Chapter 4

Searching Everywhere

Bonnie, Governor Starbeam and Gaston went different directions upon leaving the university. The Governor contacted his office and requested two airplane tickets bound for San Luis Obispo and then returned to his normal schedule. Bonnie and Gaston went separately to pick up their travel packs and then reconnected in the line to board their flight south.

The airplane was a small intercity size, boarding was easy and the flight itself was only an hour or so. They began driving onto the beach at Oceano, just south of Pismo, a few hours after lunch at the university. Afternoon sun was burning through the fog as Bonnie drove toward a distant crane that was looming from fog and obviously out of place on the public beach. Dark shadowy outlines of off-shore war-game ships sometimes fluttered into view like shadows in silvery mist. Bonnie drove carefully weaving through the wide beach full of people digging Pismo clams and enjoying volleyball and other beach activities. Surfboards and kayaks were randomly laid here and there. Many other cars going both directions were also carefully weaving their ways through the beach people.

Bonnie slowly approached the large crane. It was surrounded by a crowd of people. The crane had already picked up the airplane and turned it around so it was aimed at the water. The jet airplane had been set back down on a large flat sled. The plane could thus be pulled through soft sand on a sled without damaging the landing wheels and undercarriage.

"I wonder what the plan is," Gaston mused. "Let's find out."

Bonnie stopped the car next to a group of onlookers and asked what the work crew was going to do with the airplane. The general group consensus was the beach is a perfect runway and the plane would take off for the nearest airport as soon as there was a sunny day and a low tide. Possibly tomorrow afternoon.

"How long has it been since you've had a sunny day? Gaston asked.

"This is the most sun we've seen in a week," the nearest person responded.

"Are you saying this airplane landed on the beach in the fog?" Bonnie asked.

"The fog was almost rain that day. It was just before the storm rolled in." One of the work crew wearing a hard hat stepped forward and answered. "It's not easy to drive a car around here in the fog. Nobody knows how they were able to land in one piece. Regarding take-off; the weather report is for a clear day tomorrow."

"Thanks for the info," Bonnie said. "We'll probably come back tomorrow to watch."

"Nobody drives on the beach tomorrow," someone further back in the crowd reported. "The pilots need the beach to be as smooth as possible for take-off."

"Thanks again," Gaston said as Bonnie began a wide turn around the crowd of people and aimed them back toward the beach access road.

"How do you think that plane landed in a dense fog?" Gaston wondered.

"It was an instrument landing," Bonnie answered as they bumped onto the access road and left the beach.

"Yes, I agree." Gaston responded. "But instruments for landing in bad weather follow signals and instructions from an airport control tower. Since there is no airport, the guidance signals must have originated on the beach. And the only way that could happen is if one of the military war game units set up a temporary landing control system on the beach."

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Bonnie responded. "The plane swerved before it reached the landing craft and temporary landing equipment. We don't need to know exactly how all of this happened. Our job is to assume our ten friendly creator's lab big brains and two pilots put their heads together and escaped. Now we two have to figure out how they escaped and where they are. What would you have done, Gaston?"

"I would have phoned someone immediately unless I was afraid to expose my position. They are either captured or they took the batteries out of their phones and are on the run."

"So for us to stay on the hunt, we assume they took their batteries out of their phones and walked fairly straight away from the beach." Bonnie said as they approached the main road following the coast. "Do you know your way around here?" She asked.

"As a matter of fact I do, this two lane road is Highway 1. Turn right to drive parallel with the beach. I'll watch for some kind of sign when we are closer to where the plane was."

Bonnie drove south a little slower than normal yet not so slow as to draw attention. She occasionally pulled over to let faster cars pass. Gaston released his seatbelt and reached into the backseat for the travel kit governor Starbeam had given him before they left Berkeley. He turned back forward, opened the case and selected a small telescope and camera. The closed case was small and needed little space on the floor at his feet.

"Okay. We are close to the distance we traveled to the airplane on the beach." Bonnie said as she slowed the car and drove on the road edge, while leaving sufficient room for faster cars to pass.

Gaston watched the brush at the edge of the dunes with the telescope and plain eyesight. They passed by a trailer park and camping area and Bonnie watched for signs closer in.

"I am continuing on in this direction," Bonnie said. "I have not seen anything unusual. No signal or sign of any kind."

