The Cocoon Trilogy

by David Saperstein

“Of course. Notify General Packlaw of the 101st Airborne that I’m ordering the 1159th confined to barracks until further notice.” Walkly left the room to issue the President order immediately.

  “Now,” the President continued, “let’s get a few things straightened out here . . .” He proceeded to explain to Gideon Mersky that he, Malcolm Teller, was the President, that the Geriatric Brigade, the Antareans, the other off-planet parents were his guests and guests of the United States under his executive protection. He made it clear that their space vehicles, Operation Earthmother, and the removal of the cocoons using military personnel and equipment were done as a direct order from the President. “No one forced me, Gideon. No one got into my mind. No one coerced me. I know what these people are capable of doing. But not once did they resort to violence or coercion. But you were ready to do violence, weren’t you? These people are correct when they say we still live in caves. I am ashamed. I want your apology for what you’ve attempted, and I want it now.”

  “I apologize,” Mersky said unhesitatingly. “I only thought I was doing what was best for the country.”

  “That, thank God, is my job.” The President then ordered Mersky to cooperate with Bernie and Ben. “If you cannot, then I’ll have your resignation.”

  “They will have my complete cooperation, Sir” Mersky answered. “And you can have my resignation whenever you wish.” Ben and Bernie knew Mersky sincere and beaten.

  “Good. Now let’s help these folks get to wherever they have to go. Dr. Khawaja, is there anything we can do to help them protect those babies in space?”

  “We don’t have that kind of technology, Mr. President.”

  “The Mothership will arrive soon. We are in communication with our commanders on the Watership and Antares.” Bernie said. “We are confident we will have an answer to that problem. Now, what we’d like to discuss is the plan Mr. Margolin and Dr. Sanchez have devised to bring us all up to the Mothership.”

  Caleb Harris, who had quietly watched the events in the Oval Office, had a thought. “You know, Mr. Green, this visit…everything that has happened…well, it won’t remain a secret forever.”

  “Yes,” Ben responded. “We understood that from the moment we knew how many people would be involved in Operation Earthmother. We have begun to release staff from Houston and take over the care of the children ourselves. Some of the medical data, videotapes of the births and of our off-planet guests are missing or have been copied. We expected that. Perhaps it is time that the human race knew they are not alone in the universe.”

  “May we tell them?” Caleb asked.

  “After we are gone, we expected you to do that,” Ben said. “How much you tell, we suggest be done slowly and thoughtfully. You will be revealing things that will be at odds with many beliefs and myths. It will change the world…for the better we hope, but we urge caution.

  “But for now,” Bernie Lewis interjected, “it is critical that you keep a lid on it until we are gone.”

  “Of course,” the President agreed.

  After they had revealed and set up coordination of the departure plan, and finalized areas of responsibility, the meeting was over. Mersky had been quiet during most of it, answering only when asked a question or if he saw a flaw in the plan. There were few such times. Sanchez and Margolin had done their homework. The President had a few more questions to ask Ben and Bernie before they adjourned. “You are sure that there is no way we could convince some of you to remain behind for a while?” Malcolm Teller asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” Bernie answered.

  “What if Secretary Mersky’s plan had worked?”

  “You mean if you had taken us prisoner?” Ben asked.

  “Yes. Would you have fought the soldiers?”

  “We would not. Neither would the Antareans or the other off-planet beings. I think they would respect our wishes.”

  “But what if we threatened to separate you from the babies?” Caleb asked.

  “I’m seventy-eight,” Bernie said. “Most of us are pretty old by Earth standards. If you tried to hold us here against our will, then I believe we would die. We know what it is to grow old here, and we know what it is to face the prospect of a very much longer life out there among the stars. The advanced beings we’ve met have evolved to know that no one can own another being; no one can enslave another being or imprison one. Threatening a life, imprisoning a body, making war, hating those who are different…at the moment, all of that is the way of this planet. I have not been away that long to have forgotten what we Earth-humans have done to one another. I was one of those GI’s who liberated Buchenwald concentration camp.” Bernie sighed and took a moment. “But,” he then continued, “we have learned, out there among the stars of out Milky Way, that when you threaten another, when you kill senselessly out of petty hatred or greed or fear, then you are no longer part of life. You have only succeeded in destroying yourself.”

