“Have they found other suitable planets?”
“They don't know. They were in stasis so it seemed like an instant, and will take maybe hundreds of years to get in touch. Earth was the farthest one out, so the other ships have either succeeded or failed long ago. We may never know. But at least there'll be an enclave here on Earth, if the deal works out.”
“Oh, I think it will, now, thanks to your brave effort.”
“I just did what I had to do. I'd have been scared, without Nanny.”
Patience nodded. “I have seen the effect. That goat has given our son back his life, when we thought it was hopeless.”
“Yes. When there are more goats, we can save more children.”
“A priceless gift. I'm sure the president will agree.”
“And then the soldiers will help us instead of hurting us.”
“Yes, the soldiers do obey the commander in chief.”
After the meal they used the bathroom and yard for their needs, then Callie lay on Ira's bed while Nanny lay beside it, and they slept, touching.
They woke at dawn. “It has happened,” Patience said. “The policy has been summarily reversed. Prentice, Ira, and the goat are on their way home. Meanwhile I will take you to your home, as your folks have been released with apologies.”
Patience drove them to the Stevenson's house. The others were all there, camped out on floors, waiting on their arrival. “You did it!” Sam exclaimed, hugging them both. “Complete reversal of policy within 24 hours. The soldiers are now helping. But part of the deal is that this isn't to be advertised. That not only protects the enclave from intrusions, it saves the government embarrassment. Win-win.”
“Win-win,” Callie echoed, pleased.
Patience shook hands with Linda. “I know my son Ira will want to visit Callie, and of course the goats will have business establishing the enclave. I hope we can make arrangements.”
“I'm sure we can,” Linda agreed.
That was just the beginning of a busy time.
Epilogue
“Oh my goodness!” Callie Covert exclaimed. “Dear, you must see this!” She pointed to the screen.
Her husband Ira looked. So, of course did their goats. And their children. It was a signal from what was considered to be local space, coming to the enclave receiver. News of another caprine enclave, established on a planet about a hundred light years distant. It had been set up while Buck's ship was still in stasis flight, and the signal had in effect followed the ship. So it was century old news, but also new news now that it had caught up to them.
Twenty years later. The local enclave now had over a hundred goats doing Service, and more being generated. The enclave was still largely secret, to prevent alienophobic intrusions, but the Service Goats themselves were highly successful around the world. To have one was almost a badge of aristocracy. But they were assigned according to the need and according to each individual goat's preference; if one sniffed a prospective human being and did not like it, there was no assignment. Once a Service team was made, the human benefited substantially, but also became part of the conspiracy of silence, never letting on to others about the alien connection. To the general public these were merely specially bred highly trained animals, the elite of Service Creatures.
Nanny and her companions had bred, and Callie and Ira now had two of their kids as mature Service Goats. They would rotate out soon to have their own kids, but Callie and Ira would always have the help they needed. Nanny and Two were not gone; they were still at the enclave, doing their reproductive duty; they lived as long as humans did, but could not limit themselves to single people any more. So their kids were being trained in, and their grandkids would follow in due course. All the goats knew Callie and Ira, and any would serve if needed. They were all friends.
They quickly notified the other members of the close knit group: Sterling and Linda, Ben and Venus, Sam and Isabel, and York. All were connected to the Service Goat reservation, facilitating introductions and demonstration displays, so that those in serious need would know where to apply. It was a highly successful enterprise, and also a viable enclave, ready to send a mission to space if that were ever needed. So far, telescopic surveying of the Caprine home planet indicated that its sun remained stable, so there was no need. Yet. But of course their news of that was a thousand years old. Still, word of the second enclave was an occasion for joy. For all that it had to remain secret, just as the real news of the Earth enclave was secret from all but a few humans. It seemed ironic that the greatest story of the century was unknown.
