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Jenna opened her eyes to a small blurry, display blinking in front of her. Cold air swirled around her face and rays of red light jumped through licks of mist in the claustrophobic cryo-pod. The frigid air stung her nostrils and caused shudders along her body. Each twitch of a muscle added a new sensation as another synapse connected, her body slowly coming back online after 500 years of deep, dreamless, cryogenic sleep.
Memories of the last few moments flooded back. The chills as the temperature plummeted, her heart desperately trying to pump adrenaline even as its beating slowed, the sheer panic racing through her head. What in heaven or hell had she been thinking? For all that she had complained about her family's involvement in her affairs, the prospect of being completely alone on the other side of the galaxy suddenly seemed little better.
?Do you know where you are?? he said softly, watching her eyes carefully.
?Correct. Do you remember your status??
She rubbed her neck, feeling joints crack as her head moved about. ?Passenger, 3rd division.?
?So what do I need to do now??
In an open area between the mass of plants sat another officer at a makeshift desk, surrounded by holo-boards covered in lists and checkboxes. Jenna made out the word ?priority,? and she took a deep breath. Do it Jenna, it's new you time.
Tentatively she approached, the officer barely glancing up. Without looking he barked at her, ?Volunteering? What's your skill set??
She nearly jumped in surprise. ?Umm?? she mumbled.
He looked up at her and leaned back in his chair, curtly patient. ?Skill set? What did you do before the journey; programmer, accountant, farmer, chef??
?Photographer.? She said. The officer nodded and turned his attention back to the datapad. ?Don't think we've got any need for that specifically but have a look over the priority jobs. You might find something you know how to do,? he said, nodding over to a list.
Jenna smiled and stayed still. The officer looked back up at her as if expecting her to move, but said nothing and quickly turned away again. She looked at the board and frowned. This was the part where someone would pull her over and sign her up for something. But there was no tug on her wrist or nudging from behind. There was just Jenna standing awkwardly in front of the desk.
She frowned and forced her legs to move so she could read the listings. It was hardly surprising the officer wasn't thrilled by her skill set. They didn't need a wedding photographer at this point; they needed crew who could help the newly awakened colonists get comfortable on the ship while permanent shelters on Lamperi Gi were set up.
She breathed deep and leaned in close to the holo-board, blinking hard as her eyes struggled to focus on the words. Chef. Kitchen attendant. She couldn't cook, but she might be able to help serve food. She shook her head. Her clumsy fingers would probably end up dropping half of the food, and wasting the limited non-perishable supplies the ship came with would hardly be a good start. There was a request for extra drone pilots to do fly-bys of the mountain ranges but as fun as it would be, she was definitely not qualified for that.
Jenna let out a yawn that was far louder than she expected and grimaced. The officer at the desk looked up at her ?Just woke right? Coffee at the end of the deck. Nice view planet side too. Don't rush, it'll take the rest of the week before everyone is awake and this place gets busy. Enjoy it while it lasts.?
Jenna was about to mumble a thank you but he put a finger to his ear and started grumbling to someone unseen about the moron who had messed up the wake-up order. Jenna shivered. She would not want to be that crewmember right now. There didn't seem to be a reason not to get the coffee, so she made her way through the rows of plants, passing lines of ripe tomatoes, berries ready to burst and endless varieties of beautiful flowers.
Unlike the hastily set-up desk, the coffee station was sleek and streamlined, built into the ship to offer only the utmost of comfort to the crew and passengers during the many months it would take to set-up permanent shelters on the surface of their new home. As the officer said, the machine was next to a huge floor to ceiling viewing window that looked directly out onto the planet. Jenna got her drink and took a step toward the window, enjoying a deep breath of the smooth, dark aroma of the perfect latte.
?Ma'am, passenger!? a voice called. She nearly dropped the drink, startled in the otherwise quiet ship. The officer from the desk was jogging over. ?You said photographer right??
Jenna nodded.
?Want to be one of the first on the planet?? he asked, panting for breath.
Jenna's eyes went wide. ?Document? Like a journalist??
?Oh,? she said, looking down at her cup and holding it tight.
He frowned. ?You don't want to go down to the planet??
She didn't reply, instead she remained staring at the coffee, hyperventilating.
You didn't even buy your own ticket out here. Your sister did it for you.
Do it. Do it. Please, for the love of everything in heaven and hell, do it.
Through a door, down a flight of stairs and into the elevator. She slammed her fist into the cargo deck button, cursing the slow doors. She sprinted out, counting the docking bays as she ran. Bay 1, Bay 2, Bay 3. She burst into the room, breathless, expecting to be too late.
A group of officers stood by a landing craft clearly ready to go, the roar of the engines echoing in the cargo bay. She called out for them to wait, but there was no need. One of the crew waved her over and pointed to a table where a camera, flight suit and helmet sat waiting. She had made it.
An extremely loud and bumpy re-entry later, Jenna was lining up a shot of a drop pod blazing through the sky. Landing feet extended, the retro-thrusters firing and a field of flowers blowing in the downdraft, Jenna caught the perfect moment as her new life began.
