http://www.geocities.com/miklinar/novel/novel.htm 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 spacecraft 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 unguent 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 bread. 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 govenment 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 perhaps 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 run-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 have 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. --- Chapter two -- ". . . the wild winds of fortune . . ." Summer heat baking the cobbles of the town square, a faint greenish smell from the pool in the center -- a pool that would have been a fountain if the mayor hadn't used the money to wine and dine guests. "Ricky! Mama is looking all over for you!" The youngster crouched at the side of the reflection pool looked up. "This is important. I just changed the sails, and I have to see how they work." She blew on the model, and watched as it came out of the lee of the statue in the center of the pool. The older boy grabbed the girl by the collar and hauled her to her feet. "Do you know what Mama is going to do to me if I tell her you were playing and didn't come when I found you?" Ricky shrugged, "The same thing she does every time. She yells, then she cries, and then she hugs. so you let her work through it." Alonzo glared down at his sister. "I should tell her you said that." "I should tell Juanita you were kissing Maria behind the shop yesterday." Glare, wilt. "Go home. _Now_." She made an arm and scooped her boat out of the pool. "Aye aye, Capitan!" She scooted fast enough -- his swat didn't connect. Alonzo yelled and rushed after Ricky, through the town square and the market, back to the small house they shared with Mama and three other children. The house was freshly whitewashed, but that scarcely disguised the crack up near the eaves. "I found her for you, Mama." Mama nodded, not looking up. Spread in front of here was a mound of cloth cut to various pattern, and she was basting it into rough shape before taking it to the treadle powered sewing machine in the corner. the mechanism of the sewing machine fascinated Ricky, but she dreaded the times her mother had been too exhausted to pump the foot-piece. "Don Espiridion came by, Enriqueta. He is very impressed by your schoolwork." Ricky let out a deep breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Don Espiridion was in charge of the local school, but he was also foul tempered and had recently lost his wife. And Ricky was just barely below being marriageable. She wanted to be gone before her mother decided the family would be more comfortable with a wealthy man as an in-law. "And you told him what, Mama?" "That I would send you to talk to him as soon as you returned from your errand. Which should not have been this long. So clean up, and go." 'Lario handed her a tortilla filled with spiced meat as she ran for the room she shared with her sister. Careful not to drip food juices on the dress, she carried it to the small washroom. She gulped the meal, then washed her hands and face before sliding the cream-colored dress over her head and securing the light blue sash around her waist. The style was for an older girl -- Ricky looked more like a boy pretending to be a girl. Her figure would get better -- her sister had half the boys in town staring at her, but not listening to a word she said, as if her wit were a parrot's squawking. Maybe not having a figure wasn't a disadvantage after all. Then again, she wasn't sure that wasn't what Don Espiridion wanted. His late wife had been built like a stick -- Mama kept saying that she died because she didn't eat enough, and them with all that money, what a shame it was. That's when Mama started to look at her when she talked about Don Espiridion. And why Ricky wanted out, urgently. --- The church was a quick bit of shade most of the way to Don Espiridion's home. She stood in the dark, hearing the murmuring of the two sisters praying before a statue of the Blessed Mother. The burning wax of the votive candles added a faintly chemical taint to the air -- long gone were the days of beeswax candles and incense was only brought out for feast days and requiem masses. "Good day to you, daughter." The padre's warm, slightly gravelly voice startled her -- she ducked a curtsey before turning to greet him. "Good day to you, Father." Then she saw how the shadows had lengthened. "Your pardon, Father, but I have to run." "No, my daughter, not unless you have somewhere other than home for refuge. Don Espiridion expected you an hour ago. He had visitors -- examiners from the Academy. But they could not wait all day for a little girl, no matter how brilliantly she designed toy boats." His hand swept toward a statue of St. Jude. "Perhaps a few prayers that your mother will not collapse from her rage." Almost soundlessly, "Which direction did they go, when they left? Back to the capital? Or to another town?" "I don't know. I'll have one of the boys ask around, see if anyone took note." But he was talking to empty air. --- Ricky waited in the shadows until her mother was in another room, then slid up the stairs to her bedroom. In a matter of minutes, she had a pile of everything worth taking with her, including her sister's heavy walking shoes and all of her sister's extra socks. She hesitated for a moment, then left her boat on the table next to the bed. Packing it would crush it, and she didn't want anything in her hands while she was running. The dress ended in a pile on the floor, and Ricky dressed in her most durable field clothes. She had just closed the satchel when she heard footsteps on the stairs -- her sister? her mother? Just a year before, she had been able to climb down from the window, using cracks in the adobe and a vine that was trying to tear the house apart. But she had shot up some inches since, and weight to match. But what choice did she have? Out the window! The vine almost held. When it finally gave under her weight, she was only two feet further off the ground than she had intended to be when she let go. Her sister's head looked out the window, and then pulled back in - she heard yelling. The alarm was out. Time to run. --- "Do you know," Ricky remarked to the sand lizard she had just killed with a well-thrown rock, "the hero in adventure stories never has these problems." The lizard, not unexpectedly, did not answer. "I'm not going to bother to cook you, but I wish I had something better than my teeth to cut you into smaller pieces. I left my sword at home -- something else that adventurers don't do." She examined the little carcass. "Do you have any Deinonychus in your ancestry?" The claws were tiny, but sharp. She was able to use one to penetrate the lizard's skin around its neck, and peeled the skin away from the meat. "Do you know where there's any water?" No answer. She bit the back of its neck, tearing away some of the meat. "Talk, you wretched creature!" The prisoner stood mute. Eventually, Ricky piled small stones over the empty skin and bones, keeping the sharpest claw for a tool for later. She wiped her hands on the sand, to get rid of the blood, then on her trousers. "Got to keep moving." She stopped long enough to change into the larger, sturdier shoes, with plenty of socks for padding. A long way ahead of her. --- The moon's light was enough for her to keep to the wagon trail across the plain, and several more creatures, curious as to what a single human was doing on their turf, were now riding on top of her pack, paws tied together to prevent escape. She'd managed to stun two rabbits and a lizard with stones, and had killed another lizard. "If I had some firewood, I would be in good shape. Something to drink would be nice, too.." Movement in the distance. Beneath the dust, it looked like a wagon, but at that speed, it wasn't being drawn by horses. Had she been seen? Flattening onto the ground, they might not see her. Ricky looked down -- saw a scorpion looking back up to her, accessing this large heat source for its food value. "Sorry, not me." She took her pack off and retrieved her straw hat. "Here I am!" waving the hat. As loud as those things were, it would be useless to yell anyway, even close up. --- "_What_ are you doing way out here?" asked the driver as he pulled up in front of the youngster. He pulled his goggles off and wiped them, peering at Ricky. "And why are you carrying those animals?" he asked, startled. She giggled. "They're my dinner. But I'll trade you one for a canteen of water." "They're still _moving_." She took off her pack and climbed into the open-topped car. The lizard and one of the rabbits were hissing at each other -- the other rabbit was not moving. "They keep better that way, if you're going to be several days on the road. I don't imagine that it's something _you_ have to think about." She peered at the controls. "How does this thing work?" "Ah . . . It's really easier to explain if I can draw pictures. And I can't do that in the dark, and I can't do that while I'm driving." "Okay. Let's go." The lizard hissed again. "Be quiet, you. By the way, do you have some water? I'm awfully thirsty." He laughed and handed her a bota. "Try this." She managed to squirt herself in the face at first, but got the hang of it soon enough. The water had been mixed with a little bit of lemon juice, which cut the acrid taste of dust, and it was still warm from the day's heat. "This," she sputtered, after she squirted just a bit too much into her mouth to swallow all at once, "is the best water I've ever tasted." He grinned, teeth bright against the dust still caking his face. "Brewed it up myself. I'm John Worrell. What do you call yourself?" "I'm Ricky." "Pleased to meet you, Ricky. Throw your zoo into the back seat, and we'll get back on the road -- if that's what you call this sort of thing in these parts." She turned in the seat to deposit her pack on the seat, careful to miss the bundle of rolled paper already there. "We'll have no fighting, understand?" No answer, of course. Once she was back in her seat, John handed her a pair of goggles. "You might find these useful." --- "What are the papers?" She was turned around in the seat, trying to see what was on the rolls when the car hit a bump, and she almost went flying. John snagged her and put her back into her chair. "Plans." "I can _see_ that. For what?" "For a spaceship." It took a moment for that to sink in. Ships, she knew, of course. "Like airships?" "Yes." John did something with a lever, and the car slowed and stopped. His arm swept toward the western horizon. "A ship for going to the moon." Very slow exhale, "Ohhhhhh." --- Another small town, north on the same coast as where Ricky's family lived. "Why are we here?" John lifted an eyebrow at the "we" but let it slide. "I'm looking for launch sites. I need a high spot with a lot of water downrange, accessible by rail with very little effort." "How big _is_ this thing?" She studied the plans, looking for a scale, but all she found was illegible scribbles where there should have been numbers. Big grin. "I have no idea. But once I start my experiments, I would rather not have to pull up stakes and go somewhere else when I could have thought the site through ahead of time." Ricky had to agree with that. --- Chapter Three "Why does he live in a world that can't be, And what does he want of me. . ." Midmorning on a Saturday, and the autumn winds were whipping up a bit, but not enough to even distract the two young men who were crouched over a model rocket on a launch stand. The rocket would head out over the water, the least danger to any passersby. Curious seagulls hovered nearby -- humans on the beach often meant food. The final checklist was taken care of. "Okay, all clear. Jesse, get back over here." A sound from down the beach, growing closer. "Hold the launch, Drum. Something's coming." Ross grabbed Jesse's collar while Nat Drummond disconnected the power from the ignition coil. Saving time by leaving it hooked wasn't worth it; having the rocket go off unwanted was downright dangerous. Someone was driving up the beach, right across their firing range. The low-slung, black car was open topped, and the passenger was sitting on the back of the seat rather than in the seat proper. The car's design was subtly wrong, somehow, or at least alien, built with a foreigner's sense of esthetics. "Pretty, though," Ross remarked, his attention on the lines of the car. He picked Jesse up and scratched behind her ears. "She certainly is," Drum answered. But _his_ attention was somewhat above the level of the fenders. The passenger -- Ross recognized her as last year's visitor -- her loose clothing flowing out behind her, waved to the two youngsters. The car pulled up and growled to a soft purr, then silence, only the hiss of the surf beyond it. The driver didn't bother with opening the door -- he boosted himself up onto the door of the car, swung his legs over and dropped onto the sand. It was another of the hruss, dressed in the same quality of clothing, albeit darker in color, and about ten years older than the woman. His dark hair was longer than the two boys had seen a man wear it except in old paintings, and it was drawn back and tied behind the man's head. The man moved around the car and helped the woman off onto the sand. Next to each other, it was obvious that the two were close kin. She whispered something to him, and he nodded. "My sister says you live in the area." Drum nodded, Ross, distracted by Jesse struggling in his arms, took a moment to respond. "Yes." Ross almost waved toward his house with his hand, then remembered the chin-pointing the woman had used at their last meeting. Maybe it was rude to point otherwise, in their culture? Ross used the chin gesture, "Not far from here." The man nodded, slowly, "You are Ross?" His voice was deeper than his sister's but held the same music, the same liquid warmth. "Yes. This is Nat Drummond . . ." " -- Drum -- " ". . . and this is Jesse." When she heard her name, she licked at her master's face. Ross pushed her away gently, smiling, then released her back onto the beach. "I am Jheraind, and this is my sister Mairyonven." With half a grin, "Jerry, if you prefer, and Ree. That's easier for foreigners to say. Our family is staying some miles down the beach." A sweeping hand gesture, back the way the car had come. Jesse checked out the new arrivals, with their new scents, both the people and the car. Mairyonven crouched down and ruffled Jesse's ears. Then she clapped her hands in dismay, "Oh, I forgot. I promised to bring treats this time. Where is Caitlin? And you said the other one was Brigit?" She remembered that? After more than a year? "They don't like the fireworks. Jesse doesn't mind, so I bring her out here instead." "Fireworks?" Jheraind asked. "Is that what you have set up here? A fireworks display?" Jheraind