  “I understand,” the President said. “But you didn’t answer Mr. Harris about the babies.”

  That is true,” Ben said. “Bernie was speaking for the Brigade. The babies can only speak for themselves. Perhaps someday they will answer that question for us. But if you want my opinion, if the soldiers, if anyone tried to imprison us, or them, the infants would protect themselves.”

  “How could they do that?” Caleb asked.

  “I wouldn’t even venture a guess,” Ben answered.

  “And I wouldn’t want to be around to find out,” Bernie stated flatly.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE – DEPARTURE APPROACHES

  On the first of October, Tommachkikla, “Tom,” the farmer from Destero, held his son proudly above his head, spinning and dancing with happiness. His wife, Karen Morano, formerly of Mill Valley, California, delighted in his joy. Their living quarters were divided into a hot, oxygen-rich room for Tom to match conditions on Destero, and a normal tropical Earth atmosphere room for her. The infant was comfortable in both environments, but seemed to prefer his father’s more. The baby boy was the last of the mixed matings

  Nine light years from Antares, drawn along in the solar orbit of the first-magnitude star Vega, a Mothership dwarfed the Watership, with its three storage tanks in tow, rendezvoused and linked. A team of scientists and medical officers from Antares onboard the Mothership that was on its way to a giant red star in the Perseus arm of the galaxy, transferred to the Watership to inspect the cocoons and travel back to Antares with them. A huge celebration was being planned for the homecoming with special accolades for Amos Bright. Also aboard were cocooning experts who studied the data available on the human and mixed babies back on Earth. It was decided that the risk was not as great as Beam had feared. The infants were growing physically and developing mentally at an astounding rate. Most of the experts concluded that they would survive the journey to the oxygen-water planet in Quad 2 that had been graciously set aside for them by the Parman civilization. The Antarean crafts then detached, and each went on its separate journey with the blessing of the Antarean council.

  One more Brigade woman gave birth to a son. Three days later another boy was born, leaving Mary and Ben Green as the only occupants of the top floor left to become new parents.

  During his years on Parma Quad 2 Bernie and Rose Lewis had been translators and lived with the Parman guides. Because they were to be used aboard the Antarean spacecraft, Bernie had to learn everything he could about the various Antarean space vehicles. He could pilot any of them.

  Bernie Lewis spent most of his time in early October teaching Jack Fischer, Phil Doyle and Madman Mazuski to pilot the Probeship. They made several practice trips under and above the ocean, barely skimming the surface, from Galveston Bay where the Probeship was secreted, to a small cove called Sea Feather Bay on the British Crown Colony of Cayman Brac in the Caribbean.

  Jack, with the aid of Mr. DePalmer, had purchased a defunct hotel and forty acres including the sequestered cove on Cayman Brac. The hotel was in disrepair, but sat high on a bluff that
commanded a view of the whole island and surrounding crystal-clear waters. With local workmen cleaning up and making necessary repairs, and some paint, Jack estimated the place would be livable in two weeks.

  By this time, all of the Brigade parents who went out to visit their families had returned to Houston. Most of the medical staff was gone, instructed to maintain secrecy. President Teller had signed an order making it a class A felony to do otherwise. The care of the infants was in the hands of the Brigade parents, Beam and two of her Antarean medical team. Mary Green knew she would not have time to see her family again, but hoped that the baby would come in time for Ben to make a fast trip to Scarsdale. Because he was so busy, he hadn’t had a chance to visit.

