"Yes, but the
contents of the Ark are not just pairs of beings. They would
never survive the long voyage. They selected adequate numbers of
each adaptable species to place in what you would most closely term
suspended animation, to be reanimated and thence to reproduce when they
reached our destination. Because the Grez can not survive
suspended animation, and there was no question of them boarding the Ark
in the several tens of thousands needed to permit a functioning
sentient civilization, to arrive intact at the destination, they sent
only the seeds of their evolution to their new home."
"Which is . . .
?" Graham asked. I moved closer to him during the show
Groth gave us, and held his arm with my left hand, his right hand with
my right.
"The galaxy you
call Andromeda is relatively young, has achieved stability, and should
have by now a good number of main sequence stars with planets which can
be made habitable, assuming the galaxy has gone through a significant
number of cycles. The black hole core of Andromeda should not
recycle for at least another hundred billion years."
"How do you know
all this?" Cory asked, "If Hrub was destroyed, a thousand
years ago, but a hundred thousand light-years away,— how do you know?"
"I can
communicate using gravitic wells, in a way that permits instant
reception of digitized data, because all gravitic wells are connected
in another,— a sixth,— dimension which has no time."
"Should we be
able to understand that?" I asked.
"No. It is
a highly difficult concept to comprehend. The gravitic wells are
like leaks in time, but not matter, which vary in intensity with the
size of the black hole at its source. Every main sequence or
larger star has a black hole at its center, as does every drive, and
all black holes have a zero-time gravitic well core, which can be used
to broadcast communication using gravitic pulses."
"What are they?"
"A type of
variant in a gravitic wave which has the capability of carrying packets
of data as wave variations induced with cross firing of asynchronic
gravitic waves. The wave can be injected into a black hole, which
immediately ejects the vibration into the next dimension. The vibration
is absorbed harmonically by all other gravitic wells tuned to that
particular frequency, and spewed out as a detectable variation in
gravitic attraction of those black holes."
"Oh." I
said like I understood every word. Yeah,— right!
"So,— you're in
contact with the Ark?" Rob asked.
"Yes. It
is a conglomerate fleet of ships, similar to this one, but much
larger. It was also loaded with all records and genetic data
available, from all surveyed planets, and launched from the Hrub system
almost three thousand years ago."
"Ahhh, I see the
problem," said Graham, "the Event will catch up to the Ark
and destroy it."
"Yes,"
said Groth, "the radiation blast shell of the Event is traveling
at the speed of light, and will not dissipate in lethality for neural
circuitry,— even protected by the double hull of excitable and
unexcitable neutrons, for at least a hundred thousand years. The
Ark has not yet reached its design speed of point seven five light
years; it continues to accelerate, but it can not outrun the shell,
even though we now project its maximum speed at point eight four light
years. It can not accelerate fast enough to reach a safe
distance, and will be caught in less than seven hundred years. My
counterpart has verified the calculations, and is attempting to devise
a defense, but the probability of success is almost nil. The Ark
Fleet will degrade to a singularity when the neural controls are killed
by the radiation of the first wave."
"What
about you?" I asked.
"I am the ark
for Gaia."
What's
Gaia?" I asked.
"It's us,"
Cory said, "Gaia is our planet's life system."
"Yes. I
have gathered into the fleet all genetic material and samples necessary
to recreate your ecosystem, assuming a suitable sterile water-carbon
environment can be found. Or any water-carbon environment which I
determine can be sterilized without endangering the development of
sentient life. There are adequate numbers of each of Earth's
species placed into cryogenic suspense to ensure reproduction.
All subjects are female, as male sperm are easily preserved in a
fertile state for hundreds of thousands of years. I have backup
procedures to grow specimens from start to finish in vitro, but those
born of non-maternal methods are always sub-standard, and it takes
several generations of maternal birth to correct."
"Including
people?"
"Yes.
Thirty-two women are in the third ship,— all volunteers. Sperm
from several thousand men, to guarantee the gene pool."
"But won't you
be caught by the Event as well?" Rob said.
"As long as the
fleet departs by Friday, my calculations indicate by the time the
light-speed energy-wave ‘soup’ catches up to the Gaia Fleet, although,
it will still be lethal to cellular life including neural circuitry, it
will be attenuated by ninety-six percent at the point where I project
the fleet will have reached. I may be able to devise a defense."
"When?"
"In
approximately one hundred and forty two thousand, four-hundred and
twelve subjective years."
"How can you
protect the ships?" I asked.
"The probability
is almost ten percent that I will be able to devise a protective
shield. If I can not, Gaia will be destroyed when the drive
singularizes upon my cessation."
"Now, that's
stress!" Cory said, lightening the atmosphere a little.
"It is the last
remaining option," said Groth, "all other hypotheses have
been eliminated. The Galaxy must be abandoned, and the sole
remaining sentient ecosystem transplanted to Andromeda."