They drove on in silence with Bonnie still looking close in and Gaston sometimes scanning more distant open spaces. There really was nothing unusual to see.

They crossed the bountiful farm land where Arroyo Grande meets the Pacific, the inland side of Oceano dunes. The road turns sharply at the edge of the rich delta land and climbs to sharply turn back south and on into the Nipomo eucalyptus forest. An arrow pointed to a golf course.

Bonnie glanced at Gaston with questioning eyes. He twirled a raised pointing finger and then pointed it down. Bonnie slowed and turned around in seconds. She accelerated without speaking and zoomed back down the hill.

"Now we're thinking like illegal aliens," Bonnie said as she turned the car left and toward the beach; into a farm-labor parking area. They parked between two compact cars similar to their airport rental.

Thirty or forty latinoas were harvesting broccoli on one side of the road, a smaller yet still intense crew planted on the other side of the road entering more farm fields further toward the beach from the parking area.

"I'm guessing one of the first ten knew this farm valley was here." Bonnie said.

"One of them might have worked here or played nearby while their parents did." Gaston responded. "I speak a little spanish and it improves if I practice for awhile. How's your spanish?" Gaston asked Bonnie as they started walking toward the harvest crew.

"Spanish is my favorite language," Bonnie replied using perfect spanish.

"Okay. You do the talking," Gaston also spoke using spanish.

The harvest slowed but did not stop as the entire harvest crew shifted into communication mode.

"We know who you are," a person in the harvest line near them said.

"Then you know why we are here?" Bonnie asked.

"Sí," a more distant voice responded.

"Will you assist us?" Bonnie asked.

"They are gone," yet another voice reported.

"They escaped about an hour before the helicopters came," someone else reported.

"What helicopters?" Gaston's spanish was good enough to ask that.

"We have discussed that and do not know. The helicopters carried many masked soldiers with guns. They asked us about the first ten and we knew nothing."

"Now we know more about the first ten," another worker called out in song.

That's when the harvest stopped completely and the harvest crew began laughing hysterically. "They are all here without papers," the entire harvest line shouted and laughed with genuine unconstrained mirth.

They go to school and work for the president illegally," one of the women on the harvest crew said between gasps of laughter. "They are illegal aliens," she concluded slapping her knee and laughing still more.

Then the planting crew stopped work and joined in. "Martians are coming," one of them called out. "The martians are coming!"

The workers doubled over with renewed laughter. Five hundred and sixty years of austerity began to bubble. Laughter cleansed them to clarity;

"Illegal aliens from Mars are feeding you."

Bonnie and Gaston were affected by the infectious laughter and began to laugh along with everyone from the fields.

"What are you laughing at?" One of the harvest crew asked as he wiped tears of laughter from his face.

"They are probably illegals, too."

"Are you illegal aliens?" The giggling crews asked.

"No. But we're both half Irish," Bonnie responded with a flourish.

"I'm half Irish a voice called out from the harvest crew. "I am, too," one of the planter crew said.

This set everyone off all over again; The story developed until illegal half Irish martians were about to take over. Gaston and Bonnie no longer attempted to contain their laughter and fully joined in with the planting and harvest crew story.

The harvest and planting crews ceased all work and turned stone silent when it became clear they were all feeling the solidarity of a fully committed group of autonomous world citizens. Gaston and Bonnie looked into one hundred unblinking eyes.

"We are here to protect the first ten," Bonnie said.

"You are insufficient." Voices from both crews replied. "We have seen them. They wear bandit masks and have guns."

"How many would be sufficient?" Gaston asked. "¿Cuántos serían suficientes?"

"You will need fifty or sixty heavily armed soldiers," was the consensus after a brief discussion about what the farm workers had seen. "You show up at the United Farm Workers Union in Oxnard and someone there might tell you more. The first ten are safe. We welcome cooperation with you. We believe your work will be successful."

The harvest and planting crews then resumed their original serious work pace. Concentration on the work at hand took their full attention. Gaston and Bonnie knew they were no longer center stage; they waved goodbye and returned to their car.

"May I keep driving?" Bonnie asked.

Gaston waved her on and sat in the front passenger seat. "I wonder what Robin will think about this?" he said.

"You should call him," Bonnie replied. "But where should we go now?"

"Turn right on Highway 1 and go back up the hill. I have friends here," Gaston responded as he opened and then connected his communication link with Robin.

