Chapter 12

Freehold

There was a small crowd waiting at the airfield when the Rapid X landed. Waylon taxied right to the reception building and brought the aircraft to a halt. Arman was ready to help with the shutdown checklist, but Waylon sent him back to help their passengers deplane. Moments later the cabin door was opened and Waylon could hear the stairs being extended. Through the cockpit window, he could see the family matriarch rushing toward the aircraft followed by the rest of the family.

"Am I interrupting?" Marylee asked, as she stuck her head into the cockpit.

"No, take a seat if you want. This won't take long."

Instead, Marylee rested her hands on the back of his seat and craned her head to look through the windows.

"Do you know how much people would pay to be where I am right now?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You should hear some of the rumors that are going around about this place. The leading theory is that Freehold is some sort of doomsday cult and you are all living on a bunch of old offshore oil platforms."

Waylon finished with the checklist and turned to look at her, "Does that make me the high priest?"

"Looking to sacrifice some virgins?"

"Think we can find any?"

That earned him a playful bop on the head. Waylon climbed out of the pilot's seat and escorted Marylee to the cabin and down the steps. They had missed the initial meeting between the newlyweds and the rest of the extended Truong family.

The group had split into two camps. Deni had both her daughters-in-law off to one side. The ladies were deep in conversation. It didn't look hostile. Remy and his two brothers were standing with Rowen. It was a day of surprises. Deni had gained another daughter-in-law, and her son Remy was getting a semi-official stepfather.

Waylon introduced Marylee to Felix and Rowen, explaining the family connections. Remy kept stealing glances at his wife, trying to interpret what was going on between her and his mother. Waylon didn't blame him. The brothers wanted to know how Remy had met Jaidee, and why they hadn't heard about her before.

"Come on," he whispered to Marylee, "I'll introduce you to the mother. You'll like her."

"Maybe we should wait, I hate to interrupt."

Waylon took her by the hand and pulled her over to the group of women.

Deni saw them coming and stepped toward the couple. "Miss Walker, welcome to Freehold, I'm Deni Truong and this is my daughter-in-law Rava, Arman's wife. Jaidee was just telling us how nice you were to her at the airport. Come, let's talk."

Waylon held his breath, but it looked good so far.

"Mr. Waylon?" Deni asked.

"Yes?"

"I think you have cargo to see too, and things to check on," Deni said, pointing toward the sky.

"Uh, right."

"Shoo," she said, making a motion with her hands.

He turned, and walked back toward the aircraft. Arman had taken charge and the men were unloading the plane's cargo hold while teasing Remy about surprising his mother. Waylon walked to the rear cargo hatch and took a large bag of rice that was handed to him.

Rowen clapped him on the back, "Isn't she spectacular?"

"She sure is."

Rowen laughed, "Well, I can guess which one you're thinking about."

It took another ten minutes to completely unload the aircraft. Waylon wanted to speak to Marylee again, but she was trundled into one of the vehicles along with Jaidee, and the ladies took off for the port.

"I'll catch up to you guys after I get this aircraft tucked in."

Arman and Rowen both waved in acknowledgement before departing in their heavily loaded vehicles, with Remy as added cargo. Felix hung back for a moment.

"You okay, Waylon?"

"I think so, how about you?"

"I can't believe my little brother got married."

"We'll have to find you a wife. Or, do you already have a girl lined up?"

"Not me. I don't want to get tied down," Felix said, looking toward the port.

"I can understand that," Waylon said. "I guess rooming with Remy is out now. Are you going to take one of the other houses?"

"A house is too big for me. I think I'll move into Rowen's old room next to Omo. What about your lady friend? Where is she going to stay?"

"One of the other apartments I imagine. Do me a favor, keep an eye out for her?"

Felix smiled, "We've already received our orders where Miss Walker is concerned."

"Do I want to know?"

"You've nothing to worry about," Felix answered. "Is it true that you almost let Arman land the airplane?"

"Ha! Don't tell him, but I wasn't going to let him land. He handled the descent pretty nicely. You want to take a crack at it?"

"I would, but I want to go up really high like Rowen did."

"Tell you what. Next big trip, it'll be you and me in the cockpit. Sound good?"

Felix nodded.

"Okay, it's going to take me at least thirty minutes to get this thing put to bed."

"Don't worry about Miss Walker, Waylon. My mother will be interrogating her for days."

Felix took off with the last of the non-perishable cargo.

Waylon did a quick walk around the aircraft and re-boarded. He gently reversed thrust, backed the aircraft up, and taxied toward the hangars.

"How are we doing, Barry?" Waylon asked to the empty cockpit.

"The launch went smoothly," the AI replied. "The vehicle is performing flawlessly and will reach geosynchronous orbit on schedule."