moved over toward the test stand while Mairyonven turned and looked for something in the back seat of the car. "It's a rocket, not ornamental. We're testing a new fuel." Ross started in on details of the different fuels they had tried, and how they had been less than adequate. That was _his_ interest in the project - Drum was taking care of the mechanical aspects, the linkages, steering, and the firing mechanisms. Drum was distracted by Mairyonven -- Ross had to nudge him to get his attention. "And you're ready to fire? Or were, when we interrupted?" Jheraind nodded, paying close attention. Mairyonven turned around, a small paper-wrapped packet in her hand, and crouched next to the car. "Come here, Jesse. See if you like this." "That," Jheraind said, "is our lunch, sister. Although . . ." his eyes travelled down Ross and up again, then over to Drum. "Perhaps the young gentlemen would like to join us. And then, perhaps, we can see a launch?" "Certainly!" Jesse made short work of the . . . sandwich? Drum found a fairly clean blanket with their packing materials and spread it out on the sand to sit on. Ross didn't understand why Jheraind had been concerned by one single sandwich -- the contents of the basket that came out of the back of the car could have kept him and Drum fed for half a week. There were sandwiches, and small containers of vegetables unlike anything that Ross or Drum had ever tasted on a picnic -- or on the dinner table, for that matter. And there was tea, but cold and very sweet, served out of bulky bottles that were very light for their size. Ross's family seldom had desserts, other than fruit when available -- the sugar in the drink was nearly nauseating, until it hit his bloodstream, then it was intoxicating. Ross gulped it . . . Pain. Something was driving a white-hot needle into his eye socket, he choked back a whimper. Mairyonven giggled, then apologized. "It is the cold drink. You drank it too fast." She took the glass out of his hand. "Here." Jheraind pressed a sun-warmed stone against Ross's temple, holding it there. "Is that any better?" "Some, yes." The heat helped Ross's headache. Drum sipped his own drink cautiously, expecting himself to be stricken at any instant. Ross's hand came up to adjust where the stone was -- his hand encountered Jheraind's. "Ree, what _is_ this stuff?" "Tea, sweetened. Oh, yes. Our people sweeten things much more heavily than your do." She dug into the bottom of the basket and brought out a tin. When opened, the aroma of spices and honey rose from the golden mass inside. She cut the treat into small, crusty pieces, and handed one to Drum. Drum tasted it cautiously, then stuffed the piece into his mouth greedily. "This is _good_." Jheraind took a piece and touched it to Ross's lips. "Slowly. It isn't cold, but it has even more sugar than the drink." The spicy aroma wasn't only from the pastry -- some of it was from Jheraind's hand. Ross tasted . . . Ross's eyes slid half-shut as he savored it, and he was embarrassed when he realized he had licked his lips for the last crumbs and encountered Jheraind's fingertips. "Is the headache gone?" Jheraind asked, softly. "Yes, thank you." Ross let go of the stone and rubbed his temple with his hand. "I didn't know cold would do that." Jheraind smiled, "Yes. You just have to be careful." Drum, "What about doing a launch, Ross?" Jheraind rose gracefully to his feet, and offered Ross a hand up. His handclasp was firm and warm, a little dry, as Ross came to his feet. Mairyonven fed one tidbit more to Jesse, who had been behaving herself very well for a dog with countless temptations on a blanket, and rose. Drum looked at the launch platform, then at the beach. "Jheraind, you have to move the car. If we have a partial burn, you're in the landing area." Jheraind looked at Ross. "Do you drive?" "My uncle says I'm too young . . ." Ross grinned, "but he doesn't know everything. Yes. I can drive." "I see." This time the chin point at the car. "Move the car to where you think it will be safe." Ross grinned again, and headed for the car. A moment's investigation to find the ignition, then he got it into gear and headed further down the beach, not quite daring to back it up. Drum helped Mairyonven collect the remains of the meal, then put the blanket back with the other packing material. The launch trigger was almost reconnected when Ross returned, a bit short-winded and flushed from running back. Final checklist, then Ross collected Jesse and held her. "It's noisy -- is everyone ready?" Affirmatives all around. "On three . . . one. Two. Three!" And Drum flipped the switch. Fire and smoke and a roar . . . the rocket rose into the sky, heading toward the ocean. Mairyonven clapped her hands in delight. Ross let Jesse go and shaded his eyes, trying to follow the rocket's path as far as he could. "Your father won't let us bring his binoculars out here, will he." Drum laughed, "I'm lucky he'll let _me_ come out here." A splash in the distance, on the right bearing, but no way to tell if it was the rocket's impact or a fish leaping out of the water. Ross and Drum busied themselves for a few moments checking the condition of the launch platform, and took notes on the rocket's performance. "I think we have the holddown delay about right this time . . ." "When is your next launch?" Jheraind asked. "I'd like to watch." Drum shrugged. "We don't have a lot of money. We have to build a new vehicle every time. Call it a couple of months." "Forgive me. If you had the money, how soon could you launch again?" "Two months," Ross said. "We have to machine the engine parts -- that takes time." "And you are working at jobs . . ." "No. We're in school. Even though we could probably take the end of year exams and pass them. They won't let us." Jheraind's eyebrow rose. "Your talents are being wasted. There is nothing I can do about the school, but perhaps I can help you otherwise. How much money do you need? To do it right, not having to cut corners?" Ross ran figures over in his head, then remembered some unexpected expenses that had nearly scuttled the most recent launch. He took his first figure and doubled it. "One hundred dollars." From inside his tunic Jheraind drew a fold of bills, and peeled some out of the middle. "I am going to assume that boys" did Ross imagine an odd spin on that word? "would not be expected to spend large denomination bills without question, but I think you should have no problems with these." He took Ross's hand, opened it, and put the bills on Ross's palm, closing Ross's fingers over them." "Thank you." Ross didn't count the money, but he had seen that they were twenties, and there were certainly more than five of them. "How do we reach you, to tell you when the next launch is?" "You'll be buying the fuel last, correct? I'll know, then." --- Drum, "How much did he give you?" Ross took the bills out from where he had stuffed them into his pocket. Counting . . . "Two hundred and fifty." Drum's jaw dropped. "Where does he get that kind of money to throw around?" "Didn't you see that car? He's rich -- at least his family is." Drum smiled when Ross said "family." "Nice looking sister." "I guess." Ross thrust the money into Drum's hand. "You've been doing the buying." "Yes." An evil grin, "But _he_'s buying _you_, not me." "What is that supposed to mean?" "Don't tell me you didn't notice? He was treating you like a _girl_, Ross. He's _courting_ you." Ross turned bright red. "What are you talking about?" "You don't know what some of their men do?" Drum started to describe various activities, in an undertone. But what he said was ugly, and could have nothing to do anyone like Jheraind, could it? It certainly had nothing to do with how much Ross had enjoyed, finally admitting it to himself, Jheraind's attention. The hruss were a graceful people, soft-spoken . . . "I'm _not_ a girl. And _I_ don't believe he was treating me like one." "If you say so, Rosie. Maybe _he_ wants to be the girl. He's a lot prettier than you are." Drum ducked the wad of packing material Ross threw at him. --- Chapter Four "Well, that part was never big with me either." The envelope was heavy paper, almost cardstock. The address was in an elegant, flowing hand, but there was somthing about it -- it looked "drawn" more than "written", as if someone were copying shapes instead of writing letters. The hand inside was the same, the message short. "Unto you, my friend, greetings, I ask that you join me at Kientigres Raceway on Saturday morning. I understand that you have chores -- come as soon as you may. Eagerly awaiting you, Jheraind" The phrasing was odd, but Jheraind was a foreigner. Ross put the letter back in its envelope and tucked the envelope inside one of his mechanical drawing books. --- At the Kientigres race track. "Jheraind asked me to meet him here?" The gate guard picked up his clipboard. "Name? And who did you say you were here to see?" "Ross Colburn. And I'm not sure what his full name. Jheraind something." Ross almost added, "He's hruss," but stopped. This time Ross must have said it right -- the guard looked startled and turned to a page at the bottom of the stack. He scanned it quickly. His eyebrow rose. "Yes. We're not only to admit you, but have someone escort you to his garage immediately." A moment's hesitation, then, "If there's any trouble, come back here immediately." Ross's brow wrinkled. "What kind of trouble?" The guard hesitated again, then shrugged. "Maybe nothing. Just remember." The guard raised his voice. "Sam, take Ross here down to Jerry's garage." Sam was a man in his thirties dressed in a mechanic's stained coveralls. "Yes, sir." Ross walked alongside the mechanic through a maze of machine shops and tow trailers. "What's . . . the problem with Jheraind?" The mechanic stopped. He turned and looked Ross up and down. "You don't know. Man, if he lays a hand on you . . . tell someone, and he'll get bounced out of here so fast that . . ." Ross's fists clenched -- he was fighting the urge to grab Sam's shoulders and shake the information out of him. "_What_ are you _talking_ about?" Then he remembered what Drum had told him about some of the hruss. And he flushed. "_Oho!_ Remember now, do you? I'm not saying he will bother you, but . . . be careful. And don't let him talk you into anything. Or going alone with him anywhere." Ross wanted to shout at Sam "He's not like that!" but held his tongue. He had met the man _once_. --- The garage was immaculate. Ross wondered if any work got done on site at all until he saw the coveralls -- they were not filthy, but well-stained. Then someone dropped a tool. Immediately, an otherwise not terribly conspicuous guard swooped down, picked up the tool, and cleaned the spill. Jheraind's voice from the other side of the garage. "Grigor, get Ross a coverall. Ross, I have some figures I want you to look at -- some new fuel mixtures." Ross nodded, and Grigor tossed him a new -- pressed! -- coverall. The weather was still cool -- the boy slipped it on over his street clothes. Jheraind was talking to one of the mechanics, motioned Ross over. "This man," Jheraind pointed with his chin, "takes care of acquiring fuel for my cars. You're going to work with him. He has a years on you of dealing with petrochemicals and other mixtures. Medlen, Ross builds and fuels model rockets. He's been reading all the reports of other hobbyists in the field, and might just know some combination a pro would never be so foolish as to try. That might work anyway. Show him your records." Medlen nodded curtly, "Right away. Ross, with me." --- An hour and a half later, there was a series of bells ringing. Medlen finished his sentence, and closed the notebook he had been consulting. "That's lunch." Ross protested, "I'd rather stay here and go over some more figures . . ." "No. We are expected at lunch. A team that is hungry and exhausted makes mistakes. We don't do that here." Ross looked mournfully at the shelf of notebooks he had barely started to sift through. Then he sighed, almost theatrically, "I don't imagine I could finish them off in half an hour, anyway." Medlen grinned. "Not half an hour. Not an hour. Not this week or the next. But if Jerry doesn't have any other use for you, _I_ want you for _my_ assistant. Do you think your folks would let you come out here days after school?" Ross was fairly sure his aunt wouldn't approve, but his uncle might be worked around. "Let me talk to them," he said. Then he thought of a factor that might change reluctant minds. "Do I get paid?" "Certainly. Depending on your hours and how useful you make yourself." His aunt had been complaining -- thinking Ross was out of earshot -- about how hard it was to feed and clothe him, now that he was nearly grown. A pay envelope was a definite plus in the chances of getting out here every day. --- Lunch was not sandwiches, or even other finger food. The serving stations looked a lot like the local church dinners -- you took your plate, served yourself, and went back for seconds after everyone had had a crack at first servings. Some of the food was what Ross might have seen on his aunt's dinner table. Other dishes held food in strange shapes, with unusual aromas -- intriguing, but foreign. Ross was hungry enough, and curious enough, to fill most of his plate with "normal" food,and then add some more exotic selections. By the time he was ready to find an eating space, the only empty chairs were at the table with Jheraind, who was talking animatedly with the senior mechanic and neglecting half a plate of food in front of him. Ross took a seat near him and listened as he ate. A major race in three days . . . Jheraind was the driver? The shape in the main bay was still draped with protective cloth, allowing easy access only to the engine compartment. A different car from the one on the beach, lower, a bit longer and narrower. "Hey, kid -- " "Ross." "-- Ross, could you scoot over a bit so my bud here can sit next to me?" "Sure." Ross moved his chair . . . found himself sitting only a couple of spans away from Jheraind, who was finished with the mechanic and was working on his meal again. Ross nodded, shortly, politely, "Jheraind." Jheraind studied the young man for a moment. "How old are you, Ross?" "Sixteen." A slow nod. "If you were one of my people, you would be considered a man, and not have to ask leave of your parents. But your people still hold you as a child." A strange, wistful smile. "And that is a pity." Jheraind pushed his plate away from him, unfinished. He stood. "Ross, with me, please." Ross was startled -- his plate was barely started. But he pushed away from the table and stood up -- there was certainly no reason to start off being a spoiled child. Medlen was waiting in the office for them. "Report?" Medlen looked over at Ross and smiled. "Do what you have to do to keep him. He has some rough edges,and a massive set of holes in his information, but he's a fast learner." Jheraind said something