Outward Borne

by R. J. Weinkam

  The Das had copied some of the things they saw in our homes and villages. We were to be made self-sustaining, able to make what we wanted and needed from the basic raw materials that the ObLaDas could provide. It would keep us busy, provide some level of satisfaction, and make it easier on our captors. We were being manipulated to accept of our lot, and to keep us quiet, contented, and harmless. In this way, we were slowly made to adapt to this foreign place and our new life.

  Our education began soon after that. One morning, all of the lights in the big meeting room came on, bright lights flashed, small bells rang, or something that sounded like the bronze bell on old Sid’s milk cow. When Kunigunde went to see what was about, she screamed, excited, and called others to come. The forest, she said, our forest was just outside the room. Kunigunde and others ran to the trees, branches blowing in the breeze, but when they reached out to touch the leaves, they felt only the wall. Even I cried out when my brother Gunthar walked through the field along the edge of the trees and turned to look right at me. Ingomar, who had worked those fields much of his life, said that it was the woods near where the lander had settled, and indeed it was. The images on the wall changed after a while, after most everyone had gathered. It showed our village, people we knew, but things were happening from the past. Livida ran by chasing a rabbit. Pictures, probably taken from a flybot high in some tree, showed us walking around our home on a normal day. The images went all the way to the time when we were captured and taken into the lander. The lander flew off with us into the very high sky, so high it became dark. I sat with Mildryth as we hugged one another and cried. The images were so real, we thought they were real, but we knew they could not be. It was so confusing, but in the end we suffered again for what we had lost. The ObLaDas wanted us to know where we were and what had happened to us.

  Over the months and years that followed, they taught us to speak a new language, to read and write, then went on to arithmetic, mathematics, engineering, and the sciences. Not everyone kept up with all of those subjects, but I did. I believed that I came to learn more than any person on Earth ever knew. It did not seem possible that anyone could know the things we were told, but I believe they were true. Still, there were other things that we would know about. No mention was made of literature, music, or art. The ObLaDas did not have these things in their culture and apparently could not imagine our interest in them. We had to keep our own history and we did. The ObLaDas also gave us some opportunities to learn for ourselves. The observatory was the first of these.

  Dagobert came hopping into the hall. He was so excited, pointing behind him, trying to get someone’s attention. Ever since Dagobert sighted the lander and received a bit of notoriety, he has become excessively attentive. It was his path to fame, I suppose.

  “I found windows,” he called, “at the end of the corridor. There is a small ladder that leads to a narrow hall and a tiny room with two windows. It is a new opening that was never there before,” but no one was interested in the little room, only what he had seen. “Stars! Great lots of stars in the dark sky, they are moving, I think, fast.”

  We looked around in some doubt, I suppose. It was the middle of the day in the great room, how could he see stars outside? Dagobert took Alric and a few others down the hallway to show off his find. It was hours before they returned.

  “It is a window to the outside to be sure,” Alric said, but he appeared to be flustered and unsure of himself. I do not think he was able to make sense of what he had seen. Cilar was excited when she returned. “There are so many stars; I never saw such from Feldland. Did you see that dark area that showed up from time to time on the smaller window? It blocked out stars as it moved. I wonder what it is.” Mildryth went to see the fast moving stars, but found it to be most confusing.

  The observatory was in a corner of our habitat and had two small windows that were no more than two hands wide. You had to look out through a tube, so either way you could see only a very small portion of the sky. One window was at the side of the module away from the ship and the other peered out of the forward wall, so we could see in the direction the arm was moving. Of course, we did not know that then. Not until Dagobert and Averill spent three days in the tiny observatory room were we able to sort it out. Averill’s younger sister, Aedelfraed, was kept busy running back and forth from the great hall bringing them things to eat or whatever else they needed. One thing we learned right away from Aedelfraed, was that there was no daylight outside the windows, it was black as night all the time. There was a very bright star to the rear of the ship, but nothing as bright as our sun. Dagobert thought that we were in a small part of a much larger ship, which was hard to believe at the time. He was as confused as the rest of us by the strangest part. Stars moved from side to side when looking out one window, but from top to bottom out the other.

  Averill and Dagobert came back tired, but excited. They refused to say much, perhaps because they were suffering such abuse from comments and innuendo regarding certain activities that were likely to have occurred in small spaces when close together, boy and girl, over a long period. They were probably much relieved to spend the next days huddled up with Alric and Wulfhere, and out of range of general conversation. Wulfhere had been captain of the Red Brigitae until he broke his leg. He could read the stars and had traveled more than most.

  “We believe,” he said, “that we are in a large ship that is moving slowly among the stars. You can see a long tube, like a giant tree trunk, that stretches before and aft of our position. There is a light showing beyond the edge of this shaft, to the rear, but it is constantly there and does not change from day to night. There are some flashes of light and color far the front of us, but we could not make out what that was about. It was much too far away to see clearly.”

