Somebody Else's Space Program
Epilogue
The glare off the water was fierce, even with the low sun angle of winter -- the demolition crew's faces were hidden behind mirror shades and the overhang of hard hats. The observers were bundled against the chill breeze off the ocean, more exposed on their platform than the workers swarming around the launch site.
Finally a "Get clear" klaxon sounded, and the workers swarmed toward the platform. The last man, red-hatted, reported to the field manager, who nodded toward the observers.
Starting from the field office under the platform, a sturdy man carrying a switchbox and wearing a supervisor's white hardhat approached a woman in a trim blue uniform, standing without apparent discomfort on top of the platform in the winter sun and wind. "Admiral? I believe you wanted to push the last button yourself?"
"Yes. Thank you." Admiral Villatuya's face distorted in a ferocious grin, as the supervisor set up the radio control that would detonate the last series of explosives. _This_ was the end of the launch facilities -- the coast could go back to pristine sands, marsh, and wildlife.
The supervisor counted in a parody of the old ignition launch sequence, "Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six . . ."
The others standing with her joined in the ancient ritual. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One." She pushed the button, "Blastoff!"
Thunder. Then fire, and a huge cloud of dust and debris leapt from the last launch site. The lighter pieces arched high into the sky, sparkling in the sun.
In the distance was Site Seventeen, where the third two-man launch had blown up on launch. It was a mere nub on the horizon, and there was a proposal to enclose it, make it part of a museum. A monument to that entire period in the planet's history.
"Well. That's the end of that."
"Yes. Let's go."
---
Chapter One -- "This I have read in a book," he said,
"and that was told to me . . ."
"Caitlin! Caitlin!" The boy's voice echoed strangely around the dunes, muffled by the hiss of the surf. The barking grew closer, and there was another voice, laughing.
Words, liquid and indistinct, the voice not much higher in pitch than Ross's. And the bark changed from a watchdog warning off an intruder to the distinctive yip greeting a beloved friend.
Ross climbed to the top of the dune, his traction helped by the sea oats anchoring the sand. Down by the strand, Caitlin was charging at the waves, watched by a young woman in the mildly outlandish dress of one of the Hruss. Ross almost tripped as he skipped and skidded down the dune to the beach. The salt air still had a tinge of winter in it, spring was yet young.
Caitlin finally spotted her master and trotted to him, jumping up on him to share wet, sandy paws, and a big sloppy kiss when he crouched down to pet her, rubbing his hands up and down her back. "So, who's your new friend, girl?"
The hruss girl came up while he was observing dog protocols. "This is Caitlin?"
He smiled, twinkling blue eyes, and already the hint of laugh lines and squint lines from being in the sun so much, and ruffled more fur. "Yes. Brigit's her sister, but I can't bring them out here at the same time -- they split up and head to the antipodes, and there's only one of me to chase them down."
Dark hair, dark eyes, and she was older than she had seemed from the distance -- in her early twenties. Her clothes were richly embroidered, and there was a faintly spicy scent from her oiled hair, fighting to be noticed over the dead fish, creosote, and fuel oil stinks from the wharf on the point. "She was on her way back to your call when she found me. I'm sorry if I caused a breach of discipline."
Was she assuming he would know her name? Or wasn't she allowed to tell him? The Hruss were subtly different as a culture, sometimes not so subtly. His uncle had tried to tell him once about some of the differences, but his aunt had overheard and given his uncle a tonguelashing the likes of which Ross had never heard before, pitch and volume rising until his uncle fled to the barn. And Ross hadn't been able to get his uncle to talk since.
"My brother and I are staying," she turned, pointing with her chin, "there. The rest of the family will be arriving in a day or so. Do you mind if I come to your beach once in a while, to visit with Caitlin?" She smiled, wistfully, "I miss my hounds."
"How," he stumbled over his tongue, "how long will you be here? I could ask around to see if anyone has puppies . . ."
Laughter, strangely shrill to his ears. It sent shivers down his spine. "No, I dare not. Any animal I want to take home must wait in quarantine for months, and that is not fair to her. But I thank you for the thought." She crouched beside him,and Caitlin licked her face. Her hands came up and cradled Caitlin's face. "No, dear one, I do not need a bath right now. I will bring you a treat next time." She placed a careful kiss on Caitlin's nose, and then stood. "My escort will be looking for me -- no need to bring you to their attention." She tilted her head over a bit, studying Ross, who was still crouching, then smiled. "I'll slip their leash another time."
For a long moment, he wondered if she was going to kiss _him_ on the nose, then he barely had time to grab Caitlin's collar before she turned on her heel and swept off over the dune.
"Well, girl. Looks like you've made a friend." Caitlin's head twisted around, her tongue wet against his wrist and lower arm. Ross looked into the distance, breathing the last of the spicy ungent of her hair. "Let's go home."