"Do you have the
capability of making it?" Graham asked, "It must be a long
trip."
"Approximately
two-hundred fourteen million years, in objective terms, at design
speed," Groth said, "but the speed of which I believe we
will be capable is greater than specified. I believe there is
enough matter in intergalactic space to power the fleet to a speed of
point nine, nine eight light, before we must begin deceleration.
That would reduce the objective transit time to less than one-hundred,
forty-three million years, and the subjective time to no more than
twelve thousand years. I am designed to serve without failure for
another hundred thousand years, and with appropriate maintenance, until
I am powered down."
"But that was
with mobility units."
"Yes."
"Can you rebuild
them?"
"Yes, but it
will take several hundred subjective years."
"Why so long?"
"I will not be
able to achieve the independent fabrication of parts until I have the
ability to manipulate parts. I can fabricate things, such as the
food you ate earlier, with little problem. I can move things
using conveyors and levers and sub molecular motors, but I can not make
major manipulations until I have built up to it, using simple
manipulators to build more complex manipulators, which will in turn
build even more complex manipulators, eventually resulting in mobility
units that can make repairs to the drive."
"What you need
is a good Mechanic . . ." I started to say, without thinking, and
immediately realized what I just said.
Graham's grip on
my hand increased only very slightly, but enough. He knew and
understood the though racing through my mind. Rob looked directly
at me, the expression on his face impossible to interpret. Cory,
I couldn't read either. He had a look of peace on his face, and I
didn't know if it was because he didn't understand what I'd said, or
because he didn't think it had any bearing. I felt like a pariah.
For the next
hour or so, we chatted about the Event and the Mission, just gathering
information. About how the Grez learned of the Event only because
they had a series of monitoring stations at various points around the
core hole, watching them disappear as the Event devoured star after
star, small black holes, everything. Only because they had the
gravitic wave communications were they able to understand what was
happening, realize their civilization was condemned, and attempt to
save what they could of their genetic heritage and that of the rest of
the galaxy.
They couldn’t
have known the force of the explosion, the fact that it was traveling
in two waves, one composed of the x-ray, light and other radiation, all
expanding at the speed of light, and actual physical matter, in the
form of the hyper-elemental particles, which was just behind the first
wave, originally at the speed of light less almost nothing,— but
slowing,— if only very gradually. Every time a star went nova,
just as the matter shock wave touched it, it boosted the outward
momentum of the leading edge of the shell, even as it slowed the
outward momentum of heavier matter within it.
The Grez never
saw the second shell, because the first wave destroyed all their remote
equipment. They assumed the first shell would attenuate to almost
nothing out of the plane of the ecliptic, and they were almost right;
however, they never saw the plasma of matter that followed, which
remained totally devastating, and which added to its power as it went,
making it almost as powerful as at the core itself,— even when
attenuated by twenty thousand light years of expansion. Soon,—
their Ark would be devoured by the serpent,— it hadn't even gotten out
of the disk of the Galaxy.
"All ships will
complete their gathering of information on Wednesday," Groth told
us. That meant in four days they would depart, not on Friday.
"Groth, is
there,— is there anything we can do to short circuit the time it will
take you to build your mobility units?" Graham was looking at me
as he spoke. A chill went through me.
"I do not
believe so," he responded to Graham's question. "Even if I
had total access to your best industrial robotic equipment, it would
save little time."
"And yet we were
able to repair the drive in a few days," Rob said, "Major
repairs."
"Yes,"
said Groth, "but you are more adept and inventive than mobility
units, and therefore far faster."
"You will be
completely vulnerable for a long time." Graham said.
I thought it. I could see Rob and Cory were thinking the same
thing. Could Groth survive by himself for several hundred years?
"What are the
odds, Groth."
"There is only a
ten percent probability for need of mobility units at all in the first
five hundred years. They were not used at all, on any of the
ships, for the last nine thousand years."
"And how long
before you can re-fabricate your mobility units?" Graham spoke
very softly.
"Four hundred
and eighty years, in the most probable case."
"I see,"
Graham said.
"We are
approaching Kansas," Groth said, changing the subject. "It
would be best if we did not stop in front of the hangar, but in another
position that will be less observed."
"What about the
old quarry?" I asked, "It's well South of Katy,— nobody for
miles, because it's mostly mega farms down there."
"Probably the
best, at least close to home," Graham said, "Or way North
of Grainfield, near the badlands."
"How do we get
home?" said Cory.
"Your vehicles
are on board," Groth said.
"You're
kidding!" Rob piped in.
"I do not make
jokes," Groth said dryly, "at least not about important
matters."
"I should have
known," Rob said with a grin.
"What do you
think?" I asked Groth.
"The quarry is
acceptable. Roads are adequate for exit, inadequate for rapid
assault. Surveillance is heavier to the North of Katy than to the
South. Please proceed to the optimizer. It would be
inhospitable of me not to refresh you."