"Hello, Gaston." Robin answered the call in the middle of the second ring signal.

"Hello Robin." Gaston responded. "Are we in secure communication?"

"Yes. Our conversation is totally private." Governor Starbeam answered. "What is happening?"

"We know approximately where the first ten are ."

"Approximately?"

"Yes, Sir, Robin; the United Farm Workers Union is protecting them." Gaston explained. He didn't actually trust the communication link and kept his explanations a little vague. Gaston knew governor Starbeam could keep up.

"United Farm Workers?"

"Yes, Robin. The first ten are evidently creating something the United Farm Workers appreciate."

"What is it?"

"We don't know."

Gaston could almost hear Robin thinking through sounds of silence that went on for more than a few seconds.

"I am missing part of the story." Governor Starbeam said.

"Yes, Sir." Gaston responded. "United farm workers stared down fifty or sixty heavily armed soldiers wearing masks. The farm workers played dumb and it worked."

Gaston counted his heartbeats. He reached four when the governor spoke. "We've been invaded?" he asked.

"Yes, Robin. The first ten escaped about an hour before Pacifica was invaded by masked soldiers."

"Pacifica?"

"It's easier to say than Gray Whale Coast."

"Okay. I'll go for Pacifica. Luckily nobody was hurt when the Pentagonians invaded Pacifica. What are we supposed to do?"

Robin chuckled at his own words and Gaston could almost see his smiling eyes crinkle into their own smile and then a wink.

"Yep." Was all Gaston could think of to say in response."

"Is that all you have to say about this?" Governor Starbeam asked. His voice held the first hint of irritation Gaston had heard from him.

Gaston empathized with Robin's lack of knowing the full story. Even he and Bonnie did not know the full story but he explained as much as he could. "The united farm workers believe the first ten will be even safer with California's protection added to theirs."

"Okay. How does the farm workers union suggest we do that?" Governor Starbeam asked.

"The farm workers said that their union will explain what to do if Bonnie and I show up with fifty or sixty very strong soldiers. That's what they saw when we were invaded."

"Why do you have to be there?" the governor asked.

"You are going to be surprised," Gaston said. "Ready?" he asked.

"Yep." Robin chuckled.

The united farm workers found out Bonnie and I are half Irish."

"So?"

"Some of the farm workers are half Irish, too."

"Did you tell them I'm also half Irish?"

"No."

"Please do tell them."

"Okay. But what about the soldiers?"

Governor Starbeam thought for a moment. "Do you realize the United Farm Workers are almost exactly next door to Port Hueneme? That's probably where the masked soldiers came from."

"Yes, I do, Robin. But notice that the farm workers didn't say the first ten are in Oxnard. They want us to show up ready for what they have already experienced."

"Okay; I get the idea. Two busloads of California troopers are ready and a caravan of supplies and equipment is prepared and waiting for further directions. When should they arrive?"

"Two and one half hours, maximum."

"Really?"

"Bonnie and I are on our way to Oxnard as we speak." Gaston said.

"Can Bonnie hear me?" the governor asked.

"I can hear you, Robin."

"What do you think of all this, Bonnie?"

"We are closer to finding our people than we were."

"Keep your eyes on the prize." Governor Starbeam responded. "And keep me posted." A slight click indicated the communication channel had gone silent and Governor Starbeam had returned to his regular job.

"Now where?" Bonnie asked as they zoomed to the top of the hill and passed where they had recently turned back to check with the farm crew.

"Keep going. And you might as well go fairly fast, this road is Highway One. I'll tell you when to turn left. Go as fast as you want," he continued. "The main problem around here is someone pulling in front of us from a side road."

"We need to ditch this car," Bonnie said. "And soon is good."

"Yep." Gaston agreed. "Turn left here and then go a little faster. There's one stop light signal before highway 101. That will be in another five minutes or so. I'll call a friend from a pay phone when we get there."

The stop light was green when they reached it. Bonnie slowed and drove through the intersection at the legal speed limit. There were no police to see her speed up and they drove at high speed to the freeway. Bonnie made the tires screach a little as they turned right onto the freeway entrance ramp. The little rental car almost flew up and onto the freeway. They dove into freeway traffic headed south and traveling just a little bit faster than every one else.

Gaston was impressed by Bonnie's way with cars and could see why Robin let her drive when they were on projects together. He was about to ask her what kind of projects she and governor Starbeam cooperated on when he realized they were already close to the main Nipomo exit.

