Verron_Birth of a Nation

by Douglas Varnell

  After the initial shock factor of spaceships in the garage, Paul made a quick detour to the Mansion so they could see the scenery of Verron from one of the most pristine viewing locations on the planet. There was no one about, so no introductions were required. Sharon did ask, “Who lives here.” Paul wanted to be modest and yet completely honest and answered, “Verron and everything on it belongs to me, including this house.” “Paul” she replied, “This is no house!” Paul escorted them to the elevators and down to the Medical Center. Tlase, Zimuel and Yadvega were there awaiting the next arrival from Earth. He made the introductions then pulled Tlase aside and whispered, “I want a 200% neurological and muscular enhance on both my brothers.” She acknowledged with a nod. Before leaving, Paul turned to Tlase saying, “Show Dr. Verron the medical facilities and explain the process as best you can. If he consents to remaining on Verron I plan to make him my Medical Director.” Tlase answered a polite, “Yes sir,” as Paul left for his next trip. Joe looked at Tlase and asked, “Why would he want me to be Medical Director and not someone like you, who obviously already knows more than I do?” She smiled a warm smile and answered, “My time and position on Verron are temporary. King Verron has made plans for every position needed to begin building this Nation. No one questions his plans so far, though some of us here may not always agree with him, he has been right. I can teach you everything you’ll ever need to know.” Joe turned to Sharon and they mouthed simultaneously, “King Verron?”

  Paul came out just down the street from the oldest of his cousins, Sylvia. She was pushing 90 and had more medical problems than he could keep up with, the worst one being Parkinson’s Disease. She and her husband had faithfully written and sent support money the entire time he was in prison. Now it was his turn to do something for them. Allen, her husband had worked his entire life as an Engineer for Combustion Engineering, building generators and turbines for the electrical utility industry. Paul had already decided that kind of experience would be put to good use on Verron. There was soon going to be a lot of manufacturing on Verron if his plans worked out. Allen would be a part of that plan. He was warmly greeted by his shocked cousin. She had babysat him as a kid and still called him Pauli. I guess it was payback for him calling his brother Joe. The two of them lived alone in a small zero-lot-line home and after a thorough explanation of what he wanted to do to them and for them, they both agreed to go. Sylvia called her son Daryl to explain what was going on and he arrived shortly to see why his mother was talking so crazy. It didn’t take long for Paul to convince him to join them. He was almost a prodigy in electronics and Paul could already see him being very useful on Verron. Just before they were about to leave, Sylvia asked, “What about Eric?” Paul had forgotten about his younger 2nd cousin incarcerated in South Georgia. He thought a moment and reassured Sylvia, “Give me his address, complete with his Building and Room Number; I’ll take care of the rest.” He escorted the three of them through the gateway, gave them the same short tour he had given his brother then took them to Tlase. His brother and his wife were already in the tanks. Paul introduced his cousins and told Sylvia that Eric would be there when she came out. He was about to add a prison break to his growing list of subversive acts.

  Smith State Prison was a carbon copy of several prisons in Georgia. The state had such a large prison industry that inmates often said the state motto was, “Went to Georgia on vacation, left on probation.” With almost 65,000 inmates in the system, Paul decided that the state wouldn’t be to awfully upset if there was one less. He had spent some time at Smith SP a few years ago and knew the layout pretty well. When his cousin had given him the address, he knew exactly what building it was, and conveniently, cell numbers are clearly listed just under every outside window. With his enhanced vision he could easily read the numbers, even from across the collard green farm next door to the prison. Paul had gone shopping at Walmart for a change of clothes for Eric and waited until after midnight count to enter his cell through the gateway. Both Eric and his cell mate were asleep. He reached down and gently tapped on Eric’s shoulder, then stood back. Not to his surprise, Eric came up swinging. He was about to shout a few profanities when it suddenly dawned on him that the face looked familiar. Paul handed him the pants, shirt and shoes he carried and told him, “Quick, put these on, I’m taking you to see your mother.” His roommate, still lying on his top bunk, quietly whispered, “Is this the place where I’m supposed to roll over, face the wall, and pretend I saw nothing?” Paul answered, “That would be best, unless you want to join us.” The big man on the top bunk sat up slightly and replied, “I have 45 days to MAX. I’m not about to mess it up now.” Eric was in a daze, but had managed to change clothes. He had never even considered escaping before. But with 15 more years to do on his sentence, he would be 75 when he got out; if he lived that long. He felt like he had nothing to lose.

