Chapter 9: Good News

"Liewe Vader, maar ek ken jou!" The man who had been tying up the dogs stepped forward and looked John Koenig up and down. Koenig shrugged and looked at Victor.

"Sounds like Dutch," the Professor whispered.

The man held out his hand and Koenig took it, hesitantly. "Koenig. Jy is Koenig!" The man was pumping his hand enthusiastically. "Ons het gedink julle is almal dood!" All John could do was shake his head, but it was obvious this man recognized him.

"They don't understand, Andries," another man said with a heavy accent similar to one the Alphans had heard before.

Victor snapped his fingers and smiled broadly. "Johan Burger! He…" Before the scientist could finish, the man who had been shaking the Commander's hand shifted his attention to the Professor, gripping his shoulders.

"Leef my broer nog?"

Victor shook his head, but the other man who had spoken stepped forward to calm down the frantic man. "Hulle verstaan nie, Andries! Ek sal praat."

The man who had recognized John Koenig stepped back, but his eyes still darted from one man to the other. The translator held out his hand. "My name is Pieter Botha," he said, shaking hands with the Commander and the Professor. "Please excuse Andries. He is very excited because he knows your face, and asks about his brother."

"Johan Burger is fine and well," Victor smiled, shaking Andries's hand. "You must be Andries Burger?" Pieter Botha translated, and the man called Andries let out a yelp that set the dogs barking again.

The rough-looking men started talking among each other rapidly, laughing and backslapping. John looked at Victor and shrugged again. "Do you know what's going on?"

"They must be speaking Afrikaans. Our eagle pilot, Johan Burger, is from South Africa and it seems we have found his brother."

"No," John said, shaking his head. "That's just not possible. Of all the places…" Then he stopped, his eyes growing wide. "The intergalactic council… of course… this is no coincidence!"

Pieter Botha faced them again. "Andries have a photo of you," he started again in his broken, heavily accented English, pointing at Koenig. "You and the eagle pilots. His brother is in that photo."

Now John could nod. "Tell him I am very pleased to meet him, and his brother is alive and still flying eagles." The man translated and Andries Burger pumped John Koenig's hand enthusiastically again.

"Where is the moon?"

"What year is it?"

Victor Bergman and Pieter Botha had spoken at exactly the same time and faced each other, laughing.

"We have a long story to tell," Victor said. "But first we need food, and help."

The South Africans spoke rapidly again, pointing at the ship. Finally Pieter said: "Can you follow?"

"Give us a minute," Koenig answered, turning to the scientist. "What do you think Victor? If we follow, we'll be flying blind side to the mountains. I'm not sure I want to risk it."

"We can leave the ship. They have horses. Surely they can bring us back again."

The Commander turned to the men. "We'd like to leave the ship here. To save fuel," he improvised.

"Can you ride?"

Victor nodded, and so did John. The men on the horses conferred again and Andries, who seemed to be in charge, barked some orders pointing at three of the men and the dogs. They started gathering the dogs, holding on to the leashes and set off at a trot.

"They go put away dogs," Pieter translated. "And start braai!" Andries had guided his horse in front of John Koenig, kicking his foot out of the stirrup and held out his hand, while Pieter did the same for the Professor.

"What is a braai?"

"Sheep… on fire," Pieter answered after thinking for a moment, but that stumped the Alphans even more. The riders set off at a more sedate pace while the other horses were already disappearing into the distance.

"What year is it?" Victor asked the man he was clinging to.

"2005." Victor mulled it over in his mind. They had been on the breakaway moon for about three years before they found Berg. By then the Superswift had already been traveling… for about a year? Settling their communities, their encounter with the Bethans and Sidons, starting families… it sounded about right and they were in their current time in earth terms.

"What kind of horse?" he asked, not wanting to start telling their story until they got to where they were going and could tell it once to everyone.

"Boerperd. Very strong."

Victor had never heard of the breed and presumed it was some local hybrid. As a boy he had ridden often, and had enjoyed it, but he knew mostly the European breeds. The horse reminded him of a Cleveland Bay. He smiled at John, who was clinging onto Andries. The man was speaking incessantly in rapid Afrikaans, but Pieter made no attempt at translating except for saying: "He is very excited."

After a while the Alphans started feeling the effect of being in the saddle. The South Africans had not stopped talking for a minute. Suddenly Andries pulled up his horse and pointed. Their passengers strained but finally made out the big birds wandering among the trees.

"Ostriches!" Victor exclaimed.

"Ja. Volstruis," Pieter agreed.

"That bone, John. That could have been an ostrich femur!"