"Turn right here. Right on this off ramp." Gaston said it quietly yet emphatic. "You will see a supermarket to your right. Not far." He concluded and then wrote a friend's phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to Bonnie.

"Here's my friend's telephone number in case we become separated. I have the number down on paper, too. All my batteries are disconnected."

Bonnie turned right. Stopped at a red light. And then turned right again, into the super market parking lot area. "Same here on batteries," Bonnie said and parked about in the middle of the lot. They walked swiftly and as casually as a copper burnished chocolate colored amazon warrior woman accompanied by a sun tanned vanilla organic farmer can. They were being and looking casual in downtown Nipomo. Nobody looked at them twice, noticeably anyway; Many Nipomo twice lookers are unnoticeably casual about it, too.

They were walking toward the super market front door when Bonnie said," We need a pay phone if you are going to call a friend. Let's first look just inside the door."

They searched around for the pay phone and couldn’t find it so they stood in line to ask the cashier where the phone is.

The clerk smiled and pointed to a cheap mobile phone with a few minutes of pre-loaded calling time. “We haven’t had a pay phone for quite a few years. Is this the first time you noticed?”

Bonnie laughed along with the cashier, bought a bright red phone and handed it to Gaston as they walked out the front door. Gaston’s friend said “Hello” almost immediately after Gaston turned the phone on and entered the number.

"Hello, Loren. This is Gaston. What are you doing."

"I'm just leaving the gas station by the freeway. What are you doing?"

"We are waiting for you at the super market. We're ditching a rental car here and need a ride."

"We? Ditching? I'm on my way."

"Wow!" Gaston said. "He'll be here in less than a minute."

They walked to the curb and were searching the on-coming cars when they slowly realized an early 1940's gangster car had parked next to them and stopped.

"Jump in and be quick about it." Loren said and also laughed. "There is a posse forming up out there. Move it! Down on the floor in back. Hurry up an here we go!"

Bonnie took the phone from Gaston and tossed it in the trash as she and Gaston jumped in the rear door of the car. They curled up on there knees on the floor in the back seat. Loren drove a quick U turn toward the main rode. He didn't slow down or speed up as he cruised his gangster hot rod around a soldier who ran into the intersection. The soldier waved them through and began directing traffic.

"Hmm, you should stay hunkered down a little while longer. There's another posse on the frontage road. They look like Pentagonians to me," he said with a flourish of laughter and a smile.

So you callum pentagonians around here too?

"Yep, we callum pentagonians. And where are you all going?" Loren asked, laughing at his own put on accent.

"Car rental." Gaston responded.

"Nearest car rental safely past the posse." Bonnie added as she sat up on her seat and looked around. Gaston did the same.

"And what do you want a car for?" Loren asked.

"We're try'n to stay clear o' them thar pentagonians, Loren," Gaston said and laughed heartily with Loren. The scene was more than a bit tense and seemed to foster corny banter.

"Well I can see that." Loren stated with musical tone and a questioning look in the rear view mirror.

"Glad to meet you. I'm Loren ." He introduced himself to Bonnie with a second glance in the mirror.

"I'm Bonnie, Loren. I'm glad to meet you. Thank you for saving us."

"Anytime." Loren said with a wide smile. "And where would you be going if you had a new rental car?"

"Oxnard," Gaston and Bonnie said together. United Farm Workers Union meeting and memorial center." They again said in unison.

"You two sound like a couple of school children back there reciting your lessons," Loren chuckled. How are you doing in general?"

"Fine." The kids in back chimed together.

"Is it okay for me to come along?" Loren asked.

"Too dangerous." Bonnie said.

"We have to do it alone." Gaston said.

"We said we would, that's why." Bonnie concluded.

"Well, I'm willing," Loren said. "And this car is perfect. Nobody but nobody escapes in a gangster car. That soldier didn't even look when he waved us through the intersection."

"It's too dangerous," Bonnie repeated.

"Too dangerous?" Loren looked at Bonnie in the rear view mirror. "You don't know who you are looking at." Loren laughed as he shifted out of cruising range and stepped on the gas peddle.

The car made a smooth lunge forward and they instantly accelerated to what Gaston considered a scary speed; "Okay, you can come with us if you slow down," he shouted.

