Somebody Else's Space Program
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Chapter Twenty Five "Won't you please come out and play?"
A servant led John Worrell to a room. There was a pitcher of water to rinse off the road dust. On the bed was a suit of new clothing in the local style.
"Feel free to rest a while. I will be back for you when the bell rings, sir."
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Don Espiridion stood in the door of the music room, listening to his granddaughter practicing the piano. "You did not tell me you had a paramour, Enriqueta."
Merrily, "Oh, just another little detail that I forgot to tell you. Three lovers, a husband, and two children. Anything else you want to know?" She finished the practice piece with a grand flourish and then closed the cover on the keyboard. She took her time gathering her sheets of music, then turned on the bench to face him. "What paramour?"
"His name is John Worrell, in case you forgot to ask him."
Her expression changed from bored indifference to alarm and them back to a more studied indifference, one to hide behind. "I don't remember a John Worrell in my bed. Is he nice looking?"
"Under all the dust, perhaps. He will be joining us for dinner."
Ricky rose. "I think I will dine in my room. I am feeling fatigued."
"You will dine with us in the main dining hall," Don Espiridion said sharply. He turned to leave, then stopped, and faced her again. "He seems to think that you are a boy."
Ricky grinned, "Good. Maybe he won't recognize me in this... dress."
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The servant insisted on shaving John, but he fought off a suggestion of a hair trim as well. "I like the way my hair looks. Leave me alone."
Across the courtyard to a large room, softly lit with candles. "Please stand here for a moment, sir." Next to a chair in the center of the long table. The servant left.
A moment later, Don Espiridion appeared in the doorway at the far end of the room, escorting a young woman in a long white gown who bore a striking resemblence to the portrait in Don Espiridion's study. He seated her at one end of the table, walked the length of the table to a place setting at the other end. "Please have a seat, Mister Worrell."
The servants bustled around pouring wine and placing bowls of soup, then Don Espiridion dismissed them. "I will ring when I require you again."
The three ate in silence. Worrell kept looking down the table at Enriqueta. Her gestures looked familiar -- he hadn't heard her speak yet. "Mister Worrell. What sort of work do you do?" Espiridion asked.
"I'm building rockets. Rather like fireworks, but they go further and aren't as spectacular."
"For what purpose, if you don't mind saying?"
"There are any number of reasons, Don Espiridion. Delivery of small objects, photography, perhaps instruments to investigate the upper atmosphere. The latter might help us predict weather eventually."
"Curious." Espiridion lifted his wine glass and looked at the level. He rang the bell, and the glasses were refilled, and the next course was brought in, including a fresh bread that reminded John of Dolores's cooking, not local regional.
"This is very good, Don Espiridion. My compliments to your chef."
"Thank you. And do you have family, Mister Worrell?"
John stalled, using the bread to sop up the juices from the roast and munching contentedly. "Not really. My parents are dead, no brothers or sisters, no.. other attachments." Then to stop more interrogation, "And yourself?"
"Only my granddaughter and myself." Don Espiridion smiled slightly. "She has shown no interest in getting married. This is not a concern to me. In fact, a marriage at this point will interfere with other plans I have for her."
Enriqueta dropped her fork. A servant scurried into the room and retrieved the fork from the floor, and replaced it with a new one before retreating. "What plans?"
"I was going to wait on telling you, but... I have purchases a commission for you in our Navy. When you become eighteen, if you can pass their tests, you will become an ensign. I have great confidence in you -- you are already able to pass most of their tests."
"I thought you wanted..."
"Eventually, you will marry and have children... or perhaps only have children, without the formality of a ceremony, as your father did. The name is dead anyway, but the blood lives. I must be content with that."
"Thank you, Don Espiridion. It is a greater gift than I dreamed of."
"It is what I had intended all along, even before you ran."
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After the dinner, Don Espiridion was called away to a message. John stared at his remaining dinner companion. "Ricky? Is that really you?"
"Yes, it is."
He grinned. "I didn't know. Are you really..."
"A girl? I'm afraid so. It made things easier all around."
"Except when I tried to find you."
"You weren't supposed to try. I would have come back." Enriqueta sipped her wine, "I thought I was going to come back. The Navy might interfere with that."
"I think you should go with the commission."
She put the wine glass down. "I intend to. But if it doesn't work out, expect to find me on your doorstep."
"Don't you _dare_ do anything less than your best."
She paused, studying Worrell. "How much use would your rockets be as weapons?"
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"It would not suit my granddaughter's purposes for you to give up your project before she is able to bring it to the Navy's attention. I will arrange for some funding. It will not be much, but..."
The sum he named was more than Worrell had been making do on. "That seem quite generous, Don Espiridion."
"My granddaughter was profoundly unhappy here. That seems to have changed. My estate will not support her for the rest of her life -- her career will. I have no desire to see her in poverty."
"I'm sorry, I am not tracking your logic."
"I can fund you for two years. That amount of money would not keep her for ten. What can you do in two years that will get the Navy's attention?"
"It would be easier with Ricky's help."
"That is not an option."
"I was afraid you would say that. Can I get an interview with an admiral?"
"I'll see what I can do. I can promise nothing."
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