Redwood: Servant of the State (15 page)

Hordes of people surrounded the pad. Armed security personnel stood guard, keeping people behind a line set up around the perimeter. A platform with podium stood on the opposite side. A military band stood at attention.

“I’ll go see what’s up,” Jason said.

He stepped out of the spaceship. Somebody at the podium with a microphone said over a loudspeaker, “It’s … one of the O’Donnell triplets!”

The crowd roared in approval.

Bemused, Jason walked a few more steps toward the podium. Everybody jumped up and down, screaming, whooping, whistling.

With each step, Jason gained more confidence, deciding that they really were cheering for him after all. He stopped in the middle of the landing pad, raised both hands clasped over his head, shaking them. The crowd went wild. Photo lights flashed.

Jacob elbowed Jeremy in the ribs. “Are we gonna stand here and let him receive all the glory?”

Together the other two boys exited the spaceship and started waiving at the crowd.

“It’s the other two O’Donnell triplets! Let’s give them a warm New Texas welcome!”

They walked over where Jason stood, waving at the crowd, giving thumbs up.

A crush of young girls nearly overwhelmed a security guard as they scrambled to get to the boys.

“Back! Back! Everybody stay behind the line!”

He popped a couple of them in the face with his baton and the girls fell back into the crowd.

Dee Dee and I looked at each other, shrugged, and exited the craft holding hands.

“It’s Diane Fremont and Marcus Savitch, everyone! The heroes of Redwood!”

A group of girls squealed and sang out to me, frantically waving their hands.

“Marcus! Marcus! Over here! Marcus!”

Photo lights flashed, and I noted vid cams in the crowd.

“Diane! Look over here Diane!”

“Smile for the cams!”

“Miss Fremont, can we have an interview?”

About this time a large tall man came from the podium area over to us. He wore a business suit, had almond shaded skin, dark hair, and a huge smile.

“Welcome, welcome! I am President Antonio Montoya. Welcome to New Aggieland! Come with me up to the podium.”

We followed him. The crowd kept cheering, the photo lights kept flashing.

When we reached the platform, President Montoya presented us with a wave of his hand, and said in the mic, “Ladies and gentlemen … I present to you … the heroes of Redwood!”

The crowd erupted in cheers. The band started playing “The Spirit of Aggieland,” and everyone sang along.

Some may boast of prowess bold
Of the school they think so grand
But there’s a spirit can ne’er be told
It’s the Spirit of Aggieland

We are the Aggies, the Aggies are we
True to each other as Aggies can be
We’ve got to fight boys
We’ve got to fight!
We’ve got to fight for Maroon and White
After they’ve boosted all the rest
Then they will come and join the best
For we are the Aggies, the Aggies so true
We’re from Texas A M New!

After the song, somebody in the crowd started chanting, “Speech! Speech! Speech!”

Soon the whole crowd picked it up. President Montoya looked at us with eyebrows raised. Jason pushed me toward him, so I walked the rest of the way up to the podium.

The crowd quieted immediately. I looked out at thousands of eyes looking back at mine. Photo lights flashed. I gulped. I’d never given a speech before.

But I’d done some reading on the trip over, and I knew how to start a speech at New Texas A&M. Somewhere, somebody had said to always start a speech by saying “Howdy, Ags!” and end it by saying, “Gig ’em!”

I had no idea why. “Howdy” seemed like a provincial greeting, so it kind of made sense, but why a speech had to begin with it, I was clueless. And I was equally mystified as to what “Gig ’em” meant.

Oh well. When in Rome and all that.

I bent my head to the mic and said, “Howdy, Ags!”

The crowd roared in approval, for a solid minute. More photo lights flashed. President Montoya bent down and murmured in my ear, “Keep going, Marcus. You’re doing great. This is being broadcast all over the planet.”

I gulped, and decided the President’s confidence building skills were sorely lacking. But I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly before approaching the mic again.

“On behalf of all of us, I want to thank you for welcoming us here today. We did not expect this kind of a reception. It’s heartening, and humbling at the same time.”

I paused. I had the crowd’s full attention.

Somewhere a girl yelled out, “We love you, Marcus!”

I nodded in her general direction in appreciation, then continued.

“We were introduced as ‘the heroes of Redwood.’ We appreciate that. Thank you for acknowledging our part in the University Revolution. But we’re not the real heroes of Redwood. That honor belongs to people like Scientist David Ng and his wife Susan, and Professor Milton Kalinowski. These researchers gave their lives to free Redwood from the State.

“And before they shed their blood for New Texas A and M, they gave their lives to research on Redwood. They toiled in secret for years. Scientist Ng observed the giant trees on Redwood for nearly two decades. With his death, the Janus String’s most knowledgeable person of those wonderful trees is gone.

“Professor Kalinowski likewise spent years on crop experiments, gaining valuable data and expanding our understanding of the unique agricultural environment Redwood has, and its potential benefits for people living on all the planets in the string.”

Mentally, I’d decided it wouldn’t be prudent to bring up what kind of crops the good Professor experimented on, so I left out any mention of tobacco.

“All three were good people, some of the best people I’ve ever known. They gave their lives to Redwood. They are the
true
heroes of Redwood. Not us. Thanks, and gig ’em.”

I stepped back from the mic. The crowd roared again. Maybe “gig ’em” was something to say in order to let the crowd know you were finished speaking. Curious tradition, I mused.

The band started playing the first few chords of the “Aggie War Hymn.” When the main part of the song finished, everybody grabbed the shoulders of those next to them, and started swaying back and forth as they sang.

Saw Varsity’s ho-orns o-off
Saw Varsity’s ho-orns off
SAW Varsity’s horns off! Short! Hey!
Varsity’s horns are saw-awed o-off
Varsity’s horns are saw-awed off
VARSITY’S horns are sawed off! Short! Hey!

“What’s a Varsity?” Dee Dee whispered to me.

“I dunno. Whatever it is, it evidently needs its horns sawed off.”

President Montoya took to the mic again to make a more formal speech. A woman in a business suit with pulled back hair introduced herself to us as our student counselor.

“I’m Natasha Kotov.”

She shook hands with each of us. When she came to Dee Dee, I felt her flinch. I noticed Councilor Kotov’s manicured fingernails and perfect makeup. Dee Dee had neither. Her nails were plain, and she wore no makeup.

I whispered in Dee Dee’s ear, “Remember: we’re country come to town.”

Dee Dee smiled at me, and shook Counselor Kotov’s hand. Kotov escorted us off the platform to a waiting limo roped off from the crowds. We sped away from the spaceport toward New Bryan and the main campus.

“Congratulations,” Councilor Kotov said. “You just made all the newspapers.”

She handed me a vid paper. It showed a photo of me at the mic, and a headline read, “Hero of Redwood Shows Grace, Style, & Humility.”

“Here’s another one.”

She flicked a finger, and another front page appeared. The headline read, “True Aggie Spirit Shines Through: Hero Credits Others for Redwood Success.”

“Not bad for a Servant.”

“Shut up, Jason.”

“The PR we’re getting off your speech is awesome, Marcus. Congratulations. I think you are all going to really enjoy your time here at New Texas A and M University.”

As we sped closer to the campus, I reached across the seat to hold Dee Dee’s hand.

“I’m sure we will.”

THE END

Don’t miss the next book in Jaxon Reed’s Redwood series,
Redwood: Twelver
.

www.jaxonreed.com

@authorjaxonreed