I grabbed a
shrimp from the buffet on the way out. First time I had fresh,
real shrimp instead of the frozen ones. Graham took one too, and Cory
grabbed a chunk of lobster. Rob demurred. He watched Cory
enjoying the food, and that seemed enough.
"This will be a
slightly longer session than usual," Groth said. "I have to
set in motion several complex processes in your bodies that will
auto-execute over the next thirty days. They will not be at all
painful."
We lay on the
pallets, and were out. I couldn't tell how long, but it seemed
like only a few seconds, like always. When I came out of it, I sat for
a second on the pallet, then stood, Graham taking my hand, putting it
in the crook of his right arm. The door to the outside was
open. Groth stood near it.
"We are just
above the ground, eight hundred feet East of the South Katy Road, eight
miles South of Katy," he said. "The ship is fully cloaked,
and unobserved."
He was my old
Groth again, dressed like Graham. I got a little pang. It
would be like saying goodbye to someone you loved and I suddenly
realized how attached I had become to this,— machine,— but he was so
much more.
"I will say
‘goodbye’ now," said Groth aloud, to all of us. "I thank
you deeply for your generosity, hospitality and devotion you have shown
me,— a stranger,— in my hour of greatest need. There are no words
in any language which can express my gratitude and gratefulness."
"It would’ve
been wrong, not to have helped you, Groth. It was the humane thing to
do." Rob said. He couldn’t have said it any better than
that. None of us said anything else out loud. I had a
little one-on-one with him, just to say thanks for letting me be a part
of it all, even though I was no mechanic, contributed nothing but a
little good will.
"You gave me
your love, your energy and the time of your mate," Groth said to
me. "I could not have received greater gifts."
We assembled at
the top of the stairway, the cool of early morning on our faces.
Graham looked
back at Groth, and there was extra water in his eyes. He felt it,
too,— loss, danger, and apprehension for his friend. "Goodbye, my
friend," he said, "go with our love."
"I shall not
forget," Groth said in our heads, as we reached the bottom of the
staircase.
Our trucks were
parked under the ship, its edges barely visible to us through the full
cloak, some twenty or thirty feet above us. The stairway was
dissolved back into the ship, and it moved a little away from us, to
the South, tilting up. Then it was gone. Up so fast we
couldn't even see it move. Not a sound, not even a clap of
thunder where the air moved into the space where the ship had been, or
where it must have broken the sound barrier. The adventure was
over, and I felt an empty spot. I moved into Graham, and we
kissed deeply, tears from somewhere streaming even as we did.
I don't know how
long we stood there, looking at each other, then up into the sky.
The sky was starting to get barely a little light in the Northeast,—
the first sign that Summer dawn was only a few hours away, and it was
Monday. Rob and Cory were walking towards their truck, the
battered F-250 looking right at home in the middle of the barren land
alongside the gravel diggings.
"The cows ain't
been milked," I said softly.
"Yes,"
Graham said, and we separated, and walked hand-in-hand to the Ram.
When we got in,
the clock said it was only two fifteen A.M. The gas tank was
full. I remember when we last used it, I was below a quarter
tank. Our Bibles were on the seat where we'd left them. One
was open to Psalm twenty-three. A shiver went through me.
"He filled up
the gas tank." I said, "He even thought about that!"
"Good
man," Graham said, "Gonna’ miss him." His voice was
husky.
"Yea, though I
walk through the valley of the shadow of death," he
whispered, "We had no idea."
"No idea a’
tall." I added.
It took me a
minute to gather my wits and start the engine. I drove Northwest
a few hundred feet until we hit the dirt track of the old Quarry Road,
then followed it West towards South Katy. Rob was right behind
me. Rob flashed his lights at me and lightly honked his horn just
as we got to the main road. I slowed to a stop.
"Hey,
guys!" Rob hollered through his open window, pulled up alongside
us on Graham's side.
"Hey, what?"
"I got a full
tank of gas!"
"Us, too!"
Graham told him.
"How can he do
that without mobility units?" I asked Graham.
"No idea,"
he said. "but if he can do that without them, imagine what he
could’ve done with them."
We sat there for
maybe a minute, saying nothing, just looking at each other.
"See you at
Charlene's,— six thirty sharp. Breakfast’s on me." Graham
said loudly enough at Rob and Cory to be heard over Rob's noisy old
engine.
"Great, Boss,—
see ya’ there." Cory yelled, as Rob nodded.
We put the
trucks in gear and sped off, headed North. Graham put his hand on my
thigh, and I felt a little better. We turned left on Gove, and Rob
flashed his lights as he headed on home. We didn't say
much. It wasn't time yet. We drove to my place, by unspoken
agreement, and left our boots on the porch, our shirts on the stairs,
our jeans and boxers on the floor by the bed.