Loren laughed at Gaston and glanced again to Bonnie. "Here's what six hundred and eighty horsepower feels like," he said as he pushed on the gas peddle for more fuel. The car quietly accelerated to serious race car speed. So did Loren, he put both hands on the steering wheel and pushed the gas peddle to the floor.

Bonnie leaned forward over Loren's shoulder and watched the engine tachometer speed. She saw how much faster they could go.

"Your friend is crazy," she said as she turned to Gaston. She burst out laughing when she saw his wide eyes. "You seem to be sweating," she said through peals of laughter.

"I know this guy. Tell him he can come with us." Gaston said this without a hint of humor.

The gangster movie car was still accelerating when Bonnie relented; "Okay, you can come with us but you must promise to get us there in one piece."

"I promise." Loren said. "And thanks; I was kinda bored back there at the gas station. That already seems like yesterday. I saw you on tv with governor Starbeam. And now, here you are in my car and there's a posse out looking for you; a milk chocolate amazon and my old friend, Gaston. Wow! This is great!"

Loren shook his head and chuckled. "Why are we going to Oxnard?" he asked.

"The farm workers union wants us to prove we are strong enough to safe guard the first ten." Bonnie explained.

"Two busloads of California state guards will arrive there ten or fifteen minutes before we do and secure the area." Gaston filled in the plan. "I know it's a fairly sparse plan," he concluded.

Loren said he was not too clear on the plan and speeded up a little in order to arrive "a tad sooner than later," as he put it. He drove over the San Marcos Pass shortcut and obviously enjoyed the curved mountain road more than the four lane freeway. "We should arrive a bit earlier than your plan," He said as they rejoined the freeway near the Santa Barbara city boundary with Goleta.

They cruised along the coast engulfed by the relaxed view of beaches, waves and an occasional member of a large sized dolphin family. Each of the dolphins would be among the largest basketball player size people if they were a human. They had passed la Conchita and the Ventura Overhead when Loren pointed out they had an escort.

"I am sorry to mention this but there is an official looking yet unmarked car in front of us," Loren said this calmly as he checked the rearview mirror. "Another one just pulled in behind us," Loren reported.

"They don't look like our side," Bonnie mentioned. "At least to me." She concluded.

"I agree," Loren said. "Initiating lane change with full stop super brakes now." And then he did it. Bonnie and Gaston were slammed to Bonnie's side of the car and then up against the forward bench seat.

"U turn!" Loren hollered as he turned into a controlled slide and they were slammed back into their original seats with their backs facing the direction of travel. The race car was a howling six hundred and eighty horses attempting to reverse direction as fast as possible. They were all pinned to their seats by that much force creating a cloud of burning tire smoke behind them.

And then they were driving the wrong way on the freeway fast lane shoulder of a six lane freeway. They were being honked at.

"Don't worry. I have the emergency blinkers going." Loren called out.

A helicopter joined in and helped with traffic as they began traveling the wrong way at mind bending speed.

"Those are the good guys?" Gaston asked.

"I'm voting yes," Bonnie ventured.

"They seem good to me," Loren said. "Driving is way less scary."

"It's unanimous," Gaston said. "The helicopter is working for us."

"Here comes a place to switch over into traffic going the right way." Loren yelled. "Hang on!"

Loren slowed as much as possible before they were fully on dirt. Small stones were banging upward under the car floor. The old gangster car slid sideways one way and then the other throwing up so much dust it made them feel like they were in an old black and white movie where the car belonged.

The helicopter had held traffic back for the lane change and it now darted forward to mark the Overhead off ramp so they could turn back south to their Oxnard rendezvous with the united farm workers.

"That was radical, Loren." Both passengers exclaimed in agreement.

"We could never have pulled that off in our rental car," Bonnie commented in a slightly exaggerated manner of fact manner.

"Loren! You know I don't like going fast in cars!" Gaston yelled.

Loren grinned and glanced at Gaston in the rearview mirror. "I can hear you." He said.

Gaston laughed. "You saved us from the dark side, Loren. Thank you."

"I told you it was too dangerous," Bonnie said, glancing at Loren's eyes in the mirror.

"Are you glad I didn't listen?" Loren asked.

"Thank you, Loren." Bonnie answered. "I won't even try to imagine where we would be without you."

There's no way to know," Loren answered. "Maybe solitary confinement at Guantanamo. Here's the main street of Oxnard. Highway 1. Shall we take it?"

