A Time to Build: The Umea Bakearen, Book One

By Rick Rossing

Wayne Freed always suspected that he didn't quite fit in. His suspicions were confirmed when he learned that he was not from Earth at all. His adoptive father told him that he was Umea Bakearen, a child whose existence had kept Earth out of a war which would surely mean its destruction.
Now, as an adult, he has settled into the life of an ambassador to the greater galactic community. He meets Ben Elan, the other Umea Bakearen with whom he switched places. Though initially jealous of one another, the two young men become fast friends. They vacation together, share stories of life on their respective planets, and even meet and marry twin sisters.
As they balance love and relationships with their duties as Umea Bakearen, they are renowned celebrities throughout the galaxy, except on Earth, where almost the entire population is blissfully unaware of the treaty that has prevented its destruction for over twenty years.
That is all about to change, however, because someone wants to keep Earth out of the Union, and they are willing to kill both of the Umea Bakearen to ensure it!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rick Rossing
• Release date: Sep 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301179015

Rick Rossing

Rick Rossing was born in Louisiana, on Earth. He has lived in California, South Dakota, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Oklahoma, and Connecticut, where he currently resides with his wife and teenage son.He started writing stories in 2011 after accepting the NaNoWriMo challenge. He succeeded, and hasn't stopped writing since.In addition to writing, Rick is a stay-at-home dad (not Mr. Mom--call him that at one's own peril), an avid chef, and a creator of interesting crafts made of duct tape, which he often sells at craft fairs.

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A Time To Build:

The Umea Bakearen, Book One

By Rick Rossing

Copyright 2013 Rick Rossing

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 by Rick Rossing

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. The author thanks you for supporting his hard work.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Unsettling Revelations

Chapter 2: The Other Me

Chapter 3: Coming of Age

Chapter 4: Meeting Our Matches

Chapter 5: Coming to America, Earth

Chapter 6: The Honeymoon, Interrupted

Chapter 7: Aftermath

Chapter 8: A Situation

Chapter 9: The Southern Continent

Chapter 10: The United Nations

Chapter 11: Packing Up

Chapter 12: Relocation

Chapter 13: Ada Stein

Chapter 14: Freehold

Chapter 15: Settling In

Chapter 16: Building Lasaitasuna

Chapter 17: Lost in Space

Chapter 18: A Troubling Development

Chapter 19: The Return of the Newlyweds

Chapter 20: A Light Dawns

Chapter 21: A Much, Much Larger Community

Chapter 22: Departure

Chapter 23: Taken

Chapter 24: Negotiation

Epilogue

Author's Note

About the Author

Contact Information

Chapter 1: Unsettling Revelations

My mom used to tell me that aliens kidnapped her real son and replaced him with me. I knew that she was only joking. She didn't really believe I was an alien. I didn't believe it either, at least not until the day that I learned the truth.

I am known by the name Wayne Ross Freed, though that's not the name I was born with. I was born on the fifteenth of April, 1968. I grew up in Oklahoma City. I still call it my hometown, since I have family there. I wasn't born in Oklahoma City, even though that's what it says on my birth certificate. I was born in the Deneb system.

On the nineteenth of April, 1968, my birth-parents took Wayne Ross Freed, and gave him my name. His name became mine.

If that all sounds confusing, try to imagine how I felt when I learned the truth. Even now, I get a headache if I try to think too hard about it. It's not that important to me anymore. Wayne is my name, now.

I was sixteen when I learned the truth. I had gotten into a fight at school, and my father had been called to bring me home. Instead of bringing me straight home, he took me for a ride first.

Whenever Dad had something important to say to one of us, he always waited until we were in the car together. Then he would turn off the radio, and start talking. Lucy and I learned to fear the short cut. It was an effective strategy, though. I didn't always respond to Dad, but I did always remember what he said.

Tell me what happened, said Dad, turning down one of the many long, straight roads that surrounded the city. All I could see were oil fields and cattle. I had no idea where we were heading.

Not much to tell, I said. A couple of the bigger kids started bullying me in the cafeteria. They just like to remind me of my place in the social order.

They're just jealous of you.

I honestly don't see why. I don't have many friends, and the ones I do have scatter when the bullies come. The only girl who will even look at me is Lucy's friend Janet, and she's twelve! Sure, I get good grades, at least where it matters. But the only people impressed by good grades are teachers. My classmates hate being shown up.

Most people think they're outsiders at age sixteen. Probably even the bullies. People just find different outlets for the stress of that age.

