To those kind commentators who requested more about the early years of the colony and the later ones, here you are. Notice that the colony's name has been corrected to proper Icelandic from the original Swedish. I apologize for the delay. It has taken me a long time to figure out a way to tell this tale. I hope you like it as much as the earlier one.
Dr. Arikasdottir carried two aquavits on the rocks with lemon into the den of the rectory. Her husband, Pastor Haakon, was a figure of intense concentration as he lined up a three-cushion billiard shot. The table had been a recent show of affection from his parishioners in Öruggur Harbor and in those rare moments when he was not concerned with the spiritual and emotional care of his flock, these days he could usually be found hunched over his new pride and joy. The doctor set one glass next to her husband and then plumped her bottom onto the felt surface and cocked an eyebrow up at him, mischief in her face. Pastor looked at the glass and then at his wife. A leer spread across his features and he picked up the glass. He was just about to lift it in salute when the alarm sounded.
Assembly! Assembly! Potential crisis, repeat, potential crisis. Assembly! Assembly!
Glasses abandoned, the couple dashed for the door. Sprinting across the green to the town hall, they saw the doors of each clan house fly open and their fellow Elders come running, walking briskly or, in two cases, scootering to the Assembly. As each member of the Öruggur Harbor Board of Elders entered the building, they found their desks, keyed them to life and sat alert and tense, waiting for the worst.
From his desk as Prime Counselor, Haakon looked up at a grim-faced and anxious Speaker Ingmar Andersdottir. When the last Elder was in place, Ingmar nodded and called for a recap of what had brought them racing together. A broad screen lit up in the front of the small hall showing Ingeborg Snorrison sitting quietly at the console of the Space Elevator Control Room. He was running a series of routine checks on the Elevator itself and on the ship, now permanently in orbit above Ný Heimasíða. It had brought two thousand of them to the planet and now served as the all-purpose satellite keeping watch over it and the growing colony that was spreading, bit-by-bit, along the coastlines.
The job of Monitor required a meticulous and focused temperament, one that never bored of inspecting every detail of the Elevator and the Satellite's operations, and Ingmar got great satisfaction every time he looked at the vast board and saw a sea of green lights showing that all was well. Suddenly a tone sounded and one light turned amber. It said that the satellite was occupied. Impossible! The Star Gate had closed behind the colonists fifty years before and the car that would carry the semi-annual inspectors to it was still sitting quietly at the base. Bewildered, Ingeborg touched the light and the console screen lit up to show a face. He goggled. Looking back at him was a young woman unlike any of the citizens of Ný Heimasíða. They were uniformly light-skinned and light-eyed, predominantly blond with the occasional red head and tall. She was small, nearly elfin, with darker skin, almond shaped brown eyes, long black hair and high cheekbones. Blinking back tears, her lips trembled and she spoke.
"I—I seek a-sy-lum. Please?"
Ingmar's jaw dropped in astonishment. One hand flew to the switch at his temple and the other hit the Crisis Alarm. As soon as he understood what the girl wanted he replied, "Do—do you have any water or food with you?"
The girl shook her head, "No."
"Can you contact the Library?"
The little face squinted in concentration, "I can."
Ingmar heaved a sigh of relief. "All right. Follow its directions to the down car on the elevator. The trip will take at least a week so you will want to find a cold-sleep cubby and get in. Pull the mask down over your face and lay your arms in the cradles. You'll have to hibernate on the way down otherwise you may die of thirst. I'll call the Elders and tell them you're coming so that we will be ready when you get here."
"A-asylum?"
"Of course. What else would we do, leave you to die in orbit?"
The screen went blank. Pastor Haakon spoke up, "A stranger is at our gate. As ye do it unto the least of these, my children, so you do it unto Me."
At the rear of the hall a rich alto voice rose in the Doxology, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow . . ." and the entire assembly joined in four-part harmony. When the hymn was finished, Ingmar looked at her tally board. It was almost completely lit up in green with only a few still dark. "Well?" she asked, "what else was he supposed to say? We of all people should understand flight and exile." The remaining lights went green.
As discussion began, Dr. Arikasdottir turned her board's readings to the down car and the vital signs of its single occupant.
My goodness, she's tiny, barely a yard and two tall and only nine stone. But how did she get there? And she's Asian, haplotype Q1 with an 85% certainty for southern Chinese with—hmmm some Vietnamese. You couldn't get anyone more distantly related to us if you tried. Healthy, wearing a birth control implant, no infections or obvious genetic problems. Asylum? Oh, you bet, honey. I don't know or care what you're running from but your DNA has a new home here!
The discussion in the hall went on. "Ingmar, I'm fully in favor of what the young man did. There was no way this assembly would refuse her but once she's here, what then?"
Pastor Haakon rose to answer, "We go to work. We go to work hard. Consider—somehow she must have hacked her way into the Gate system. Can you believe it? And she must have done so undetected. Imagine the determination, the ingenuity! That kind of ability is unbelievably valuable." He looked down at his desk at the message his wife sent. "Besides, her DNA is far removed from ours. What her children can add to us is an incalculable treasure. Iceland was a genetic bottleneck to begin with. Then we come here with only two thousand? In the long term, that could mean serious trouble."
Another voice chimed in, "Assuming she wants to have children, that is. We women all knew our duty when we came here. Will she understand that? Does she dare? She looks so little I personally would worry about her giving birth to a half-Viking and I'll bet she will, too."
"Oh, we'll get her DNA," Dr. Arikasdottir answered. "Right now she's wearing a birth control implant. If she won't let me remove it, I will get egg cells from her, fertilize them in vitro and parcel them out to volunteer surrogates. And if I can't do that, I can clone egg cells from cheek scrapings if I have to. It won't be easy but given enough time her line will join ours."