"What about here on the island?"

"Is there something you want to know about in particular?"

Waylon didn't answer as he brought the aircraft to a crawl, and made the turn in through the open hangar doors.

"If it is of any assistance, it appears that Miss Walker is truly fond of you."

"I'm not even going to ask how you know that."

"We still have her baseline biometric data from our studies at NTSU."

Waylon released the aircraft's controls. "Of course you do."

Colorado, Air Force Space Tracking Squadron

The Air Force colonel looked at his people with pride. They were the best. They tracked everything in orbit, big or small. Some days were more interesting than others, and this was definitely one of the more interesting.

"What more do we know about it?" he asked.

One of his senior people took up the gauntlet, "Not a lot. We checked their UN filing and found something interesting. Their designation for the vehicle is Freehold 003. Now, we know their suborbital aircraft is Freehold 002. Before you ask, we've checked. There's no indication of what Freehold 001 might be, or have been.

"The satellite is in a stable geosynchronous orbit. They've had no problems with gyroscopic stabilization that we can determine. The vehicle is still flying in formation with the satellite. They're about ten miles apart now."

"Analysis?" the colonel asked.

"The satellite is still a question mark, but we'll know more once it starts to operate. We need better pictures. It's most likely a communications package. As far as the vehicle goes, our team still thinks it's reusable."

"Where would it return to?" the colonel asked. "From what the file says, that runway is barely large enough for a small jet. There's no way you're going to land a returning orbital vehicle there. Ocean recovery? They don't have the tracking capability or a recovery vessel that we know of."

"Well, sir. It's contrarian thinking, but what if it's not a glider? If it's powered, they won't have to conserve their reentry speed. Maybe they're even making some sort of arrested landing? We won't really begin to know until we see what kind of reentry posture it takes."

Community Building, Freehold

Waylon took a seat at the breakfast table. The last few days had not gone like he thought they would. Deni Truong had kept his guest very busy. The newlyweds, Remy and Jaidee, were successfully moved in, but they still needed a lot of things to setup house. Marylee had been drafted to help assemble the shopping list in addition to the other duties she had taken on.

Marylee had told him that she was a nursing student at NTSU, but she already had a great deal of practical knowledge from previous volunteer work and was instrumental in helping to set up a small infirmary. Her work exposed the need for more equipment, and it was added to the ever growing shopping list. Emergency medical care was an oversight that Waylon recognized they needed to correct, particularly in light of Jaidee's still undiscovered pregnancy. Finding someone qualified to staff the infirmary was another matter. Marylee had mentioned telepresence medicine, but that wouldn't be much comfort to somebody with a serious injury, and AI inspired miracle cures would raise too many eyebrows.

"Buffet service this morning," Deni announced. "Eat up. It's going to be a busy day."

Waylon shuffled into line behind Felix and picked up a plate.

"Good morning," Marylee said as she got in line beside him.

"Sleep well?" he asked.

"Still getting used to the quiet."

After breakfast was over and fresh coffee was served, Arman stood and started the morning meeting.

"It's only a half day schedule since we have the big wedding party tonight," there were smiles all around, "but let's try to get some work done this morning. Mr. Waylon, do you have anything?"

"Nothing that can't wait until after the weekend."

"Let's get to work then," Arman said.

The elevator doors opened and Waylon walked into the underground complex and headed toward the command center. He had a lot on his personal schedule. He stopped and looked around the hallway.

"Penelope?"

"Yes, Waylon?"

"Muzak?" he asked. The faint strains of some pop hit barely recognizable from his youth drifted through the passageway.

"I thought it would add ambience. You do not like it?"

"Could you play something from..."

"From where?"

"I was going to say, 'back home, ' but never mind. It's fine the way it is."

He walked to the control room and took a seat. The AIs had flagged several news articles for his attention. He browsed through them but nothing appealed to him. One of the androids entered the room and handed him a computer pad.

Waylon took it and glanced at what was on the screen as the android departed. "Trying something new?"

Norm, the Construction AI, replied, "Testing new upgrades to the androids. We could use your opinion later if you have the time."

Waylon scrolled through the list on the pad, "Good grief. This is a lot of cargo."

"If you meet the commitment deadline," the AI replied, "the main items could be on the cargo ship's next island circuit."

"What's the deadline?"

"Friday, next. They won't load until a week later."

Waylon slid the pad across the desk and put his hands behind his head. "How much of this can we pull out of one of the hangars?"

"Very little," AI Barry replied. "The hangar magic trick will not survive more scrutiny. It was smart to tell the Truongs that we could produce limited items in your imaginary fabrication shop, but they are already suspicious enough. Although, we could provide the chicken wire and wood since you will need that sooner."

