Dad and I were proud of her and supported her efforts.
At least that’s how I remember it.
But Mom decided she’d rather be a full-time artist than a wife or mother. One day she said she’d had enough of us and left. As an adult, I now know there must have been more to it than that, but Dad never talked about it. So I don’t know what really happened and I never will.
At first, Dad and I were in denial and believed she’d come back. She didn’t.
Dad accepted reality first. That was when he decided to get away from the memories—a restaurant, a frequented street, their bedroom (after she left, he slept on the couch), the kitchen, and pictures on the wall, many of which disappeared. I never saw them again.
He quit his high school teaching and counseling job and moved us to Oconto Village in the Boundary Waters. A place in the far northern Minnesota woods near Superior National Park and the Canadian border, where people lived “unplugged.” They wanted a simple life without interconnections. Of any kind! They wanted to return to nature. To me, they lived a primitive life in the woods.
Don’t get me wrong, the village was modernized—somewhat. Houses had electricity and running water. But no one had a smart house. They had to turn lights on and off manually.
Those people were mostly disconnected from the virtual world. There was a connection through the schools and the library. They didn’t want their children to be completely ignorant about the world’s technological advancements.
Children were taught to use their minds to be creative in areas from art to engineering. They read traditional paper books and played outside, but did not spend hours playing virtual games. I hated it.
The far North Woods was one of the last nationally protected wildernesses of forests and lakes. No paved roads or electricity existed within the park, the area was filled with lakes and rivers with rocky shorelines, dense forest, and sharp bluffs.
In the summer, one could ride horses, hike trails, or canoe. In winter, one could dogsled or jet craft through the woods. There was fishing year round.
Every year, urban adventurers came from some big city to Oconto Village to pit their skills against the elements. Most people were prepared, but there was always someone who truly did not understand the dangers. That one had read the books and would ignore the advice to take a guide. Every year, there was at least one whose “adventure of a lifetime” that was his/her last.
That’s were Dad brought me, Oconto Village.
I was forced to leave my family and friends behind. On my dad’s side of the family, I had thirty-five first cousins. They were all my best friends, every one of them. Most of them lived close enough for me to see weekly.
Auntie Lucy, Dad’s sister, lived a few blocks away. She made me homemade fudge and stovetop popcorn, both long-lost arts. When I was little, she held me on her lap and read interactive mysteries solved by fictional third graders. I would change obstacles and tactics, which would create different outcomes for the end of the story.
My dragon-girl avatar stood motionless in Master Runners as a memorial to me. My friends said they’d kept her for the day when I’d rejoin them. I never did. For all I know, my she’s still there.
How was I to leave all that behind?
I had been living in a wonderland, unaware of what the real world was really like. Then someone shattered the glass, all the glitter floated away, and I learned the truth about life.
No amount of crying, pleading, or begging changed Dad’s mind. We moved to the end of the world, completely cut off from everyone. I became the new kid at school with no friends.
I cried for days, then weeks.
One night Dad came into my room and sat on my bed. I lay with my back to him. Tears wet my pillow.
He was quiet for a long time. Finally, he said, “Tears will not bring her back. At some point you have to move on. Your mother has left us.” He sighed. “We both have to move on.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. He might have hugged me, but I swished my shoulder. His hand moved away.
After a few more minutes of silence, he left and softly closed my bedroom door behind him.
Like so many abandoned children, I kept hoping Mom would contact me, or come and find me. She didn’t.
I wrote her a letter asking her what I had done to make her leave. I poured my heart out to her. I told her how much I loved her and missed her. I asked her to forgive me. I promised to be good. But I didn’t know how or where to send it. I hid it under my pillow. Dad found it when he changed my bedding.
One day, I came home to find him sitting on my unmade bed crying. We hugged and cried together. It was then I realized how much he was hurting too.
That was the day I resolved never to cry again. I decided to move on and not hurt Dad with my tears.
I became torn between fearing that Dad would one day walk out on me and being angry with him for dragging me to Oconto. I was torn between being a compliant child one minute. The next minute, I was screaming at him for the most insignificant reason. I was unable to stop myself.
My teen years were miserable for both of us.
When I finished college I decided to take a little time off. I went to Baja, California, to get away from the cold. I fell in love with the place and decided to stay for the summer.
Before summer was over I was a permanent resident.
I became a guide for urban warriors. I took them camping in the Baja Desert, surfing and scuba diving in the Pacific Ocean. There were more than a few macho men who had trouble keeping up with a slip of a girl, 5 foot 8 inches tall and 128 pounds.
It was the best time of my life, except when I think back on it. Then the guilt and shame over Dad’s death comes rolling in.
Chapter 6
Lieutenant Jessica Hewitt
First Morning on Akiane
EVEN WITH Jorg and Rona at my side and the other scientists all around, I still felt the dread one of being abandoned in the middle of an alien world with no hope of escape.
In an effort to calm my nerves, I turned my attention to the scene before me.
