There was one who was well recovered, and who felt the strain of being confined within the small lander day after day. To Rugge, the site of the open meadow was all but irresistible. He gave Rodik a sharp bark, vigorously wagging his tail while sitting which made his whole body wriggle. Rodik held Cari firmly and looked toward the cheering crowd. “Cari and I will not set foot on Earth today, but there is one who would most like to do so.” Rugge, pronounced rouge, stood at his signal, poised to run. Rodik gave him the gesture to circle as Rugge jumped off the platform into the meadow. A veteran of many races, the cordon around the field looked enough like a racetrack that he began to sprint at speed around its edge. The flybot kept pace with the running dog that was renowned for his grace and athleticism. Coming around the final bend, several pheasants flew up before him. Without breaking stride, Rugge made a futile leap at them, and easily covered an astounding distance. Running under the ship, he jumped onto the platform, again sitting next to Cari, panting heavily, with a grin on his face.
The three remained there for a few minutes longer, and then turned to re-enter the ship. Their appearance lasted no more than twenty minutes, but what a show! It was a triumph. There were few who felt anything but admiration for those striking people, Rugge included. Hearts wept at Cari’s stumble and broke with her tears. Rugge’s run was shown over and over again. Experts argued over what breed it was and decided it was a descendant of the Norwegian elkhound. They were close. Red Racers were found to be later decedents of a large hunting hound of central Europe, a predecessor of the elkhound and other once-fierce hunting dogs.
Beyond the goodwill that the Voyagers’ emergence engendered, their actual appearance was probably the most influential element of the affair. Their ‘look’ instantly became a topic of worldwide comment and emulation. The Voyagers are a handsome people, although, at first sight, their appearance was startling. Only about one hundred and eighty-five to two hundred twenty People lived on the Outward at any time, and a unique and individual appearance was highly prized. For centuries, the People had developed and refined individual styles, often adapting a historic look that had been used by an esteemed ancestor. Each person chose a pallet of colors that particularly suited them, clothing that was cut and shaped to compliment or emphasize their body type, their own hair style, body colors and symbols that were immediately recognizable. Rodik’s blond locks were cut into V-shape that went down his neck. His scalp was a rust-red that was reflected by his hair to appear a deep yellow-gold. He wore a complimentary gold-yellow cape that further emphasized the effect and was coordinated with a trim long tunic that went to mid-thigh, straight slim-cut pants, and bare feet dyed red, all of which lengthened his already tall, trim form. It is ironic that the voyagers, who revered a unique style, and almost never followed trends, inspired a wave of fashion fads.
Cari was still in tears. “I am sorry I could not finish my speech,” she repeated for the fifth time.
“No matter, Cari, it went well enough. I am just glad that Rugge did not run off into the forest. There were at least a hundred people standing out beyond the fence, maybe more. They looked so excited to see us, so happy.”
Chapter 22 The Voyagers
The Voyagers, cooped up inside the lander, had become anxious and nervous, afraid even. They would need to leave soon and go out into this new world, and they were concerned. Their welcome had not gone as they had hoped that it would. They would be taken by the military men and would under their control. It was not clear that they would ever be able to get free of them. Much of what happened during the next days was due to the foresight of Ragnar Jondar, although he never spoke of it.
“I am very worried,” Ragnar said, “our radio is being monitored by anyone who wants to do it, and our satellite communications have been intercepted as well. Apparently they were able to maneuver some satellite into position to pick up its signals. We have no way to prevent the government, or the Army people, from taking control from in here and no way to contact anyone else for help, not that we know who to contact, even if we could.”
Rodik agreed, he had been thinking about the problem for some time. “We need to find a way to speak confidentially with some of those people, someone who has a good understanding of laws and business and is willing to help us. Those people in the forest have some very good communications gear, if we could just obtain one of their computers, or All-1s, or whatever they are called, perhaps we could find someone to help us.”
“Well, Ragnar, no one as big as you could go out there and ask for one without being seen, but a dog could, a small dog,” said Kelli Imally, who, at seventeen, was one of the younger girls, “A little dog could carry a note asking for a computer and might be able to bring it back without being seen.”
Ragnar Jondar, by contrast, was one of the older men at thirty-one, and coincidentally one of the largest. He had been selected to be the Voyagers’ leader on Earth, but he did not know Kelli very well. “What dog could do that, Kelli?”
“Broga could.”
“How so?”
“I trained her to follow flybots. She is very good at it.”
“Why did you do such a thing?”
“She follows the bots around as if she was on a string. She runs in circles, zigzags, and goes back and forth, it’s really quite funny.”
“I never saw such a thing, did you Rodik?”
“Oh yes, it is very odd the way her dog runs about, amazing really. I think it wants to catch the bot, but knows it is not allowed to. It has kind of a frustrated energy.”
“You are weird,” said Cari.
“Well am what am and proud to be Miss Cari. Still, if we put a sign on her and had a flybot go out and find some friendly people, perhaps they will help us.”