Yeah, well, I get tired of it. I wish they'd go find another outlet. Or at least another nerd.

You're not a nerd.

I'm not a jock. I'm not a motor head. I'm not a preppie. I'm not a smoker. That pretty much leaves 'nerd,' or any of the other names.

Well, nerds are going to rule the world someday, said my father, shrugging in the way he usually did when he recognized his argument wasn't going to get him anywhere. And what do you mean, 'where it matters?' All of your classes matter.

Really? I don't see why History matters. Do I really need to know when the Germans bombed Pearl Bailey?

Pearl Harbor. And it was the Japanese.

I know. I was making a joke.

Do you really think a war is something to joke about? Dad's tone was strange. I could tell that I had struck a nerve.

I'm sorry, Dad. But my point is, why does it matter that I know when something happened?

Sometimes you need to know when in order to appreciate why.

Yeah, well, it's the dates that make up the test answers. I get so caught up trying to remember the dates that it doesn't even enter my mind why it's relevant.

That's probably why you have trouble learning it. You have never had a problem learning something if the subject interested you. You taught yourself to read, remember? We were even told by the school system to not let you read, because you might learn it wrong.

Yeah, well, I've told you before that I think school is stupid. I looked out at the seemingly endless straight line road ahead. At least the way they do it here.

Dad glanced at me. What do you mean by that, exactly?

I looked at my father. His tone of voice had become strange again. Are you alright, Dad?

I'm fine. I'm just... He took a breath. What made you decide to fight, today?

I told you. I wanted them to pick on someone else. I'm tired of feeling like an outsider. Sometimes I think Mom is right when she says I'm not really her son. Maybe I am from somewhere else. I really come from a place where no one gets bullied, and school isn't stupid.

People get bullied everywhere. And I'm willing to bet that every child believes that school is stupid, sometimes. He was silent for a long time. It's true, you know.

School is stupid?

No! Dad said. He laughed and said, Well, yes, I suppose it is, sometimes. But that's not what I meant. He paused a long moment, as if he was weighing whether or not to say what came next. We aren't your real parents.

I was stunned, particularly by the fact that I wasn't stunned. I know.

Dad almost ran off the road. He hit the brakes, then pulled the car over. What? How?

It's okay, Dad. I mean, I have always suspected that you and mom were hiding something from me. I have a friend who found out he was adopted, too. We compared notes, and I started to realize that you treat me, well, differently.

In what way? I've always tried to treat you the same as your sister.

That's just it. I've often detected a hint of hesitation, as if you were trying to make sure that your reactions to whatever I had done were the same as your reactions to Lucy, if she had done the same thing.

Dad really was surprised by that. Really?

It's not that I ever detected any less love for me or anything, it's just that whenever you disciplined us, you would always scold Lucy first, then me, even though I'm the older brother. It was almost as if you were, um, afraid, to discipline me until after I saw that she was being treated the same way. Even if I was the one who started it.

I'm impressed. He paused a moment, then laughed. See? I told you that no one could ever prevent you from learning what you saw fit. I never even realized I was doing that.

Neither did Mom, but she followed your example. She doesn't know, does she?

Not anymore. The knowledge that her 'real' son was somewhere far away was too much for her spirit to handle. Eventually, she asked to forget. It was within the realm of possibility for your people, so they granted her wish. As far as she knows, you are our first-born child, our only son.

My people? What, were they gypsies or something?

No, he said, leveling a serious gaze at me. Aliens.

Mom was telling the truth? I was kidnapped by aliens?

Well, 'kidnapped' is hardly the word I would have used, said Dad. It was an agreed-upon exchange.

Am I going to sprout antennae out of my head? Turn green? Start snatching bodies? I started checking my hands for signs of webbing. Am I going to suffocate in this air?

Dad laughed. No. Well, no more than the rest of us. You are fully human, just like me. The only thing different between your race and mine is location. I was born in Massachusetts. You were born on Deneb IV. That is, the fourth planet from the star Deneb. I don't know in what city. I have always suspected that the human race here on Earth originated on Deneb.

You mean like we're the thirteenth colony? Suddenly I had visions of a campy sci-fi TV show I watched as a child. It was about a rag-tag fugitive fleet of spaceships fighting shiny robots while searching for Earth.

I think we're more like Botany Bay. Dad grinned. And no, not Khan's sleeper ship. Dad had watched campy sci-fi TV shows when he was a child, too. I mean the British penal colony in Australia.