  Just before Paul was ready to make his gateway he remembered a CERT Team sergeant who was abusive to inmates and loved to torment those who could not fight back. He turned to the cell mate and said, “Sgt. Temple still here?” Both Eric and his roomie replied, “That A-Hole!” Paul smiled and replied, “I take that as a yes. Listen, when all hell breaks loose at the 3:00 AM count, tell them that the last thing you remember was Sgt. Temple opening the cell door and escorting Eric out. That should keep them busy on a witch-hunt for a while. Besides they’ll never believe the truth.” With that, Paul and Eric vanished before his eyes. He didn’t give Eric the usual tour, but took him directly to see his Mom and Dad. He quickly explained what was about to be done to him and how his COPD, diabetes and heart problems would be gone when he climbs out of the tank in a few days. Eric asked, “Will I look like you?” really asking if he would be young again. Paul smiled and answered, “Sorry cuz; you will still be ugly.” He turned and walked away thinking who he knew in a different time zone; then it came to him. In an instant he was gone. Eric looked at Tlase and Zimuel shaking his head, asking, “Does he do that a lot?” Zimuel patted him on the back and replied, “You’ll get used to it.”

  Laramie, Wyoming is in the Mountain Time Zone, so although it was late, or actually early in the morning, Paul knew his friend Clark would be up reading or working on the paperwork end of his cattle business. With 1000 acres, his ranch was small by Wyoming standards, but it was still enough to keep him very busy. Clark Kidd had spent most of his working career with Monsanto doing everything from developing new products, marketing to diverse market segments and selling Monsanto agricultural chemicals to farmers all across the U.S. Paul had met him while attending the National Farm Machinery Show. He was looking for possible paint and powder coating users who manufacturer the equipment, Clark was working a Monsanto booth at the show promoting their latest products. They had been friends now for almost 30 years. Clark retired and went into the cattle business with his elderly father. By the time his 95 year-old his father passed away, he was firmly ingrained as a rancher. Clark was going to be one of Paul’s top priorities. He knew everybody who was anybody in the farming business and Paul was praying hard that he would be willing to help Verron reach its full potential. Clark was seven years older than Paul, but even at 74 he was an impressive man. He had been a Special Forces Officer during Vietnam, had various degrees in chemistry and engineering, including a PhD in Bio-Systems and Agricultural Engineering. He was even known to fill in for vacationing professors at the University of Wyoming.

  When Paul came through his gateway just outside his ranch house 50 miles from Laramie, he wished he had remembered Clark’s love for German Shepard Dogs. In fact he loved them so much he had four of them and they had just seen Paul. There was no way Clark was about to miss the barking and growling going on outside his lit upstairs office window. The big man stepped out on his front porch just as he cut on the exterior flood lights. What he saw was enough to make him lower his gun and scratch his head. There were four howling and growling German Shepard’s floating in the air about four feet off the ground in fro
nt of a man in a red shirt and Ron-Jon Surf Shop hat. He stepped forward for a closer look as the dogs floated to the side to clear his path. It took a moment for him to recognize the younger version of Paul. He asked, “If I put them down, can you keep them from biting me?” Clark smiled and answered, “Maybe I can, but maybe you deserve it, scaring my dogs like that.” Paul levitated the dogs a little farther away and lowered them to the ground. Clark ordered them to stay, but they weren’t too happy about it.