in his own language, possibly a question from the inflection. Medlen answered, "I don't think so. But possibly he doesn't know yet." "Very well. Ross, are you done with school? You'll get more technical training -- are you done with reporting in every morning to a droning lecture and screaming children?" Was that even _possible_? "I don't see how I can get out of it. I'd love to, though." Jheraind turned to Medlen, "You have your instructions. Go." Medlen nodded curtly, raising his hand in a faint imitation of a salute Ross had seen one of the guards use, and left the room. The door closed behind him, leaving Ross and Jheraind alone. Jheraind settled down onto the edge of his desk. "Sixteen. Such a pity." "Excuse me?" Jheraind shook his head, smiling gently. "You honestly have no idea." Ross remembered suddenly what Drum had tried to tell him . . . he flushed. Then, to his horror, he heard himself, say, "What are you intending to do to me?" But not in indignation -- the tone was almost plaintive. "Nothing at all, my young friend. In spite of the signals you keep sending me." Light laughter, "The women do not point with the hand. That is for a man to do. But a man who gestures as a woman would . . ." Ross turned even redder. "I didn't mean anything by that. I was just trying to be polite." "Be not uneasy. You are a child by your laws, and were I to touch you, even were you eager . . . it would be well if I fled this land." A smile, "And I do not choose to do that, especially not with a race close upon us." Ross caught his breath. He started to protest that he didn't understand how a man could not want women, that wasn't the proper order of things . . . dark eyes. Smooth, dark hair. And a low voice that didn't grate on his nerves like the voices of the girls his own age -- or his aunt's, when she went on a rampage. Women's voices stayed shrill, at least when they were angry at their menfolk. "Golden hair," Ross heard. "I'm still surprised every time I see it." And a hand under his chin, shifting his face just a little. "And blue eyes. That is not so rare among us as the golden hair, but . . . The combination is striking." Jheraind sighed. "Two years. By then, you will know what you want." His voice dropped -- Ross could barely hear him. "I would take great joy in teaching you." Ross felt his hands trembling. The spicy scent that had been mild in the open air was very strong in the confined area, and the hand under his chin was warm and gentle. Nervously, he laughed. "Let's just . . . not discuss that. Tell me what's happening with my schooling." "Ah. My lawyer has drawn up papers of apprenticeship for you. In return for your services, and a small fee paid to your guardians, I will undertake your education myself, to a reputable trade." A faint twinkle in Jheraind's eye -- were there disreputable trades he had considered? Never mind. "When you become eighteen, you may choose to continue until you are twenty one. Or you may sever our relationship." That word was strangely dry in Ross's ears. Did it mean something different in Jheraind's language that had nothing to do with what Jheraind wanted to "teach" him? "If I don't like the way I'm treated, I'll leave," Ross warned. "And go to the authorities, if I need to." "Agreed. Although complaints of being told to do your homework will get you little sympathy with those authorities." Jheraind stood. "Go. Finish your meal. Ask Tarpeian to step in here." Ross nodded, tried the salute that Medlen had used. Jheraind shook his head and smiled. "Don't do that." "Ah . . . another 'girl' signal?" "Not . . . precisely. There is something among us called a 'life vow', a vow of service. I do not have time to explain it to you now -- just . . . don't use that salute." "Understood." --- Chapter Five "Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command . . ." Ross went home exactly once after his aunt and uncle signed the apprenticeship contract. His aunt kept looking out the windows, as if one of Them had followed him home, and the fact he would associate with them meant he was no kin of theirs, so she might as well take the money and say good riddance to the changeling. Uncle Bert was more understanding. "No one is forcing you to leave us, do you understand? Your aunt has these Ideas -- " Ross knew all about his aunt's Ideas. So did half of the parish. " -- but I know they don't do anything to children. Do you still want to go through with it?" "Yes. I've already started technical training I can't get if I stay home, not for years. And normal school here is such a waste." Ross craned his head around the doorframe, making sure his aunt wasn't just outside listening. "I think she'll be happier when I'm gone. I've been getting on her nerves lately." "That's the short definition of teenager, yes. Otherwise, we would love you so much, we'd never let you go, and you would never grow up." That got a grin out of Ross. "I see she got her new curtains." Uncle Bert rolled his eyes. "Yes, she did. And she made me get a new suit for services." He looked around the doorframe himself. "She gave half of the money to the church before she would spend a penny of it. _That_ was a waste." "No. It eased her mind, that she wasn't selling me to the hruss." Ross finished packing the last box. It was amazing how little of his life was in this room - packing up the workshop had been a major chore earlier, but he'd had help from the garage -- people his aunt wouldn't have let into the house. "She knows better. She feels bad that she couldn't be as warm to you as your mother was. She's . . . not an easy person to be." Ross had expected his uncle to say "not an easy person to live with" and he was ready to agree. But "not an easy person to be" was a new concept. "How can you not be . . ." Uncle Bert raised his hand. "Don't worry about it. With luck, you'll never learn. But that's one reason God gave us partners -- so we don't have to carry the burden of being ourselves all alone." --- Medlen showed Ross the room in the complex that was going to be his for a while. "Were there any problems?" "No . . . my uncle said something strange to me . . . it was an odd conversation altogether, come to think of it. Any time my uncle starts talking about God, it's just weird. I think if the preacher heard him, he'd be banned from the congregation." "What did he say?" "He started talking about people needing 'partners' . . ." Medlen smiled, gently, "Your uncle is a wise man." "I guess." Ross put the last of his books on the bookshelf. It still looked bare. "He meant to say 'wife', didn't he?" "The hruss don't have a separate word for husband or wife. They translate their word as 'partner'." Ross laughed. "That means if I use the word wrong, I could be saying that I have a husband." --- 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 just 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. --- 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." --- Chapter Eight ". . . though we mourn, we shall not falter . . ." Papers, spread out on the desk like a giant hand of poker. A letter from Jheraind, dated a year before. The letter opened, "My dearest Ross. If you are reading this, I am dead." Ross put the letter down. It was too soon. He bit back tears, reached for the letter to tear it into shreds, make it not have happened . . . No. Look at everything else first, then go back to the letter. A certificate that said that Ross had completed his apprenticeship with exceptional diligence, and was free to make his own way in the world. Another small stack of papers that were letters of recommendations from the lead mechanic and the lead machinist, praising Ross's diligence and attention to detail. And a document from the closest bank, saying there was an account in Ross's name, with an unrealistic amount of money in it. Ross stood up, paced around the room, forced himself to take some deep breaths. Medlen had told him that he wasn't being dropped as an apprentice. Why these completion papers, then? Maybe the answer was in the letter. He steeled himself and picked up the letter, taking it over to the window to read it. My dearest Ross. If you are reading this, I am dead. My death was in an accident at the track, and I died doing what I love. Mourn me as you will -- all of us grieve in different ways. I have prepared papers for your use if you do not choose to stay with the team. I ask that you stay, but realize the pain may be too great. There were discussions I meant to have with you, questions I meant to answer. And countless more questions you never voiced, that I can't imagine. These no longer matter. I will leave you with only these two pieces of advice: First, find meaningful work that you love. Money isn't the goal, fame isn't the goal. Second, loving another person is one of the most fulfilling things you can do. Just remember that your partner is a person, not a reflection of yourself. And don't let your upbringing stop you from loving whom you will. My religion holds that we return to the earth, life after life. Yours holds that after one life, there is an eternal paradise, where you keep the company of those you loved in life. In either case, we will meet again -- I know it. Until then, be well, try to be happy. Jheraind Ross read the letter over several times, until he could get through it without tears blurring his sight. --- Chapter Nine ". . . black, white, green, red . . ." Ross's birthday, and he could get free of the garage if he chose. Not that there was anywhere else he wanted to be, but . . . it was nice to be able to choose. "What would I do if I left? Well, I could get a dog again. No place to keep one here." Ross sighed. "They'd let me. It isn't fair to the dog." He collected his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. He was reaching for the door knob when there was a soft knock. "Yes?" "Letter for you." "Okay." Ross opened the door. It was one of the younger mechanics -- seventeen next month, if Ross remembered right. The kid grinned. "It's your birthday, right? Want to go out for a banana split or something? Just to get out of here?" "I really wasn't planning on heading into town -- I'm going to wear out some shoe leather. I've got some things to think about." "Some other time, then." "Yes." The mechanic turned and headed down the hall. Ross looked at the envelope. The same heavy paper that his invitation to the race track had been. He opened it carefully. Greetings Please present yourself at six in the evening at room 702 of the Muller Building. Tarpeian That was it. Well, Tarpeian was the nominal head of the garage, so . . . Plenty of time to wander around until then, though. --- Ross almost lost track of the time. He had to sprint the last few blocks -- he hoped there wasn't the nonsense of a surprise party -- he would look a fine fool, disheveled and out of breath. He was greeted at the door by Medlen. "Calm down. No one is going to spring out at you. We're going out to dinner with Mairyonven but she isn't here yet -- would you like to shower and change clothes?" "Sure." The suite was part office, part apartment. In the bedroom there was an oversized bed, a conservative dark suit and a dress shirt laid out on it. On the floor was a pair of new shoes, gleaming softly. Medlen handed Ross a bathrobe and a razor. "Everything else you need is in the bathroom. Take your time." The water was hotter than he usually got back in his apartment. The soap had a strange scent to it -- something the hruss brought with them from home? It lathered well, so he used it to shave as well. Then there was a sharp knock on the door, startling him. "I'll be right out." A quick rinse, and toweled off, throwing the robe around himself. The lights were dimmed in the bedroom when he came out, and the suit wasn't arrayed on the bed any more. A soft voice behind him. "Happy birthday, Ross." "Thank you, Mairyonven. Ah . . . we are going out to dinner?" "Shortly." Hands on his waist. He froze. "We have customs, my friend, when one of us becomes an adult." Her voice dropped, caressed . . . "Jheraind asked me to see that you were . . . dealt with? That will do." Faint stirrings went absolutely cold at that name. Could he even look at her without thinking of other possibilities? "I don't think this is going to work." A deeper voice, "Perhaps I'm more to your tastes." A hand touching his neck, dry, a little rough. "You're trembling." Ross's breath came quick and shallow. His eyes closed, he was afraid . . . no, he was afraid of not being afraid, afraid of wanting something he had been told was wrong, not even the dignity of it being evil, but unnatural, disgusting . . . Gentle hands turned him around, distracting him, then a double embrace. A hand behind his head drew his face down for a kiss. Soft lips, and then a tongue, ever so slightly insistent, pushing into his mouth, exploring. _That_ was intriguing -- he had never considered that sort of thing before. She accepted his tongue in return, nibbling gently on it. Her mouth was soft and warm, and spicy as her scent was spicy. Other, dryer lips mock-nibbled lightly on his neck. Ross turned his face up, a different taste, a more forceful kiss; the man's tongue was less hesitant than the woman's. Hands slid inside Ross's bathrobe, easing it off him. He found himself being steered over toward the bed, lowered onto it . . . hands on him, exploring, teasing. "What do I do?" Ross whispered. Mairyonven's hand took his, slid it along her body. One of Medlen's hands explored Ross's body. "What do you want to do? Today is for _your_ pleasure." Ross shivered. Neither of them were Jheraind, and yet . . . "I don't know what I want. Everything," he whispered hoarsely. "I want everything. Teach me _everything_." "Yes." --- Drowsing, Ross chuckled softly. "This is not real." Medlen's hand traced a line of sweat that ran from high on Ross's chest to his navel. Ross sighed contentedly. "It's real," the older man answered. "Are you thinking of anything in particular?" "I shouldn't feel so good." A giggle escaped. "This can't be right. Maybe I should feel this way about Mairyonven, but not about both of you. Especially not about you. I shouldn't want another man to do what you did to me." Ross could hear the smile in the other man's voice. "We're not done yet." Ross choked back a surprised laugh. "What? There isn't anything else." Medlen's hands reached down, teased the younger man back up to an erection. "At this point, you're going to last for a while before you fire." Rearrangement on the bed, until Ross was behind Medlen, Medlen's back to him. "Go ahead." "You want me inside you. The same way you rode me. You want me to treat you like a woman." Was there a touch of contempt in that? Laughter from Mairyonven, echoed by Medlen. "That's not the way it is. Come on -- I'm ready for you." The passage was well-lubricated, and open enough that it wasn't painful. At one point, Medlen clamped down, holding Ross inside. Medlen gasped, then