"Do it." Gaston said.

"Here we go!" Bonnie exclaimed.

Loren shifted down from highway cruise to bring up more ready power. He drove somewhat warily on the long avenue into downtown Oxnard.

"Relax." Bonnie instructed Loren. "We're car collectors on tour. Right?"

"Yeah. Relax. You're blowing our cover," Gaston laughingly admonished.

They drove in silence through many blocks of downtown businesses. Oxnard is a long main street town that filled out around highway 1. Loren pulled over and parked when they were about halfway into town. "One of you switch to the front seat and run the gps," he said.

Bonnie was on the passenger side. She stepped out of her forward opening door and in through the already open front seat door. Loren handed her the gps. Plug it in there, above the dash compartment door."

Bonnie plugged in the gps and tightened mounting screws that would keep it in place even on a bumpy road. She turned the gps on and typed in, "Caesar Chavez memorial Meeting Hall."

"It worked." She said as the gps drew a map line from where they were to the Caesar Chavez meeting place. They followed the map and parked in front of the meeting hall and walked toward the front door just as the California troopers pulled in and began unloading.

The troopers were all unarmed. A nonviolent army. All big. Dressed in blue jump suits and high black lineman's boots. They lined up in position between Gaston, Bonnie, Loren and the street as helicopters rose from the Port Hueneme military base.

"Those are gun ships," Loren murmured.

"I told you not to come." Bonnie said.

Gaston smiled at them both and walked to the line of troopers. Gaston is a regular size guy and he made the troopers look huge when standing next to them. They parted when he touched their shoulders and he walked out into the empty street. He stood there with his hands on his hips feeling a little goofy, like he was a younger anti nuclear energy person again. He stood there with his hands on his hips and waited.

Everyone watched as helicopters hesitated.

Gaston raised both arms and sang; "And you tell me, over and over and over again, my friend, that were not in the age of destruction."

No one could hear him singing above the roar of the helicopters. Even so; the roaring choppers turned around and pounded their way back to their base as if his words meant something to them.

The oldest founding united farm workers walked out of the Caesar Chavez memorial meeting hall as the roaring helicopters faded into the distance. They tapped Bonnie and Loren on the shoulders in passing and walked through the politely parted line of nonviolent soldiers. They went straight to Gaston and whispered in his ear loud enough for Loren and Bonnie to hear; "Return to Guadalupe," they instructed. "Take the soldiers with you or do not dare to go. The first ten will be in danger without the soldiers. You will be very obvious in downtown Guadalupe. Farm workers will join you."

The elders smiled at the troopers and bowed. "There is healthy food waiting for you behind the building," they said.

"So we are headed back to Nipomo to pick up your rental car?" Loren asked.

"Downtown Guadalupe first," Gaston said. "Would you mind if Bonnie drives? She is a good driver and Robin prefers that she drive."

"Robin?"

“Governor Robin Starbeam."

"Oh. We call him Robin now do we?" Loren responded.

"We call him Robin in private conversation or when we are with him," Bonnie answered. "I'd like to drive your gangster car. Please?"

"Okay, I'll ride in the front passenger seat and use the gps," Loren replied and handed her the car keys.

"There is a line of portable toilets in the patio behind the meeting hall," a kindly great grandmother aged woman offered. "And we have prepared a quick snack for everyone before you leave."

"We should tell the state troopers about the patio and one of us should call the governor," Gaston said in a way that included the united farm worker elders.

"Do not tell anyone where you are going," a grandfatherly elder whispered as they turned and began walking toward the soldiers. "There are some among us who have sold their souls to a dark shadow parasite of life and there may be a creepy shade like that hiding among the soldiers," he concluded as they approached the state troopers.

"Who is in charge here?" Gaston asked the nearest soldiers.

One woman and two men stepped forward when none of the soldiers spoke up to answer Gaston's question about who was in charge. The two men stopped one step behind the woman who then began speaking.

"We are an all volunteer nonviolent defense force. The two gentlemen behind me are bus coordinators and I am the over-all spokesperson. We are here to rescue the first ten. We attack no one yet if we are confronted by force we will defend every one involved as best we can. You have put your lives on the line and we join with you."

The spokesperson stepped back and rejoined the two bus coordinators. When those three saluted, all the state troopers saluted. The united farm worker elders bowed with respect before the salute. Gaston, Bonnie and Loren took their cue from the farm workers and also bowed to the nonviolent defense force.