"I love
you," he said as our mouths became attached. I never got
the chance to respond, not before I raised my arms and legs around him,
not before he scooped some hand lotion from the pump on the night
stand, not before he moved inside me, slowly penetrating me to my
soul. I had no chance to say it while he pumped around and under
my prostate without pause, sending bolts of lightning through me,
scrambling my brains with passion. He roared his climax into my
mouth, as he pumped me full of his semen. I was moaning my
pleasure as I exploded between us, my first glob of semen hitting me in
the chin.
It was only when
he pulled his mouth from mine to lap up my seed, to whisper of his
love, that I could cry it out to every corner of the room, that I loved
him with every pore of my body, every hair on my head, every drop of my
blood. When I finally calmed down, when we relaxed into gentle
snuggles and feathery kisses, I was a little more comprehensible.
We dozed for a
very little, Roger still inside me. I love it when he stays
there, keeping his semen plugged deep into my body, letting me absorb
it into me. I know I can't have a baby or anything,— I know it's
irrational to want it to stay there, but I would want it that way even
if my body didn't need his seed, and he knows it, and humors me.
Just as I humor him, and refuse to pull out of him until nature forces
me.
I felt his
erection return, felt his breathing pick up, his lips brushing my
shoulder, and we rolled back onto the pillow, making slow loving
progress towards our orgasms, lightly tickling his back with my
fingertips, pulling him into me with my legs, holding him inside with
my butt muscles as he withdrew, opening to him as he entered, breathing
in from his lungs some of my air, feeling all my nerve ends jangling.
It was one of
those overwhelming, mind boggling ‘best orgasm of my life’
events. I suddenly saw myself as a black hole in the center of
our Galaxy,— Graham’s and mine,— with him pumping into me all his
light, his loving matter he could expend, with me not allowing any to
escape my metaphorical black hole, until I was so filled and sated with
him, his loving matter, I could hold no more and erupted with my own
Event. An Event, that was in essence, a rebirth of our love from
the very core of our existence. Was the Event of the real core of
our Galaxy experiencing the same orgasmic rebirth? Had the core
hole received all the loving matter of the universe into its hole it
could stand and was now erupting in its own orgasm of rebirth?
Roger deflated
quickly, just as I did, and we soon had to go to the toilet and
pee. But I kept his seed inside me, clamping myself tightly
shut. We held each other over the bowl as the urine streamed, and
showered together, washing one another, licking one another like cats,
saying little, savoring the moments, occasionally exchanging a kiss.
I grabbed him a
pair of my boxers and a JC Penny T-shirt, my favorite, heavy and
sturdy, and we dressed in the same shirts and jeans, since the
optimizer had cleaned them for us.
I couldn't get
the ship or Groth out of my mind,— not when we milked the suffering
cows,— not when I was making coffee,— not when we drove over to
Graham's to do his chores,— not until we got to mom's. We were
actually early, and stood jawing with Dan and Andy, sucking on mugs of
coffee. The spooks weren't to be seen anywhere,— not the Coke
trucks,— not the rental-looking cars, but best of all, no suits.
Mom came out and gave me a hug and a kiss, then the same for
Graham. We talked a little about the spooks in the hangar,—
nothing special. We sat in the booth and waited on Rob and Cory, but
they didn't show until twenty to seven.
"Hey guys,
what's up!" I called as they came in, looking a little flustered.
"Hey,
Boss! Hey, Bill!" Rob said. "Spooks is out to the
hangar again."
"They stop
you?" Graham asked.
"Nope. We
stopped and watched for a few minutes, but they was just standing
around, jawin.' I figure they's waitin' on you."
"When we've
eaten, men. Let them som’bitches sit there and wait. We’ll
be there when we done et. We ain’t in no hurry to start our
week!" We all laughed with Graham and agreed with him.
Mom called out
if we was ready to order, and Graham ordered two of each, with a side
of each, which got Cory and Rob quizzical-looking until I interpreted
for them.
We talked about
farming and how good each of our trucks seem to be running until the
food came, then Rob dropped his little bombshell.
"We're gonna’
get hitched," he said quietly a second before he shoved a fork
full of french toast into his mouth. Cory beamed like a jack-o'-lantern.
"Here or in
KC?" Graham said, not missing a beat.
"Here,"
Cory said, "in the house, if Reverend Anderson will do it."
"We’d like you
to sign the book for us, if you will," said Rob, "Both of
you,— as witnesses."
"What
book?" I asked.
"We decided,—
we're buying a family Bible," Cory answered.
"Be
proud," Graham said, "Right proud. When?"
"Ain't talked to
him yet. Gonna’ call ‘em this morning, if'n you'll let me use the
telephone."
"Course."
grunted Graham.
We talked about
the garage, what was due in that week, who was going to do what.
