Somebody Else's Space Program
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Chapter Seven "But when fire and smoke had faded, the darkness left my sight..."
Ross could tell by the stink of the exhaust that there was something wrong with the engine, but Tarpeian was over in the machine shop, and none of the others would stop a trial run on his say-so. Jheraind would listen, once he pulled in for a pit stop.
Suddenly, a _lot_ of smoke from the engine, and the car was drifting off centerline in a parody of slow motion that made Ross's teeth ache. Drifting, drifting, then suddenly slamming into the retaining wall and bursting into flame.
The garage crew had had drills, day in and day out, on fighting fires. There were fire extinguishers within easy reach of all of the doors -- Ross grabbed a pair of them and started running flat out toward the accident.
Crew from other garages arrived the same time that Ross did. Chemicals and sand and foam all over the car, bringing the flames under control, but ...
The ambulance crew got the car door open and removed Jheraind from the crumpled and scorched vehicle. A not little crumpled and scorched Jheraind. He was still breathing, but his eyes were not tracking, and his pulse was much too rapid.
"I don't know if he can even hear us."
Ross knew something he could say, something that he would guarantee that Jheraind would hear, no matter the level of pain. If there was anything that could get Jheraind's attention on the edge of death, this was it.
"Let me try." Ross knelt next to Jheraind, who was covered to his neck by a fireblanket. Jheraind's face was smudged with soot, and reddened from the heat, but there weren't any burns.
A light touch on the face, no response. Ross leaned over and whispered a word into Jheraind's ear. Ross had heard the word used by the hruss, and remembered it. "Partner?"
A sudden cough wracked Jheraind's body, as he tried to get enough air to speak. His eyes opened, but barely -- all pupil, no iris. Only enough breath for Ross to hear an answer. "Yes. You are my partner." Then the older man's eyes closed, and the breath sighed away from him, with no rise of the chest to supply his body with air.
Medlen drew Ross to his feet, while the track doctor checked the pulse -- gone -- and drew the blanket up to cover Jheraind's face. "Ross. Go to your room. If . . . if you need to, cry. It will help, believe me, and no one will know but you. I have some errands to run, but then I'll be up to talk to you."
Ross nodded, biting back tears, and walked away.
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The tears were exhausted, and Ross had washed and changed clothes by the time that Medlen knocked on the door.
"Yes?"
"It's Medlen."
Ross closed the book he had been trying to read, got up, and went to the door. "I'd rather be alone for a bit longer," he said through the locked door.
"This will take two minutes."
"Alright." Ross unlocked the door, Medlen pushed it open, then closed it behind himself. "Get it over with. I imagine I have to go back to my aunt and uncle now."
"No. The apprenticeship transfers to Tarpeian. He can hand you over to me as ward, if you prefer. Or you can go home."
"This is home." Then, "This _was_ home. Now . . . I don't know if I can stand to stay here."
"You'll stay, because you love the work. It would break your heart to lose both Jheraind and the work at the same time."
Ross snarled, "What do _you_ know about it?"
"I heard what you said to him. Even though you knew he couldn't ever collect on that invitation, you would not have offered if you didn't feel it."
Ross's face reddened. "Get out."
"If you wish." Medlen put a thick envelope on the desk. "Read this. And if you want to talk, I'll be in his office."
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