Outward Borne (43 page)

Military hospitals are not the
most caring places, even toward such notable individuals as these.
Housed in a single story building, each with his or her room, there
was much to get used to. The whole experience was a series of new
discoveries and disappointments. The Voyagers’ chocolate-fed
expectation that Earth might offer wonderful new foods might still
be realized, but not in this hospital. There were few attempts to
acclimate them to life on this planet. The medical staff was
caring, but driven to learn about them. Tests confirmed that they
were indeed human, they were basically healthy, carried no
communicable diseases, and harbored no alien organisms. Their
immune systems needed bucking up, but otherwise the quarantine was
uneventful. There was no cause to extend it beyond the three months
originally planned. The Voyagers were released, watched constantly,
and unprepared.

Outside the hospital, time all but
stood still. It seemed an interminable period, for the Voyagers
were allowed no personal appearances or live contacts during their
quarantine. The hospital representatives gave daily verbal reports,
but had nothing much to say. The world news had to content itself
with landing images, the Voyagers removal, and the fate of the
lander.

After the Voyagers had been driven
away, the flybots returned to the landing craft. The ports all
closed and remained sealed, in spite of several attempts to pry
them open. The ship stood, apparently lifeless, for five days, and
then, without any signal, it rose up and returned to
space.

After weeks of nothing, the
populous was eager for something new. People across Earth could
hardly wait for the Voyagers to be released, but for one person,
time did not pause. If he was to forestall the government’s plan to
divide the Voyager population and house them in scattered military
bases. Bill Hanson needed to find and secure a suitable site for
them to live. He had a long list of requirements, but eventually
learned of the abandoned site that had once been the Bohemian
Grove. For over two hundred years, Bohemian Grove had been an
exclusive private forest retreat for the worlds’ most powerful and
famous men, but the outdoorsy camaraderie and hokey traditions of
the pseudo-campground had lost its appeal sometime after women were
allowed to partake. The secluded 2,700 acre site had been shut down
and set aside as parkland, which it would be, if California ever
came up with the money to make it so.

After agreeing that the Army would
guard the entrance to the compound, Hanson arranged for the
Voyagers to use the Bohemian Grove, with the general understanding
that they would make repairs and improvements while they were
there. By mid-October, all of the Voyagers had been relocated to
the secluded compound that had been set up on the site. The
Voyagers occupied some old buildings in the developed area south of
a small lake. It was a good match for them, as there were common
dining rooms and other shared facilities similar to those the
People had used on the Outward Voyager. The deep forest and steep
hillsides were an irresistible attraction to the new arrivals. They
spent a great amount of time outdoors, walking the trails and
paths, to the hilltops, around the lake, to the Bernard
Maybeck-designed clubhouse. They developed an emotional affinity
for the old-growth redwoods, once it was established that many of
the trees had been there at the time their ancestors had been
abducted.

The Voyagers moved into that
secluded, enclosed area where they became, for the most part, an
inward-focused, private community. Their energy was concentrated on
adjusting to this new environment, and tending to the needs of
their few, well-known friends. It was the way they were raised, and
most were content with that. Some, the more reclusive, were unable
to do anything else. Only a few Voyagers looked beyond the compound
and wished to learn about the world and enter into its daily cycle.
Others tried but withdrew; intimidated and repelled by the massed
attention they received. They became reluctant to leave the Grove
for any extended period. It was a difficult adjustment for all.
Things were different, and some were not to their liking, food and
sex, for example, but the Voyagers maintained their preference for
making their own way.

The Outward had always supplied
the People with a set of basic ingredients and food supplies, most
of which were cheese-like chunks, pastes, or powders. The chefs
among them had learned over the centuries to convert these unlikely
staples into a varied and appealing cuisine. Now, everything was
different. A kitchen staff came each day to prepare meals, but this
was not right, it was not what they wanted. No one liked to eat
whatever it was that they cooked, and their own experienced cooks
were not permitted to cook it.

Gwynyth Rempton and HuMini NorBa,
two ladies who were proud of their long-held status as premier
chiefs, decided to take matters into their own hands and, with more
guts than sense, they jumped the fence and walked into the nearby,
very small community of Monte Vista to find some proper food. Monte
Vista had only one market, and the women found themselves inside it
soon enough. There they were confronted with horribly green lumpy
things, hunks of flesh, and a bewildering assortment of boxes and
bottles. A number of local people quickly gathered around to help.
Perhaps it was Gwynyth’s red and yellow striped forehead or
HuMini’s floor length orange bell bottoms, but the two were
immediately recognized as Voyagers, and their problem was
recognized as one that could not be settled in an afternoon. The
Widows, the good citizens of Monte Vista decided, must be
called.

Deborah Massie, now in her
mid-sixties, had been a noted chef and restaurateur in San
Francisco until her husband and business partner passed away, and
she retired to her family home in Monte Vista. Hilda Gonchar, her
girlhood friend, by way of contrast, had never left her hometown,
but had become locally renowned for her baking and cheese-making
expertise. In short order, the four women were sitting around
Hilda’s kitchen table, drinking tea, and making plans. The next
day, they all crowded into Deborah’s underpowered electric ChEVy
for a trip to Sebastopol and a proper market. Cheese, flour, milk,
sugar, and other things pasty and powdery were chosen and discussed
for starters. Back and forth they went over the months, learning
what these new foods were and how to use them. Spaghetti was an
untouchable oddity until they learned to make it from flour paste;
vegetables were a harder sell. The Monte Vista ladies were amazed
at the innovative ways the Voyagers had to modify simple
ingredients and create new flavors. Deborah saw a cookbook in the
making, maybe entrées for her granddaughter’s new
restaurant.