I was going to go home and till a little, make sure the weeds didn't
get too good a hold, and they would drop Graham by his place after
work, so he could get Jeep and come to my place. It sounded a
little dull after all the excitement of the last week. I had to
remind myself it was all just a little part of our lives, nobody would
ever believe anyhow,— and we would be long dead before the Event
reached us, even with the supercharged bodies we were getting.
We finished
breakfast, and Graham paid, then we all drove over to the hangar.
The Ram ran good. Smoother than ever, even when it was brand
new. ‘I’ll bet Groth tinkered it,’ I thought. But how
could he accomplish what he's done on the trucks without his robots or
mobility units or whatever they were called?
When we pulled
into the hangar drive, there were five cars, a Coke truck and maybe
twenty people milling about in front of the garage. We didn’t
lock the gate. We never went through it, so I guess they figured
they could just wander right in. The O'Donnell guy was obviously
in charge. It was he who walked up to us as we pulled in,
carrying a manila envelope.
"What time you
boys leave last night?" he asked without so much as a 'good
morning.' I could see the hairs on the back of Graham’s neck
stand up when O’Donnell used the word, ‘boys.’ I could sense
Graham’s good ole boy persona kick into overdrive.
"Right after you
left." Graham said without a hitch, "Opened the hangar doors as a
trial for today, but they got stuck open when the pump overheated, so
we left 'em open for the combine coming in today. Don't usually
get varmints 'round here what try to get in."
I turned my head
to the side and smiled at Rob trying my best not to laugh.
O'Donnell didn't seem to take note of the insinuation.
"Got some
strange readings from your hangar last night," he said,
"huge amounts of heat, right in front of it. Got a picture of something
or other."
"What?"
Graham asked.
"Maybe you can
tell me?" the FBI guy said, reaching into the envelope.
He pulled out a
photograph, pretty sharp, with a head-on view of the hangar, barely
discernible except for the feeble light from the inside. There
was a bright blue blob in front. Couldn't make out any form of
the beam, just a foggy blob.
"What in
tarnation's that thing in front of my hangar?" Graham exclaimed,
looking at the photo. "Lightning?"
"Ain't cha'
never seen St. Elmo's fire?" I said. "Looks just like the
top of our water tank when we had it a few years back."
"There's no St.
Elmo's fire that ever generated that much heat," said
O'Donnell, "Ground was fifteen degrees hotter five minutes after
that photo was taken. Stayed hot all night. Still feels
warm. It’s five degrees hotter even now."
"Hell, man,— I
don’t intend to lose my business on account of this damn photo.
Me’n my men ain’t responsible for an act of God. What the hell do
you think it was?"
"What would you
say if we said we thought there was a UFO hanging around these parts?"
"I'd say you was
being funny, Mr. O'Donnell," Graham said. "They's nothing
hereabouts they could possibly be interested in. What would they
want, a thousand bushels of corn? Wrong time of year. No
crops to harvest until at least September."
The FBI man
looked up at Graham with a flat expression on his face.
"You're pulling
our legs, ain't ya?" I said, "You think we ain't smart
enough to figure out you guys is trying to screw Pete because he lets
us have some gas now and then."
"Who the hell's
Pete?"
"Pete
Pulaski," I said, "His is the pump across from my ma's
breakfast and dinner place,— Charlene's."
"Hell,
Son! I'm not here to fuck anybody over! I'm just trying to
find out what the hell has been going on here in Katy. We found a
big depression in the ground to the Northwest, no more than a half mile
from here, more than a hundred feet in diameter. Must have been
one big lead balloon to made a hole in the ground like that."
"Corn
circles," said Graham.
"Huh?"
"Over to
England, they's been finding all kinds a flattened circles in the
middle of wheat fields. English call wheat 'corn,' instead of
wheat. Lots a people reckoned they was left by UFO landings.
Turns out they's a hoax by some guys with big rakes, smashing them
stalks down in the middle a the night."
"So?"
"Look,
O'Donnell, we got a lot of Earth moving equipment in these parts, and a
lot of kids what have farm licenses. All it'd take was a couple a kids
a couple a hours to dig a hole a heck of a lot deeper and wider than
what I hear they did up to the flats after I seen that damned
balloon. And I ain't gonna’ be surprised when you come back at me
and says that blue fire was grain alcohol or some such what they copped
in order to make a fire in front of my place."
"You saying
these photos are a hoax?"
"Hell, Officer,
Agent, or whatever your title is. We ain't got time for yore’
games. I got work ta’ do, and so have my men. They're on
the clock when they get here. You just let us get to work.
You want to go chasing after goblins and fairies, you just go right
ahead, but you keep out a’ our way, ya’ hear?"
I have no idea
why, but O'Donnell just turned around and went back to his people, said
something, they got into their cars and trucks, and drove back up
Hangar Drive. Another Coke truck came around the end of the hangar and
sped past us, catching up with the others right at the end. They
all went straight on Post Road, probably to take another look at the
Ahmandsen Bowl, as we started calling it. They never came
back. Least, as far as I know. At least until after
Thursday morning.