  Paul walked over to shake his old friend’s hand. He still stood straight and upright, so he had to look up at his 6 foot 5 inch bearded face. Clark shook his head and asked, “I know who you look like, but who are you really.” Paul gave him a friendly hug and asked, “Can we go inside. Even the summers are cold here. We have a lot to talk about.” He looked around this rustic ranch house that had been in the family for over a hundred years. He knew it would be a real sacrifice for Clark to leave a place he had called home for his entire life. He knew he had to do the best sells job he had ever done to convince his old friend to come to Verron. He began his story with him going to Xhondar I and ended with how he now had his own planet called Verron. He told him everything about the wheat fields as big as the three largest states in America, about the cotton fields, about a market with 70 billion people. The need for cattle ranches, pig farms, chicken farms and every other nut, fruit and vegetable he could plant. He then told Clark that he needed him to organize and build the entire thing. He promised him that no matter what he needed to make it happen, it would be provided. Clark would be Agricultural Czar of the entire planet, a planet three times the size of Earth. Then he told Clark how the first step would be to put him through the rejuvenation treatment and that if there is anything wrong with him, it won’t be there anymore when he comes out, Clark began to cry. His wife and love of his life had died a few years ago of cancer after five long years of fighting it. Now Clark was thinking that it just wasn’t fair for him to be cured of his cancer, when she died from hers. Paul gave him a moment of silence to get composed then told him, “I really need you Clark and a lot of people are depending on Verron’s success.”

  Clark asked, “Can I keep the ranch?” Paul smiled and answered, “Just hire someone to manage it for you. Tell them you’re retiring to warmer weather, which by the way is true, at least the warmer weather part. He continued, “What about my daughter and her husband, they’re all I have?” His daughter was a breeder and trainer of thoroughbred horses, a really good breeder and trainer with some Derby, Preakness and Belmont wins to her credit. Paul smiled, “Bring them with you; we’ll give her a horse farm. There are no horses on Verron, unless you count Unicorns. Would it be considered an unfair advantage if she bred and trained horses in a 1.3g gravity and then raced them in a 1g? I know I would never tell.” They both grinned as only old friends can when working out a new plot. Paul continued, “Do you have enough farm hands around that you could entrust the ranch to them for a few weeks?” Clark nodded yes then spoke, “Hector Ballasteros has been on this ranch almost as long as me. He keeps things running smoothly whether I’m here or not.” Paul commented, “Good, he may just be the man who should run the place if you retire.”

  They had talked for several hours, and on a ranch the day starts early. They went ahead and made breakfast and waited for Hector to come by for his usual morning directions. About the time they finished at 4:00 AM, a knock came on the kitchen door. Hector was a total cowboy. All he needed was a couple of pistols and a bandoleer. Wearing a leather hat, shin length duster and matching cowboy boots, along with his Levis and plaid shirt, Paul could just picture him on the Morgan horse he had just tied to a rail behind the kitchen. Clark introduced Paul and offered Hector a cup of coffee. He then told him that he was going to be gone for several weeks to give Paul a hand on a project he was involved with and that he was now in charge. Hector didn’t seem too worried; he had run the place on numerous occasions when Clark took long trips to New Zealand, where his daughter ran her horse ranch when it was winter in the States. Paul walked outside to the porch to make friends with the dogs while Clark packed a bag. When he came back down, he asked, “How do we get there, you got a spaceship parked around here?” He looked out the window to make certain the ranch hands had headed out to the fields to tend the cattle; they were gone. He turned to Clark and said, “You’re gonna love this; follow me.” He walked out the front door with Clark right behind; they stepped out on the East Terrace of the Mansion looking at an 80,000 foot mountain in the distance and 100 ton red-dragon up close and personal. Paul couldn’t resist laughing when Clark dropped his bag in fright. Hardly able to control his laughter, he said, “This is far better than four German Shepard’s. Zeus, meet my old friend Clark. If you’re nice to him he just may be talked into breeding some Earth cows and let you eat some of them once in a while.” Clark looked at Paul with a doubtful smirk; Paul slapped him on the shoulder and said, “Wait till you meet 99.” They went downstairs to Medical and met Tlase. Everyone else had called it a day, but she knew Paul would return before long with at least one more person. He helped her prepare Clark and place him in the rejuvenation chamber, giving her instructions to do a 200% neuro and muscular enhancement. She looked at him as if to question and he added, “Some of these people are going to need increased mental and physical abilities to face the challenges they will encounter. I want to give them every advantage I can. We can’t afford to fail and I won’t accept anything less than their best.”

