Outward Borne

by R. J. Weinkam

  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 thi
s 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.”

  DePat pulled a box out of the back of the truck and opened it to show Martha a sleeping puppy. “It is a Brownie, one of the first litters born here.”

  Martha screeched in disbelief. What a prize. No one would have one of these, and it was so cute, just a puff of deep brown fur. She carried it inside to show her mom.

  DePat agreed that they could bring the Brownie to dog shows, not to compete, of course, it was not recognized, but to exhibit, and made them promise not to breed the dog. “We will be building up our breeds,” he said, “and, of course, we want to keep the lines clean. Browns are very trainable and very loyal to their family, but make sure you are tough with him, or he will start training you.”

  They left with hugs and kisses, and promises to send photos and stuff. Miky, as the pup was named, became a very well known little dog.

  Chapter 23 Michael DePat Keifer

  I thought I knew about the Alien Planet Cube, it was very famous, but DePat told me a very different story. He had two memory cubes, and no way to access either one of them. That was his real goal, and the Alien Planet Cube was his means to do it. He was relieved to have gotten the cubes back from Martha Merit, he told me, but by themselves, they were little more than curiosities. He needed, if he could get one built, a custom-designed Earth computer, with a great many purpose-built chips and a lot of new software that would be capable of downloading the data from the cubes in a usable form. It would be very difficult, very expensive, and he could never have it done in secret.

  The Outward Voyager had investigated twenty-eight life-supporting planetary systems during its long voyage. It had amassed detailed records on each solar system and its associated planets - satellite surveys, surface scans, surveys by low altitude drones, landings whenever abundant life was present. All of this geological, biochemical, and biological data had been collected by the ObLaDas and transferred to the data storage device that became known as the Alien Planet Cube.

  There was no doubt that this huge body of work would be of great interest to Earth. It was exciting to think of the extraordinary discoveries that could be held in the palm of one’s hand. The publicly professed intent of the disclosure of this information was to win favor for the Voyager community for their lifetime, and that was all good, even wonderful, but DePat’s real purpose, or that of the ObLaDas who put it together, was to motivate Earth scientists to build the data access computer system.

  DePat decided to reveal the existence of the Alien Planet Cube a U.S. Astrophysical Society meeting. The 2066 meeting was held in Denver that year. He contacted the Committee Chairwoman, Dr Emily Beatrice, but she was reluctant to allow DePat to address the meeting. It was apparent that she considered him some sort of novelty act. Dr Beatrice knew that the Voyagers had taken no part in ObLaDas’ astronomy or planetary probes, so it was unlikely that DePat would have anything of interest to present to the Society, serious as it was. However, DePat had been told about some of the alien planet files and made a careful recitation of what he remembered. That was sufficient. He did not mention the cube.

  DePat was given a speaking slot at the meeting. It was scheduled for mid
-week, in the late afternoon. His presentation was given no particular publicity, just one of many, but the room was full nevertheless. DePat talked in general terms about the type of data and the level of detail that the ObLaDa probes were able to accumulate. That was frustrating for his audience to hear, thinking, as they did, that all that wonderful knowledge had flown away, but it hadn’t. He held up the little box, the Alien Memory Cube, and offered to turn it over to the Society if they would undertake to solve the computer access problem. His offer provoked a good deal of excitement, as well it might, but the conversation at the cocktail party, which followed immediately, was about the problems of making an interface. There was some skepticism, and there were very mixed feelings about DePat’s condition that the data be made available to everyone on Earth.

  The following day, the worlds’ news organizations descended on the Society. It would become the biggest Voyager story since the landing four years earlier. Fortunately, DePat had taken Bill Hanson’s advice and arranged for the conference leaders to handle the press coverage. Dr Beatrice was in her glory. DePat kept his attention on the main chance, and met in private with the computer experts.

  It took fifteen months for the engineers to successfully translate the data stream into something intelligible, and another eight to collect, organize, and reference the information. The Society had networked a great many people to work on the project, and they put together a very good show summarizing the material, complete with pictures of alien species and their home planets. And, true to their word, all of this data was made available via the Internet to anyone, without restriction, who wanted to see it. Needless to say, it set off a wave of interest in space, and myriad discussions of what it all meant and where we, the people of Earth, fit in. The huge data collection is still being mined for new insights, but the costly computer was set aside once all the cube’s data had been successfully removed. The cube itself was put into the Smithsonian Museum, and the computer sat unused. The Voyagers had assisted in the translation of the Ship language in return for its future use, but it was three years after the Alien Planet Cube was revealed before DePat was able to begin his work on the other memory file, the one he called the Voyager Cube.