Not long afterwards they saw a cluster of buildings materializing in the distance. The small, whitewashed, thatched roof buildings were nestled at the foot of the mountains in neat groups, with a few dirt roads in between. There was a slightly bigger building with a short steeple, another longer log building and plenty of people about. To one side was a large open field with tall H-shaped wooden poles on either side where a bunch of children were chasing each other. There were chickens scratching in the dirt, a few small dogs that started barking as the horses approached and even a few cats sunning themselves.

The riders pulled up outside the steepled building and Andries called out: "Bring die Rooinekke! En Lizette en die kinders!" The inhabitants of the quaint little village started gathering but Andries dashed away to one of the houses. John and Victor gratefully dismounted, taking a moment or two to get their legs used to solid ground again, looking around the vibrant community. To one side, closer to the big field, a group of men were busy with a big fire.

"Show them your arm, Victor, and get it cleaned. With the horses and dogs and who knows what else, we don't want it getting infected." Andries came charging back, thrusting a framed picture at Koenig, who took it with surprise.

It was a photograph, beautifully framed and obviously well cherished. Captioned "Alpha Eagle Training Group 1998", it was filled with faces he knew and it brought a momentary lump to his throat: Jim Nordstrom, Eric Sparkman, Alan Carter, Mike Ryan, Pete Irving, Kelly… and his own face was there among many others; all the trainees and trainers. Andries poked his finger at one of the faces and Koenig recognized Johan Burger, who all the fuss was about. It certainly explained why this man had recognized the Commander, though he had not been Commander of Moonbase Alpha at the time. He handed the photograph to Victor, who studied it for a while too.

"Small universe, eh, John?" the scientist remarked.

More people had joined the gawking bystanders, talking non-stop. Pieter dragged forward a redheaded man. "This is Stephen Roux. He's English."

The Alphans shook hands with the man. Victor held up his arm. "I need to get this cleaned before we tell our story," he said.

"How did it happen?"

"Bullet," Victor grinned, but the redhead looked angry.

"Damn Boers, shoot first, ask later," he grumbled.

"We also need some food, and perhaps shoes if it can be spared," John added.

The Englishman turned to the other men and spoke to them in Afrikaans while Koenig took care in handing the photograph back to Andries. Finally Stephen turned to the Alphans.

"Andries will take John Koenig to his house and take care of him, while Pieter will do the same for Victor Bergman. We'll meet in the church in an hour to hear your story, and then we'll enjoy the rest of the day and a braai with our guests." The group of bystanders started breaking up and the Alphans followed their respective hosts after a quick glance at each other.

When the two men emerged almost at the same time to head towards the church with their hosts, both Koenig and Bergman had to keep from laughing out loud at each other. They were both cleaned up and somewhat refreshed, and dressed almost identically in khaki shorts, khaki short-sleeved shirts, white socks and shoes that had a name John couldn't quite recall at that moment. Strings of people of all colors made their way to the church. The big field was empty now, the children no doubt in the curious group coming to hear the story.

"Did they tell you about the shoes?" Koenig asked his friend as they made their way down the dusty road.

"Yes." Victor laughed. "Felles… or something like that. Made from animal skins and old car tires. Very comfortable," he added.

"What else have you found out? I couldn't really talk to my group."

"We're in a small town called Klaarstroom… not sure if I say that correctly… at the foot of the Black mountains… Swartberge." The scientist had difficulty with the pronunciation. "Many of the people here had fled from some of the bigger towns and cities once the electricity and electronics went and the looting and killing started. That destroyed place we saw first could have been a town called Beaufort West, which was destroyed in some local insurgence. Some of their people out hunting and gathering had seen our ship come in the day before, rode back to town and the posse that found us had set off this morning at first light. There are many groups of renegades and bandits around."

"I hope our ship will be OK," Koenig said.

"I'm sure it will be," Victor said. "I noticed the bullets had no effect on it. It must have some kind of shield."

They had reached the church and people were filing inside. The redheaded Englishman came to take charge of the Alphans, leading them to the front and the small pulpit.

"I'd like you to tell our story, Victor," John whispered, and the scientist nodded. People were filling the pews and Stephen welcomed them all, first in Afrikaans, and then switched to English.

"These men who arrived in that ship are from the Moonbase that used to be on our moon, and where Johan Burger was an astronaut," he began. "We all remember what happened in September of 1999, and the chaos and destruction that followed when we lost the moon. All of us on earth had thought those from many nations working on the moon dead, but John Koenig and Victor Bergman was on the moon and are here now, 6 years later, alive. And they tell us Johan is still alive," there was great applause for this, "and is still flying Eagles! They will tell us the story, and I'll translate."