relaxed. And soon after, Ross couldn't hold back any more. --- Ross's first thought was wondering why he had been allowed to wake on his own, instead of being greeted by a sloppy wet tongue. Then, as more of his brain kicked in, he realized that the bodies with him in the bed were human sized, and smooth skinned. Bodies. His hand crept out, hesitantly, and touched . . . Medlen's voice, "Good morning, Ross." And something in the hruss language, followed by, "I greet you on your first morning," which might have been a translation. "How do you feel?" "Hungry." Ross laughed, nervously, "We missed dinner." "Yes, we did. I should have had food here for after. I forget how often a young fellow like you has to eat." An edge of contempt, "I thought you would be used to that. Do you collect all of your mechanics as they turn eighteen? Do you even wait?" "Who are you hating, Ross? Me? Yourself? Or your aunt, who filled your head with poison over who it was proper to love? Nothing we did was wrong." A firm hand under Ross's chin, tilting his head up for a kiss. "Nothing." Ross surprised himself by not only accepting the kiss, but returning it almost feverishly. He pushed the older man onto his back and sprawled over him, forcing his lips hard against Medlen's, his tongue deep into the other man's mouth. --- Mairyonven slipped out of the room while the two men were busy. A word with one of the guards -- breakfast would arrive shortly. The children were still asleep . . . She smiled down at the bed the two little ones shared. Would one of her next children have golden hair like the father? Very likely not -- she doubted there would be another time, not by the signs. "Jheraind, you were right. I wish you had lived to take him under your hand." She sighed, "You were so sure that this one was your partner, your destiny. I could see you aching not to touch him." She bit her lower lip, tears welling in her eyes. "I miss you so much, big brother." She leaned over to kiss the little ones. The younger one, a boy, woke, his great eyes dark. His tiny hand came up and touched her face, feeling the damp of the tears on her cheek. His hand went to his mouth, tasting the salt. "Not cry, Mama, not cry." "You're right, little one, precious one, I shouldn't cry." She scooped Envyss up and held him to her. He giggled and threw his arms around her neck. The little girl woke, wanted hugs too. "Mama, you said today we could go look at the puppies." "Yes, Serelda. Look at -- not get one. Do you understand that? If you beg me for a puppy, we leave, right then. If you beg me for a puppy later, we don't visit any more." "Okay, Mama," the little girl said. The little one echoed, "Okay, Mama." "Good." A sound in the other room. "Breakfast is here -- let me get you dressed." --- Ross dozed off after the lovemaking. Medlen waited a few minutes, then kissed the young man on the forehead. Not a stir. Medlen slipped over to the edge of the bed and, retrieving his clothes, made his way to the bathroom. A quick shower and shave, clothes, a quick pass with the comb at his hair. The longer hair of the hruss didn't suit Medlen for himself, but it was intriguing in a lover. Not that Ross would ever let himself adopt hruss styles . . . after two years with the garage, he hadn't even picked up the mannerisms most of the mechanics had. A strangled coughing noise got Medlen's attention. He poked his head out the bathroom door -- Ross had stretched himself over most of the bed, and had his head tilted back, and the most spectacular snores were coming out. "Ross," Medlen called softly. The snores stopped. The young man on the bed shifted, a single eye opened stickily, "Wha?" "If you get up now, you can shower before breakfast. Or you can sleep a while more, and come to the table still whiffing like payday at a brothel. That will be amusing, and might get you some offers from the guards, but . . ." Ross rolled and almost fell off the bed. "Shower," he declared, once he was disentangled from the bedclothes. "Breakfast." "Good." --- When Ross made his way to the table, there were two small children sitting with Mairyonven. "Ross, these are Serelda and Envyss. They're the youngest of my children. The other two are living with their fathers." Fathers? Plural? Ross flushed suddenly, a question he really should have asked last night, before . . . "And your husband?" Mairyonven thought about that for a moment. "I don't have one, not in the sense that you mean. I choose whose company I want in bed, I choose who will father my children. I have never found anyone with whom I would wish to exchange an oath as your people do. Some of our couples do. Most do not." Ross couldn't think of anything more useful to say than "Oh" so he turned his attention to the food instead. None of it was familiar -- it all smelled wonderful, and was attractively laid out. "Where do you recommend I start eating?" Ross found himself taking a little bit of everything. Most of it was sweeter than he cared for. Then the little boy made a nipping motion toward one of the pieces Ross had tried and was about to put, unfinished, onto his plate. "Mairyonven? I've taken a bite out of it . . ." "If you wish, he can have it. Envyss, you were too forward. Ask Ross's forgiveness." "Rossss." The little face was solemn, "I did a wrong thing. I am sorry. May I have your forgiveness?" He stumbled over the word. Then again, this was Envyss's second language, not his first. "Yes, of course. Do you want the rest of the candies?" Ross didn't know if that is what they actually were, but it was something to call them. Envyss looked over at his mother, who nodded. "Yes, please," he answered. A piece at a time, Ross picked up samples of the different foods, tasted them, then fed the other half to Envyss. Ross was reminded of a very well behaved puppy, especially with the great dark eyes. And the wet tongue -- Envyss tended to lick the crumbs off Ross's fingers after the tidbit itself was already in his mouth. --- Chapter Ten ". . . let's go south for winter this year . . ." "Colonel, your proposal intrigues me. I am not certain, however, it can become reality with less than the cost of a dreadnought and a century of work." "Perhaps, General, you should look more closely at the second folder." Bezschastnoi flipped his own folder open and paged through the photographs. "Here." He skimmed the photo across the desk to in front of the General. "It's already started. This is a hruss experimental facility." Another photograph, "And these are our other friends -- not quite as far along, but --" Bezschastnoi slammed his hand onto the desk "--we have _nothing!_ Nothing!" "I see." the General studied the second photo. "Yes. You will get your funding." He gestured to a messenger standing by the door. "Accompany the colonel. I want to know everything about these other two research facilities. Immediately." --- Bleakness, the colonel reflected, was not in short supply in his homeland. The upside of that was that there would be no test stages falling on peasants -- Bezschastnoi had a better appreciation than most of the military of peasants, but he didn't need them raiding his supplies, either. Just the control mechanisms cost more than a farm would produce in a decade. "Your office is ready, sir. The technicians you requested were delayed -- they will arrive in two days. And there is a package from Academician Zhidislav waiting for you at the depot. It's rather large," the sergeant apologized, "And no one knew if it was personal or for the project, so we left it for a later pickup." Bezschastnoi sighed. "That is perhaps all for the best. We need a secure storage for the contents." "Secure, sir?" "Yes. Something that will hold a raging mastodon would be appropriate." "Ah . . . yes, sir, I'll arrange it at once, sir." --- The office had one of the few glass windows on the premises. the colonel settled back in his well-worn chair and looked out over rows of colorless buildings. The military could get things done, but at the price of boredom. Bezschastnoi picked up one of the packets waiting for him. A report on the hruss experimental station. He read. Race car drivers. Bah. But then, the fuels were similar . . . _That_ one wasn't hruss; the tall blond stood out among his dark haired comrades. And perhaps _there_ was the reason -- Her Serenity Mairyonven, daughter of their ruler-in-exile. Some of the photographs looked a bit overly-affectionate, but the hruss were shameless by the standards of most of the civilized world. One of the photos showed a number of small children playing around the launch station. No obvious signs that any of them belonged to the blond . . . The clothing was subtle, but an expert could read hruss social standing -- one of the children was the current heir, his father the prince dead since a year after his birth, and one was probably the princess's child. Yes, another photo of the princess with three children. And an assortment of dogs, some purebred, some mutts. Bezschastnoi carefully slid the photos back into a neat stack and labeled a file folder "hruss." The photos went into the folder and into the filing cabinet, all except one that clearly showed the blond's face. _This_ was his opponent. _This_ was the face of his enemy. But children? At a scientific outpost? Unbelievable! And pets! --- Chapter Eleven ". . . hello dere! . . ." The project was coming along nicely. Colonel Bezschastnoi looked out over small base that was, if not swarming with activity, at least visibly active. There were reports on his desk he needed to read, but there was a test firing in an hour, and it was a brutal ride out to the range -- only a fool tested next to habitats. Academician Zhidislav's new fuel had worked well in small quantities, and this was the first large-scale test. Zhidislav himself was supposed to arrive shortly -- although possibly not in time to see the test. This far out, transportation was iffy. Group Leader Oehleris rapped on the frame of the open door. "Your car is ready now, sir." "Thank you. Any word on the Academician?" "No, sir." "The launch is still on schedule?" "Yes, sir." The colonel grabbed his coat and shrugged it on. "Let's go, then." --- Unexpected company. There was a car with a general's plates sitting next to -- too damned close to -- the test stand. "Get that fool out of there." "Ah, sir . . ." The colonel sighed. "Very well." He climbed out of the car and hurried toward the small group of figures near the launch platform. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, we need to be somewhere else, please, immediately." How _do_ you stop a general from going where he wants to go? Short of leaving him there during the launch, which could be very satisfying, but ultimately unhelpful to the program. The general finally moved, and they were at the viewing platform with ten minutes to spare. "What were you doing there, General? Didn't you see the warning lights and signs?" "Bah. They mean nothing. I knew you would hold the launch." "I would hold the launch if I knew you were there. But if you escaped my notice . . ." At that moment the rocket blew up. --- "And your explanation, Colonel?" "General, I will not have an explanation until after an investigation. This is not an . . . automobile accident. First, we have to find the pieces. Then reassemble the rocket. The missing pieces are what we really need to look for. And then there is the chance of sabotage. You were able to get to the launch site because we are not adequately funded for security. Who else might have, and planted a bomb on the rocket?" --- The new funding included guards under a different budget. Zhidislav arrived a day late, and was put to work re-assembling the vehicle on the floor of a hangar. "But . . . I don't know anything about the mechanical end of this. I deal with explosives, chemicals . . ." "Then you can look for evidence of explosives. Go!" --- Chapter Fourteen Tarpeian Medlen Serelda A knock on Ross's door. He rolled over to face the door, too sleepy to get up to see who it was. "Yes?" One of the helpers. "Tarpeian wants to see you in his office." "I'll be right down." If Tarpeian wasn't waiting for him to get downstairs, did he have the time to get a shave? Ross brushed his hand along his chin. Not too bad... He'd gone out to town the night before, so his last shave was less than twelve hours before, not twenty-four. Ross threw on a clean coverall and tried not to kill himself on the stairs down. Tarpeian's door was open, and there were others inside talking. "Ross. Good. Get your personal gear together -- your shop is already packed. We're going home." Ross blinked, then panicked for a minute. "What are you talking about?" His voice came out a bit more shrill than he expected, no one else seemed to notice. "We're leaving Trafford." Ross could suddenly breathe again. He had had visions of having to go back to live with his aunt and uncle... you know, _home_. Home? Tarpeian's home? The hruss? "Arthulais?" "Yes." Then he noticed Ross's stunned expression. "Do you want to stay here? I forget you aren't one of our people." "I have no place here." Tarpeian grinned. "Quite literally, if you aren't on the transport with the rest of us. This place has already been sold to someone else." --- Medlen stopped by while Ross was packing. He had someone with him, one of the hruss technicians. "Yes?" "Ah... I'm staying here." Ross stopped. Medlen was his bed-mate, yes, but there wasn't a lot of emotional attachment. That was probably the result of that birthday night -- Ross hadn't had to get himself worked up to hunt in forbidden fields, or talk himself into thinking he was in love. "I'll miss you. But Tarpeian says he has me signed up for university starting in the fall." Medlen nodded. "I did most of the legwork for that. But that's not why I'm here. Ross, this is Keidrych. He'll help you get adjusted to living in Arthulais. It's hard to start somewhere new with no friends." Keidrych was older than Ross, but not as old as Jheraind had been. And there was an appraising look to his eye that gave Ross an idea of what kind of "friend" Keidrych could possibly become. "Ah, Medlen... a word with you? Alone?" "Certainly." Keidrych nodded and left the room, closing the door behnd him. Ross laughed nervously. "Setting me up with a date?" "He was one of Jheraind's companions. He would have invited you to his bed sooner, but you're an outlander, and he wasn't sure how you would react." Ross shot a look at the door. "But he knows about you and me." "Most of the crew know. We certainly weren't trying to hide. And you could have found someone else at any time. Ross, nothing we did was wrong." Ross nodded, slowly, "Why are you staying?" Medlen grinned. "I'm getting married." _That_ was unexpected. "Wait a minute... no, I'm not jealous, but... I thought you ..." "I like women, too. Especially this one. Her family's here, one of the other race teams. So I'm staying." Medlen chin-pointed to the door. "Keidrych asked