The colonists had built their habitat in some sort of crater. We stood on a makeshift landing area overlooking the building complex and an uninteresting landscape made of white snow, dark colored rocks, and cloudless blue sky.
From the ship we’d seen two moons orbiting Akiane. They seemed relatively close together, but standing on land, we could see only one moon in the western sky, which was about to slip behind a small mountain range. It looked much like Earth’s moon at the first quarter.
“Where’s the other moon?” I asked.
Jorg looked up. “What other moon?”
“From the ship, we saw Akiane traveling with two moons. Where’s the other one?”
“It’s out there, Jessie.” He glanced up. “It’s just not where we can see it.” His attention returned to the scene before us. I followed his gaze.
Dad used to take me on dogsled rides in the hopes I’d see how wondrous the land was. The whole time we were out, all I could think was how cold it was. It didn’t matter how warm he dressed me. I was cold. After being lost in a blizzard and almost dying of hyperthermia, I feared frigid temperatures.
“Beautiful, isn’t it, Jessie?” Jorg asked.
“Beautiful, Jorg? You’ve got to be kidding.”
He looked at me as if I was the one who didn’t get it.
“Jessie!” He waved his hand over the landscape.
“It’s white,” I said.
“It’s not just white. The snow reflects the colors around it. The sky is a deep morning violet; the mountain range folds in and out of shadows; the snow’s highlights are pristine with jet-black rocks peeking through. Look how the snow subtly changes from white to blue to lavender to gray as it dips and rises. And over there,” he pointed north of the habitat, “see the algae?”
“What?” I asked.
“The blotchy colored snow is algae.”
I expected to see sm
all barely distinguishable patches of color. To my surprise, there were fields with shades of reds and yellows, and where the two colors mixed, oranges. It wasn’t one continuous color, but faded in and out of the snow like waves or ripples of color.
“Jorg, how much algae is there?” I asked.
“Looks like there are acres of it. I’ve never seen so much of it in one place before. They must be cultivating it,” he said. “It is a great source of vitamin C.”
“Is it frozen?” I asked.
“No, Jessie.”
“That doesn’t seem logical,” I said. “Shouldn’t it be frozen?”
“It’s cold tolerant,” he said.
“It looks like there’s plenty of it for you to study.”
“Yawper,” he agreed. “Back on Earth, algae is just about everywhere from the Arctic to the Antarctic and now we’ve found it here on another planet.”
“Resilient little buggers,” I said.
“Yes they are,” he said, with pride.
It’s amazing how one’s interest causes people to see different things. Jorg, who loved the snow and cold as much as my father, saw more than white. He saw color, beauty, texture, and multi-colored algae.
I saw Akiane as an inhospitable alien landscape of death.
“I don’t understand why they came here in the first place,” I said.
“You mean why not a warmer planet?” Jorg asked.
“Yes.”
“At twenty-seven light-years, this was the closest to home,” he said. “And we’re still in our galaxy, the Milky Way.”
“Closest to home,” I said. “Jorg, you mean with all the planets out there, this is the only one they could find?”
“For every star, there is at least one planet orbiting it, usually there are more. In fact there are more planets than there are stars. Those same stars are probably able to support some sort of alien life. But this is one of the few planets that can sustain life as we know it.”
“Human life?”
He chuckled. “Yes, Jessie, human life.”
“But they had folded space. Why not go somewhere more hospitable with a warmer climate?” I asked.
“Scientists are willing to work on a project that they might not finish in their lifetime. They know the next generation will build on what they started. But a politician is thinking of his career. Money-backers are thinking of their investment,” he said.
“They want results they can see,” I concluded.
“Right,” Jorg said. “And since projects like this need politicians’ approval and are funded by their nation’s money, scientists often have to produce results in a reasonably quick timeline.”
“So Akiane was picked because of its availability.”
“Yes,” he said. “If it had succeeded, then folded space would have been further developed and we’d have reached more planets. This one is in a collection of stars known on Earth as the Pegasus Constellation. If we had developed folded space travel, we’d be in the Pegasus Galaxy by now, which is 300,000 light-years away. But since the colony appeared to have failed, politicians were hesitant and money dried up.”
“This is all Asa’s fault.” I signed unhappily.
“Who?” he asked.
“The astronomer who discovered this planet,” I said.
“I’m not sure I know that the story.”
“Well, let me tell you,” I said as if I were the authority. “While looking for giant planets, she noticed that in this star system one dragged.”
“Dragged?”
“For a 40 hour period, it slowed down for a few seconds.”
“Seconds?”
“That’s all it took,” I said. “She watched it for 40 years. The planet slowed down every 11 years. She guessed there was a smaller planet involved. There’s more to the story, but she got permission to send a probe and discovered there was indeed a planet and it was habitable.”
Jorg laughed out loud. “Seconds. It doesn’t take much to get a scientist excited. And here we are.” He spoke with pride.
I wasn’t as amused. I wanted out of the cold. My real interest lay in the stone habitat that rose out of the mounds of snow. It would be warm in there and it would protect me from blizzards and subzero temperatures.