  Alicia Sanchez and Phillip Margolin were married by a Catholic Priest and Reform Rabbi in the multidenominational chapel at NASA. Then, after one final meeting with NASA and the Defense Department staff to coordinate the movement of the Brigade to the Mothership, the young married couple said their farewells and left on their honeymoon. They were honored guests of Jack Fischer at his refurbished hotel on Cayman Brac.

  The Brigade anticipated their departure. On instructions from special medical team on the Mothership, which was fast approaching our solar system, the babies were prepared for spaceflight. Their food intake was reduced. They were kept in a cool environment that lowered their body temperature. But even with the assurances from the Antarean Council and Amos Bright, Drs. Yee and Khawaja were worried about the children going into space.

  On October ninth, Mary Green went into labor. With her husband at her side, Dr. Yee and Beam delivered a beautiful baby boy and placed him on her chest. She and Ben tearfully named him Scott in honor of their first son, who was born and died on Earth. Their tears were of joy and remembrance. “The soul never dies,” Beam reminded them as she took little Scott Green and left with him for the intensive care nursery.

  President Teller came to Houston for his last visit. He was optimistic about the safety of the children and about seeing the Brigade people again. Bernie Lewis spoke for all of them.

  “We have contacted the others in the Brigade and told them about the babies. They now know they can safely start new families if they wish and will be welcome on their own home-planet, Earth.”

  “Will we see any of you again?” Teller asked.

  “From our travels in the galaxy,” Mary Green answered as she held her newborn son, “we have learned that anything and everything is possible.”

  “Keep in mind that governments change,” the President said. And if the world learns of your existence, the Antareans…the life you have found in our galaxy…well, who knows what that knowledge might mean.

  “We can hope it will be a positive,” Ben Green said. The others agreed.

  Gideon Mersky, who accompanied the chief executive on this trip, had never been to the hospital. He had never seen the babies. “At our last meeting in the Oval Office,” he said to Bernie Lewis, “I apologized for my actions. I am truly sorry. Now that I see these children, I know how special they are to all of us. I can feel their strength and the power of their future.”

  For reasons known only to Bernie Lewis, later that day he took Gideon Mersky aside and asked the Defense Secretary if, when he’d grown old enough, he might contemplate joining the Geriatric Brigade.

  “At a moment’s notice,” was the enthusiastic reply.

  “That is good to know,” Bernie said, ending the conversation but making no promises.

  When Ruth Charnofsky asked why he’d done that, Bernie replied, “Just planting seeds that might bear important fruit one day.”

  The next day Ben Green made a fast trip to New York and spent five happy hours with his family in Scarsdale. Their farewell was teary. But the knowledge that Mary and he could reach out to them from across the galaxy with thoughts of love tempered the sadness of the parting.

  On October fourteenth, the Mothership entered our solar system, disengaged her Parman guides and decelerated along a trajectory plotted to intercept Earth’s orbit in eleven hours. They would then anchor and wait on the dark side of the moon.

  That night, under the blanket of darkness, the hospital was abandoned. They divided into three groups. The first and largest consisted of the Brigade parents, led by commanders Mary and Ben Green.

  Next a smaller group traveled in special steel cargo containers with the required controlled atmospheric environments for Panatoy and his daughter, Dr. Manterid and his son and Tommachkikla and his son. Their human spouses led by chief commander Ruth Charnofsky traveled with them. Beam and her two Antarean, also traveled with this group.

  The last group was the babies. Each was encapsulated in a plastic container with life-support systems attached. They were an adaptation of the intensive care incubators Dr. Yee had originally designed and supplied when the Watership first landed months ago in the Atlantic. Traveling with the babies were Peter Martindale, Tern and Bess Lewis.

  Bernie Lewis traveled alone to the secret anchorage of the Probeship. At the proper time, according to the plan designed by Sanchez and Margolin, he would join the others later.

  The three groups boarded separate military aircraft and flew off to their designated locations.