Earth (or Sol III, as it was officially designated) was once a colony where the worst of Deneb's criminals were deposited. Some ten thousand years ago, there had been a prisoner revolt. They tried to hijack a supply ship. They almost succeeded, but the captain of the vessel had secretly sent a distress signal, alerting the Council. Control of the ship was remotely commandeered and flown into the sun. The colony was abandoned and quarantined. All other alien races were warned to avoid the system and make no contact with the inhabitants until further notice. After a dozen generations, the colonists had forgotten their own origins. Once every fifteen years survey ships were sent to check on the colony's progress. They were forbidden to make contact with the colonists. Their mission was to simply orbit the planet, mapping the globe and making note of any significant advances in technology. Over centuries, the colony spread from the insertion point, until they had settled the entire planet. There had been frequent conflicts between the settlements, but still they continued to thrive and invent. Once the planet had rediscovered electricity, there were hopes that the people of Earth were finally ready to join the Galactic Community.

Then came the First World War, then World War II, followed by the Atomic Era. The multiple detonations of atomic bombs over heavily populated cities shocked and horrified the survey team observing from orbit. When they reported back to the home-world, there were heated arguments about how to deal with the crisis. No one on any of the civilized planets had used atomic weapons for centuries.

Eradicating every sentient being living on a planet so that conquerors could settle on it, while barbaric, was at least understandable. Making the planet uninhabitable was simply wasteful and stupid. It had last happened over twelve millennia ago. Altair, once home to a great civilization, was nothing but a blackened rock in space. The oceans had boiled dry, sandy beaches melted into glass, and the atmosphere burned away.

The architects of the galaxy's last nuclear war had been sentenced to banishment. They were deposited in a penal colony on a primitive world. The name of that world was Earth.

Are you telling me that we're descended from criminals?

No. I'm descended from criminals. You're the exchange student, remember?

Sorry, Dad. I took a breath. So what happens now? Am I going to be sent back, now that I know the truth?

Not at all. Your presence here is important. The exchange kept us from war.

I gulped. W-war?

It's known as the War That Almost Was. You've heard of the Roswell incident, right?

You're not going to tell me that actually happened, are you? I had read about the incident in a book about UFOs. There had been a bunch of them written in the 60s and 70s. I was fascinated by such books as a child. Perhaps that was why my mother started calling me her alien baby.

In 1947, so the story goes, a flying saucer crashed in a field near Roswell, New Mexico. A story published in July of that year quoted an Air Force officer as saying that they had recovered three dead bodies from the wreckage. The whole accident scene had been restricted, and all the evidence had been taken to a secret base in the Nevada desert. That base was called Area 51.

My mother had been born in 1947.

The crash almost started a war. A few days later, an Air Force general was approached by a man who claimed to be a mediator in interplanetary disputes. His name was Dok Fil. He explained that the Denebians, whose ship had crashed, were outraged by the incident, and demanded the bodies of their dead returned to them.

How do you know about this?

Dok Fil told me.

He's still alive?

Oh yes, I see him every year. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Did they return the bodies?

Eventually. Dok Fil was taken to President Truman. He agreed to return the bodies in exchange for a promise that Deneb would leave the US alone. I don't think it even occurred to Truman that any benefit could be gained by maintaining a constructive relationship with aliens who had interstellar travel.

What does that have to do with me?

Your birth-parents were on a survey ship that witnessed the near-disaster of Gemini 8.

What happened to Gemini 8?

"The Gemini capsule started spinning out of control. It almost didn't make it home. The pilot of the capsule managed to stop it from spinning, and made it safely home. He had to break rules to do it. The crew on the Denebian ship were impressed by his ingenuity, and reported back that our space program might be worth observing.

After that, the Denebians decided to put observers in the NASA space program. They also put observers in the Russian program. They were instructed to assess how rapidly we were developing.

How did they do that?

Using counterfeit records, several observers managed to apply for positions that allowed them to see what was going on. It worked for a while. Apollo 1 changed everything.

That, I remember reading about. A fire inside the capsule killed three astronauts.

Exactly. Do you know what happens after an accident like that?

People start looking for scapegoats.

Dad nodded. That's exactly what happened. The investigation found the counterfeit records. We thought for sure that we had uncovered a conspiracy.

You were there?