“The habitat is huge,” I said.
It was close to three kilometers in diameter. It looked like a monstrous ball that had been buried in the ground and only the very top was visible.
“I mean, I knew it would be, but . . .” I trailed off in awe. I guess I never thought about how large it truly was.
“You don’t really get a feel for the place,” Jorg finished my thoughts, “until you see it in person.”
Two main ships were enclosed in an area surrounded by a stone wall with a glass ceiling.
“See those two round protrusions rising out of the dome? They look like the top of spaceships,” I said.
“Could be. The main section ships, of their time, on average 48 meters in height and 322 meters in length,” Jorg said. “It looks like they built a wall that circled the main ships and enclosed the entire area.”
I did the conversion in my head. Each main ship was 157 feet in height, 1,056 feet in length, and with a 35-foot wall surrounding them.
After a pause, he continued, “I can see them using the ship’s engines as a power source while they built the habitat. An ingenious move. But why keep the ships? Why not build homes and a city within the dome?”
The top of the stone wall curved in toward the center of the dome, which was made of gray-smoked glass. They finished the habitat with six seven-meter long tunnels leading in and out of the habitat.
It didn’t look like much. There weren’t any windows or doors in the walls. All their natural lighting came through the glass ceiling.
I imagined what it looked like inside: all steel and stone. It would be sterile, with even less personality than the planet. Jorg was right. I was about to develop a severe case of cabin fever.
“It looks like they closed in one area between two of the tunnels to make one large room,” Jorg said.
“Why only one?” I wondered. “Why not enclose all the areas between all the tunnels?”
He shrugged. “Maybe they haven’t gotten around to building the others just yet.”
I turned to see what else people were focused on.
Dad always said people’s interests caused them to see different things even though they were all looking at the same scene.
Volcanologist Spago Jorgson stood with his attention fixated on a distant mountain range.
He was one of the many who thought himself superior to the others. After all, most of the rest of the geniuses had received their first PhDs in their late teens. He’d received his first PhD at fifteen. At twenty-two, he was the youngest team leader.
“What do you see, Spago?” I asked.
“The colonists built their habitat in a caldera,” he said.
“What’s a caldera?” I asked. “I thought we were in some sort of a crater.”
“A caldera is what’s left after a massive super volcano eruption,” he said.
“A what?” Several people asked.
He continued as though he’d not heard their concern.“From the fly over, I estimate the caldera appears to be 39 kilometers wide. Those mountains,” he said, pointing to the small mountain range to the west of us, “were once active. It’s that volcanic activity that built the mountains. But they look dormant now.”
“How can you tell from here?” I asked.
He considered me as if I’d asked the most stupid question in the world. “For one, we just flew over them and there was no sign that they were active, and second, I doubt these people were foolish enough to build in an active caldera.”
He turned back to the mountains. “But I won’t know for sure until I examine them.”
“Well, as long as they’re safe,” Jorg said.
I asked Jorg, “Think there’s algae in the mountains?”
&
nbsp; He called to the volcanologist. “Spago, think I could go with you to the mountains and check for algae?”
Irritated that we were disturbing his train of thought, Spago turned his thin frame back to us. “Once I check it out. Those mountains look exceptionally rugged. Wouldn’t want you wandering around and have you slip and break a leg.”
“No, of course not,” Jorg agreed, not at all put off by the younger man’s arrogant tone. He continued, “Anytime you want a tour of snow, I’ll be happy to oblige.”
Spago’s thick eyebrows almost met as they frowned. “I have no need for snow.”
“A hot-blooded Italian like you? No, of course not,” Jorg said, smiling broadly.
Spago turned away, but not before we saw his cheeks blush under his olive skin.
“How does the algae color the snow like that?” I asked.
“Fine little hairs. That’s what I’ve come to study: snow, fine little hairs, and worms.”
“Worms?” This surprised me. “Worms live in snow?”
“Yawper. Worms, spiders, and fleas. Snow has an ecology all its own, you know.”
His whole face beamed. I wasn’t sure if he was teasing or not.
“Yes, siree,” he said. “I’ve come light-years to study hairs, and worms. Heck, if I find a new species of worm, I could have it named after me.”
“Interesting. A whole ecology. That’s a lot of work to do in two years, my friend,” I said.
He placed his hand over his heart, and with a look of martyrdom, he said, “To have my own worm, I’ll make the sacrifice.” He wiped a fake tear from his eye.
I liked Jorg’s unfailing humor. He rarely took anything too seriously, yet he was dedicated to his field. I had no doubt he’d find his worms.
“So, why worms?” I asked.
“Why?” Jorg’s eyes lit up. “They’re fun.”
“Worms are fun?”
“Scientifically, yes. They’re good for more than just fishing, you know. What we’ve learned from them has helped advance the study of the human race.”
Pegasus Colony (People of Akiane: A Colonization Science Fiction Novel Book 1) Page 5