  In the early morning hours, President Teller’s Press Secretary, Margo McNeil, called the television networks and requested a White House hookup for a special announcement. Just before dawn, Eastern Standard Time, President Teller waited to inform the American public and the world that shortly, in an exercise designed to insure the future of space exploration, there would be three separate and consecutive launchings of the American space shuttles Liberty, Freedom and Brotherhood.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO – LAUNCH

  The first launching was from Wallops Island, Virginia. The space shuttle Liberty, with the Brigade parents, lifted off just as the sun rose on the horizon to the east. The passengers onboard nestled comfortably in the cargo bay aboard a specially sealed and life-supported container that could be released intact into space. It was painted a deep red color.

  At the same time President Teller stood at a podium in the Lincoln Room and smiled out at an audience of bleary-eyed reporters. He read from a prepared statement.

  “The United States,” he began, “is about to take a first step in the development of a long-range deep space exploration program . . .” He went on to detail that there would be three shuttles launched within a few hours of each other. The first, from Wallops Island, was on its way. The three would eventually rendezvous in a high orbit and deposit the initial materials required for the construction of a huge space platform from which future space exploration would evolve.

  There was nothing new in the plan or program. The surprise was that it had begun suddenly, without announcement or press coverage of the launches. An irate media fired questions about the secrecy at Malcolm Teller.

  “The reasons for our decision to launch and commence platform construction will be made public at a later date. At this time I can only say that they are compelling reasons and I am certain that the American public will concur with my decision.”

  Angry reporters, who had become used to the game of embarrassing, baiting or badgering American presidents at press conferences, began to fire questions that bordered on arrogance and disrespect for Malcolm Teller. He responded in the calm, measured manner of a man who knows he has all the cards in his hand.

  Later that day the opposition party would call for Congressional investigations. The President just smiled, stating, “That has always been the right of Congress. Investigation and honest discussion is what makes our democracy work.”

  In a few weeks the fantastic visit of the Brigade parents and their friends would be known. The world would have proof that Earth was not the center of the universe, that a myriad of life existed beyond our troubled, polluted, rather backward planet, and that if we ever had hopes of joining the rest of God’s living creatures, we’d best clean our own house and put it in order.

 
Freedom, the second shuttle, lifted off from a previously unused NASA backup launch facility on Padre Island, Texas. It was an hour after Liberty’s launch, just as dawn reached the south Texas coast. On board, nestled in the cargo bay in specially sealed life-support containers, were the Antareans and three of the four mixed couples. Peter Martindale, Tern and their infant son were aboard the third shuttle.

  Bernie Lewis guided the Probeship out of Galveston Bay as Freedom separated from its booster rocket tanks high above. He kept the sleek craft submerged for several miles until he’d cleared the last of the offshore oil-drilling platforms that dotted that part of the Gulf of Mexico. Surfacing, he slowly rose into the air at subsonic speed. Climbing to a commercial airline altitude of thirty-thousand feet, he circled his craft back toward the Texas coast. The sun was rising. He began to climb and gather speed over the west Texas desert. Then, as Liberty reached orbit and Freedom was well on its way to joining her sister shuttle, Bernie fired the ion drive and rocketed the Probeship into a parallel trajectory with Freedom.

  The third shuttle, Brotherhood, had its launch from Vandenberg AFB in California delayed fifteen minutes. There was a suspected leaky gasket in the special white cargo container that housed the babies, Rose Lewis, Peter Martindale, Tern and their infant son. The gasket was removed and replaced. The lift-off took place without any problems. The babies were all safely nestled in their containers that would absorb the stress of lift-off. Rose, seated among them, listened to their excited chatter. They knew they were leaving Earth. They also knew the plan.

  The purple to deep blue California dawn sky lit up as the powerful main rockets lifted Brotherhood’s precious cargo into an orbit that would eventually coincide with those of Liberty and Freedom.

  The Antarean Mothership slipped out from behind the moon and drifted toward the planet Earth, glittering as a bright morning star in the sky. On the flight deck the Antareans monitored the progress of the three shuttles as they closed on one another in a orbit more than twenty-thousand miles above the blue planet.