Broga was nine years old and had been Kelli’s constant companion for as long as she could remember. Kelli had been a shy, solitary girl who spends a great deal of her time alone with her pet and, perhaps out of boredom, trained her to do some unusual things.
“You are really weird, Kellie,” Cari repeated.
“And you have a better plan, Miss Normal Head?” Kelli shot back.
Neither Miss Normal Head nor anyone else had a better plan, so shortly after dark a small panel slid open beneath the lander, and a flybot and Broga dropped to the ground. Broga was a smallish home dog, with curly, dark brown fur and a large black backsack. The odd pair made their way through the tall grass toward a stand of fir trees. Broga had to dig to slip under the fence, a novel experience. She crawled forward and crouched beneath some low, dense shrubs. There was no sign of alarm as they waited. No one had seen them. The flybot rose up to look about, and identified three young people camped in a small clearing a short way east. They all seemed to be busy communicating, a good sign.
With a barely audible buzz, the flybot moved to the edge of the campsite and hid behind a tree. Broga followed, creeping closer to the campfire lit area. She was fascinated by the flames, the many wonderful new smells, and the first strangers that she had ever encountered. She wanted very much to greet them, but was afraid at the same time, so she remained out of sight in the bushes. It did not matter very much, because when Broga was excited, she was not very quiet.
Martha saw her first and squealed in her way, which was very much like Kelli’s way. “Look at the cute little dog, I never saw one like that before.” As she giving Broga a hug, Patty pulled off the dark green scarf that had been tied around her neck.
“It looks like writing, but it is all sewn on,” Patty said marveling. Neither girl had ever contemplated the art of anything so difficult as sewing. Moving nearer the lantern, she tried to make out what it said.
“Greetings. My dogs’ name is Broga, be nice to her. She has come from the lander, where we would like to make contact with you very directly. Will you lend us a communication device? Please do. I will give it back if I can. With hope, Kelli Imally.”
“Do you think it is some stupid trick? We put our phone in there and the d
og runs off, and some jerks laugh at us for being so dumb?”
“It could be, but this dog is really different,” said Martha, who had been to many dog shows and knew a lot about breeds, “and so is this scarf. The material is very strange. It would be so fame if it were really them.”
With that, the flybot moved out of the bushes and into the light. It circled slowly over their heads, chirped and flashed in an impressive fashion, and gave an all-together convincing display of extraterrestrial technology.
“We must help them, don’t you think?” asked Martha.
After some discussion, the girls decided to take the risk. Patty set her computer to her iSite address and allowed it to work with permission, while Martha logged into her computer, so that they could remain connected in video conference mode. They woke up Martha’s geekified younger brother, Derik, he-whom-you-must-bring, and told him to list some email contacts and blogs that might help the Voyagers. The Chief Research Officer of Google, his idol, was his first choice. Martha put the computer into the pack, and was about to send Broga off, when Patty yelled for her to stop. She ran over to her tent and pulled out her secret diary and matching pink pen, and stuffed them into the pack. “They don’t have anything to write on,” she explained.
Broga and the flybot quickly returned to the lander, and within moments of opening the computer, JiDeSon Alomar was looking at the smiling faces of Martha/Patty, pressed cheek to cheek on the small screen.
“Oh hello, hello! We are so excited, is it really you?”
JiDeSon did not know how to answer that question and sat before the screen, a bit stunned. Who else could he be?
“I am Patty Palmer and this is my friend Martha Merit, just call her Marta. We want to help. We can tell you how to use the computer, and you can find out almost everything on GoogleFace.” Perhaps this was not the most formal spaceman greeting ever imagined, but then the girls never imagined that they would need to do such a thing.
JiDeSon looked into the screen and introduced himself. He explained that the Voyagers hoped to do many things after leaving the lander, but they needed to have contact with some of the people themselves, not just with Colonel Fitzsimmons, who was not being helpful. In fact, they were growing afraid of him. “We do not know how to go about this, or how things work in your world. Would it be possible to have someone represent our interests? Do you do things like that?”
“Do you mean like a lawyer?” Martha asked. “My Uncle Bill is a partner in a big law firm. They do all kinds of things, I am sure he could help. Dad says he is very nice, for a lawyer.”
“Do you think he would be willing to speak with us? We do not have any money. The lawyers wish to have money, do they not?” The Voyagers had watched a lot of courtroom dramas.
“Are you kidding?” Patty stuck in. “There is nobody on this planet who would not want to talk to you. It is the neatest thing in the world, without exception. Give me a few minutes to contact Uncle Bill. I hope he is home”
Martha tried to call his cell phone, but it was turned off. She had no other number, so she called her father. “Dad, this is Marta. Dad, you must find Uncle Bill and have him call me now, like, immediately. It will be the neatest thing he ever did.”
“Calling you will be the neatest thing? We have to have a talk about your ego.”
“Dad, don’t joke, this is important, but I can’t tell you what it is. Please, Dad, trust me.”
“Is everything all right? Are you still camping by that space ship?”
“Yes Dad, we are fantastic. You need to get Uncle Bill even if you have to get him out of bed, OK?”