  From the way the stars moved past the windows, Dagobert had figured that we must be on the rim of this large wheel, or at least a piece of a wheel. We were standing on the inner rim with our heads toward the axle, if you can imagine that. We are not falling off so the wheel must be spinning, you know, the children’s game, swing a bucket of water around on a rope so that the water does not spill out. Well, it is like that, except we are standing on the bottom of the bucket.

  This was hard to imagine and Wulfhere had everyone confused. It took fifteen minutes to walk from one side of our habitat to the other, and it had three tall floors. It was not such a large space to spend your life, but much too big to be flying around on a rope. How could we be in a part of a machine so much larger than this place?

  Dagobert had taken some of the fake wood and used the bits to make a model of what the ship must look like. This at least was something we could follow. His model was like a canoe with a two-bladed paddle spinning along its side. Still, it was hard to imagine how a machine could be so large, or why it was the way Dagobert showed it to be. Dagobert was nearly correct, as it turned out. The Outward Voyager had two matching arms and sets of modules. One was on the opposite side of the hull and could not be seen from our observatory.

  We did not know it at the time, but we had been captured at a delicate time in the Outward mission, a time in which the leadership and attitudes aboard the ship were changing, attitudes about alien species and how they should be treated. Although many of the changes the ObLaDas wished to make were just starting to take effect, we already experienced a number of benefits and were treated better than others before us. We have been given materials and occupations, taught a new language, and provided with an education well beyond anything on Earth. Our habitat was adequate and we were given the freedom to furnish it as we wished. Nevertheless, this condescension engendered mixed feelings within our community. They made our lives more bearable, while the permanence that they portended depressed many who would be satisfied only by a return to Earth and an end to our captivity.

  Chapter 13 Becoming The People

  The ObLaDas kept themselves hidden for all the years that we had been aboard the Outward Voyager. They never enter
ed our habitat and never showed themselves in any pictures. They had not spoken to us directly, explained why we had been captured, or what was to happen to us. This was hard to bear as we ached to return home. Not knowing kept this pain alive, but it was less so for our children, and now that they are older, almost adults, they have become vocal in their frustrations. They wanted to rebuild some of our habitat, to make investments in the future, and to stop looking to the past with futile hopes.

  Dagobert called an assembly to discuss a proposal to expand our community into new living spaces within the habitat. Dagobert became a bitter man in the years since Alric died. He took on the leadership of our community, but it had never gone well with him. Much of his early energy and curiosity turned to worry, his hair had been cut very short, but not well, it stuck up out from his head and had started to turn gray. He fought to maintain our village traditions and to keep our plans to return to Earth alive. I tried to support him, but could not see how the expansion of our habitat would be very harmful, there were too many people now, and it had become quite inconvenient to share the kitchen and other facilities with so many.

  We brought up the younger generation, those born on the Outward Voyager, to respect the traditions of our home village, but they did not have the same connections that we had. The old stories about frozen rivers, winter blizzards, struggling through droughts and bad harvests, and long ago battles, so heroic to us, were considered hardships, best not to be borne. I knew this most decidedly, as my oldest son, Childeric, had often spoken about their outstanding grievances. I heard many times about the need to expand into the upper levels of the habitat, only a few minutes away after all, and why not use the unfinished open space to build and running track. “It would be good for the dogs,” and how we could train them and hold races, festivals, have fun.

  Childeric’s proposition was brief, but fateful. I cannot remember it exactly, but he said something about it being thirty-five years since the abduction occurred. “During all of the time the Outward has been traveling away from Earth at some great speed. Even if we were to turn around today, and there is not the slightest chance, it would take us as much time or more to return. My children’s children would be here to see that happen,” he said, looking from one villager to another. “What we have is a past that occurred on Earth and a future that will take place here. We must make the best of what we have. We must accept that our lives will be spent aboard the Outward Voyager.” Childric stopped speaking and walked to the center of the room. “There are seventy-four people now living on the Outward. Forty-eight of us were born on this ship. We have grown to adults in this place and now wish to be heard. We, the new generation, have united behind our hopes and desires, and I am speaking their voice. We wish to take our place among the leaders of this community, to look to the future, and to build our lives as best we may. The ObLaDas have decided to make things better for us. We are convinced that this is so, and we need to take advantage of our chance.”

  There were many uncomfortable people in the room that day. It meant that we had come accept that the rest of our lives will be spent here, that we have given up hope of a return to Earth. Many did not take that well.

  Childric argued that we should trust the ObLaDas. It was not easy to do. “They will work with us to build our habitat,” he said, “give us tools, better materials. I know they are slow, a year, five years, are nothing to them, but it will happen. It will be a change, but for once we will have a future.”

  He came over to see me after the meeting, to gain my approval no doubt, but he said something surprising that day that changed my attitude toward our captors.

  “Do you know how long they have been traveling through the galaxy, Mama? Over twenty-five hundred years! Can you imagine so long a time?