me about you, whether you were going to stay with me. I don't think so." Ross laughed. "Your wife would object." "Very likely." Medlen picked a book off the shelf and tossed it to Ross. "I've got to go supervise the rest of the packing. See you when you're back downstairs." Ross heard the door open and shut, but he didn't notice any footfalls in the room until someone behind him touched the side of his neck. Ross froze... "Keidrych?" Sense memory -- the same blend of spices that Ross associated with Jheraind. "Yes, Ross." Hands at Ross's waist, pulling him closer. "We have time now, if you like. I asked Tarpeian." Ross reddened. "Did you tell him why you wanted the time?" "I just asked him when we were leaving. We have a couple of hours." Hands sliding up under Ross's shirt. A different style of touch from Medlen, more like Mairyonven's, even though Keidrych didn't have any particularly feminine mannerisms -- at least not ones Ross recognized -- Ross remembered finding out _some_ of the signals the hard way. Hands exploring... then a nibble on the back of his neck. Ross's hand went up, not really to brush the irritant away, touched the other man's face. Warm skin, softer than Ross expected. "Wait." Keidrych stopped. "Is there something wrong?" "Is it this easy? To go to a new lover?" "Sometimes. Outlanders find it harder than hruss. The hruss tend to stay friends after." Keidrych pushed at Ross, turning him around to face. "If you get tired of me, we'll find you someone else. In the mean time... " Keidrych leaned forward and kissed Ross. Jheraind's scent, and a taste Ross had only imagined before, except as an echo from Mairyonven's mouth. Ross's arms swept around the other man, pulling him close. --- A wisp of breath in Ross's ear. "Well. What did _I_ wake up? Was Medlen neglecting you?" "No, not at all." Ross was tired, not just from the lovemaking, but melancholy. Keidrych _wasn't_ Jheraind, all the little differences added up, and while he was pleasant enough as a lover ... better than Medlen, truth to tell ... Ross had expected... Ross sighed. He would never have what he expected, because it wasn't anchored in anything. Nothing more than the faintest of touches and a voice. The difference in voices was a major part of it. It might almost... Where was Mairyonven? Could he even manage with her? Someone knocked on the door. "Time to get rolling. Tarpeian wants everyone in the garage in ten minutes." --- Goodbyes to the other teams, and to those who were staying behind. Medlen gave Ross a hug, whispered, "Well?" "Okay, I guess. I have to get used to him." "He said..." Medlen looked over at Keidrych, "... that you were trying to find something. And he didn't know how to supply it. Jheraind?" Tight lips, the slightest of nods, "Yes. And it's not fair to Keidrych." "No, it isn't." What was the ghost of a smile on Medlen's lips? "I'm afraid you have some uncomfortable years ahead of you." "I'm afraid that the rest of my life is going to be uncomfortable. Maybe I should just stay away from any hruss?" More of a smile. "No. Just don't fall in love for a while." That startled Ross. "That happens between two men? Just like..." _Big_ grin. "Oh, yes. Exactly like. Humans fall in love. Humans fall out of love, too, unfortunately." "What did you mean 'for a while'?" Medlen was trying to hide something, Ross couldn't quite tell what. "Ever hear of something called 'rebound'? When you break up with someone and immediately latch onto someone else, no matter how unsuitable?" "If he's unsuitable, you shouldn't have brought him up to me." "It's different. We didn't break up. No emotional baggage. Or at least not until you brought the ghost into bed with you." "What do I do?" "Your aunt and uncle tried to force you into a mold that didn't suit you. Don't do it to someone else. Enjoy them as they are." "That would be good advice even if there wasn't a ghost." --- Medlen picked up the envelope. Jheraind had left it up to him whether to give it to Ross... the legacy of the Golden Rose. Medlen tossed the envelope into the fire with all the other obsolete notes and debris. "Superstitious hruss nonsense." --- Chapter Twenty "The careful text books measure . . ." The car pulled to a stop. Ricky pulled off the goggles, wiped her face, and jumped out. "Thanks for the ride. I'll see you around, I'm sure." "Ricky . . ." "Yes?" "I'm going to need an assistant. Just to run errands at first, hand me tools, hold things in place while I assemble them. But I can teach you the technical parts as we go. You're smart, you're independent, and you're resourceful. And you're not already tied up with some other project." He saw her hesitate . . . "Room and board, some spending money until I find a backer, then a real salary. Give it a try -- Just let me know if you get another offer, give me a chance to at least match it." Ricky grinned, "It's a deal." --- An old livery stable on the edge of town, abandoned when the rails came through. "You any good with a hammer?" Worrell asked. "Not yet. I imagine we'll both be a lot better in a few days." --- John was in the mayor's office, getting final permits to build. He asked, "I know that the schools of fish move around, season to season. Are we going to have problems with that?" The mayor scratched his head. "You are on the shore. How could what you are doing possibly interfere with fishermen?" "I'm . . . building a large cannon, testing it. I want to fire out over the ocean, so there is no chance of anyone being hurt. But a fishing boat . . ." "I see. I'll ask some of the elders, but I think you'll be fine." --- "I didn't know you could cook." "I can't. I made a deal with a widow in town to do chores for her. In return, she'll take food I bring to her and make us real meals." "I'm going to need your time -- you won't always be able to help her." He took another spoonful of the soup, munched thoughtfully on the bread. "Does she take in boarders?" --- With the new arrangement, their expenses actually went down. And the novelty of laundry that did itself, and housekeeping . . . As they were leaving the house heading for the workshop, Ricky said, "John, you might want to marry her. Before someone else gets her." "Ricky, it doesn't work that way." "Why not?" Worrell's head tilted over as he studied his protege. "You're probably a little bit young to fall in love." "Oh, it's happened, once or twice. I got over it." "Then . . ." "That doesn't have anything to do with who you get married to. One of the reasons I left home was that my mom was trying to marry me off to someone awful. It would have made my family better off, but I would have been miserable. So I left. "But you and Dolores.. she likes you, you like her, and she needs someone to help with the house and kids. And _you_ need a nursemaid so you don't wear last week's supper. It makes you look bad when you have to deal with the mayor." "She's taking care of that already," John said. "Marrying her isn't going to make any difference, and if she finds someone she loves, or if I do, then we won't already be locked into a marriage with someone else." Ricky just glowered. "Do you have someone else in mind?" "No. No time for that right now." --- "Who's that?" Ricky sneaked a peek through the lace window curtains. "That's the reverend's son. The reverend has been coming over evenings to pray with Dolores -- maybe he couldn't make it this evening and sent Wolcott here in his stead." John peered . . . "I think there is more than that. Prayer meetings don't usually come with flowers." Ricky laughed. "Depends on what you're praying for." "Or preying on." "John! I'm sure his intentions are more than honorable. I only hope that she'll still be taking in boarders after the wedding -- I hate having to move. And cook. And _laundry_!" --- Chapter Twenty Two "Just put your money in my hand, And you will get what money buys!" A successful launch, finally. "When do we invite the mayor to watch?" "Whoa. Not until we can do more than land on fish." "I've been talking to the fishermen. If we get the final stages to float, they will retrieve them, if we pay a bounty for the capsule." "I hear two sizeable 'ifs' in there. Our funds are tight enough now. How are you proposing to get money to pay for retrieval?" "Is it cheaper to build a new capsule every time?" "Probably, if we're taking the first one apart to study it. But you're right, we have to start doing something." There was a note on the dining room table for John the next morning. "I'll be back when I have the money." --- "Don Espiridion, there is someone to see you. A young man,he won't give his name or business. Should I just send him away?" Don Espiridion yawned. "Send him in. I need a diversion." He pulled himself to his feet and doused his head in a bowl of water, rinsing the dust away. He was pouring himself some wine when the door opened. "Enter. And be polite to Don Espiridion, understand?" The youngster looked travel-worn, dusty and exhausted. "Would you like some fruit, young sir?" "If it pleases you, Don Espiridion, yes." Espiridion tossed two oranges to the young man. "What business have you with me?" "I understand that you have been looking for Enriqueta Villatuya." The older man used a small knife to peel another orange, and offered it to the boy. "Yes. Her family has had no success finding her, and they are concerned." "Is there a reward?" "Do you know where she is?" "I have a friend who mentioned her to me. Of my own knowledge, no. But my friend can be persuaded to talk with some coins." "And it has to be worth your while, too, I am sure. How much do you want?" "Five hundred in gold." Don Espiridion laughed. "Fifty. And I see the girl before either of you get a copper of it." "We can use the priest as an intermediary. I will explain things to him -- when you give him the money, he will send me a message. I will then have my friend bring Enriqueta to the church." "Agreed." "Don Espiridion -- what do you want of her?" "That is not your business." "My friend will ask." Don Espiridion growled, "Does he want the money or not?" The younger man slumped. "Yes. He needs the money. I will go speak to the priest now." --- "You are insane. When the messenger leaves, I am to follow him . . . where?" "Where ever he goes, Franco. I see no reason to pay for what I can gain freely." "But the messenger won't leave until the priest has the money." "Leave that to me." --- "Ricky! You should not have come back to this town. There is a price on your head." "I know. I'm going to collect it." "And what good is that going to do you?" "Father, Don Espiridion is not going to hurt me. And I need the money -- it's for a good man." "How are you going to get it to him?" "That's where you come in. I need to talk to your altar boys." --- The waiting Franco tried not to doze in the heat. The young man had gone into the church as he had arranged, now there should be a messenger . . . a swarm of small children scattered at the entrance of the church, in five different directions. And among them were six or seven older youngsters, any of whom could be old enough to be used for message work. Don Espiridion was going to kill him. --- One of the younger priests knocked at Don Espiridion's door. "Yes, Father?" "The girl is at the church, waiting for you." "Enriqueta." "Yes." "And the money?" "Is well on its way. Those were the terms of the agreement." Don Espiridion sighed heavily. At least he would have the girl under his hand at last. "Yes." --- Chapter Twenty Three "Gold is for the Mistress, Silver for the Maid Copper for the Craftsman, cunning at his trade." "Mister Worrell! There's a delivery for you. Need your signature." John shrugged, "I'm not expecting anything. Is there a return address?" "Just the town name -- San Heliodoro. That's a hundred miles south of here." John signed and took the box. His hand dropped from the unexpected weight. "What the devil . . ." He took the box inside and put it on the table. The handwriting on the address was strange. He opened the box with his pocketknife . . . a note was tucked into the top, above another paper-wrapped bundle. "This is the best I could do for you. I'll be back when I can. -- Ricky." Inside the bundle were coins. Fifty silver dollars. "Ricky, _what_ did you _do_?" --- "He's outside the church now." "Good. I'll meet him," Ricky said. She looked down at the dress -- it didn't fit well, but it was the best she could do. Into the sanctuary. Ricky knelt before the image of the Holy Mother, clearing her mind. She could tolerate anything. And eventually, she could run away. The door to the town square opened, outlining a figure in brilliant light before it closed again. Then steps, hesitant, as someone waited for his sundazzled eyes to adjust. "Enriqueta Villatuya?" "I am here." She rose, moved into the center aisle. "Don Espiridion." He studied her for an instant, puzzled. "You . . ." Then laughter. "You were the one who demanded the bounty! How did you get it out to your friend? Or is it still here?" "It's gone. But my bargain was good -- here I am." "Yes. Come with me, please." --- Don Espiridion's home was large and lavish by local standards. "Maria, show Enriqueta to her room." "Ricky. My name is Ricky." "Enriqueta," Espiridion insisted. "Dinner will be at seven. Maria will assist you in dressing." --- A long soak. Maria came in and put her hair into curlers, extremely uncomfortable. She scolded Ricky over the state of her hands and feet. Maria lavished oils on the calluses, to very little avail. Out of the bath, powdered and perfumed, her hair dried and lightly brushed out. Then Maria lowered the gown over Ricky's upstretched arms, onto her shoulders. Way too much of the dress was off the shoulder for her tastes. If the gown had been any color than white, she would have ducked out from under it and refused to wear it. But white was tolerable. --- Dinner was in the dining room, softly lit with candles, white plates gleaming on dark wood. Don Espiridion rose as Ricky entered the room. "You are very beautiful." She shrugged, if you say so. She slid into the chair at the other end of the table from him. They ate in silence. Don Espiridion's servants served the food, refilled the wine glasses. Finally, after a sweet pastry, Ricky said, "What do you want of me?" --- The portrait in the study was of a beautiful woman in the fashion of half a century before. "This was my wife. She bore me one son." Ricky listened . . . "My son is also dead. Some years ago, I found that he had had a liaison, and the woman had borne him a child. Were there any other children from him, I would have let your live your life in peace. But you are my only surviving kin." He looked so serious -- she couldn't help it, she blurted out, "I should have held out for the five hundred." --- Chapter Twenty Four "One more song about movin' along the highway . . ." A year. And a bit more. Worrell got two letters from Ricky and more money, but no address to write back. He used some of the money