Victor began, telling the story slowly, stopping every few sentences for the man to translate. He told them how they had traveled on the wandering moon for a few tense years, how they had met many other beings in space, how they had found Berg and decided to settle and started rebuilding their lives. He told of their finding the Superswift, which caused the meeting to become very loud for a while, and the surviving children. He glossed over the war with Betha and Sidon, and tried to simplify the story of their abduction by the intergalactic council and their eventual finding themselves back on planet earth.

After he finished, people started calling out. "They're asking questions," Stephen translated. "Is that OK?"

"Yes," Koenig said, "within limits. We may not even have all the answers ourselves."

"Are you all returning to earth?" was one of the first questions, but faces fell when the commander explained that they had no control over the final destination of their ship. That was followed by the question of why the Alphans were back on earth, for which neither had a good answer either. Some of the questions were about aliens, but most were about their new planet, in which the people showed great interest. A few of the questions were about Johan Burger. Finally the Englishman called the meeting to a close, inviting everyone to meet them outside for food, drink and revelry.

The Commander and the Professor were shown to lawn chairs in the shade of a tree, overlooking the fire pit, where an animal was being roasted whole on a metal stake. Men were basting it, and to the side women were working at a table. The children were back on the field, chasing each other with a football. Koenig studied the roughhousing for a while: the boys piling on top of each other fighting for the ball, tossing it backwards along a line of runners, punting it from time to time at the H-shaped poles. It looked like football, but without any order. "What are they doing, Victor?" he finally asked.

"They're playing rugby," Victor grinned. "South Africa is a great rugby nation. Don't you remember the 1995 World Cup? South Africa won against all odds after their first democratic elections, and Nelson Mandela used the sport," he gestured at the field of boys, "to unite the nation."

"I don't," John smiled sadly. "It's not a sport we follow in the USA."

"Well, just from a political point of view it was a masterful move by Mandela." Men came by and offered the Alphans two cans, labeled "Castle Lager". Koenig opened his and took a sip, tasting a beer unlike he had ever had: thick, malty and with a bitter aftertaste.

"Yuck," he muttered under his breath as the men walked away, but he continued drinking it anyway. Victor just sipped his without comment. People came by the two men, some just too look, others exchanging a few words in broken, heavily accented English. Later, as the sun started dipping towards the horizon a group of costumed dancers appeared and did a very entertaining performance that looked like a step-team on steroids. Finally though it seemed the food was ready, and the men were invited over while plastic and metal plates and an assortment of cutlery were distributed. Those who had been attending the animal sliced off big pieces of dripping meat for them; they were given a glop of something white and sticky from a black pot after which it was smothered in red, lumpy gravy and finally they were led to a table where there were all kinds of side dishes. Long boards had been placed on trestles for tables, and the people found seats. The Alphans found themselves beside Andries, with Stephen on the other side. And then, surprisingly, before anyone started eating, Andries banged a spoon on the table, an elderly man stood up, people bowed their heads.

"The Afrikaner is very religious," Stephen whispered to the Alphans after the short grace, which had been done in Afrikaans. They were offered more beer, but both John and Victor shook their heads and started taking hesitant bites of the strange fare on their plates.

"This is like grits," Koenig remarked, indicating the white glob, "just much thicker. What is on it?"

"Tomato and onion," Stephen explained. "They call it smoor."

John smiled. "I like it!"

The food actually was very good, the meat fatty and very tender. They found out that it was mutton, and that 'braai' was the Afrikaans word for barbeque. Victor found a cream colored cold dish particularly flavorful and discovered that it was called 'slaphakskeentjies': boiled baby onions in a creamy pickle sauce. Both men went back for more meat and some of the things they enjoyed most, and by the end of the meal their faces were greasy with pleasure.

"When do you need to return to your ship?" Stephen asked.

"As soon as possible," Koenig replied. "If bringing Andries Burger the good news about his brother is not the reason we came here, we need to continue our journey and find out."

"We have beds for you tonight," Stephen said. "We'll take you back to your ship tomorrow. We do have some older vehicles that continued working after the EMP effect, but they are carefully guarded. Men will be loading up a truck for you during the night."

"A truck?" John asked, surprised.

"They have decided to send some stuff with you to help you," Stephen explained. "Provisions, seed and a few other things. Is there anything specific you need on Berg?"

Koenig thought for a moment, looking to Victor for help. Finally the scientist said: "Fabric… material… we have babies, and children, and limited supplies to sew new clothes. We have cotton growing, but it may take a while before we can even use it properly. And the women… you know…" he added with a grin. "And maybe old radios and computers: even if they don't work, we can recycle the parts."

"I'll tell them," the redhead laughed.

"When we get back to the ship, where could we head?" the Commander asked. "We'd like to get past these mountains."

