. We unloaded it with the intention of having it set up before Eagle and Falcon landed. We’d already begun assembling it.

  But we made a calculation error and settled too close to the ocean. We only thought of being near open water and fishing. The land was good for farming once it thawed.

  We saw Eagleexplode. It was like a bright flash in the morning sky. We didn’t know what it was until Falcon radioed us.

  Later that same day, we suffered horrid earthquakes. At first the quakes were gentle and only lasted for seconds, but they increased.

  Then the ocean ice shattered. Almost immediately, monstrous waves with the speed of shuttles rose up and flew toward shore. They battered the ship and land. They swept everything on shore out to sea.

  The quakes continued to become more forceful. The ground shook with such intensity it rippled as if it was water. I thought the planet would come apart.

  By the time it was all over, everything that had been unloaded was lost, including the power source. Everyone who had been outside . . . was lost.

  Hawk’s engine was damaged. She will never fly again. The main ship might be able to move to a new location, but nothing more. Life support is minimal.

  Captain Matvey Petrov’s Private Quarters

  “Sir.”

  Captain Matvey stopped recording. “Anything?”

  “The beach was swept clean, Sir.”

  “Thank you. You may go.”

  The lieutenant turned to leave.

  Matvey stood and walked to the door.

  He hated this planet. He’d not set foot on it, and it had already stolen all he loved and his reason to live.

  Their first child had been born on the ship. Amanda was 23 months and 14 days old. She and her mother, like so many others, were on the beach enjoying the fresh air.

  Eight hundred sixty-eight people, mostly colonists, had been outside when it started. They should have immediately run back to the ship. Some might have made it. Instead they froze as the ground shook and they dumbly stared at the ocean when the ice shattered. By the time the first wave rose up, it was too late.

  The waves took everything.

  Only the thirty-two crewmembers who were still on duty in the ship survived.

  The colonists had come with the hope of new beginnings, but had slammed head-on into death. What more tragedy did this place hold?

  Matvey would never know. He picked up the last holophoto of his family.

  He was still holding it when he locked the door. There was no reason to ever set foot on Akiane. He would join his family instead.

  Chapter 5

  Jessica Hewitt

  Life in Minnesota

  I MUST explain why I so adamantly hate cold weather.

  It brought back too many painful memories and deep unpleasant emotions. Every snowflake reminded me of what a horrid child I was.

  In the year 2432, I was twelve years old.

  Minnesota was a nice place to live. It was mostly warm year-round. In the summer, I ran barefoot through thick grass sprinkled with clover, climbed trees, rode bikes, and played softball in 95 degrees Fahrenheit. The air was soupy with humidity.

  The heat and humidity didn’t stop us, we were children, and children are oblivious to weather.

  The year before, my cousins and I discovered an interconnected virtual role-playing game (IVR Games) called Master Runners. From then on, my cousins and I spent most of our time playing it.

  In the game, I was a girl with dragon blood. In the heat of a battle, I could change my appearance to green scales and grow a tail. I brandished a sword and breathed fire. I was a mighty warrior.

  The virtual game was such that I could feel it when I got hit or when my sword sliced into a fantasy creature. The real person felt a twinge, but not the actual cut. I could also smell a monster’s odor or when a character in the game farted. Blaaa.

  There were rougher IVR Games where someone could get seriously hurt. We weren’t allowed to play them.

  But we did play Master Runners every day, every single day right after school, before dinner. We had already conquered the first seven levels and had almost finished the eighth when Mom left and Dad decided to move out of St. Paul.

  When one was not there to play the game, the game continued with whomever was playing, but the absent player’s avatar stood still until its owner returned. Last I saw my dragon girl, she was standing in the middle of a battle.

  I remember those days with sadness, mostly because I can’t go back. And mostly because I learned at an early age that the unexpected dominates life.

  My childhood was better than any scripted program or novel. Mom, Dad, and I were together. We were an average, normal, happy family.


  At least for me, that’s how I remember it. I was completely oblivious to the impending doom.

  Then the volcanoes erupted.

  Logically, I know it wasn’t the volcanoes’ fault, but they were the climax of the worst year of my twelve-year-old life. I had no idea that my adult life would be so much worse.

  Most of the eleven volcanoes on Iceland have unpronounceable names, and are not capable of disrupting the rest of the world when they erupt. But some have caused the worst flooding Earth has ever seen. Europe was shut down more than once, because volcanic ash clogs machinery, airplanes, jet crafts, farm equipment, hovercrafts, and lungs, if inhaled.

  I was twelve when three such volcanoes erupted, each several times, within a year of each other, affecting the entire northern hemisphere. It was a worldwide economic disaster. The Northern Hemisphere shut down.

  The Arctic Ocean froze all the way to the state of Oregon on America’s West Coast and New Brunswick, Canada on the East Coast. There was ice and snow across America all the way down the Mississippi River to its southern end into New Orleans.

  The pleasant Minnesota weather came to an abrupt end. The volcanoes changed everything. Ash blocked the sun, which lowered the temperature. For the next ten years the weather in Minnesota was miserable.

  That first winter, several blizzards hit St. Paul; each dumped over 90 inches of snow. Snowplows were not able to keep up. They were barely able to keep emergency roads clear. Some neighborhoods were lost under the snow. By the time the plows did reach them, there was too much snow to get in and clear it. Neighborhoods had to dig themselves out. Roofs of houses and businesses caved under the weight.

  In the spring, when the snow melted, creeks and rivers flooded small towns, major cities, and farmland. Tributaries of all the major rivers contributed to flooding the Mississippi River, which flooded the surrounding Midwest and southern states.

  But that wasn’t the most miserable part of the year.

  Just before my thirteenth birthday, on April 12, Mom left.

  She wanted to be a multimedia artist. She used digitally enhanced photos and combined them with her paintings. One day she got an award at a community art festival. The online news reporter Communiqué did a feature story. A St. Paul gallery wanted to sell her work. Soon she was having her own one-woman shows.