Jamison picked up his telescope and winked through it. From her holding unit, Nessa sat up, alert, and for a moment, dared not move.
“The elder race,” Jamison replied to his mother. “The elder race of Akron is not answering. We were a close community before we were scattered. That’s why they must be dead.”
Enya sat on Jamison’s sleeping pod, expressionless.
“Tell me these are imagination games with your inventions from engineering camp,” she uttered.
Jamison--and back at the holding unit, Nessa--panned the room. They focused on the communication equipment, the telescope, the teleport.
Then they turned their attentions to Enya, who still gazed at nothing.
“Mama,” Jamison broke the silence.
“What, J?” Enya managed.
“The alien Daddy captured - she’s a member of the younger race of Akron. They are in trouble. Their trade link with Creor has been ended. Severed by Creor. Their rations will run out soon. She came to form an alliance here, because the younger race cannot sustain themselves.”
Enya shot up to her feet. She clutched Jamison by the arms and fixated on his eyes.
“Tell me this isn’t real,” she pleaded.
“Do you think I made all of this at engineering camp?” He answered with a question.
Enya’s eyes were crazed. She shook her head with vigor and said, “You’re 9. We adopted you when you were 4.”
He winced under her grasp, and she let go.
“That’s what I told you at the social services place,” he admitted. “I’m 500.”
Enya’s stone-cold demeanor broke, and her face beamed.
“I believe you,” she whispered. “It all adds up.”
She started for the door, but stopped to stare at it long enough to say, “Don’t tell your father.”--before allowing the hallway to envelop her.
Jamison and hologram Nessa waited until her footsteps had penetrated the dining room. Then, Jamison pumped his fist. Nessa wrinkled her forehead but repeated the motion.