to hire another assistant, cursing every time he had to explain over and over things that Ricky had just picked up instantly. "San Heliodoro? That's not that far. No, leave that alone!" The stack of boxes collapsed onto the helper, and John rushed to rescue what he could, human and goods alike. "Mister Worrell, I quit." "Good." --- The car needed a few repairs for the long, roadless trip. And provisions. Worrell was almost hoping to find Ricky trudging home across the barrens. No such luck. Worrell pulled into the town at dusk, startling the villagers with his headlights. And attracting lots of moths and other insects. The church was softly lit, with voices singing. John pulled up at the side of the church, got out of his car and dusted himself off. Perhaps the priest would know where his young friend was. --- The priest didn't know anyone named Ricky. Then Worrell dug through his belongings and brought out the torn wrapping of the first packet of coins he had been sent, the one in someone else's hand. "Can you help me identify who sent this to me?" The priest studied the writing, then Worrell. "The hand is mine, my son, but . . . I did not catch the young man's name who had me send it." John slumped. "Then he doesn't live here. In this town." "He came into town only to deal with Don Espiridion. He sent you the money and then disappeared." "Alright. Then I have to meet Don Espiridion." --- "Don Espiridion will permit you five minutes to explain what you wish to know. Please come with me." As John crossed the shaded garden in the center court, he heard a piano, and a voice singing. "Who is that?" "That is Don Espiridion's granddaughter, Enriqueta Villatuya. This way, please." The servant ushered Worrell into the study. Don Espiridion was seated behing a massive desk of dark oak. Behind him on the wall was a portrait of a beautiful woman. "Don Espiridion." "Mister Worrell. The priest says you need to ask me something. Please be brief." "I'm looking for someone named Ricky, someone who was seen talking to you." Worrell described his missing assistant. "It was a year ago. I've gotten letters, but no way to write back." Espiridion leaned back in his chair. "What was this person to you, and why have you taken a year to become concerned?" "The kid is very independent, and I wasn't worried at first. Now . . . The last letter was two months ago. I have no fresh clues -- I have to start near the beginning of the trail." "And if you find this 'Ricky'?" "I was going to beg him to come back. Frankly, I've hired other assistants in the meantime, and I would swap the lot of them for a pig and shoot the pig for all the good they have been to me." Don Espiridion rose and poured three fingers of a clear liquid from a decanter into a tumbler. "Here. Drink," he said, handing the glass to John before pouring himself a like amount. "You will be staying for dinner." --- 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." --- 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." --- 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." --- 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. Pretending to be a boy 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?" --- "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." --- Chapter Thirty ". . . your looks, or your acts, or your glory . . ." "Doctor Drummond! The hruss group is here." Drum nodded, distracted. "I'll be down to see them in a minute. Pat, set up the next test for a plus point three -- we're that close." The young woman at the bench nodded, and started to change dials, making notes in the notebook as she worked. Drum took a quick look in the mirror as he put on his suit jacket. He had met the last delegation with a black smudge across his forehead, and he wasn't about to do that again. The hruss were in their customary dark, loose clothing. But conspicuous among them was someone with lighter hair, and a bit of a tan, even though his hair was the slightly unkempt length that their minor noblemen wore -- Good God, that was Ross Colburn! A glance at the woman beside him -- Drum remembered her, too, even though they had only met the once. Something Ree Something . . . Ross smiled. His face folded easily into laugh lines -- what little age sat on him suited him well. "Drum! I didn't realize it was you we were going to be visiting." Ross's voice had changed -- it was deeper, and had lost some of the sharp edges of his own language, although he didn't slur words the way some of the hruss did. "Ross? Ross Colburn? What are _you_ doing here? I thought you were on the race car circuit." "I do fuels." Ross stopped, turned to Mairyonven. "You remember Nat Drummond. He was with me on the beach when you watched our test firing." She smiled. "Of course. Dr. Drummond. We're very interested in your research here. I understand you are having some difficulties getting funding?" Drum sighed. "Always. I've had to let people go." "Perhaps we can be of some assistance." --- Drum watched the two together. Ross was attentive to Mairyonven, sometimes even affectionate, but he wasn't behaving like a man with his wife or even mistress. "How is your family, Mairyonven?" Wrong question -- Mairyonven lost her sunny expression. "You met my brother, those many years ago . . . he was killed in a race accident. Other than that . . . my children are well, thank you. My father is aging, but is still in good health, as good as can be expected." No mention of a husband. Interesting. --- Pat LaRoque finished the setup and put the notebook on the desktop. The voices from below were animated, the rhythms of the speech ever so slightly off from what her ear was used to. The strange baritone sounded nice, though . . . she had heard that the hruss were somewhat liberal when it came to casual liaisons, and she wondered . . . She didn't have a dress close at hand, but the hruss women wore trousers anyway, so that was not a problem. She gave her face a quick wipe and considered a touch of makeup -- no, she was out of practice. Just hair in place, rely on the smile. When she came down the stairs, she saw her boss in animated conversation with someone . . . too light to be hruss, but dressed as one of them. That's where the nice voice was coming from . . . then he reached over and brushed a strand of hair up out of her boss's face. His hand lingered for a moment, then it dropped. Drum froze, staring at Ross. "What was _that_ about?" Ross stopped . . . Oh. "I'm sorry. I've picked up some bad habits, apparently . . ." His voice didn't sound apologetic -- the words were there, but didn't match the expression or the tone of voice. A sweep of Drum's hand, let it go, it's nothing. "I should have asked about your family. Your uncle is gone, we both attended his funeral." Drum's eye flicked over to Mairyonven. "Are you married? A whole bunch of kids and puppies, all in a pile in the living room of an old farmhouse?" A faint smile, "No. I've had some romances, but no one's landed me yet. Still looking around. My work takes a lot of my time -- it isn't fair to ask someone to take second place to that." "Don't put it off too long -- you'll be too old to enjoy their company." Ross grinned, "Oh? and where is your horde?" Drum grinned back, "Well, yeah, I know what you mean." Ross's head turned, just a touch, and Pat was coming down the stair. He rose. "This is the assistant you told me of?" "Yes. Patrick LaRoque." Pat laughed. "Patricia. Drum, you'll confuse him." Drum looked from Ross to Pat and back. "Maybe he needs to be confused. My friend and former colleague, Doctor Ross Colburn." --- As they toured, Pat tried to get information out of Ross. His voice tickled something deep inside her, made her want to just throw her arms around him and try for a kiss. No, he wasn't married, never had been. Dating . . . not the way she thought of it. "It's not something I'm doing right now. The work . . ." She nodded. "Dr. Drummond is like that a lot. But Sarah caught him while he was on a trip scouting locations. They've got two kids now -- apparently he gets to see her _once_ in a while." "Apparently." Negotiation through a warehouse stacked with half-unpacked equipment. "Why did he call you Patrick?" "Because I'm always trying to be one of the boys. I don't see how my being a woman should make any difference in how I do my job." Ross grinned, but changed the subject, "Were you interrupted? Why is this gear sitting out half-assembled?" "Budget cuts. We can test, we can unpack. Choose one. If we don't have test results, they'll cut us even further." "That makes sense." ". . . Why are you grinning?" "I was just wondering if you went down to the bars with the rest and picked up women." "_What_?" Ross shrugged, still grinning. "It's a logical extension of what you said." Firmly, "_No._" "Alright." --- She tried all the teases she knew, no response. Was he that dense? Or just that polite? Finally, she leaned over and whispered a direct invitation in his ear. He pulled away from her, at least he wasn't angry. Mildly amused, maybe? "Miss LaRoque. I'm flattered. You're very intelligent, and very pretty. And you have a lively personality. But . . . no." "The work takes all of your energy? Don't you ever take vacations?" "Once every few years. I usually cut them short." "So when's your next one? I could meet you . . ." Ross sighed. He looked around. No one else was in earshot. "Patricia. Pat. Give up. You'll cause yourself less grief in the long run. I'm just not interested." "Something short and round and stupid, then?" Her hand swept out, pointing to the rest of the party. "Or one of them, instead of one of your own kind?" "It's not your business, actually. Look. I've tried to be polite. I don't have an infinite amount of patience. Drop the subject." "Or? You'll tell my boss I tried to get you into my bed?" That came out louder than she expected. "No." Ross turned on his heel and walked off. Not toward Drum and Mairyonven, thankfully, but toward the rest of the group. She stood there, staring after him. Then she moved toward the others, staying on the edge away from Ross. He watched her, no expression. --- Mairyonven watched the little display between Ross and the other woman with some amusement, especially when Ross walked away. Two rooms later in the tour, she moved to stand next to LaRoque. "Is it Patrick or Patricia?" "Patricia. Patrick's a man's name." "I see." A long silence, until Pat grew uncomfortable. "Does it matter?" "Does it matter to you? Would not Patricia and Patrick be different people?" "In some ways, yes. Not in others." Mairyonven looked Pat up and down. "Dr. Drummond was playing a cruel joke on both of you when he introduced you as Patrick." Pat froze. "No." "Yes. Patrick would have had a chance at Ross. Patricia does not. And it will be more pleasant for all of us if you do not continue to pursue him." --- Chapter Forty ". . . benevolent or nefarious . . ." "I'm glad to see you back." Ross, to the startlement of Mairyonven's guards, gave her a big hug. She held on, a lot longer than he expected. "What's wrong?" "My father's dying. And Jheraind's son is too young to rule -- they're debating a regency council. The prince's mother's family is angling for power, but they're reactionaries . . . I'm afraid of what they'll do to the project. They are so short-sighted!" "Let me talk to them. I'm sure I can show them how valuable the project is . . ." "You're a foreigner. You're part of their opposition, why they hate the project." Ross sighed and chewed his lower lip. "Foreign because of race, or because of my citizenship?" "I.. don't know. We have some of your people living among us . . . I think it's that you still hold your old allegiances. They aren't sure that you won't just pick up your files and go home." "_This_ is home. I just never wanted to cut myself entirely off from my old home. But the work is what's important, not my feelings. I can apply for citizenship here." "They'll just think it's a ploy. If you had done it years ago . . ." Half a grin, "I'm smart, but I don't think I can invent a time machine and change that." That actually got her giggling. "Changing now would be a start." --- Josgoroth was the young fellow's name -- Ross called him Jozh, which was apparently acceptable -- Jozh was very vocal about what he did and didn't like. Ross had dealt with Mairyonven and Jheraind for years -- this youngster had been fostered out to his mother's clan? tribe? and was not used to dealing with foreigners. But then he saw the rocket. "What _is_ that?" "It's a rocket, Jozh. Eventually, we'll make one large enough to put humans into space." "Why?" Ross stopped down and picked up a stone from the ground. "This is the world we live on." Then he swept his hand around to encompass the entire beach area. "That's the whole universe. Do you want to be trapped on this tiny rock forever? I don't." "Just . . . to go? Not because there are treasures? Or dragons to fight?" "There are treasures. There might even be dragons. That's not the point. Have you ever done something wrong, and been sent to your room for hours as a punishment?" "Of course." "God isn't punishing us. We can leave our room, any time we want to. We just have to learn how to turn the doorknob." --- Mairyonven summoned Ross to the royal palace unexpectedly. It was going to foul up the test schedule, but he didn't dare anger his most powerful supporter. "I found something in my brother's files some years ago, but it took me a few days to find it again." Mairyonven brought out a folder, still dusty. "Do you remember a lot of papers you signed when you became his apprentice?" "I remember that there were a lot of them, but that's been more than fifteen years. Didn't they all expire when I reached my majority?" She smiled. "All but one. You really need to read things before you sign them." With a flourish, she deposited a paper on the desktop. Ross picked it up and started reading. It was an application to immigrate, with his signature, and his Uncle Bert's. And seals and dates and signatures that said the application had been processed and approved. "I didn't sign this. And I don't think that my uncle would have, without asking me if I was serious." "I think that whether you believe you signed it is irrelevant. Are you going to contest it, knowing that having this on file means you have been one of our citizens for more than half your life? It will make it easier to keep the project going." Ross glared at Mairyonven. "You're going to use this as a weapon against them. Does the project mean that much to you? What are you risking if the opposition finds out that this is a forgery?" "Ross . . . your uncle is dead, and you can't swear that you didn't sign it, in a cluster of other documents." "There's usually an oath." "Yes. If you look at the bottom of the document, your oath was administered by my brother, with myself as witness. If you deny it, it's your word against mine. And to what end? Loyalty to a country you haven't