  “Where do you learn that?” I asked my son, but Childeric did not answer. His path would mean more change, yet another lurch onto an unbidden path of life for me, but one that would be for my son. My concern was correct, change was to happen, but the direction it took was wholly unexpected.

  Gwynyth, known to all future generations as Old Lady Gwyn, had lived most of her life aboard the Outward Voyager. A sixteen-year-old girl when captured, Gwynyth had been a clever, quick-witted sprite with thick red-brown hair and clear brown eyes. She trended to being pretty at that time, but it was not such an overwhelming tide to prevent a slow slide into plainness. She was somewhat too proud of herself, given her modest accomplishments, a bit vain, eager to create a good or even superior impression, she was too quick to speak her mind and state opinions not invited from so young a girl. Though it must be said, her giving of frank opinions did not spring from a mean spirit, but from an impatience with the village way of speaking, which meandered around, sometimes getting lost and never arriving at its intended meaning. She had been a farmer’s daughter, could hardly read, but she did know her numbers, not much else.

  During her years on the Outward, Gwyn expanded on these limited capabilities and learned of things beyond even her own imagining. She became the mother of three children, Childeric the oldest, through ObLaDa manipulation of the reproductive process rather than invasive involvement with any man. As the ObLaDas had dissociated intercourse from reproduction, the institution of marriage came to have little meaning, though intercourse itself remained popular. Children were raised in common, children whose parentage, including even that of the biological mother, was unknowable. Gwynyth did not particularly favor the raising of children and spent much of her time pursuing the many educational opportunities made available by the ObLaDas. In time, all the people learned to speak the Ship’s Language and picked up some good reading and writing skills along with a touch of mathematics. Gwynyth, along with a few others, progressed beyond the common disciplines into chemistry, physics, engineering, biology, and astronomy during her many years on the ship. While this was admirable and filled her mind with thoughts no Earth-bound human would have for centuries, it was not what we should consider a well-rounded education. The people knew almost nothing of their own bodies. The ObLaDas handled all of the humans’ medical issues without comment or explanation. Everyone underwent a physical examination every forty-eight days. Things were done to you there. Alric came back with a large cut on his head shortly before he died. Four times Gwynyth emerged pregnant. One baby was taken from her. She never saw it.

  As her learning increased, Gwynyth took on an ordinary, but open appearance, her thick hair turned gray, and her girlish faults matured into a practical plainspokeness that was widely respected within the community. Gwynyth became ‘she–who-must-be-heard’, which was why certain things were about to happen as they did.

  It was only a few days later when I was approached by a small robot. They had come to be our devoted little helpers. It led me to one of the common white rooms, one with a chair and a small table, nothing else. I sat down as the bot turned, left the room, and slid the door closed.

  After a short time sitting there in the ever-bright light, wondering what this was about; I heard a voice from the wall. “Good day, Gwynyth. Thank you for coming. My name is RaLak5 and I am the captain of the Outward Voyager.”

  This was a surprise and I did not believe it. The ObLaDas had never revealed themselves or even spoken to us directly. “Are you real or some manifestation of a machine?” I asked.

  “I am real enough, although my voice is translated into the Ship Language by the computer. This is the first time I have spoken directly to any of you.”

  “So you are one of them, one of the things that captured us.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Why did you do it? What are you going to do with us?”

  “It is our mission, Gwynyth, we are here to investigate the intelligent life within our galaxy, and you are one of the most intelligent species we have thus far discovered.”

  “I have heard that before and Childeric says you have been at it for more than two thousand years, which I do not believe, but that is no reason to take people a
way from their homes and manipulate them for your own purposes.”

  “I understand that you may not agree or approve. I promise to tell you why it was necessary and what will be, but not just now. Now I am asking for your assistance. We have changed our leadership, you see, and our approach to our alien guests as well. We have come to realize the need to provide a tolerable life for the beings that we have living here. My becoming Captain was part of the change, as is the treatment you have received in recent years. You may have complaints about your condition, but you should know that it is much better than you would have received. A long period of alien neglect had occurred on this ship, and while we are now doing better, our unfortunate past has caused us problems with a species. A problem that I am asking you to help resolve.”

  “I don’t understand, are you saying that there are other people on this ship. Why haven’t we seen them?”

  “They are not people like you. I am not a person like you. There are many worlds in our galaxy. Some of those worlds have creatures on them, intelligent creatures that speak, make things, love, hate, but they are all very different one from another. I am going to ask you to meet one of these beings, it is a female that can bear offspring, but whose population is in decline. It is from a planet different from yours, and so it may appear strange to you. You will be able to see it, but know that you would become ill if you had contact with it. They have been here for a great many generations, but have grown listless, without the will to continue. It is affecting their wellbeing, their survival. We have not been able to identify the cause of their distress; in fact, they have refused to communicate with us in any way. You, a different maintained being, may be able to learn what can be done to help improve their status. Will you do this?”