generator.
With the rapid progress, it was decided that the crew – minus Martin and Jonathan – would leave by midday tomorrow. Martin and Jonathan would stay another few days to repair the greenhouse and the water filtration, distribution and irrigation systems, two more labor-intensive tasks.
Approximately 10 p.m., as the crew was preparing their sleeping bags on their cots in the second storage building, the main door creaked open. A tall, thin, bearded man entered and strode purposefully to the gaggle of DS Limited crew. He wore a blue gabardine work shirt and black, loose-fitting trousers, accentuated by calf-length hiking boots. His flowing gray hair gave him the appearance of an impresario, a wizard perhaps.
“McMichaels? Is there a McMichaels here?” the man announced in a stentorian voice, laced with a heavy Germanic accent.
Martin half-raised his right arm. “I’m Martin McMichaels.”
The man irascibly pushed his way through some of the crew and stopped within two feet of Martin.
“I want you to know, McMichaels, that it wasn’t my idea to ask for your company’s help. It was entirely my wife’s idea. We are quite capable of taking care of ourselves here,” he blurted.
“I assume you are Dr. Lothar Kleider,” Martin coolly responded.
“Yes, yes, of course I am,” the man sputtered. Then he seemed to calm himself. “Mr. McMichaels, it’s not that I don’t appreciate what you and your crew are doing, but my research…. My research is very critical and can’t be disturbed.”
“Yes, I’ve heard a bit about your efforts. What are you researching exactly?”
Kleider seemed to physically recoil a bit; perhaps no one had asked him that for years.
“You, you wouldn’t understand these things, McMichaels,” Kleider muttered. “What is your training?”
“Well, I’m a theologian,” Martin began.
Kleider interrupted by sniggering his indignation . “Yes, well, with your background you could have no concept of science, and therefore of what I am doing,” Kleider peremptorily concluded. “Just suffice it to say if I am successful, grain seeds will be revolutionized and feeding Earth colonists on these forsaken worlds will become a snap.”
“Sounds very beneficial,” Martin began, somewhat bemusedly. “Well, Dr. Kleider, my son, Jonathan, and I will be the only ones remaining after noon tomorrow, and we will certainly not disturb your research.”
“Yes, that’s good. But I mean, please give me space. Stay away from my offices, which are on the escarpment. My research demands a complete and total decontaminated environment. Good day to you!” Kleider brusquely ended the conversation as quickly as he had initiated it, executed an about-face, and strode quickly through the listening crew and out the door.
“A living example of what happens to a man who’s been years away from civilization – even with a drop-dead beautiful wife,” one the crew editorialized after the door shut, to a round of laughter.
“Dad, why didn’t you tell him you are also an astrophysicist and a clinical psychologist?” Jonathan asked.
“Well, he didn’t give me the chance, did he?” Martin tranquilly replied. “But he understood my most important credential.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
“It looks like you and Robert are becoming fast friends,” Martin began a conversation with his son as they gathered their lunches. Having finished the water system fix and practically completed the greenhouse repairs the morning of the third day on the planet, they could afford a few minutes to rest.
“Yeah, Dad, he’s fun. He knows a lot about the plants and animals on the planet. He’s pointed out all sorts of dens and nests to me. And there’s something else too, Dad,” Jonathan replied. “He’s really interested in learning more about the Bible.”
“How do you know that?” Martin asked.
“With all the talk about plants and animals, I had a chance to tell him what the Bible says about Creation in Genesis 1. He was so fascinated he insisted we read the entire book of Genesis together. So, we started last night and will continue today. I don’t think he has ever heard the truth about God before,” Jonathan concluded.
“That’s wonderful, son. I’m very happy you are here to disciple him.”
“And, Dad,” Jonathan drew closer to his father and lowered his voice. “Robert says things are moving here.”
“Things do tend to move, Jon,” Martin, squinting, playfully whispered back to his son.
“No, Dad, you don’t understand. I mean big things. And all by themselves,” he stared at his father, wide-eyed.
Martin glanced up from the water spigot at which he was now washing his hands. “What do you mean?”