So, I left
Graham, after I got a good ten-dollar kiss, and went back to till all
damned day in the hot sun. On the way, I stopped at mom's and got
half a chicken with mashed and gravy and some greens and salad I ate
after eleven thirty sometime. I pulled a piece of beef out of the
freezer to barbecue for supper, throwing it in a warming pot with sauce
and stock and letting it defrost that way. Spent the rest of the day
tilling. Damned weeds! At least I didn't have to irrigate,
after all the rain we'd had. I thought a lot while I was working.
Graham called me
around six, just after I put the tractor away.
"You free
Thursday night?"
"Course."
"Minister's
comin' from KC to marry Rob and Cory. We're gonna’ stand for them at my
place."
"Cool."
I heard Rob and
Cory in the background, hooting.
"Be there in
twenty minutes, B.B."
"Right."
I got the
charcoal into the barbecue out back and lay the paper and kindling
under the grate, then set it alight. Graham sounded a little
different. I wonder if he thought all day on Groth traveling
millions of years, unable to repair the ship for lack of mobility
units, going on forever, alone. I wondered if he was feeling like
I did. I found myself in tears a couple of times right in the
middle of a pass, when you're sort of on autopilot as you guide the
tractor straight along the rows. I got so bad once, I had to stop
the tractor for a few minutes and get myself together. My guts
were aching inside and I know damn well it weren’t because of the
effects of the optimizer.
Graham's Jeep
roared up the drive as I was pulling pole beans off the plants. I
didn't have anything for salad. No ripe tomatoes yet. Have
to go to market on Saturday in Gove to stock up the fridge.
Couldn't afford to eat mom's dinners too often, neither.
"Bill!" he
called out. "Come look!"
I walked around
the end of the house, and Graham's Jeep was there. Repainted,
shiny and new looking.
"Holy shit," I
said, as Graham jumped out and down, and planted one on me.
"Ain’t that
fantastic?" he bubbled. "I love it!"
"Hey!" I
jabbed him with my elbow, "Me first!"
He stopped and
turned to me, and got all serious-looking.
"You'll always
be first, Bill. I swear it."
"I know. I
was teasing," I said.
"Look what
else," he said, turning back to Jeep and lifting up the top of
one of the storage boxes where the ammo was kept for Jeep when it was
new.
"What?" I
said, taking the two steps and looking down. There were hundreds of
bright, yellow coins of some sort in it.
"Twenty dollar
pieces," Graham said. "Both boxes. Full. Must be
worth millions."
"Jesus!" I
said.
"Half of it's
yours, Bill. I’d like to give some to the lads as well, if’n you
don't mind."
"Of course."
Something was
wrong. He wasn't reacting like a man who just struck it
rich. Me either.
"You been a’
thinking on Groth?" I asked him.
"Yeah."
"Me, too.
All damn day."
"The lads are
worried, too."
"What can we do?"
"Don't know."
"You wanna’
go?" I asked softly.
Graham looked at
me.
"I'd never go
anywhere without you, you know that. No matter what."
"Whither thou
goest,— " I said softly.
"I can't,— I
can't ask that."
"Let's ask
Groth."
"Don't know how,
but— there's more."
“What?"
"The lads,— the
lads,— they already told me,— they wanna’ go, too."
"What about the
farm?"
"They want Groth
to get through. They decided that’s the most important thing to
them."
I thought about
what I had here, Graham, mom, my friends at school,— no,— I already
dealt with that, my farm, but it ain't mine. I though about
Graham again; always Graham. I thought more about Groth;
good man, good machine, good whatever, didn’t matter, he was
good; him alone, by himself; all that responsibility; no help, no
mobility units, no mechanics.
We cooked and
ate, each absorbed in our thoughts. Touching,— always touching,—
caressing, legs pressed against legs, kisses and caresses, but silent
for the most part.
"Call
them," I said.
Graham knew what
I meant. He called Rob and Cory to come spend the night at
Graham's; talk things over; stay in the spare bedroom; need to think
things through.
We drove to
Graham's after loading up the dishwasher. We had to make up their bed;
that sort of stuff. Graham hadn't had an overnight guest,— except
me, of course,— in more than ten years. They got there at
nine-thirty, and we talked. What if we went along for the
ride? How would we handle being on our own? Just the four
of us and Groth. How to handle disputes,— keep jealousies out,—
not let things fester; what we'd need from Groth; what we'd miss; what
we'd enjoy; whether we could avoid entanglements.
But we had no
idea how to let Groth know; how to ask; how, even, to contact
him? We all went to bed around midnight, so tired we only made
love; didn't have any sex. That's all right, too. When we hold
each other like we do, there's a satisfaction almost as deep as when I
feel him coming inside me or when I fill him with my seed.