I hadn't been there long, but I was a Lieutenant in the Air Force. When the Soviet Union accused us of placing spies in their space program, ones our side knew nothing about, we started questioning our prisoners. All we could get out of anyone was name and service numbers. They were detained for months, at least in the US. We couldn't try them for treason, because we had no evidence they were working for the Soviets, but we couldn't let them go, either. Not until we knew who they were working for. The Soviets, on the other hand, summarily executed all of their detainees. You can imagine how well that went over.

Not very well, I'll bet.

"No, not at all. Dok Fil returned to Earth in order to mediate the dispute. He revealed that Deneb had been responsible for the observers. He also warned us that the Denebians were crying out for war. The observers, after all, were there for peaceful reasons.

When you were born, Dok Fil had an idea that could prevent war. He was aware of another baby that had been born that same day. Almost at the same time, too.

So?

Denebians believe that twins are special. They occur very rarely on Deneb, apparently. Dok Fil became excited and left for Deneb immediately. He returned only a few days later.

How far away is Deneb, exactly?

No idea. From what I understand about hyperspace, distance is irrelevant. He returned with you, your parents, and an older woman who he said was your grandmother. He said that you two children were destined to promote peace not just between our two worlds, but throughout the galaxy. Do you know what a 'peace child' is?

No.

Dad explained how certain tribes in Indonesia would make peace with their neighbors by exchanging children. The idea was that a person willing to give up his child was trustworthy.

You are the Umea Bakearen of Earth. The Peace Child.

What do I do?

You're a kind of ambassador. As long as no harm comes to you, there is peace.

What about your son?

You are my son.

I mean your real son. We can't even travel to the moon, so we are obviously not capable of attacking their home-world. What keeps him safe?

I often wonder that myself. I suspect that we are closer to unlocking the secrets of interstellar travel than we even realize. That's why they infiltrated our space program. As long as we're grounded, we're no threat to the galaxy.

They were interfering with our cultural evolution? That's against the Prime Directive!

Dad laughed. In the first place, that's fiction. There is no Prime Directive, as much as it pains me to say it. Second, we're not, strictly speaking, a pristine culture. We're a colony, at least we were ten thousand years ago. As they put us here, what they do with us is their business as far as the other races are concerned.

Other races? I gasped. You mean there are green-skinned aliens with antennae?

Well, the Polarans are green-skinned, but they don't have antennae. Aldebarans are blue-skinned. They don't really have antennae, either, but they do have knobby bumps on the sides of their heads. Dok Fil is an Aldebaran, by the way. I don't think I mentioned that.

You're serious, aren't you?

Where do you think I go when I leave on those business trips?

Insurance conventions. That's what you always called them.

Dad chuckled. Well, in a way, that's what they were. The Denebians require proof that you're well cared for. They're good people once you get to know them.

I sat quietly for a moment. Dad, you know this is a lot to take in at once. I'm still not sure if I even believe it.

That's why we're out here. I hope your seat belt is secure.

Dad reached under the dashboard and touched a hidden switch. Suddenly, the car rose off the ground. I watched out the window as the ground sped away at a dizzying speed.

No way! Where did you get this car?

Strictly speaking, it's a company car. I'm breaking a few rules right now, but I thought it might help you see the truth.

Where are we going?

Area 51. Groom Lake. Dok Fil is waiting to meet you.

Really?

Really.

The trip from Oklahoma City to Groom Lake took less than ten minutes. As we were descending, I saw a large spacecraft on the ground below us and asked Dad about it.

That's his ship. I was supposed to meet with him today, when I got the call you were in a fight. I called him, and he agreed that it was time you and he met.

When we landed, I saw Dok Fil. Dad, he's blue.

I told you so. He's Aldebaran.

The meeting was short. Dad introduced us, and we shook hands.

Good afternoon, Master Freed. I am pleased to see you.

Uh, pleased to meet you, sir.

We exchanged a few pleasantries, and then Dad said it was time to return home. Your mother is going to start to worry if we're not home before dinner.

As we were flying home, I said to Dad, I just met an alien!

You are an alien.

I don't feel like an alien.

That's okay, son. You never asked for any of this. But now that you know the truth, you should also know that you must not speak of this to anyone. The people of this world are not ready to join an interstellar community. We can't even accept our own people, if any differences exist.

I understand, Dad.

And don't forget, no matter what happens, your mom and I love you.

I love you too, Dad.

Chapter 2: The Other Me

After I learned of my role as an extraterrestrial ambassador, I became more diligent in my studies, knowing that I needed to maintain high grades to get into college, and then into law school. My goal was to become a patent attorney. I would be in a position to slowly introduce Earth to various alien technologies. I would also work to prevent unauthorized tech from reaching Earth.