Meanwhile Ira and Callie were happily married and had two normal children who loved the goats. Ben and Venus, now legitimately married, had teenage children who also participated. They remained one big happy wider family, all dedicated to the welfare of the enclave. Sometimes Callie marveled at how the disaster that had blinded and orphaned her could have led to such happiness and success for both herself and the Caprine Enclave. Could she go back in time and intervene to save her parents and her own sight, thus missing Nanny and the rest, would she do so? It was an uncomfortable question whose answer she was unable to make. Not even with a herd of goats to help.
Author's Note
I was expecting to be at work on a collaborative novel in June, 2016, but my collaborator had a problem that delayed it. Rather than twiddle my thumbs waiting, something I'm not good at, being a workaholic, I filled in with a story. Correspondent Mary Rashford, who has six disabilities and uses highly trained Service Dogs, sent an essay she wrote defining the ideal qualities of such dogs. That reminded me of an idea I had first summarized in January 2013 and filed in my voluminous Ideas file, “Service Goat.” I was raised on a goat farm in Vermont in the 1940s and have always liked goats, so a notion like this was natural for me. If dogs can do it, why not goats? Goats are nice folk when you get to know them. But I'm a science fiction and fantasy writer, so a fantastic element was bound to come in. I save the frequent ideas I get, and when the occasion comes to use them, I dust them off and they become aspects of novels or stories in themselves. Now, three years later, seemed to be the time for this one. I started writing it, expecting to break it off at any time for the collaboration; this was just a fill-in project.
The collaborative delays continued, and I continued writing. The story developed muscles and expanded to novelette length, and finally became a full 30,000 word novella. Okay; this sort of thing happens. So I wrote this at a time when I hadn't expected to, and it become more than it started. Writing can be like that. Characters tend to take on larger identities and do their own things regardless of the author's preferences, and stories can get ambitious for more.
There can also be hangups, such as the math: just when was that other caprine enclave established? 80 years before the Earth enclave, or 120 years, or some other time, being in another direction? I think the first, but...
Even syntax: a proofreader challenged “And none of them is saying a word...” correcting “is” to “are.” But “none” is the abbreviation of “no one” or “not one” and thus is singular. But spot research indicates that for centuries the plural use has been more common. So do I go with what is technically correct, or what is actually used? Since this occurs in dialogue, I decided to go with actual use. Not that anyone cares.
This was an interesting time for me personally, as I was in the throes of a soft diet, having had all my remaining upper teeth out in August 2015 and implants put in, which needed time to heal before being used for chewing. Meanwhile I used an uncomfortable temporary denture, largely for appearance, as trying to bite down on any anything hard could be painful. The day for my new upper denture was finally approaching: June 23, 2016, which happened also to be my wife's and my 60th wedding anniversary. So if portions of this story seem insufficiently chewed, that must be why. This was also the time of the worst gun massacre in US history, the murder of 49 patrons of a gay bar in Orlando, Florida. I try not to preach in my fiction, but I wish there were more
tolerance, or a constitutionally safe way to keep the guns out of the hands of the nuts and bigots who are all too eager to use them for mayhem. Maybe if everyone had a stabilizing Service Goat it would be a better world.
This novella was proofread by Scott M Ryan and Anne White. My website is www.hipiers.com/, where I have a monthly personal column, information on my novels, and maintain an ongoing survey of electronic publishers with candid feedback from authors who use them. So if you want to know more about me, that's where to look. No, we don't keep goats, but if friendly alien Caprines landed on our Florida tree farm tomorrow, we'd be seriously tempted.
About the Author
Piers Anthony is one of the world’s most prolific and popular authors. His fantasy Xanth novels have been read and loved by millions of readers around the world, and have been on the New York Times Best Seller list many times. Although Piers is mostly known for fantasy and science fiction, he has written several novels in other genres as well, including historical fiction, martial arts, and horror. Piers lives with his wife of 60 years in a secluded woods hidden deep in Central Florida.
Piers Anthony’s official website is HI PIERS at www.hipiers.com, where he publishes his monthly online newsletter. HI PIERS also has a section reviewing many of the online publishers and self-publishing companies for your reference if you are looking for a non-traditional solution to publish your book.
Service Goat Page 10
