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THE FORGE OF GLEIPNIR

  by James Yarbrough

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  Website: www.bardandbook.com

  Copyright James Yarbrough 2014. All Rights Reserved

  Published by Bard and Book Publishing.

  Cover by Julius Broqueza.

  Contents

  Start

  Middle

  End

  The Forge of Gleipnir

  “At no charge, disaster relief, equipment repair and maintenance, and small-scale engineering projects to strengthen and support Earth’s colonies.”

  “Look, this is nonsensical,” Deborah obstinately reiterated after reading the ad he had given her. “If you want to traipse around the galaxy with the DS Limited Security Force and absent yourself from the ministry here – again – that’s one thing. But enticing Jonathan to go with you is beyond the pale.”

  In his father’s eyes, Jonathan – their oldest – may have been an emerging young man, but to his mother he was still a little boy.

  “Debbie,” he always used the diminutive when he wanted to gently convince her of something – yet he never remembered she hated it – “I am only thinking it would show we trust him and value his own talents. It would be a ‘coming of age’ experience, with just him and me.”

  “Exactly which one of you would be coming of age?” she zinged.

  And so it had gone for 45 minutes. Four weeks later, and it was still torturous to recall.

  Martin had participated in this two-to-three week company charitable effort for three years now. He found it rewarding, helpful to people, and spiritually stimulating for himself and others. And – okay – manly too.

  For the purposes of the trip, Deborah had finally agreed out of a mixture of Christian maturity, an aversion to the idea of motherly suffocation, and sheer exhaustion: their 11 year-old son could accompany his father on the three-week excursion.

  But Deborah’s resentment and sublimated anger were lasting.

  “Being the, yes, dutiful wife of a Board Member-Without-Portfolio of the McMichaels family giga-business – and carving out a place in that overachieving family of yours is tough enough,” she had begun, “but added to that, trying my best to raise five children, subbing for you in our ministry due to all your travels, and delaying a writing career I wanted…” Her voice trailed off into quiet sobs.

  She was right, of course. All her loving labors translated into a mammoth sacrificial commitment. Finally her quiescent body of dissatisfaction had sprouted some very sharp elbows.

  So, they realized they needed to spend more time in broader wife-husband family discussions and prayer. Loving Deborah dearly after 12 years of marriage, Martin nevertheless realized their life together had taken on a more complicated but potentially enriching phase.

  +++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  He found these times of problem-solving, empathetic outreach, and faith-sharing to uniquely fit his astrophysics, psychology, and evangelical ministry background. He hoped it would be a joyful time for Jonathan too.

  “Dad, how much longer to Ritman’s planet?” Jonathan interrupted his father’s musings. Ritman was the third and final, planned stop on the trip. Of course, their itinerary all depended upon the potential alignment of wormhole-suitable conditions. The delta-class cruiser could then stimulate its own path.

  “Ummm, I think our best estimate is about four hours,” Martin responded, staring proudly at his son. Jonathan had performed so well thus far – hauling brush and roofing damaged houses on TC-1 and taking a prominent role in designing the repairs to the water purification system on GC-3.

  “Great! I just have time to research the planet some more,” Jonathan excitedly replied over his shoulder as he dashed out of their quarters toward the ship’s library.

  “If Deborah could only see how well this is working,” Martin thought to himself, reflecting at once a pride in his son, an appreciation to God, a self-righteous feeling of being correct, and a contented naiveté that his wife would be that understanding.

  ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  They had all been briefed on the particulars of Ritman’s Planet: an unexpected week-long squall had ravaged the only settlement on the surface. Emergency water, food, and power were being used, but residents were in immediate need of debris disposal and recycling, housing and greenhouse repairs, and power and water resources systems reconstruction.

  “Dad… Dad. Look at all the damage,” Jonathan breathlessly reported. “There’s a roof that’s off, trash is spread all around, and …and…look at those two big trees! They’re completely uprooted!” he gushed. “That must have been some storm!”

  Martin leaned over his son’s shoulder and peered out the shuttle’s starboard forward window.

  The craft soon came to rest on the planet with a soft but reassuring thud.

  After the requisite 10 second safety check, the shuttle hatch opened and the DS Limited landing party lumbered onto Ritman, supplies in hand. One hundred meters to the west two long, low buildings showed considerable roof damage. Beyond them, as Jonathan had observed, two mature oaks against a ridge had been completely uprooted. To the north, against an

  oblique rock outcropping was what appeared to be the main residence, which had several windows broken and its roof severely damaged.

  To the east and south were undulating yellow-green grasslands as far as one could see. The settlement, as it were, was flush against the higher ground, its back proverbially shielded against some hulking leviathan intent upon its destruction. Perhaps for several thousand kilometers the house looked uninterruptedly to the south. As the only dwelling on the entire planet, it was difficult to imagine a more secluded and defensive spot.

  Only after the crew had unloaded equipment , water, and basic foodstuffs for at least five minutes did they notice two figures appearing from behind one of the long buildings. They slowly ambled toward the crew, a smaller one in front.

  “It’s a boy, Dad,” Jonathan offered with surprise a few seconds later. “And a woman!”

  Supervising the unloading, Martin glanced at the two as they approached, initially only partly out of curiosity.

  The boy ran the last 50 meters, stopping in front of Jonathan. “Hello, my name is Robert! What’s yours?” He appeared to be 10 years old and was clearly excited about meeting a potential, new playmate.

  “I’m Jonathan… Jonathan McMichaels. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Come with me. I want to show you my pet ratscamp,” Robert excitedly grabbed Jonathan’s arm to yank him away.

  “In just a minute, son,” Martin, more interested now, calmly remonstrated. “I want to speak with your mother first.”

  The woman who approached the crew was strikingly beautiful, lithe and in her early 30s with light brown hair and large, almond-shaped green eyes. She halted beside the boy and put her left arm over his shoulder and around his neck.

  “Welcome to our home. I am Dr. Jennah Kleider,” the woman spoke unhurriedly, confidently and with a slight smile.

  “I’m Dr. Martin McMichaels of DS Limited, this is my son Jonathan,” he motioned broadly, “and these all are crew members.”

  “Thank you for coming. We are in need of some assistance.”

  “Yes, and we are happy to provide that. Excuse me for asking, Dr. Kleider, but are there others here on the planet?” Martin queried.

  “It is only my son and I and …,” she hesitated it seemed, “my husband, Dr. Lothar Kleider,” Jennah answered, thoroughly studying Martin’s face.

  “Will your husband be joining us?” Martin pressed the point, somewhat skittishly given her reaction
.

  “My father is really busy with his important research!” exclaimed Robert truculently, listening to the exchange.

  Jennah, whip-like, turned and fixed a frowning stare on her son. Martin was surprised at its intensity.

  “He will join us soon. As my son said, he regretfully must complete some parts of his research that cannot wait -- even for a natural disaster,” she commented in an even, optimistic fashion, offering a broader smile. “You and your crew are welcome to store the supplies in the second storage building. It didn’t sustain much damage and should be secure.”

  “Dad, can I go with Robert now?” Jonathan asked excitedly. “I’ve never seen a real ratscamp before!”

  “Sure,” Martin replied. “But don’t wander off too far.”

  +++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  The day passed quickly, with the crew able to move the two trees and grind them into reserve fuel for the settlement’s biomass burner. They also re-roofed the two storage buildings and the main residence and retooled the power