I double-majored in Computer Science and Pre-Law. It was not an easy path, to be sure, but I had always been quick to learn things when I saw fit. I took an accelerated track, and maintained a 3.95 GPA. I even found time to watch campy sci-fi programs.

My father had started bringing me along on his business trips, since they would eventually become my business trips.

Between semesters, while classmates partied in the Florida Keys, I traveled abroad. That's what I told anyone who asked about my vacation. It wasn't a lie, exactly. It's just that instead of crossing the ocean, I traveled across the galaxy.

It impressed me how many alien races there really were. The Earth would always seem like a very small place to me after attending a Galactic Conference, or UnionCon, as they were commonly called.

Dad explained that the exact format of a UnionCon varied, depending on which race was the host for that cycle, but they always followed an agreed-upon curriculum that included several elements.

First, there was a cultural exchange, in which delegates (or registrants, since it was open to anyone who desired to attend) would learn about each other through dressing up in costumes. Most beings referred to this as cosplay.

The second element was a bizarre bazaar, in which vendors would sell trinkets, snacks, or almost any kind of souvenir anyone could imagine. It seemed that one thing almost every culture shared was a fondness for campy sci-fi television programs and holovids.

The third element was a talent program, during which entertainers from all over the galaxy would perform. I always enjoyed this part of UnionCon.

The fourth element was the Council of the Galactic Union of Star Systems, or Galactic Council. Each system sent delegates who represented their home-worlds. Trade agreements and laws were arbitrated in Council. Often, petitioners sought admission into the Union on behalf of their home-worlds.

Finally, there was the peace delegation. Races who had some animosity toward one another would negotiate and renew peace treaties. The nature of each treaty varied as widely as the diversity of sentient races at the UnionCon. One treaty involved a ritual blood-letting. Another involved one ambassador shaving his head and giving the trimmings to another in exchange for a vial of sweat. Still another involved one ambassador kissing his counterpart, then saying pleasant things about her parents.

What was that about? I asked my father.

Marriage counseling, my father replied. Those two are husband and wife. He once commented that her mother was a terrible cook. It started a battle that escalated into a global-scale war. It threatened to pull neighboring systems into the conflict, before Dok Fil intervened.

Over a cooking insult?

Some systems take food very seriously, Dad remarked.

I'll keep that in mind.

There is something else you should know. You are going to meet your birth parents at this event. They have been looking forward to this for a long time.

I didn't think of that. I looked at my father. I'm going to meet him, too, aren't I? I mean, your son.

I keep telling you, said Dad, you're my son. But yes, you are going to meet him. I've seen him every year since the exchange.

When it was our turn, Dok Fil introduced my father, who presented a slide program of photos from our last family vacation and my graduation. Then he motioned for me to join him on the dais and introduced me to the assembly, who greeted me with a standing ovation. I was shocked by the reaction of the crowd, and turned toward Dad. You could have warned me, I started to say.

Dad was no longer on the dais. I looked around to see where he went and spotted him walking toward someone. I looked to where he was going and noticed that a couple was staring at me. The woman's eyes were beginning to tear up, and she held her husband's hand tightly as they slowly stood. There was a young man with them, who looked to be my age. He seemed familiar to me, though I knew this was the first time I had ever seen him. That is, it was the first time we had seen each other since we were infants.

My father shook hands with all of them. Then all four of them walked up the ramp. The applause died down as they joined me on the dais, and Dok Fil introduced the couple as Kurtis and Sara Elan, and the young man as Ben. There was another standing ovation, and when the applause died down again, we were all escorted into a private conference room.

Wayne, said the man I had always known as Dad. Meet your birth parents.

There was nothing extraordinary about the Elan family, which I found only slightly disappointing. I had been cultivating visions of a wealthy statesman, or a decorated military hero, or even a Nobel laureate scientist (or whatever their planet had for Nobel prizes). They were, instead, average.

Kurtis was a pilot, but he was more a commercial airline pilot than a flying ace. He had served for several cycles in the Denebian Galactic Survey Corps, never having seen any actual combat. When his tour was up, he went to work for United Interstellar, flying tourists and business-beings between systems. That sounded impressive to me, but he himself described it as mostly routine.

There really is not much to see between star systems. Stars just look like tiny dots. The rest is blackness. You seldom really get to see anything except during landing and take-off procedures, and then you are too busy to enjoy the sights.

After five