“Well, things like logs -- a lot.”
“Gravity is pretty big on Ritman, just like on BC-5, Jon.” Unconvinced, Martin went back to work cleansing away the grit.
“But, Dad, yesterday Robert told me the weirdest thing. He showed me that rock – do you see it?” Jonathan arched his right arm to point. “It’s there just below the tallest peak.”
Martin, straining with older eyes, could make it out.
“That big rock disappeared and reappeared several times, Robert says.”
“And, Dad, this morning I saw it too,” Jonathan quickly added. “It was there this morning at about 7:30 but gone at 8:00, and then it was back again by 8:30.”
Under normal circumstances Martin would dismiss excited revelations from an 11 year-old boy as bumptious. But this was his son, the imminently accurate Jonathan.
Martin studied his son’s face for several seconds. Then he inquisitively considered the peak.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The campfire blazed redolently outside the metal building where Martin and Jonathan had their cots. The darkness had quickly enveloped them in the quiet of a chilled evening. Jonathan struggled to don his sweatshirt, and in the next minute Robert came to collect him to chase fireflies. Alone now, Martin leaned back and broadly scanned from horizon to zenith, enjoying the luminous constellations in the clear air.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Jennah’s voice startled him.
“No, no, not at all,” Martin replied, surprised but pleased by her appearance. “I was just considering Procyon.” He righted himself and shuffled his feet self-consciously.
She sat directly opposite the fire from him in the place Jonathan had occupied. She was dressed for the chill with a gray pullover sweater, long khaki slacks, and woolen socks. Her eyes stared for a moment in the fire and then at him.
“Dr. McMichaels, do you ever wonder if we each have a pre-ordained place in the universe?” Jennah queried.
“Please call me Martin. Well, my answer to that is: my faith tells me that God cares for each of us personally and has put us where we are for a reason. But I also know He has given each of us free will,” Martin replied reflexively. He added, “I wonder: Do you ask that question purely out of curiosity or also from frustration?”
Jennah studied him; then the corners of her mouth turned up as she focused again on the fire His question had obviously penetrated to the quick of her concern. “I think largely the latter but ultimately the former,” she somewhat enigmatically replied.
She continued. “You see, my life has always seemed to be on auto-pilot, quite out of my control really.”
“In what way?” Martin prompted.
“Oh, I think it would be more accurate to consider the “ways” – plural – and their long-term context. From childhood I was encouraged to be a physicist by my parents, who were university physicists themselves. I naturally excelled – it was all I ever knew academically-- and eventually went to the Kruger School. I was a Ph.D. student there when I met Brad.”
“Brad? That would be Robert’s father?” Martin asked, following a slightly prolonged silence.
“Brad was a physics post-doc. Our personalities, interests, and outlooks aligned amazingly. Brad and I finding one anot
her was such an emotional and psychological boon for us both,” she smiled warmly at the telling. “And so, there I was -- conservative me -- being married after only knowing Brad for six months. Yet, our time together was so wonderful.”
She paused. “Are you grasping this continued progression – natural physics achiever meets same, falls in love…” Her eyes again gravitated toward the fire.
“But then?” Martin interrupted her unspoken thoughts, prompting a surprised look from Jennah that he was hurrying her. She continued.
“Then, only 10 months after we were married Brad was killed in a freak shuttle accident while traveling to a research station on Kruger-4,” Jennah breathed deeply but continued with renewed determination. “So, I found myself a 22-year old Ph.D. student-widow and,” she hesitated, “four months pregnant.”
“That was a pre-ordainment, you think?” Martin followed-up.
“Well, who came into my life at this time? Lothar Kleider.”
Martin’s impassive visage belied his concern.
“Lothar was a Foundation Professor at Kruger and took such a sweet and intense personal interest in me…. For a lonely, bewildered, and shocked young widow going through a pregnancy, his confidence and attention were an elixir for my anxieties,” Jennah continued. “We were married only three months later, and Robert was born two months after that.”
“He’s old enough to be your father – almost your grandfather.” Martin surprised himself with his outburst, but he thought she was seeking frankness.