Roger Merit had worked with his brother-in-law on a few cases, and had several contact numbers. Bill was in New York attending a conference, and Roger tracked him to his hotel, which put through the call on the house phone. It was two in the morning.
“Rog, what’s up? Is something wrong? How’s Mom?”
“Fine Bill, it is nothing like that. Bill, I got a call from Martha. She says she has something big, but could not tell me what it was.”
“Marta? How could she have something big?”
“My thoughts exactly, but I decided to trust her. You know where she is, don’t you? Up in the mountains with that space ship.”
“Really.”
“Give her a call Bill. And Bill, if it is something silly, I will have her sent to a convent in Saskatoon.”
“Do they have convents in Saskatoon?”
“I will have one built.”
Minutes later, Bill Hanson got through to his niece. He did not know if he should be amused or upset, but he did it anyway.
“Uncle Bill, thank God you called. You will not believe this.”
“I had better believe it because I am rather disturbed that you had your father get me out of bed in New York at two in the morning.”
“Really, I didn’t know, sorry. But the thing is, Uncle Bill, we are talking with the Voyagers, the space people. They want someone to represent them, so I called you.”
“Who is we, and who are you speaking with, and how? Have they left the ship?”
“Patty Palmer and I, oh, and Derik. We gave their dog Patty’s computer, and they are using her iSite. Key in HotPattyPalmer.iSite.pop and we will link you up.”
So William S. Hanson, Senior Partner of Biddle, Pasterecki, Burges, Hanson and Lawson, staff of 134 lawyers, offices in San Francisco, New York, London and Tokyo, sat facing the still excited Martha/Patty, and a hopeful JiDeSon Alomar.
“Perhaps, Mr. Hanson, is that the correct manner of address? May I tell you of our desperation? We would like to live among the people of your country in such a way as to be independent of your government. We fear that their intentions are to keep us, not captive, but controlled. Is that correct? We hope to live in a compound together. That is how we have always lived, and to have dedicated medical care. We are worried about infectious diseases, you see. And we must acquire money to buy these things, and to pay you, of course. We have heard from Colonel Fitzsimmons, and he has made us very concerned about our future. He tells us that we will be taken to some military installation, where we will be quarantined until they decide that we may be released. They will not say what will happen after that. Mr. Hanson, we fear that they will proclaim us to be illegal entrants into this nation and, as we are homeless and have no country, we will not be able to contest their wishes. We know that they could declare us to be threats to security and retain us indefinitely. This is very frightening, Mr. Hanson. We are protected as long as we remain the lander, but once we leave, we will be powerless to resist the orders of the military men. Is there anything that can be done?”
“Extraordinary! Who would have thought? I mean I was asleep. Now give me a moment. Well, yes there are several things, but let me first assure you that, in the longer term, your accommodations, healthcare, and monetary needs can be arranged, without any doubt, so you should have no worries there. Your legal status and the relationship with the government must be our first concern. Let’s work on that, but first let me apologize for my government. Their actions are inexcusable. They should have welcomed you as warmly as her citizens do. Now, do you know what country your ancestors came from?”
“We do not think that there were countries then, their villages were isolated, but they did call themselves Saxons.”
“Then they were from England?”
“No. Many of their people left their homes to conquer that land, but our ancestors stayed. We have studied your maps very carefully, and believe that they lived near the sea, along what is now called the Schlei Firth.
After a quick search, he found the fjord in northern Germany, just south of the Danish border. “This is great. I will have some of our people start to work on this. Maybe Germany could be persuaded to offer you citizenship. Denmark as well, that area was part of Denmark before the wars, if I recall. It would be good to have some powerful supporters.”
“There were other people taken from the villages,” Ragnar
noted. “The Red Girls came from the north, we think Sweden, and the Alimani came from the south after they were driven from their lands, most likely the mountains between today’s France and Switzerland.”
“Even better, perhaps we can start a competition over who adopts you first. We will pursue U.S. Nationality, of course. You can claim to have been born over U.S. airspace, more space than air, hey. It will be an interesting brief. Anyway, continue to collect as much information as you can. I will get things started here as soon as some people get into the office. I plan to take the first flight out, and hope to get to you around noon tomorrow. He was about to sign off and write some instructions for his admin when Martha stopped him. She explained their need for better tech gear, spare batteries, some guys to help keep intruders away, and more food if more people were going to be there. He promised to have a string of people head their way, some would arrive early tomorrow with whatever they could carry and, yes, he thanked her. It made her very happy.
The first contact William Hanson made was to his old college roommate, an urgent call to Arun Sharma SC.
“What is the SC about, Bill?”
“Didn’t I read recently where you are the second coming of Steve Jobs?”
“Ah, one good product launch and you are a hero, and two, divine. So how may I help you instead of going to bed?”
“Sorry about the late hour, Arun, but I am having more fun than I have had since we left school, and you are about to share in a marketing bonanza. Arun, this must be held in absolute confidence for now. Do I have your word? You are having the pleasure of speaking with the exclusive legal representative for our recently arrived spacefarers.”
Outward Borne Page 29