"Chicken wire?"

"For the chickens, Waylon."

Waylon thought back over the last few minutes of their conversation and picked up the pad with the inventory. He scrolled through it. No live poultry on the list.

"What chickens?"

"Deni Truong has purchased two dozen chickens. You are picking them up next week. Fresh protein will be an excellent addition to the dietary needs of island residents."

"Just out of curiosity, what else am I doing next week and how am I supposed to have known about these chickens?"

Because Deni had emailed him was the answer. Penelope, being helpful, responded for him of course. The AI rattled off a list of things Waylon needed to address in the coming week. Most of it was routine, but two items stood out.

"Why am I taking Marylee back to Papeete?"

"Miss Walker wants to spend the holidays with her family. She had a return ticket to Sydney for Wednesday morning."

"The holidays?"

"Christmas, Waylon. It is December on your calendar."

"I knew that," he said, staring at one of the television news feeds on the wall. "I don't know why I'm so scatterbrained."

"The prospect of mating is playing havoc with your biochemistry."

"What?"

"You should see what it's doing to—"

"Okay, I get the picture. Spare me the details," he said, standing up. "I guess I hadn't realized it's been an entire year since this all started."

Waylon paced the length of the room and doubled back.

"Did she call her parents and say she was coming home?"

"Emailed them," the AI replied.

"What else was I going to ask about?"

"The press," Penelope said.

"Finally started reading my mind?"

"We know when you are interested in something, or someone."

He had to laugh. The AIs were persistent.

"Waylon, since we connected to the outside world, all of the island residents, except for Omo, have email addresses and phones. It's only a matter of time. You know one of the newspapers was poking around at the airport. They'll talk to the Truong's old friends. Additionally, Marylee has posted several photos from here on the island to a social media site for her family and friends to see. It is only a matter of time before they are discovered by a larger audience."

He retook his seat and they tossed a few ideas back and forth. He'd try to tackle the media subject Monday morning. The afternoon and weekend were for celebrating. Waylon asked if the materials he'd requested were ready and they were, but there wasn't a single ballpoint pen in the entire underground complex. The AIs quickly made him a couple of different versions before he was happy and he spent several minutes practicing his signature.

"How's that look?" he asked.

All the AIs chimed in saying they thought it looked really nice. Waylon got the distinct impression that they were humoring him.

Waylon drove back to the port to join in the afternoon's preparations. Lunch was cold sandwiches. The men were charged with creating a seating area and focal point for the ceremony. There was a scenic area near the beach that had proven popular with the Truongs. Arman had previously suggested turning the area into a little park with benches. It already had a path that led down from the community center and another that wound around the cove to the houses in the other direction.

Omo had hand crafted a lightweight wedding arch. The old man was charged with energy. He had the Truong brothers moving planters around with various flowering plants. They had taken folding chairs from storage and set them out in two different configurations before Omo was satisfied with the way they looked.

Rowen didn't get his wedding day off. Waylon helped him run a long line to power a string of low voltage lights. The lights were strung between two poles and the wedding arch. They caught sight of the women as they tested the lights. The ladies were moving at a fast clip carrying something from the storage building back to the marital house.

"What are they up to?" Waylon asked.

"Flowers, candles, potpourri, white linens, who knows? Your guess is as good as mine. As long as it keeps them busy," Rowen said with a shrug.

"So, are you ready?"

"For what was supposed to be an unofficial ceremony, it's starting to feel awfully official."

"You're not getting cold feet are you?"

"No lad, nothing like that. She's a good woman and I've found something worth holding on to."

Preparations were finished and the island residents were dismissed to go change for dinner and the following ceremony. Waylon drove to his house and took a quick shower. The attire was informal. Rowen had been adamant, no ties. He put on his best shirt and slacks and buffed his dress shoes.

Waylon was thinking happy thoughts on the way back to the community center. It was yet another gorgeous day on Freehold. The weather would soon change. The rainy season was coming. Arman explained that it wouldn't be so bad. They'd get bands of heavy rain instead of passing showers. If they were lucky, there wouldn't be any dangerous typhoons.

"We have a problem," AI Barry announced.

Shit, "I really hate it when you say that. What's wrong?"

"The ladies have not prepared enough canapés."

Waylon waited a beat before responding. "First of all, I'm not sure I know what a canapé is, and secondly, I'm pretty sure it doesn't count as an emergency."

"A canapé is an appetizer that usually—"

"Okay, fancy word for appetizer. I get the picture. Deni and the girls will have plenty of food for us. Is there anything that might ruin tonight's activities that I should be aware of?"

"Not at this time," the AI answered.

"Then let's try to enjoy this."