---
Chores took up an hour before dinner, and then he couldn't get a word with his uncle Bert that wasn't under his aunt's watchful eye. Bert was warming his hands up at the stove while his wife put the finishing touches on supper.
Well, there was one way around that -- the direct attack. "Aunt Gretchen, have you heard anything in town about the hruss family that is living up the beach from us?" he asked, between carrying clean dishes and flatware to the dining table.
His aunt stopped stirring the tureen of stew. "Ross, where did you hear about them? I didn't think you liked going into town. Did one of your friends come to visit?" She sounded more puzzled than angry -- none of Ross's friends _ever_ came to hang out with him, and she suspected that "friends" weren't a long list even when school was in session.
"A fisherman pulled his boat up on shore to check the hull -- I helped him careen it over. He mentioned seeing some hruss guards in town." Well, that could fit the "escort" the woman had mentioned.
That was enough to ease his aunt's curiosity, and get her talking. "Yes, I've seen some of their guards in town." She opened the oven door and drew out half a dozen small loaves of breat. From the smell, not quite done again, but that was Ross's taste -- Aunt Gretchen apparently liked a bit of uncooked dough in the center of a loaf.
"Talk is that one of their princelings owns some land here, and he's bringing his family to stay for a while. I don't know why those foreigners . . ."
"Gretchen! You know why they come here, especially the hruss. Until their government is settled down again, any of the royal family is in danger. Not that the prince doesn't risk his neck often enough." Aunt Gretchen started to cloud up, uncle Bert hastily added, "He races cars, of all things. He's been in a couple of wrecks, too."
"Enough of that talk. Dinner's on the table. Time to eat."
---
It must have been mention of the hruss -- Aunt Gretchen's blessing over the food was twice as long as usual, and Ross had to fight the urge to sneak a bite of freshly baked bread while her eyes were closed. He fought off the yeasty aroma by remembering the faint spice of the hruss girl's hair.
"Ross. Did you fall asleep?"
He startled to attention. Uncle Bert was holding a platter out to him, and he took it hastily. "No, sir. I was just thinking of the words of the prayer. It was very . . . inspirational."
Wryly, "I won't stress your truthfulness by asking you to repeat the more interesting parts. But perhpas a bit more study tonight would be in order, once you have rested your eyes."
Ross didn't dare protest that he hadn't fallen asleep during the prayer. Then again, from the smile on Uncle Bert's face, perhaps he could tell Ross's mind had been awake and active.
---
The bread was underbaked, as expected. The stew was filled with vegetables, and even several varieties of meat, albeit in small amounts of each. The bread soaked up the gravy wonderfully, and Ross savored each bite.
---
Ross had learned that a certain rhythm of reading would put Aunt Gretchen to sleep in short order, and this was a good time to use the technique. Not too often -- she was still a hard hand with a switch, when need arose. And if he resisted, Uncle Bert would be honor bound to help instruct the youngster. Far better to tolerate Aunt Gretchen's punishments.
Uncle Bert was almost nodding in time with the rhythm of the words when Ross stopped reading, and asked, carefully not changing his tone, "Uncle, what are the hruss? Why are they a problem?"
Bert sat and filled his pipe before answering. "The hruss are from across the sea. Perhaps our peoples were neighbors, years ago, but if so, we have grown apart. Their beliefs are wrong, some of what they permit is harmful to the body and soul." His eye shot over to his dozing wife. He lit the pipe and puffed on it for a while. "Keep reading your lesson, boy. It will do your soul good."
Aunt Gretchen's breathing changed as she shifted in her chair. Ross started reading aloud again, but a more natural rhythm this time. The aroma of the rum-flavored tobacco filtered into the room.
---
A quiet knock on Ross's door, then it opened. Ross, nearly asleep, pried his eyes open to see a silhouette in the doorway, just before the flowery scent of his Aunt's sachet reached him. "Boy, tell me. It wasn't one of the fishermen. You met one of the hruss, there, down on the shore."
"Yes, aunt."
"Which one was it, the boy or the girl?"
Was she holding her breath waiting for the answer? Why? "It was a girl. Caitlin found her. We talked about dogs -- she has hounds at home."
More of an exhale than Ross expected. "_Don't_ talk to them. If one of them approaches you, be polite, and come home as soon as possible." Not to Ross at all, "Why did they ahve to come _here_, with their corruption?"
"Ma'am?"
"Oh, nothing, little one. I'll speak to the town elders, see if we can do something about them. Sleep.. I guess I woke you up, coming in here. Go back to sleep." She leaned over him, kissed him on the forehead. "We will protect you. Don't worry."
The door closed behind her with a soft click, and the light under the door dimmed. Ross lay for a long while staring at the ceiling. Protect him from what? From . . .
He finally fell asleep, after he opened a window so the scent of the sea could clean out the mustiness of the room, the lingering scent of his aunt's sachet.
And on the wind, the faint aroma of spice, with the salt air.
---