"I've not seen the ship," Stephen mulled, "but from your story I don't quite understand. It seems you don't have much control over it. But west of here there is a passage through the mountains called Meiringspoort. It will take you to the coastal town of George, where there are many people. If you head west you'll eventually reached Cape Town that was hit by a nuclear warhead and to the east along the coast is Port Elizabeth, a big city that was spared, but was thrown back to the Stone Age without electricity and electronics. It is a lawless place now. We can give you a map."

"And a compass?" Victor added and the man nodded.

"Can these people spare all this?" Koenig asked, not wanting to impose on their hosts too much.

"The Afrikaner is a resourceful nation," Stephen smiled. "And they will gladly give you the shirts off their backs. Now," he pointed, "that table by the side has deserts if you like. Also some sherry."

Both men patted their overfull stomachs and shook their heads. The sun had dipped away while they had been talking, and a few lanterns had been lit. Cheerful women were carrying the leftover food to the houses as men sliced the remaining meat from the carcass and piled it in a big bowl. The boys had come from the field, and one had carried the football over to the two Alphans with a marker, so both men signed their names with a flourish. "Mountain man, mountain man," they chanted, pointing at the Professor, who pulled faces at them.

"Don't mind them," Stephen smiled. "They don't often see friendly strangers. And the Afrikaans for mountain is 'berg' and 'man' is of course, man, so that's what your name denotes to them."

Victor smiled at the boys. "I don't mind at all. It's rather sweet." The boys ran off, tossing the football between them.

"Bedtime here is early," Stephen said, "but most people rise at first light. "I'll take you to your respective families and bid you goodnight."

By mid-morning the next day the Commander and Professor Bergman found themselves back at the ship, leaning against the hull eating their foil-wrapped cold lunch of meat slices, onion salad and potato salad; watching the dust-cloud of the disappearing truck. Koenig shook his head slowly, overcome.

"I really hope we can take all this stuff back to Berg with us. Those people have been so gracious just freely giving us all those things." The back of the ship was loaded with big wrapped bundles, hand-woven baskets filled with provisions, a plethora of old radios and computer parts and even a couple of bolts of fabric: denim and khaki, of course.

"I made a list while they were loading up," Victor smiled. "And also jotted down a few interesting things… like these shoes. Vellies… they are called… skin shoes. And those dried meat provisions is something called Biltong. One thing is for sure… we won't be hungry again soon!"

"Andries gave me a letter and some photos for his brother," John said. "We'll just have to persuade the intergalactic council to let us take everything."

"If this was our purpose in coming here, John, they may have wanted us to be given everything in the first place."

"It seems such a simple purpose, but, thinking about it, perhaps it is not. These people will be the first ever to know that we survived the explosion on the moon, and no doubt they will spread the word. Perhaps earth needed that good news."

The men had finished eating and spread the map on the ground, squatting beside it. "So, we'll be heading west, with the mountains visible to us. Here is Klaarstroom, and here is the opening they were talking about, so we are somewhere in between," John pointed. Victor nodded, following the finger. "When we get to the gap in the mountains, we'll stop and explore a bit on foot, since we have shoes now. And a shotgun! If we think it's possible, I could take the ship through the gap and once we get to the ocean, we'll decide what to do next."

"And if we can't take the ship through?"

"Then the only option is for me to take it over the mountains. Stephen was pretty adamant that there is nothing inland for hundreds of kilometers."

"And that there are gangs of very violent people roaming this land. Pieter told me a little about their defenses last night. Their animals are closely guarded 24 hours a day, but they have sheep, cattle and pigs apart from those horses. Hence the fierce dogs too. Livestock theft is their biggest problem."

The men had finished eating and bundled up their trash. "Well, we better get going. I'd like for us to get to that gap before dark and maybe do a bit of exploring tonight, so we can be ready to take the ship through tomorrow," John said.

Victor looked around for a few minutes before joining his Commander on the ship. "You know John, I could live here again," he smiled wistfully after a last glance at the landscape they were leaving behind, stuffing their trash the basket that had held their food and still held two full bottles of Coca Cola. "Look, John!" Victor suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the hull where moments ago there had been an opening.

"Well, well, well," John said. "It seems we did find our purpose and they're ready to spirit us away!" Even as he spoke, some gel came down from the ceiling and started wrapping itself around the pile of goods packed in the rear. "They're even taking care of our stuff! How considerate."

"Well, we better take our seats so we can be packed too," Victor said, his voice filled with emotion. "Goodbye South Africa… goodbye earth… it was good news to us too, seeing a pocket of mankind doing so well, wasn't it, John?"

(To be continued…)