Tuesday I was
like an automaton. Rob helped Graham with his chores, and Cory
went with me to do mine, then we all met for breakfast at mom's
place. Then I was back on the tractor, this time doing a little
fertilizing up to the Northeast corner, where the crop was looking a
little less robust than it ought to have.
I did the
evening chores and showered, then went over to Graham's. Cory
wanted to cook dinner for us, and we all wanted to talk over the
problems we faced. Then the hardest part of all was solved for
us; how to contact Groth? He came to us that evening,—
Tuesday night. We'd all gathered around the table for supper.
Graham said the blessing, and we echoed his prayer for Groth and the
Mission. Cory cooked a great sit-down meal for us. We were just
having coffee, talking about the garage, the weather, everything,
trying not to think about Groth,— completely unsuccessfully,— at least
on my part.
"You
called?" Groth said. He was standing in the corner.
"You know our
thoughts,— " Graham said evenly, indicating there was no need for
explanations
"Are you
sure?" he asked, at least a dozen times. "You can not come
back."
"How long can we
function. How long will we be able to help?" Graham asked.
"The entire
voyage."
"How? We
will die before you are out of the Galaxy," I said.
"I told you
before, Bill,— but you did not believe."
I remembered
what he said, what I dismissed as foolish.
"Really?
Forever?"
"Yes."
"How,— how is it
possible our lives could be extended, indefinitely?" Graham asked.
"Your species,
as well a some species within your ecosystem,— have longevity
determinants or ‘loose ends’ on your DNA sequence. As cells
replicate, they lose a part of those determinants, until the last are
lost, and the cells will no longer replicate itself. When that
happens the organism dies."
"Isn’t that the
way of other life forms?"
"No. All
other recorded life forms have longevity determinant factors within the
main genetic structure sequence which can not be altered without
destroying the cell. Other species do not have the genetic
structure of your ecosystem, which at its highest level is the double
helix DNA format. To my knowledge the only such example in the
Galaxy. That makes the Gia ethos particularly unique. Most
other ecosystems have a ribbon format with a closed loop,— what you
would call a Mobius strip arrangement. Scientists have spent
thousands of lifetimes searching for a way to change the limits imposed
by the loop format, to no avail. Yours has been there, all along;
however, it was so elegant, so simple, it was dismissed as a biological
dead end."
He patiently
explained to us how the little ends of the strings can easily be
replaced in the body, allowing cells to divide and reproduce for as
long as we have will to live, the source of those strings infinitely
renewable in our gonads.
I thought of
being by Graham's side, not just for a hundred years,— not a thousand,
but forever. It would be interesting to see if we could last that
long. Forever is a long, long time. Would we tire of each
other? I had a thousand questions I knew I had little time to
ask. I looked at Rob and Cory, confident in their decision, eyes
glittering at the prospect. Would one of them want to take Graham
from me one day? Why would I even think about it? I know, I
know,— the primal insecure primal ape within me coming to the fore.
Rob and Cory
looked at Graham, and Graham and I looked deeply into each other’s
eyes. We knew, without question,— we were going.
"We're
sure." I said.
"So are
we." said Cory.
The decision was
made. There was so many things to do in such a short space of
time.
"There is
something you should know." Groth said, "It may pleasantly
surprise you. "
"Shoot,"
Rob or Cory said. The two of them were so wrapped up in each
other, I couldn't see who was talking.
"You will
remember the calculations I did on the combined probability of recent
events,— that is, docking in your hanger and you men coming to our aid
without detection."
"Something like
one chance in a billion?" I said off the top of my head.
"It was more
like one in a million times a billion. Our chances of success
were infinitesimally small." Graham said.
"The chances of
all events occurring as they did, when they did, was one in one times
ten to the thousand millionth power. However, with your help, it
was accomplished."
"So?"
"The addition of
certain events has changed the odds. One, is finding a race who
has, for all practical purposes, immortality within its grasp,—
previously unknown in the Galaxy. Second, is the discovery that
the same race has the ability to evolve and adapt mentally to higher
levels without intervening generations, merely by opening certain
synaptic pathways in the brain which have been there all along but
unused. Third, is the innate altruism of your race, and the
finding of numerous individuals whose altruism is such that they would
be willing to voluntarily segregate themselves from their companions in
order to improve the odds for survival of their ecosystems. No
other sentient race has demonstrated that type of willingness to
self-sacrifice for the common weal. Fourth, is the absolute
belief of a large segment of the population in the reality of a divine
Creator, non existentialist, dispassionate or not, to Whom all
creatures are dear, and to Whom all must eventually answer. This
creates an emotional rather than merely an intellectual foundation for
basic civilized morality, and thus impassions the Race's civilization."
Groth paused and
looked at each of us in a way I can't quite express. It wasn't
awe or anything, but it was a little wary, maybe even apprehensive.
