Keeping Our Word
Morning came early to the valley.
Before the first wagon reached the pantry, Buck Rogers was already there with a clipboard tucked beneath his arm.
Jacob Yoder walked through the building one final time.
Nothing would be loaded until every numbered lot agreed with Buck's inventory.
Outside, nearly every freight wagon the settlement owned stood waiting in a neat line.
Teams stamped impatiently against the cool morning air.
Loggers.
Mill workers.
Brick masons.
Milkmaids.
Glass workers.
Carpenters.
Nearly everyone had found a way to help.
No one wanted to miss the day Earth shipped its first cargo to another world.
Buck looked toward the waiting crews.
"Remember."
He held up a numbered loading card.
"We're not loading crates."
"We're loading promises."
Every man nodded.
One mistake would belong to everyone.
No mistakes would belong to everyone too.
The great cargo door of the Anunnaki ship slowly lowered until its loading ramp rested upon the earth.
For several moments the valley became quiet.
Children stared.
Even seasoned craftsmen paused.
Nobody had ever loaded a spaceship before.
Mike broke the silence.
"Looks like a barn door."
Laughter rolled through the crowd.
The tension disappeared.
Buck smiled.
"Good."
"Let's fill the barn."
The first wagon rolled forward.
Jacob climbed down.
Buck checked the lot number.
"Lot One."
"Canned tomatoes."
Jacob removed the loading ticket.
Buck checked it against his clipboard.
"Count?"
"Twelve hundred Number Ten cans."
"Weight?"
Jacob read the figure.
Buck nodded.
"Paid."
He reached into his pocket.
A green tag appeared on the crate.
"Load it."
Four men pushed.
Two guided.
The first crate crossed the loading ramp.
Buck drew one careful line through the first space on his clipboard.
Earth had just exported its first tomatoes.
Throughout the morning the rhythm settled into something almost musical.
Count.
Check.
Load.
Record.
Another wagon.
Another lot.
Another signature.
No shouting.
No confusion.
No hurried guessing.
Everyone already knew the dance.
Only the destination had changed.
Gaddy watched from the loading ramp.
Something bothered Gaddy.
Nothing was misplaced.
Nothing disappeared.
No one argued.
No one looked for shortcuts.
Every worker seemed to know exactly what came next.
Gaddy quietly counted wagons.
Counted workers.
Estimated loading time.
Calculated production.
The figures became more astonishing every hour.
Earth wasn't selling a pantry.
Earth was selling the ability to refill one.
Buck looked around.
"Where are the Greys?"
Samuel smiled.
"They've gone to school."
Across the valley five unfamiliar figures stood beside Jacob's pasture.
Fresh leather work boots rested awkwardly on Grey feet.
Orin shifted uncertainly.
"They're heavier than expected."
Jacob laughed.
"They're supposed to be."
Nek cautiously approached the nearest horse.
The mare stretched forward and sniffed the strange visitor.
Jacob rested one hand upon the horse's neck.
"First lesson."
He looked toward all five Greys.
"This horse is not your machine."
The Greys listened.
"She isn't your employee."
More silence.
"She isn't your servant."
Jacob smiled.
"She's your partner."
Zeta slowly reached out.
The mare accepted the gentle touch.
Jacob nodded.
"Good."
"Before anyone learns to plow\..."
"...learn to earn the horse's trust."
Back at the loading dock another wagon rolled forward.
Buck checked another number.
Another green tag.
Another careful count.
Above the valley, Saturn watched without opinion.
Below its distant rings, two very different cargoes had begun their journeys.
One cargo crossed the loading ramp into an Anunnaki ship.
The other rested quietly in the minds of five Grey apprentices.
Only time would reveal which cargo proved more valuable.