Aunt Liza saw him slump and immediately asked what was wrong. I heard the worry in her voice and stopped fussing with my gift.
Pat looked at Papaw. “What does this mean?”
“It means nothing until we test the equipment. If anything’s wrong, it’s the equipment.”
Liza asked again, “What’s wrong?”
With irritation in his voice, Papaw said, “Nothing’s wrong,” and got up, put his coat on again, and went back outside.
Liza said to Pat, “Would you please tell me what the problem is? Comms are down? That’s going to happen from time to time. What’s the big deal?”
“Comms aren’t down.”
“What do you mean?” Liza asked.
“I mean, it looks like Glaucus sent us that huge cargo load because he decided to split.”
“Split? You mean, gone?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. It appears Glaucus and our ship has left the planet.”
Chapter 9
Liza’s reaction mirrored my own. “But he wouldn’t do that,” she said.
“He’s not human, Liza. Plus, he has his own agenda. We knew that.”
“It’s our ship!”
Uncle Pat shook his head. “No, it’s not. It’s his. Any way you look at it.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Ours. Maybe it’s just a technical glitch. Gary’s checking it out,” said Pat. “There’s still a chance…”
As it turned out, Uncle Pat was right. Glaucus left the full cargo because he knew he was leaving us behind. He had tried to tell Papaw.
When the comm connection could not be made, Papaw made the decision to travel back to the glacial lake in the mountains. “It’s the only way to be sure,” he said.
Early the next morning before Pat and Papaw climbed into the striders, I showed Papaw what Glaucus had given me for my birthday.
He took it and held it between a massive thumb and fingers. “What is it?” he asked, turning it over.
I shrugged and answered, “It’s a ring, I think.”
At least, it looked like a ring. It was round and made from a silver metal but the design also had amber-colored streaks through it with diamonds floating inside. That’s what it looked like to me.
“A bauble,” said Papaw, unimpressed. He handed it back. “Help Liza with the babies and I’ll see you in a day or two. Stay inside.” After that, he and Pat left to see if the ship was still sunk in the cold waters of that mountain lake. Liza said she didn’t see where it made any difference. We were doing pretty well on our own, she said.
I returned the ring to its box and put it in the bottom drawer of the chest in my room.
Papaw and Uncle Pat left and stayed gone for a day and a half. There were no video remotes this time, so the only way we knew what they were doing was from regular radio checks. Even so, when they entered the valleys in the mountains, we could no longer pick up their signals. I wanted to launch another relay, but Liza said no way was she going to allow a four year old to fool around with explosives. “Are you crazy?” she asked.
When we finally got the call from Uncle Pat, they were on the return leg of their journey. “It’s not there,” said Pat. “We’re heading back.”
“Just like that?” asked Liza.
I could hear the resignation in his voice. “Yep. Just like that. We’re on our own.”
*
We pulled supplies and materials from the drone for a solid week. It wasn’t just food and expendables, but also machines, electronics, nanobots, modules for the house computer, even stuffed toys for the babies.
Getting all that stuff was bittersweet. The goods assured our survival – that’s how important the cargo was to us. While we were happy to get everything, we had to get used to the fact that we no longer had a way off the planet. Aunt Liza told Papaw to “Look at it like this: everywhere we’ve gone, that ship has been a pain in the neck.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, everybody we meet wants to steal it. That’s one thing we’ll never have to worry about again – getting killed for a spaceship.”
“It’s a starship, Liza.”
“Oh, excuse me. As if that makes some kind of difference.”
“It does make a difference.”
“To you,” said Liza, “not me.”
And so, Glaucus was gone, taking the ship with him and we were on our own on the colony world of Dreidel.
In the days after Papaw and Uncle Pat returned from their trip to the mountain lake, we stayed busy with the inventory from the shuttle, especially the energy sliver. Papaw and Kaliis worked in the basement getting everything to function properly. When the environmental systems came online (heat, blowers), we still used the fireplace just because we liked it. There was a huge stockpile of wood cut and neatly stacked around the corner of the house. It took a while to find it because, like everything else it was covered with snow and ice.
The sun finally broke through after months of gray, overcast skies. I walked outside feeling the sunshine on my face and squinting my eyes into slits. There was still snow on the ground and the glare was painful. Glaucus had thoughtfully included sunshades, sunglasses, because he had foreseen the need for them – something none of us considered until they were needed.
Papaw announced he was taking a trip to Calgary to “round up business.” Kaliis and Uncle Pat would go along, but Phineas was to remain at the ranch, which, by the way, Aunt Liza had begun to refer to as the “Folly,” short for “Jennings' Folly.” She didn’t say it around Papaw but I know he heard her say it once or twice. I didn’t know what it meant, but the thing is, the name somehow stuck. Papaw hated it and tried more than once to change what we were already growing accustomed to using. More on that later because I’m getting ahead of myself.
Grandpaw didn’t know exactly how long the Calgary trip would take. He took all his hunting gear, leaving us with two blasters, two electric batons, Liza’s twelve gauge shotgun, an ancient .38 revolver that could still put a big hole in any assortment of beasties, so said Grandpaw, and a bow and quiver of arrows that I couldn’t wait to try. There was also an assortment of tools in the barn from axes to crowbars that would do in close quarters combat, in a squeeze.