The most elderly great grandmother of the farm workers union then spoke again. "You are going back to Santa Maria if you will volunteer for that," she said. "Our farm worker youth have prepared a quick snack for you in the patio behind the meeting hall. There are portable toilets there also."

The united farmworker elders bowed again and waved the troopers to an alleyway that led behind the Caesar Chavez memorial hall.

"Should we call the governor?" Gaston wondered aloud.

"He'd like that," Bonnie responded. "He'll call back if he is too busy to talk when you call."

"Me?" Gaston asked. "This is my first job working for the governor. What about you?"

Bonnie smiled and pointed at Gaston's chest; "Robin Starbeam personally hired you for this job," she said, "you should call."

Gaston called governor Starbeam and was surprised to hear him answer before he heard a ring signal.

"Did the phone ring?" Gaston asked.

"Half a ring," the governor responded. "I've been sitting on pins and needles since I saw the video of your freeway escapade as you approached Ventura."

"You saw that?"

"Yep. The helicopter pilot aimed his camera at you. Hollywood does great car chase scenes but none better than yours. That was wild!"

"Hmm," Gaston speculated. "Then you probably already know we are with the farm workers union in Oxnard."

"Yes, I do." Robin answered. "I know you are eating a light lunch and will soon resume travel. Tell your excellent driver friend, Loren, to stay between the two state buses. A third bus loaded with farm workers from Santa Paula will join your caravan in Ventura."

"Okay." Gaston said. "Bonnie will be driving the gangster car. We will call you as soon as we have something to report."

"Thank you in advance for that call," the governor said. Then he asked; "Why did you walk out of the group and into the wide open space almost under the helicopters?"

"Hmm. Well. Now that you mention it... You told me I was a recognizable person. My hope was me being there would make it a little too weird even for Pentagonians to gun down a citizen on the street in Oxnard. Especially when all he ever did was rescue some beavers."

"You are using some thinking there, Gaston. But don't tempt them again. Repeat after me, 'I won't ever do that again on any of your jobs, Robin.'"

This made Gaston giggle again when he said, "I won't do that again, Robin, sir."

"Very good, Gaston. Call me when you know more. Good bye." The communication line then went silent.

Gaston then joined in the lunch line. He noticed the meal and location had been well thought out by the farm workers union. Everyone was soon fed, back on the buses and on the road with a travel snack.

The return drive north was uneventful; Oxnard to Santa Maria is not far, it's less than a two hour drive. Nothing disturbed their steady progress northward. They were a little south of Santa Maria when Bonnie pulled into the passing lane and gave full power to the gangster car. They were all pinned to their seats as the car rocketed by the bus and led the caravan off highway 101 and into the small town of Orcutt. She pulled over and let the lead bus pass so they were once again between busloads of state troopers.

"There are two buses behind us now." Bonnie said, glancing at Gaston in the rearview mirror.

"Robin said the farmworkers of Santa Paula would do something like this," Gaston exclaimed. "And they did!"

Loren smiled at Gaston's enthusiasm, tapped Bonnie on the shoulder and pointed right. Bonnie signaled a right turn and the bus’s right turn signals began blinking. They all stopped and then turned right on Highway 1. From there it was a brief ten minute drive to Main street Santa Maria, which is also California Highway 161. That highway goes from the Pacific all the way into orange groves of the vast central valley. California issued supply trucks were behind the new bus load of farmworkers who joined the caravan at the rear.

The caravan drove slowly upon reaching the small town of Guadalupe and approached town center. That was when a young man signaled for them to stop. He wore dark glasses, had jet black hair and the beginning of a beard. The young man motioned for Gaston to slide over and let him into the car.

Gaston opened the door and slid across the car seat to give the newcomer a place to sit. "I'm Gaston," he introduced himself and shook the new passenger's hand. "Bonnie is driving and Loren is piloting at the gps console."

The young man smiled and took off his dark glasses. "I am Ernesto Cáceres from Guatemala and one of the first ten. We have been waiting for you, Beaver man."

Gaston chuckled out loud. "Quite a few people seem to think saving a few beavers was good preparation for this action. I don’t think so but I’m glad to be here. Con mucho gusto, Ernesto.” Gaston shook Ernesto's hand again.

"Where have you been, child?" Bonnie asked. "We have all been worried half to death."