And sex, the ObLaDas had
controlled all reproduction on board the Outward Voyager. Sex was
an ever-prevalent pastime, but it had no long-term consequences for
its practitioners. Young women were taken away for their scheduled
medical exams and sometimes returned pregnant. That was the way it
was. No one knew the biological parents of the newborns, they may
be from cells collected centuries ago, or clones of someone they
knew. Among the many consequences of this process were a lax sexual
restraint and casual parental obligations. Now, you had to watch
what you were doing, as unexpected outcomes began to occur. The
Voyagers wanted babies, as the youngest among them was seventeen,
but now they were responsible for having them.

The Voyagers took control of other
things, as well. Repair and construction had long been the primary
occupation of the People on the Outward, so they formed a highly
skilled crew of six males and three females that paired up with a
local architect and a contractor to plan and build improvements to
the Grove.

Kelli Imally took charge of the
dogs. Sixteen dogs had arrived with the People, four from each of
the breeds maintained on the Outward. The breeds were to be
continued and established here on Earth. She was not so interested
in their value, although they were worth a fortune to the great
many dog fanciers who were clamoring to get one. She personally
preferred the dark brown mid-sized Brownie, or home dog, as they
are often called, but the spectacular Red Racers were clearly the
most popular, as easily seen from the number of the iSite followers
they attracted.

Yes, every dog had an iSite,
complete with videos and frequent updates on its adventures in the
wilds of the redwood forest and its harassed population of native
residents. Training remained a major commitment among the People,
who would not let any new diversions detract from this
preoccupation. The Voyagers could not comprehend the wild and
unruly behavior that dogs displayed on this planet. It said
something quite unflattering about their owners, they thought. She
and Cari Umbala were invited to bring their dogs to the big shows.
They usually brought four of the same breed and had them strut
around the ring where they jumped, paraded, and looked lovable on
command. Few realized the hours spent to achieve these little
performances, but they were giant hits.

It would have been easy for the
People to give way and allow themselves to be supported by the
government or some foundation. There were many that would have
contributed, but they had been brought up to have pride in their
community and they wanted to be independent and self-supporting
here on Earth. William Hanson assured them that they do not need to
be concerned about money. Their celebrity would give them the
ability to earn more than they needed, he said, and according to
their wishes, he set up a communal trust fund to be shared by all
Voyagers and their descendants. Now they only needed some cash to
fill it up. Much to their surprise, little NaNa JonDar was able to
earn all the money they needed. NaNa had a clear, sweet voice and
she retained a large collection of traditional Outward music, some
with distant roots all the way back to the original Saxon
villagers. The high interest in anything Outward, plus her fine
singing voice and the novelty of her completely original works,
that just happened to be rather good, led to a series of
best-selling songs and a wide audience. Her concerts, copyrights,
and royalties provided a generous flow of money into the pooled
account.

Another important event occurred
at that time, though it was never known. Eric Alomir had taken to
fixing the seventy-year-old pickup truck that sat in the repair
shed at the Grove. It had once been red, but most of the paint had
worn off. It was a gasoline thing with lots of power, which is why
it was kept for so long, and now Eric had it running again. He
drove it around the narrow roads through the forest within the
Grove, but, of course, that was not enough, and he began to take it
outside the compound. He quickly learned that caused complications
and so, after some discussion, he became the first Voyager to
obtain a driver’s license.

On the late evening of 12 January
2066, Eric carefully searched the truck and removed two tracking
devices before he and DePat drove out of the compound. Both men
were wearing Levis and inconspicuous, drab sweaters. As they left
the Grove and turned north on Route 116, two cars pulled out to
follow them. Who knows who they were, probably tourists or
photo-ops. They two young men continued driving toward Guerneville
and pulled into the drug store. Both of the trailing cars slowly
drove past the small parking lot and, as they moved out of sight,
Eric quickly went through the lot to First Street. Believing that
they had lost the curious, the two continued south to Mill Valley
and the home of the Merit family. On that night, only Martha and
her mother were there.

Martha’s mother, Emily, had
learned her hospitality on the family farm in Iowa, and she had
made a peach pie for the occasion. It had been a long time since
she had done so, and Martha had to make three trips to the store
the get the proper ingredients, but it was done and waiting. DePat
and Eric, both tall and handsome, came into the entryway and seemed
to fill the small space. Martha was ecstatic and her mother only
slightly less so.

“
It is with great pleasure that we
greet you,” DePat said bowing slightly to Emily. “We are all most
grateful for what Martha and her friends have done for
us.”

Martha and Patty had set up a blog
site about the Voyagers; it was oriented toward the young, of
course. They had regular contacts with Kelli Imally and other
under-twenties, and with DePat. It had become their passion and was
very popular. Emily invited them to eat, and they sat around the
table feasting on her still-warm pie. It was another new thing for
the men. Eric, who had little contact with Earth people, sat
smiling, but did not say much.

“
We were so sorry to hear that
your Kepler has died. It is so sad to lose a favorite dog.” Kepler
had been a purebred cocker spaniel that Martha and Emily had
raised, trained, and brought to many local dog shows. He was not an
exceptional cocker and won few awards, but he had been a good dog
and it was fun to be at the shows. DePat said that he had brought
the gift that he had promised, and asked Martha to come out to the
truck to help bring it in. Eric sat and smiled some
more.

Once they were out of sight, he asked, “Do you
have the cubes I sent you?”

“
Yes. Here, I hope they are ok. No
one knows about them.”

“
And the note, could you let me
see it?” Marta handed him the carefully folded paper, and he read
it slowly before giving it back. “If anyone should ever come and
ask about this, you can tell them the truth, or almost the truth,
say that I gave you one box, not two, and you can show them the
note if they ask. You have done something very important, Martha,
and over the years, you will realize what it was that you carried
in your pocket. Now, I have something for you.”