  Paul was actually burned-out from the stress of his day. He went for a swim, fought the droids for a while and went by 99s room to watch Star Trek III: The Search for Spock. His little friend now had a video library of Sci-Fi programmed into his 52 inch monitor. All the Star Wars, Star Trek, Terminator… the little guy was obsessed. Paul thought he had created an alien Trekkie. Ninety-nine left the couch in front of the movie and soon returned with some Orville Redenbacher Movie Theater Popcorn, a Diet Coke for Paul and Sweet Tea for himself. It was a good way to wind down. Ninety-nine tried to get him to watch another one, but he really needed to get some sleep; tomorrow was going to be a challenging day. He skipped his evening reports from Lucy, took a shower and crashed across his bed. He had so much on his mind and so many doubts about what he planned to do over the next few days, he really couldn’t even think of where to begin. He laid there deep in thought about just how many lives he had messed up before he finally figured out he was the problem, not them. He had been married to five really good women, who after they divorced him, went on to have good solid marriages with someone else. All they really needed was a good husband. He had burned a lot of bridges over the years and left a trail of destruction that spanned nearly 4 decades. He had done much worse than just alienate his ex-wives and his three daughters. He had been the source of deep emotional scares that would probably never heal. It had gotten so bad that one of his daughters took out a restraining order to keep him away. He remembered suddenly an old Mills Brothers song, You Always Hurt the One You Love. He had hurt a lot of people he loved and that actually used to love him. Now he didn’t know them anymore. All he knew was that he was in a position now to give something back to those people he’d hurt. He could never heal the scares and he didn’t have any desire to force himself on them in any way, but he knew that his ex-wives and his children and his grandchildren could all use good health, prosperity and a chance to start over again. As he lay there thinking, he decided to begin first with Leona, she was only five years younger than him. What would she think of getting a fresh start for herself and her husband and to be in her 30s again? He took a deep breath and remembered what he used to tell his salesmen that froze when they had to ask for an order, “All they can do is say no.” Some things are easier to say than they are to do. He fell asleep wishing it were already over with.

  He arrived at breakfast, deep in thought and preoccupied with what time it was in Atlanta, Georgia. Everyone was there getting ready for the day ahead and full of the usual small
talk and banter that goes on with close friends, who also happened to live in the same house. They could tell Paul’s mind was someplace else. First of all, he wasn’t dressed like himself. He had on a pair of light tan Dockers, a perfectly tapered light blue Stafford shirt, nicely polished and shined brown shoes, a Navy Blue P-Coat and a neck tie. Paul was not a suit and tie sort of guy, so this was really dressed-up for him. He hardly touched his breakfast and didn’t speak ten words the whole time he was in the kitchen. Finally he looked to Tlase and said, “I doubt seriously if I’ll be bringing anyone back with me today, but have a tank ready, just in case I get lucky.” He looked at his old Timex, set for Eastern Standard Time, and said, “Gotta go. Pray hard!” He got up from the table and was gone.

  Leona had been married to Paul for over twelve years when he went to prison. During those years he had adopted her two daughters, Renee and Marie. From the outside they looked like they had a perfect marriage and a wonderful family life. In fact, they most of the time, tried to believe it themselves. Paul was a good provider, put the wife and children through college, and always made certain they always had good cars, new clothes, the latest and greatest electronic devices and a new home everywhere they moved. They took family trips to Disney and to Europe, went to church every Sunday and even worked-out together. When Renee got married, he made sure they had furniture for their apartment and a truck to haul their belonging to Texas. But the truth was another story. Paul was an unfaithful husband, an abusive father and selfish to the core. He had an explosive temper, spent money like it was going out of style, especially on his self, and his six figure income was never enough. The only thing he felt like he ever did right was be a grandfather. Renee had a son, Hunter, and a daughter, Amber. Hunter was his sword fighting, wrestling, Sponge Bob watching and motorcycle riding buddy. Amber a joy to be around; she would imitate everything Hunter did with Papaw, while playing with Hunter. She would sword fight, watch Sponge Bob, and could do a wicked knee drop while jumping off the coffee table on top of Hunter. The last time Paul saw them they were 5 and 2. That’s when he went to prison. Leona stuck by him for the first five years, though she was getting her comfort elsewhere. Then decided she had enough and totally disappeared from his life. In fact his entire family had disappeared. Today would be the first time in over ten years that he would see Leona. He had a lot of fixing to do if his family would allow it. He would never expect to have his family back. They are doing much better without him, but he really wanted to pay back some of the debts he felt like he owed them.