They left early in the morning without Phineas because he was wanted in Calgary, as well as in Summit and Papaw didn’t want to run the chance of someone recognizing the juvenile delinquent.
Even with the threat of kitzloc roaming at night, Phineas had moved into the little room in the barn. Pat and Phineas had worked on the place and it was stronger and more secure than it was originally. However, the new breed of creature we’d seen was a little alarming in its size and strength. If it could bust through a heavy door the way it had, walls couldn’t keep it at bay either.
All the same, despite everything he’d been through, Phineas was fearless. Liza told him if he wanted to continue sleeping on the couch, he was free to do so, but he preferred the barn. Over time, the barn became as fortified as the house. I think it was the first place Phineas had the opportunity to call home.
In return, Phineas worked hard and accomplished everything that was asked of him. Aunt Liza liked him because of it. As a result, Phineas never talked back to Liza and looked out for all of us.
While Papaw and Pat were away in Calgary, the season changed. Snow and ice melted and we discovered trails that were previously hidden by the snow. Some days I accompanied Phineas as he roamed the property looking for animal sign.
There were trees and open fields as well as a series of creeks and run-offs, all just steps away from the front door. One day in particular, Phineas and I were exploring no more than fifty yards from the house, following a wash where he pointed out how water ran through whenever it rained. Liza called my name and I answered her. “Coming,” I said. I looked at Phineas and he said he was going to follow the wash around. I turned and ran back to the house.
Liza needed me to watch the babies while she used the spraye
r on several throw rugs. “I’ll be so happy to get these clean,” she said, carrying them in a big bundle out the door.
The boys were in the big room; Riley, asleep in a hanging swing Phineas had rigged, and Toby, awake and rolling on the floor, playing.
I had recently learned to braid, from Phineas, and I had a project going. There was a divan under the broad window (steel mesh across the exterior) and that was where I stationed myself. I could watch both the boys and look out over the lawn to the barn. The other direction was a grassy decline to a fence and open gate where the driveway ended. We called the three mile road to the main road the driveway because it was our private road and it ended at the house.
Yellow braid was twisted and knotted in my deft little fingers, trailing to the floor. I was certain I was performing a useful function but had yet to arrive at its purpose. Aunt Liza would know what to do with the braid.
I looked to the barn and saw her laying out a section of wet carpet to dry in the afternoon sunlight. It must have been heavy because Liza was having a hard time with it. Before she was out the door, the rug slipped from her fingers and dropped to the ground. Liza dusted it off, got a better grip, and lifted again. Succeeding, she dropped it on a portion of the lawn next to two other pieces she’d already washed. All three were in direct sunlight, drying quickly in those long, afternoon hours.
I slipped from where I was sitting and padded to the door in my socks. Toby wasn’t paying attention to me so I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.
Liza looked at me when I called to her, turning her face flush into the sun, enjoying the warmth after the long winter. I had the braid with me and held up the length and asked what I might make of it. Liza put up a hand to shade her eyes. She didn’t answer but kept looking as if she’d turned into a statue.
I started to ask her what was wrong, but a voice rose from behind, startling me. Turning to look, at the corner of the house were men on horses. They’d come up the driveway without being noticed and now they were standing on the edge of our front lawn.
The rider in front was Jonah from Summit. He leaned down and grinned at me. “Hello Amanda. How are you?”
I replied I was fine. Jonah’s attention turned to Aunt Liza. I followed his line of sight and saw that Liza cradled her shotgun in her arms. “Please don’t ride over the lawn,” she requested.
Jonah kept smiling as he returned Liza’s gaze. He held up a hand .
“Hello to you too, Liza. I had a hunch this might be where you were headed. Where are Mr. Jennings and Mr. Ramey?”
“They’re about,” Liza said.
Jonah twisted in his saddle and issued an instruction for the other horsemen to return to the bottom of the hill. They complied.
Jonah smiled at me before turning his attention back to Liza. “It wasn’t necessary to leave the way you did. You weren’t prisoners.”
“Jonah, we are grateful for your help and I am sorry about our abrupt departure. Gary wanted to get settled in here before making contact with anyone.”
“But that’s not how it’s done,” Jonah replied. “There are established colonization procedures…”
Liza didn’t say anything. Of course there were established procedures. We were flying under the radar intentionally. I was four years old and I knew that much. Jonah knew it as well.
“Yes, well, you can talk to Gary about all that stuff.” As she spoke, Liza slowly stepped closer to me and the shelter of the house.
“Is that what you came all the way out here to tell us?”
“No. Not just that. We’re on patrol, you see. The break in the weather lets us get out and check on people in the territory.”
“You’re not responsible for this land,” Liza said flatly.
“We’re here to see if anyone needs our help. That’s all.”
Liza completed her journey across the yard from the barn and presently stood beside me. The front door was behind us and open. I could hear Toby inside, babbling some baby nonsense.
Liza didn’t point the shotgun at Jonah, but it was safe to say she brandished it. In her dealings with other adults, I’d noticed that Liza was plain-spoken to the point of rudeness. “Are you going to make trouble about some stupid planetary immigration status?”