Ernesto laughed at her manner of speaking. He knew she was asking him to quickly bring the three of them up to speed.

"We have been here in Guadalupe the entire time," he responded. The farmworkers brought us here in three cars. They showed us videos of when the helicopters came. It was a major operation to grab us all and hand us over to Ice."

"You guys were smart not to call out." Bonnie said,

We couldn't call even if we wanted to. The farm workers took our phones and the batteries we had already removed from them. One woman showed them she had taken the battery out of her phone but refused to let them have the battery or the phone."

"Who was that?" Gaston asked.

"Tamara." Ernesto replied. "The farmworkers became angry about that and started to physically take the phone from her but she turned into some kind of karate banshee and everyone decided she should keep her phone for an unforeseen emergency."

"Tamara is radical," Gaston said in awe.

"Yes, sir." Ernesto agreed.

"So where are we going?" Loren asked.

"Don't type it into gps. We are going to Guadalupe restaurant. It's very close. Pass the bus now and stop when you see it."

"Are you one of the original eight creators?" Gaston asked.

"We are ten." Ernesto responded. "Maybe twelve or thirteen starting right now. this very instant."

"What are you creating that has put the Pentagonians in such a tizzy fit?" Loren asked. He wiggled his eyebrows and laughed at the same time.

"A new kind of democracy,” Ernesto replied. He then began explaining in a rapid staccato monotone. “We have actually rediscovered an organic form of democracy; it is an ancient tool used by cosmic powered biology expressed as human to focus distributed intelligence.”

“Wait a minute!” Gaston interjected. “You are talking like a high speed tech robot. People don’t talk like that. Or maybe it’s me that can’t hear like that. What do you mean?”

“Excuse me. It seemed like your driver, Bonnie, wanted me to tell our story as quickly as possible,” Ernesto said.

“Right, but not too fast for us to understand,” Bonnie replied. “The idea of focusing distributed intelligence is easy enough,” she chuckled before continuing. “I think you mean two heads are better than one. Right?” Bonnie started the convoy moving again and listened as she drove.

“Exactly,” Ernesto responded. “The difference today is we are talking about millions of people with modern communication technologies. We are dressing something very old in new clothes.”

“Where does the old and ancient aspect show up in this idea?” Loren asked. “Give us an example.”

“Okay; start with democracy twenty or thirty thousand years ago,” Ernesto began. “Imagine we are sitting around a fire in front of our large communal cave. Imagine a warm, early night; stars are out and the full moon view down to the beach is beautiful. Especially where the river meets the sea and glitters with wind swept ripples framed by dark jungle shadows.

“Many of the men decide it would be fun to go rummage around in the forest hunting to put meat on the table.

"I bet some of the younger ones wanted to go body surfing," Loren interjected with a wide grin on his face.

"Probably," Ernesto agreed. “What happens in this example is one woman jumps to her feet and says, “The gardens need weeding and the figs need to be turned for drying so they don’t mold or rot. We’ve put off weeding and drying the fruits for too long already. Let’s vote on farming or hunting.”

“We call this autonomous democracy, it was an organic human tool used before there was any thought of government or a nation.” Ernesto concluded.

“What about cosmic powered biology manifest as human? Where does that come in?” Loren asked.

“We are almost there,” Ernesto said. “Let’s stick with autonomous democracy is not new. We latin Americans are almost six century survivors of European colonial genocide and forced austerity, Some of us are now helping create something new using autonomous democracy at the lab in Berkeley as well. Will you three join with us? We especially need you, Beaver man."

Gaston looked into Ernesto’s eyes and returned the warmth he saw there with a broad grin. He reached out with one hand and grasped Ernesto’s hand in his while clasping the resolute younger man’s shoulder with his free hand.

“We live in a nation occupied by Pentagonians; they have militarized our police set up a civilian morale management department slipping propaganda into news that supports never ending war. I've had enough of endless war.” Gaston said to Ernesto. “Paraphrasing Frederick Douglass, ‘I will unite with anybody to do good and nobody to do wrong.’ If the entire first ten accept me as one of theirs, I will be honored to make them eleven.”

“Me, too.” Bonnie agreed. We are a new evolutionary democratic front, the NEDF. I am with you, "this will be fun." She concluded with a broad grin.

“Count me in,” Loren said as he pointed to a parking space across the street from the Guadalupe restaurant.

next chapter