set foot in for ten years?" "I have an allegiance to the truth." Mairyonven snorted. "And if you could build your time machine, would it be true?" "Did that give you the idea? My mentioning the time machine?" "No. I thought it was funny, and had to keep myself from laughing. I knew your wish had come true. That you were already legally one of us. I just had to find the document, to prove it to you." She went through the folder, brought out a sheet of parchment, beautifully illuminated and calligraphied, in both Ross's language and hruss, with the royal device boldly in the corner, painted and gilded with gold, silver, and copper. "Jheraind was going to present this to you when you reached your majority. I didn't know about it then, or I would have given it to you." Ross took it and read it over, having no difficulty with the deliberately archaic form of his own language, but stumbling a bit over the older hruss. "What's this?" He sounded out a word. "That's a life-oath. It was to Jheraind personally -- it's gone now, no one inherited it when he died, if that's what's worrying you." "He mentioned it to me once, but never explained it. Another fiction." "Another wish," Mairyonven corrected gently. "Jheraind wanted you to be one of us. Do you wish not to be?" --- Chapter Forty five ". . . a universe of fresh starts . . ." Ross looked over his shoulder at the small procession approaching the observation platform. "Medlen, who's with Mairyonven? I see Josgoroth -- who's the other one?" Medlen pulled the binoculars from the wall and looked. "Probably his cousin Envyss -- Mairyonven's son. I'd heard he was back. He's been living with his father for a good while." Medlen grinned, "I think Josgoroth has been talking -- Envyss is asking a lot of questions, and Josgoroth's pointing up at us. Brace yourself." Only minutes, and there were excited voices below the two men, and feet pounding up the stairs. Two breathless boys came through the doorway first, the second one almost tripping in his eagerness, but recovering with surprising grace. Mairyonven was not that far behind, even though she was a little winded from the fast climb. "Ross, you've met Josgoroth, of course. This other little demon is my son Envyss. I'm afraid I've promised him that you'll try him as an apprentice for a while, before he goes off to University in a couple of months." "We met, many years ago. I think Envyss was less than two at the time." Ross had never been any good at judging the ages of children. "What are you studying?" "Engineering, like my father." "And you're how old?" "I'll be seventeen in two months." Adult by their standards, then. "The work is dangerous. And tedious." Envyss smiled, "Both? I can deal with that, as long as there are _some_ interesting bits." Ross's heart took a long time to start beating again. When Envyss smiled, he looked just like a younger Jheraind. Not too surprising, given how much his mother looked like the lost one, but . . . Envyss's voice wasn't as deep, but he still had some growing to do. "Yes, both. Mairyonven, will he follow orders? If he won't, I can't have him around here -- he'll be a danger to everyone else." Ross was impressed when Envyss waited for his mother to answer instead of blurting out a protest of his own. "His firearms instructors have spoken well of his attention to the safety courses," she answered. "I think he can understand the necessity." "Alright. It won't be a formal apprenticeship, but if you do well, I'll be happy to write letters of recommendation to your school." "Thank you." --- The technical parts intrigued Envyss the most, not the thunder and fire. "Do you know why we're doing this?" Ross asked. "This specific test run?" Ross waved at the launch platform, "The whole project. Trying to get objects, eventually humans, into space." "I never really thought of 'why.' I know we have to do it. I know I _want_ to do it, to be part of the people who do it." A big grin, "I want to be one of the pilots. But I doubt my family will let me." "Once there's a fair chance that the rocket won't blow up under you, I don't see why not. You'd be perfect to get your people behind space travel." "It's the 'blow up' that worries Mother. If we lose me, that will bring the whole project down around your ears. I, of course, will not be in any shape to care at that point." Ross laughed. "That's what your uncle would have said." Envyss grinned and shrugged. "It's true, though." A bit more soberly, "I wouldn't mind a place in the history books, but not as chopped raw meat. That lacks a certain dignity." --- Chapter Forty Six "Out of the tree of life I just picked me a plum . . ." Mairyonven and Josgoroth stayed for a few days, just visiting. Envyss was assigned one of the empty offices. "We'll have a room for you shortly -- we just have to clear out some boxes. I'll have someone move a cot in here in the meantime." Envyss moved around the room, picking up things and inspecting them. He worked around so he was between Ross and the door. Reaching back, he closed the door. "We have to talk." "Alright." Ross took a seat on the edge of the desk. "I'm listening." Just a faint smile on Envyss's face. "I remember you. I have been dreaming of you for years." Envyss's hand reached out, touched Ross's cheek. "My father's people allow the new adult to choose his companions for the first time. I asked for you. My father . . . was not amused." "I'm not sure I would have agreed to cooperate. I'd be afraid of hurting you." "Well, then we're going to have a problem." Ross's breath caught in his throat. "You waited. For me." "Yes. And I will wait for you, as long as it takes." "_Why_? Why me? You don't know me. You were less than two years old when we met, and you haven't seen me since. Did you just get into your head to collect a blond first?" "We went to see puppies that day. But at breakfast, you fed me bits of pastry. I can remember the taste of your fingers, the little bit of salt under the sweet. And I could smell the chemicals in your bloodstream, the pheromones coming off your skin. And you were happy, and I loved your smile, and the gold of your hair, and your voice . . . and I wanted to make you happy like that so you would smile at me." Envyss stopped only long enough to gulp breath. "I love you, and I want you, and I have wanted you for twenty years, and I can't even _touch_ you unless you say yes. And I will wait another twenty years if I need to, until you are ready." Ross had smiled at the mention of the sweets, but the rest of it . . . disbelief, astonishment, concern . . ."Twenty years? You're only seventeen." "_Envyss_ is seventeen." --- Ross didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings, but the idea scared him to death. A couple of the ideas, actually -- that the boy had fastened on him that young, and had kept obsessing, that he had turned down his birthday night to "save himself" for Ross . . . The "twenty" bothered him, too, a lot. "Come on. Let's go get dinner." The mannerisms were very much the same, not surprising since Mairyonven had them. Envyss would listen to him with the same intensity, near-total attention . . . the only gap was a security issue, like not sitting with your back to a door. Envyss ordered as dessert an assortment of pastries. "I'm not familiar with these -- I want to try them out." He cut something flaky into pieces and ate a bit, savoring it. then he took another bit and held it against Ross's lips. Ross, startled, took it into his mouth. Memories, of being fed a sweet by Jheraind . . ."Did your mother tell you?" "No. Jheraind did. He wrote about you, everything you did, and long, passionate poems . . ." Ross turned a much brighter red than he thought he still could. "You shouldn't have been allowed to read that!" "Why not?" "It's an invasion of _my_ privacy, among other things. Not just his. And you're too young." "I am an adult by the laws of my people. That's old enough." His eyes half closed, was he remembering? "There were some nice sketches of you, too. With clothes on, of course -- you didn't pose for him nude." "Of course not!" "Pity." Eyes half lidded, then, softly, in the hruss language, "You are so beautiful. I have dreamed of your hands on me, your mouth . . . I want to drink of you, breathe you in . . ." Ross looked around. No one else was close, but several tables away, there were others of Envyss's people. Ross tried to keep his voice calm, "Let's go." It cracked a bit at the end. Envyss piled the pastries into a napkin and stood. "Alright." --- "I'm sure we can do better than a cot in my office." Ross shot a mock-glare over at Envyss. "You've got a lot of assumptions in that head of yours." "Perhaps." Envyss smiled. "There's a lot about the hruss you still don't understand." "Alright. We can talk. I'm not promising anything else." Ross's apartment was not luxurious, but it was comfortably large. "You can stay in the spare bedroom until we find you another place." "Thank you." Envyss found a spot on a well-cushioned couch. "Come here, sit with me. I promise not to rape you on the couch." Ross raised his hand, wait a minute . . ."Would you like something to drink?" "Tea, please. Hot or cold, whichever is readier to hand." As Ross busied himself making tea, Envyss found a plate and spread out the pastries, cutting each of them into quarters. Ross put his own tea onto the table at the far end of the couch, then walked over next to Envyss to hand him his. Envyss took the cup, wrapping his hand around Ross's. Envyss's face came up, eyes almost closed, lips slightly parted, the pose so obviously "please kiss me" that Ross did so without thinking. The tea was put aside and Envyss put his hand on the back of Ross's neck, holding him in contact. Warmth, and spice, and his own blood singing in his ears, his heart pounding, both hearts pounding. "You win," Ross gasped hoarsely. His hands reached down, drew Envyss to his feet. A long embrace, too close for a kiss. "Are . . . _are_ you Jheraind?" "I don't know. Sometimes I think I am, but . . ." Envyss nuzzled Ross's neck. "You smell so good." Ross laughed softly, "I want to see what you taste like." --- Ross, after a number of years, had succumbed to hruss bedroom furnishings: a nest of dozens of huge cushions, fleeces, silks, piled onto a frame taller than Ross's original traditional bed. The lighting was simulated lanterns, soft but steady. Ross's hands slid up under Envyss's shirt, easing it up over his head. Ross ran his hands through Envyss's hair, freeing it from the tie-back. The dark hair fell forward, framing the young face. Ross's hands cupped Envyss's face, fingers touching cheeks, ears, very lightly, as if too heavy a pressure would break a dream-bubble of illusion. Envyss's hands worked the buttons on the other man's shirt, trying not to tear them loose. "Lover, you better take the shirt off, before I just rip it off you." Ross laughed and pulled the younger man to him, just holding him for a long moment. Then he backed up just a little, enough to shed his shirt and trousers. "No, I'm not going to let you sketch me -- not right now, at least." "No, not right now. I think I'll try a painting, anyway. I should have realized you'd be golden down there as well." Envyss dropped gracefully to one knee. Warm wet mouth, a teasing tongue, and Ross couldn't hold back. Envyss rose, licking his lips to get all of the taste, not wasting any. Ross pulled Envyss's face to his, kissing him greedily. They tumbled backwards onto the bed. --- "Yes. You are my partner. You have always _been_ my partner. You're just being more hard-headed than usual, this time, admitting it." "This time?" "Ross . . . you have been mine forever. We tend to leap-frog, chasing each other down. But I have records that go back generations." "Records of what?" "Births, deaths. Always, one of us dies, and less than a year later, we come back." "That could be any child born the right time. It doesn't have to be a rebirth." "Perhaps." Soft kisses, no urgency left. "This was better than I had imagined it. Thank you." "Hard-headed, eh?" "Hard something." Laughter. --- Chapter Forty Seven "A wonder to behold it was, with many buttons bright." One day to find where everything was. Envyss tagged along after Ross, Ross's journal in his hand, something he read whenever he had a spare moment. And the kid's mind was on the rockets, not on his new lover. Most of the time. Once in a while, the sun would catch Ross's hair and it would blaze, and Envyss would just stand there, looking at him. But Envyss never lost his concentration when Ross or anyone else was talking, only when there was a pause. --- Dinner was with the rest of Ross's staff. Envyss listened, asking the occasional question. Test schedules drawn up for the rest of the week. Some of the others poured wine -- Envyss waved the offer off, as did Ross. Up late, talking, suggestions, then plans for the future, then flights of fancy. "Rockets are so wasteful, but there isn't any alternative." "There aren't any alternatives _yet_." --- "Let's go dancing." "What?" Envyss looked at Ross. "You haven't been to one of our dances?" "I never considered it. I don't know the local steps, and I don't want to dance with a woman." "No one's asking you to. Come on, it'll be fun." Ross winced, but allowed the teenager to draw him to his feet. "I don't know how." "Hold on." Envyss disappeared into the room his luggage was stored in, returned with a recorder. He slipped a coil of wire into it. Then he took Ross's hands. "Basic steps, like so." Four different elements, then combinations. "Now we add music." The first piece was slow, almost hypnotic. Ross let the music soak in -- he had been living with the hruss for the whole span of Envyss's life, he had an idea of the tempos and changes they liked -- it had just never occurred to him that he could have gone dancing with an earlier lover. Every once in a while Envyss would push him just a little, lining him up properly. The music changed -- a faster piece. It sounded a bit like one of the waltzes at home -- Ross tried to shift into that positioning, but Envyss kept going somewhere else at the oddest moments. Finally, Ross let Envyss lead, and after he had the pattern down, Envyss waited for _his_ lead. Two dances at that tempo, patterns slightly different. "Alright. Now a fast one. I'm not going to ask you to try this on the dance floor your first time -- just watch the others when you see it." Envyss posed Ross a couple of times, no music. "You move from here . . . to here . . . to here . . . and again. But it's fast." It was also very familiar, a variation of a dance his aunt taught the kids before they were old enough to go to school. "Let me hear the music." Envyss played the piece through, re-wound it. "Alright. Let's try it." "Are you sure?" "Follow my lead if you can. I might have some slightly different moves." Intro. Ross was bouncing on his heels, ready to go, and . . . away! Envyss looked startled, but