A long-ago image came to mind from my pre-school years. We'd been out walking when Uncle Paul pointed to a patch of cup-shaped flowers peeking out from the snow.
His eyes sparkled with wonder as he brushed off the snow, revealing bright purple petals. "These are crocuses, he said." It means spring is coming." Uncle Paul would take me on walks every day when I was little. Sometimes we'd stop in the bakery for donuts and eat them on our way home. "Don't tell your mother," he'd say with a wink. I never did, but she knew anyway. "Where have you been all this time," she'd ask and then roll her eyes, not waiting for a reply.
"Don't be late for dinner if you can't find him," Mom added. I guess she didn't want to eat alone.
Acorn Park was where Uncle Paul took me fishing, at the river, but we hadn't done that for a long time. I chose a path to the park's populous area with a running trail, a pavilion, and benches that overlooked the river, but I only found dog walkers. Then I saw Alana, a red-haired girl, sitting on a bench. I'd met her just yesterday in the school hallway.
I'd just come out of the counselor's office, and I'd been thinking about the questions he'd asked me. Suddenly, I'd walked right into her. Her books had sprawled across the floor, and I dropped my own when I tried to catch hers.
"Sorry. I'm so clumsy," Alana had said.
"No, it's my fault." I bent to the floor for her books. When I got up, Alana smiled as bright as sunshine.
By this time, the hallway had cleared, and the bell had rung. Another girl, the one Alana had been walking with, motioned that they'd better get going.
I watched them walk away, their footfalls echoing in the empty hallway. Then Alana turned around and said, "Nice bumping into you." The other girl laughed.
A barking dog snapped me out of my reverie. "Have you seen an old, gray-haired man out walking around here?" I asked her, still thinking about yesterday.
Her eyes were bright circles staring at me. I could see that she recognized me. "I've seen several old men."
She grabbed my hand. "There's a cliff coming."
The path turned to stone covered in wet moss. It ran along the top of the cliff alongside the river that ran below. Then, Alana slipped, pulling me down. For a moment, I thought we would both tumble over the edge, but we came to a safe stop. We pulled ourselves up and brushed each other off.
"Whew, that was close," Alana said.
My heart pounded. "You don't have to do this," I said. I'll go on alone."
Alana's face turned indignant. "I want to help. Your Uncle comes to the park often, and we talk. He's a nice man."
Suddenly, I wanted to kiss her, but then, I heard a cry from below.
"Did you hear that?"
Alana nodded. "It sounded like a man."
"Uncle Paul," I yelled, but there was no reply.
"Around the bend, there's a way down, rocks jutting out that can be used as steps," Alana said.
Finally, I reached the bottom, my feet splashing into a few inches of water. "Okay, I made it," I called to Alana.
"Wait for me." Alana's hair shone like fire in the sunlight that peeked between the tree branches.
"The rocks are wet, and your legs are too short to reach them. I'm not sure I can get back up. We don't want both of us stuck down here."
"I've done it before," she insisted. "I'm coming down."
"Wait. Let me see if it's Uncle Paul."
As I mentioned his name, the moaning started again. I was hoping against hope that it wasn't him, that he was already safe at home. The moans came from behind a bend in the cliff, so I couldn't see the man from where I was at.
A sludge of wet leaves and twigs lay across his body. He looked ancient, much older than he had this morning at the breakfast table. He was gasping. Alive, at least, I thought. "Uncle Paul, it's me," my voice broken and uncertain when I wanted it to be strong and reassuring.
He opened his eyes and said something in a low growl. My name, I think, although it could have been anything. There was a look of relief in his eyes before pain turned it into a grimace. The river raged behind me. Why did it have to have rained so hard this morning?
I gasped at an open gash on his head. "You're going to be all right," I said, although I was not at all sure. "What hurts, Uncle Paul?"
He motioned to his leg. His foot was pointed in the wrong direction, and I worried if such a horrific injury could be made right again.
"Did you fall off the cliff?" I asked, but he didn't answer.
"He's broken his leg," I yelled. "And he's groggy, maybe a concussion."
After Alana had called down to me, she called 911 while I phoned Mom. The paramedics checked Uncle Paul's vitals and got him talking. They gave him something for pain, splinted his leg, and bandaged his head. Then they pulled him up the cliff using ropes. I climbed back up the way I'd come down.
"A penny for your thoughts, Alana said.
Alana looked me in the eye, then, at the same time, we both said, "Doctor."
At last, we got to go into Uncle Paul's room. He looked more himself although tired. I realized how close we'd come to losing him.
"Hey George," he said. Then he caught sight of Alana. "Alana! You two know each other?" He seemed pleased with the idea.
We separated our hands. "Alana helped me find you," I said.
"Your Mother said. I'm indebted to the both of you."
It was a Saturday morning in March of the following year. There was a knock on the door. "That's Alana," I said to Uncle Paul. Are you ready to go?"
"Ready and able," Uncle Paul said. The three of us began our Saturday morning walk, as we had each weather-permitting weekend morning since Uncle Paul recovered. Alana and I had both been accepted to State college, where we would begin our college careers.
Alana laughed and said, "Of course, Uncle Paul. Spring comes every year."
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