Jonah smiled broader still. It was creepy. “We’re here to help.”
Liza took a breath and lowered the gun. “Look Jonah, Gary and Pat are about their business…”
“And what business is that?”
“Gary told you already.”
“Ah yes, the kitzloc killer.”
“So, we’re fine. Thanks for checking but we really don’t require assistance.”
Jonah waited a beat before replying. He sat atop an enormous white horse. Occasionally it would suck in a large amount of air and exhale a visible cloud. That’s what happened and the event punctuated the moment.
He nodded. “All right then, ladies. In that case, I’d like to ask a question before leaving.”
“What’s that?” asked Lisa.
“Another thing we do is search for known individuals who’ve broken our laws, then bugged out to live on the periphery, like a parasite.”
“What’s your question, Jonah?”
Jonah cocked his head to the side. “We’re looking for a young man named Phineas DeKalb. He’s wanted for burglary, criminal mischief, avoiding arrest, and any number of other offenses…”
“Haven’t seen him,” said Liza.
I looked at Liza and that got Jonah’s attention.
“How about you?” he asked me. “Have you seen a teenage boy about sixteen or seventeen, we’re not sure…”
Liza cut him off before his prompting made me blurt out something revealing. “Leave her alone,” she said. “She’s just a little girl.”
Jonah chuckled and held up his hands. “All right, all right,” he said. “If you see this guy, let us know. He owes the community some time. Okay?” He looked at me and I said okay in return which made me an accomplice to Liza’s lies, I suppose.
Jonah waved and turned his horse around. We followed to the side of the house and watched as Jonah joined his merry band of riders, a group of a dozen in total. Jonah turned in his saddle to look at us as they rode away. He waved but Liza did not return the gesture although I did.
They had not been out of sight for more than a minute before Phineas came out of the nearby bushes.
*
Papaw and Uncle Pat came striding in the following morning. They’d been going all night and were exhausted but wanted to get home to tell of their success in hunting lizards for ranch owners near Calgary. Liza wanted to know how much they had made.
“Are you the self-appointed treasurer or something?” joked Uncle Pat.
Usually Aunt Liza did not go off on people. She was to-the-point, but anger was not often used in her psychological bag of tricks. This time was different. She took such offense at Pat’s remark that all of us, including Grandpaw, stopped where we were and stared at her.
“Treasurer?” she started. “Self-appointed? I have every right to know our economic status. I’m just as important to this operation as anybody else. I pull my share, more than my share! Just because you can go off for weeks at a time doesn’t give you the right to come home and lord it over the women! Are we clear?”
Pat nodded with his mouth open.
Later, I overheard Liza telling Papaw about Jonah’s visit the day before. It made Papaw so mad he threatened to leave that instant to go to Summit. “I’ll kick his ass,” said Papaw.
Pat shook his head. “No you won’t. He’s got a small army around him.”
“And now he knows where we are,” added Liza.
“He doesn’t care anything about us,” said Papaw. “A quarter of all immigrants are running from something. He won’t turn us in. Turn us in to whom? For what?” Papaw looked at me and laughed. I laughed with him.
Liza shook her head in disagreement. “I don’t know,” she said, “but I th
ink he wants us to join his community.”
“Fat chance,” said Papaw.
Chapter 10
We didn’t see Jonah for a long time after that, which, when you think about it, wasn’t that unusual. It was our first spring on Dreidel and we were busy figuring out how to survive. We’d made it clear we wanted to be left alone.
Most frontier kids start school at six years, but I started classes as soon as Kaliis programmed the education module into the house computer. Not only did I have an entire, fully detailed, curriculum to choose from, I actually liked it.
Holographic presentations took me through Earth’s history as well as the young history behind the exploration of the known universe. Arts and sciences were just as intriguing for me and, as much as I admire people who do math, I’ve always struggled with concepts. Kaliis says I’ll never be a physicist and his insight has been a great relief to me. Yet, I was good enough at math to pass my courses.
For those first couple of years, I helped Aunt Liza with the boys and with household chores. She taught me how to cook and sew and how to take care of people when they’re sick but I would have preferred to be with Papaw and Uncle Pat on the hunt. Unfortunately, Papaw always said the same thing: it was too dangerous, I was too young, and I should find something more suited to a young lady’s aspirations.
“Besides,” said Papaw one day when I was seven or eight, “when you get old enough to go, me ‘n Pat will have hunted ‘em all down! You’ll be too late!”
“That’s just not fair,” I protested. “How old do I have to be?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He looked at Pat. “How old do you think she needs to be before going on a hunt?”
Pat shook his head. “I’d prefer not to get drawn into your personal argument with Amanda.”
We both looked at him and both of us asked “Why not?”
“I’m feeling a lot of pressure here.”
“So give an answer,” I suggested. “How old do I have to be before I can go?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’d say – and this is just a guess, mind you, because I really don’t know – bear in mind you have to be a crack shot, you have to be able to stay awake – it’s harder than you might think – you have to know your woodcraft, how to track. Patience,” he added, “you’ve got to have patience.”
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