Arriving back at the community center, Waylon parked and took a box from the seat next to him. He found Felix and asked him to stash it someplace safe.

The wedding dinner was going to be alfresco. Tables had been moved outside and covered in linen. They had the coverings tied down to keep the evening breeze at bay. Music was playing softly from a speaker. The Parisian folk music, which might have been considered corny in another circumstance, fit the French café vibe Deni had wanted. The light mood it set was infectious and Waylon found himself smiling.

The wedding grounds were ready. The ladies had used white ribbon to decorate the chairs and the wedding arch. With the tropical flowers provided by Omo, and the spectacular Pacific Ocean as a backdrop, Waylon didn't think they could have asked for a prettier venue.

"Hey sailor, looking for a good time?" Marylee asked, surprising him.

"You look terrific," he said.

"Why thank you." She twirled around for his benefit.

"I don't think you're supposed to upstage the bride."

"That's not going to be a problem."

The diners were encouraged to take their seats. They did not run out of appetizers. Deni's daughters-in-law had taken charge and the bride was not allowed to do anything but sit and enjoy the meal. Several bottles of wine had been decanted, but Rowen wisely kept to sparkling water. The wine added to the good mood. Waylon could have sat and enjoyed the company for hours, but the ladies were running a tight schedule.

Sunset was not far away, so the bride and groom rushed off to change into their wedding duds while everyone else helped clear away the remains of the meal.

Waylon did his part and then watched, relaxing in the moment.

Marylee finished helping in the kitchen and found him. She took a napkin and cleaned something from his cheek.

"Are you going to put on a collar?" she asked, as she folded the napkin away.

"They wanted informal, and I didn't particularly feel like buying some goofy ordination online."

Felix had retrieved the box and held it up with a flourish, "What should I do with it?"

"Can you put it under your seat? I'm going to need it after the ceremony." Waylon said.

"Can do," he replied, and walked over to the seating area with his brothers and their wives.

"What's in the box?" Marylee asked.

"Wedding gifts," he replied. "And before you complain that you didn't bring anything, don't. You know Deni said no gifts, but I'm the boss and I get to violate the rules."

Marylee rolled her eyes dramatically. "Know what you're going to say?"

"I'm going to wing it."

The wedding party gathered quickly. The bride was the center of attention in a colorful dress decorated with a vibrant floral pattern. If it hadn't been for the dress, she might have been upstaged by Rowen's glorious kilt and white high socks. The sun was heading toward the horizon, so Waylon announced that it was time. Everybody took their seats overlooking the water and the wedding arch.

Waylon took a moment to compose his thoughts, "We are gathered here to witness the joining of two friends. If my time in the military taught me anything about ceremonies, it was to keep them short. So, Deni and Rowen would you please join me?"

Deni walked to his left and Rowen to his right.

"When Deni first asked me to do this I couldn't try to back out of it quickly enough, but she was persistent as I'm sure Rowen is finding out."

There were knowing laughs.

"Rowen came to teach us about small boat operations and got a little more than he bargained for. For which, I think we are all grateful. Now, our two friends want to share their lives together. Are we agreed that this is a good thing?"

The response was enthusiastic and affirmative.

"It is agreed then. Deni Truong, do you take this man?"

"I take this man, and his name," she said boldly.

"Rowen Dalgliesh, do you take this woman?"

"I do," he replied.

Waylon took their hands and placed them together before stepping back. "Then with our community's blessing, I declare you joined."

Rowen bent and kissed his bride.

Waylon and the small audience clapped and cheered. Some of the island's new avian population joined in the commotion. The wedding party was lit by the setting sun and he tried to memorize the image of his friends. It was a feeling he hoped he'd never forget.

Breaking out of his reverie, he made an announcement. "Before we start the party, I have something for the couple."

Deni gave him a low wattage version of the evil eye about violating her no-gifts prohibition.

Waylon took the box from Felix, removed the contents and unfolded a document.

"I couldn't let this occasion go by without doing something special."

He handed the document to Deni, who held it so that Rowen could read it as well.

"What is this?" she asked.

Waylon looked at Rowen, who nodded happily. "The deed to your house and the land it sits on. It's yours, and I hope you will live there for many happy years to come."

Deni gasped.

"All I ask in return is that I be given the chance of first refusal should you ever decide to sell."

Deni broke away from her husband and kissed Waylon on both cheeks, "Thank you, Waylon!"

"I have other gifts," he said as he handed them the small objects. "Passports. I don't know if they'll ever be recognized, but I wanted you to have the first issued to Freehold residents. They conform to international standards, but I would hold onto your French and British passports until further notice."

Rowen held out his hand, "Thank you, Waylon. This means a lot to us."