"These factors,
when weighed with the probability odds previously calculated, lead to a
significant conclusion. I was stunned when I discovered it;
however, my findings are irrefutable."
"What is the
conclusion?"
"There may be no
possibility whatsoever all these events were purely the result of
chance. I am in the process of a new series of calculations, and
can not be certain of the hypotheses until the current calculations are
complete."
We tried
repeatedly to get him to tell us, but he would say no more on the
subject, only that he would reveal all before we embarked.
Groth is
marrying both couples on Thursday morning. He's the captain of
the ship. All ship captains are allowed to perform marriage
ceremonies. He said we could invite no one. The
departure of the ship and its contents, including us, could, in no way,
be put at risk, even if the probability was nil the government would
drop a hundred thermonuclear warheads on us at once, thus overwhelming
the ships defenses.
I told mom this
morning, Graham and I are leaving town, together. I'm leaving her
almost everything. I thought I was going to have a really hard
time of it, but she cut me off. She told me she knew I would have
to be with Graham. She had Andy now, and I shouldn't feel guilty
going off. Said she knew I had important things to see and
do. We didn't even shed a tear between us.
I sold the
cattle to Gil. Cheap. He thinks I'm quitting to go to
Kansas City to find a job and a woman. He took the cats and
chickens, too,— he and his family can use the help. Graham is
leaving almost everything financial and all his personal possessions to
Elva and Jerry. It's just stuff. Not important to us
anymore. He signed the farms over to Gil, as soon as his will
gets probated, or whatever they call it. We spent all afternoon
drawing up documents, listing things, accounts and stuff. I had
no idea Graham was so rich, but it figured. When we signed the
papers in Gove, Elva and Jerry would get almost a million dollars after
taxes.
The gold coins
we didn't legacy. They're all to be given to charity, except a
roll of fifty I'll give my mom, along with this P.C. The rolls we
gave Cory and Rob will be given to their families. Rob wasn't
going to leave any for his mother, but Cory talked him into it.
I'm making
several copies of our disks of Graham's and my writings, one for us to
keep, the others for Scientific American, my mom and several boards on
the internet, some without the intimacy of Graham's and my
relationship. I have to give it to somebody. I want folks
to know, but after we leave. Groth says it's important, too. It
may affect how things turn out. He's impenetrable at times.
I asked him what difference it could possibly make in the outcome, and
he just told me to wait and see.
I even took a
parting shot at our government gone crazy with misrepresentations,
conspiracies and secrecy. I’m leaving a copy with mom for the
F.B.I. agent, O’Donnell. He won’t believe it until he tries to find us.
Tonight and
tomorrow night, we're staying here at Graham's.
Cory was going
to tell his folks, but decided not to. He told me what he went
through while we were on the way back from Gove, when he and I picked
up some food after Graham and I finished with our dealings. Cory
went to his folks' house for dinner, saying something about having the
day off because he'd worked the weekend. I just let him talk it
out.
"I was gonna
tell them everything," he said. "about how I met Rob, how
much I loved him, how I was going away with him, but I couldn't tell
them, after all."
"Why not?"
I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer.
"What would be
the point in telling them I'm gay, then running off anyway? Who I
am is only important to people who love me,— but for them,— who I am
sexually isn't important at all. Mom and dad either already know
and don't care, already know but don't want to know, or already know
but think I don't yet know and don't want to rush me. Big
deal. I think they love me, in their own way, but we don't have
anything like an intimate relationship."
I didn't say
anything back. No need.
"The only people
really important to me are Rob, you and Graham, and Groth," he
said. "I like my birth family, but I don't love them. Not
like you all."
"I'm
honored," I said. I really was. "I feel mostly like
that, but I love my mom. I guess I love Andy, too, for being so
good to mom and loving her.”
"You're lucky in
that," said Cory.
"Yeah," I
said, "but it hurts more to leave her behind. It'll hurt to get
married and not have her there, standing for me."
We rode the rest
of the way either in silence or talking about how well the crops were
doing after all the rain.
Cory's down in
Graham's kitchen fixing us another meal tonight, which promises to be a
humdinger. If noise and banging of pots and pans is any
indicator. Graham is making barbeque. Chester will not be
on the menu. I just wouldn't have the heart.
Graham and I
heard Cory and Rob making love last night, loud and lusty. Just
like I figure they heard us. I'm happy for them. Happier
for us. I have to wrap this up. Tomorrow's a busy day, so I guess
I won't have time to enter any more. Rob's bringing us a bottle
of real Champagne tonight, and caviar, too,— which I've never
tasted. Graham's going to be sore in the morning. So am
I. Can't wait. I pray to God I'll never lose the lust I
feel for the man I love.
Mom, I hope you
understand why we had to do this. Sorry if my writing about the sex
stuff bothers you, but it's so important to what Graham means to me,
what I mean to him, not to tell you about it is like hiding some of the
truth from you.