followed, fighting not to correct, then moving into the rhythm. And at the end, a hug and a kiss. And Ross held on, still swaying. "It has been so long . . . I didn't realize how much I missed dancing." "You should have mentioned it -- one of us would have taken you. My mother loves to dance -- you wouldn't have had any problem with her, would you have?" "I don't know." Remembering the frequent hugs over the years, with no further expectations on either side, "Probably not." --- A social hall in the nearest town. About one in eight of the couples were same-sex pairings, but some of those were young girls who wanted to dance but didn't want to deal with boys yet. There was more than one pair of adult males on the dance floor -- Ross's shoulders unknotted when he saw them. None of them were over-feminine, either, good. Envyss spoke to the band leader at the break. "Okay. I asked him to play the music we've already rehearsed to, that should help. Then we'll take a break and you can watch everyone else." "Arranging for me to rest? I run a couple of miles every morning." Envyss flashed a wicked smile at him, "Not the last few mornings, you haven't. Okay, ready, position . . ." The medium speed one, no problem at all. "Another medium, then the fast." But the band started something different -- something much slower. Ross slipped his arm around Envyss's waist and pulled him close. It wasn't much more than swaying together with Envyss's head resting against his shoulder. And no one was staring, and certainly no one was becoming hostile. The music stopped, and the two stood together for a long moment, just holding each other. Then the music started again, the faster dance Ross had half-learned, half-taught. "Not bad at all. Now, watch this one." A much faster piece of music started. "Are you going to dance with someone else?" Envyss's hand came up, no, of course not, push the thought away. "Good. Match me." Envyss matched. The push-away and pull-back were easy. The underarm twirl and return brought a smile to Envyss's face. Then Ross pulled Envyss in close, planted hands on either side of the younger man's waist, and lifted. Full arm-extension above Ross's head, then down ago. And half the room was watching. "What are you _doing_?" Envyss half-whispered. "Next time, tuck, put your hands on my shoulders, and come all the way over." "You're mad," Envyss said, but he was smiling. The music stopped before Ross was able to line up another lift. Envyss tugged him gently over to where drinks were being served. "What were you thinking?" "A move I saw as a youngster, never got a chance to try. We should have rehearsed it in private. I'm sorry if I embarassed you." Envyss laughed softly. "When we walked in, the others saw your age, and there were bets being placed. I wish I had covered some of them -- they really underestimated what you were going to do." "Did they? Good." Ross sipped the sweet concoction -- fruit juice plus something, no alcohol, not from this end of the table. "Ready for more?" "No flips. Not without a lot of rehearsal." "Agreed." More sedate dances, generally. Ross watched, adapted . . . "I should have done this sooner." --- Home. "Show me what you meant, about the flip." Sketches on a notepad, just stick figures, but . . . "You've done this with a partner?" "No, actually. Some of my friends were practicing the move, but that's when I started spending all of my spare time on rocketry. The physics of it intrigued me, in a spare moment or two over the years." Ross drew acceleration arrows around the figures, curved and straight. "I'm not a gymnast." "No, but you're a dancer. Let's start with just a lift to a handstand on my shoulders." "No." "No? Don't you trust the math?" "It's after midnight. We can try it when we're both rested. I have no interest in having you collapse under me when I'm six feet in the air, math or no math." --- "How do your shoulders feel this morning?" "No problems here. I'm used to supporting more than your weight on my arms. Ready to try it?" Envyss covered a yawn. "Let me wake up completely first." A lazy grin and a hand tickling, teasing, "I think I can wake you up." -- Chapter Forty Eight ". . . Hey, you, keep your head down, Don't you look around . . ." Mairyonven took off the headset and put it carefully onto the desktop. "They've all been arrested -- 'detained' is the official word." "Enemy aliens." Ross's voice was bleak. "Any word on Envyss himself?" "He's with the detainees. They don't know he's part of the royal family -- he's travelling under his father's clan name. But it's only a matter of time before the Akshobhya find out who he is." Ross slammed his hand down on the desk. "Why did he have to be going to school _there_ of all places?" "Best engineering school in the world. That's what he wanted, and he didn't see any reason to change his mind. A few years apart, not that much of a hardship for the rewards . . ." A messenger came into the room, barely slowing to knock. "Your Serenity, I have a private message for you from Envyss." Her glance swept the room, and the others stopped their work and left. Ross headed for the door -- "No, stay, Ross." The door closed. "Go ahead." The messenger was a trained mimic, and it was not hard to imagine Envyss there in front of them, talking. "Star of the World, greetings, and greetings as well to my partner. Injuries were minor, although some of our people are still unaccounted-for. You know my opinion of the people on the hill -- it has worsened. I expect to be coddled for the duration, although the supply of bedwarmers is less than esthetic." Ross laughed at that. Mairyonven, "Did I miss something?" "Females. The local women don't believe he's not interested. He's had to literally throw them out of his bed. But he can't tell them why -- it's not just illegal to perform those acts, admitting he prefers men can be grounds for him to be thrown out of the country for . . . oh, what was the phrase . . . 'moral turpitude.'" "Perhaps that would have been better." "Not now. He's in detention. It would be so easy to toss him in with the worst offenders, just as a 'mistake.' Messenger. Any more?" The messenger nodded. "I expect to be offered in exchange for treaty concessions or even territory. Don't. It will greatly inconvenience us, but losing me will only lose a few years, not the destiny of a people." The messenger took a deep breath. "Ross, in my suite in the palace is a safe. The keyword is 'golden' and it has records you want to look at. Take care of Mairyonven and I'll try not to be too long the next time." The messenger bowed and waited. "You may go," Mairyonven said. The messenger left, leaving Ross and Mairyonven alone. "Congratulations," she said, dryly." "I don't understand." "I knew you were lovers. Envyss has been in love with the _idea_ of you since he was a child. I think it's the blond hair. Did he ever use the word 'partner' to you?" She followed with the word "khymreth." "Yes." "Just mentioned it? That someday you would be partners?" "No." Did she relax? "That's what he called what we were. Just after the first time we made love, he told me 'You are my partner. You have always _been_ my partner.' And it took me a while, but I believe him, now." "My son is a romantic. He waited for you, rather than accept his adult night . . . Did he tell you that?" "That's what he claimed. Mairyonven, how much danger is he in? I don't know how well the Akshobhya honor diplomatic immunity." "He's not covered. The Akshobhya won't let that sort of student attend their universities -- they tend to be troublemakers. Ordinary passport. Danger . . . Some, depending on what their public demands. There are some distinct disadvantages to that barely-codified mob rule of theirs." "Then he has to be rescued. When do I leave?" "You don't. I don't have anyone here who can replace you. I have many people who are very well trained in military matters, both overt and covert. If you go, we risk losing both of you. I will not permit it." Ross scowled at her. "He's my partner." "Yes. But he is not your child. Ross, I can have you put under house arrest. Do _not_ force my hand." A long glare, then Ross melted. "What can I do here?" "I don't know yet. You'll get updates as they exist. In the meantime, isn't there a safe you're curious about?" "No. That part of the message smacked of 'If I don't come back, read this.' It can wait." "As you wish." --- Envyss paced. His passport had him listed as minor nobility, not at all rare for foreigners in Akshobhya -- the schools were too expensive for commoners as a rule. So the accommodations, technically arrest, were in a hotel of middling quality . . . with a lot of guards and cameras. Not all of his fellow detainees were hruss. The Akshobhya had decided that everyone west of them was suspect, or at least a convenient identity for their enemies to hide behind. The room assignments scrambled nationalities, and there were strict rules about using languages other than Akshobhyan. Envyss had been "blessed" with a young lady for a roommate, a music student named Thoasis from Perimed who had not been permitted to bring any of her instruments with her. She had limited resources for dealing with boredom: singing and trying to seduce Envyss, both of which were annoying Envyss to the edge of his endurance. "When I go home," he finally said, "I'd like you to come visit." Thoasis brightened. Was she finally getting his attention? "Certainly." He looked at her and smiled. He was sure that the tonal qualities of that voice could be harnessed somehow as a weapon of war. Then a thought, "What kinds of instruments do you think we can improvise here?" "Percussion always exists. Wind is the next easiest." "Examples?" She looked around. "Almost anything that you can blow through will make a sound. It's not always pretty, and not always loud. Let's see . . ." --- A wind or percussion instrument can be used to communicate. Especially to sound alarms. Envyss made himself an extremely annoying little whistle, and carried it on a lanyard around his neck, beneath his clothes. "You're just not going to cooperate, are you," Thoasis asked. Envyss gently pushed her hands away from him. "Thoasis, I'm married. I promised to be faithful." "She's not here. How will she ever know?" "I will know. My honor will know. That's enough." "You are so strange. I didn't know the hruss bothered with getting married." "Many of us do not. _We_ did." "And then you left, to come to university. Why didn't you bring her with you?" "My love is safe at home, not here with me in danger. I'm content with that." She smiled fondly, "Children?" "No. Nieces and nephews by the dozen underfoot -- we might just adopt some of them to spread out the childcare." That seemed to mollify her for a while. "What's her name?" "Auryn Rhos." "Auryn sounds like one of your words for gold or golden. Is she?" "Oh, yes. Hair like finest spun gold, skin the color of honey in the light, and a voice pure and clear and so sweet -- I miss Auryn's voice the most." --- "News?" "He's on their list of detainees. One of the guards was persuaded to get a message to him." "Bribery?" "Combination of bribery and blackmail. Just because your favorite vice is illegal doesn't mean you don't occasionally indulge -- just be wary of foreign nationals with cameras. I think she might immigrate after the war is over." --- Chapter Fifty Three ". . . silently for me . . ." "Strap in." Thoasis was shocky -- Envyss pushed her down into the chair and strapped her in before finding his own seat, none too soon. The take-off was rough, and an impact in the rear of the plane jolted the passengers, throwing some of them to the floor. Thoasis jerked in her harness, Envyss rode with the impact, peering around the rest of the passengers, looking for visible damage. Most of the others picked themselves off the floor and found seats -- there was one that lay still, his neck at a painful angle. Thoasis stared at him for a long moment, then turned to Envyss. "Thank you." Envyss just nodded curtly. "We're lucky if that's the only one." He raised his voice, "Are there any other injuries?" A babble of voices. "Hold." Silence. "Do we have anyone here with medical training? Start with medical students or actual doctors." Two medical students spoke up, and one pathologist who hadn't dealt with a live patient in years. "Can you handle yourselves with the turbulence? Adding yourselves to the casualty list is not acceptable." One of the other passengers yelled, "Who are you to be giving the orders around here?" "My mother's father is Trefaldyn, lord protector of the hruss. If there is anyone here of equal rank or greater, let him speak." _Lots_ of whispers. Thoasis leaned over and said, "Nobody knew that. You're the king's grandson?" Envyss smiled faintly, "We don't use your word 'king.' But, yes." He waited . . . "We should elect us a leader. Are we going to let this kid boss us around?" "Shut up, Bill. It's the kid's airplane. He just decided to let us tag along." "What?" "The people who took the airport were hruss. The ones who died getting your sorry ass onto the plane when they could have just grabbed 'the kid' and gone. Shut up. And let him sort things out." --- Two broken arms, a broken leg, lots of bruises, but only one fatality among the students. And an escort of fighter planes that broke away at the border when they were met by more of Envyss's people. Envyss came back from the cockpit and strapped himself in again. "No more pursuit. We're going directly to the capital -- my family will meet us there." He raised his voice. "There will be planes to take all of you home. I have a short list of people I would like to stay as my guests for a while, but there is no obligation -- you are free to go at once when we land." "Have our families been notified that we've escaped?" "The families we were able to reach, yes." --- The landing was a bit rough -- the landing gear failed minutes after the plane touched down, while it was taxi-ing in. Crash trucks rolled up, with ambulances. And a limousine with, not the national flag, but Envyss's father's clan's banner flying. Envyss watched out the window as Ross helped Mairyonven out of the limo. Thoasis was going to have quite a shock. The plane had lowered itself too much to use the standard roll-up stairs. Bill suggested just jumping down, Carl told Bill he was free to do so, but that for himself, he figured his luck was about as stretched as it was going to go, and it would be a real shame to break his neck getting out of a plane. Thoasis nudged Envyss. "Is she here?" "Pardon?" "I saw you smiling out the window. Is she out there waiting for you?" "Auryn Rhos? Yes." _Big_ smile. "And my mother, and some of my brothers and sisters." "Ah . . . what about your grandfather?" "No. He's very ill. He doesn't travel any more." "I see." --- A metal slide was improvised to exit the plane. Envyss stayed inside the plane until all the others were safely out, then slid. Thoasis helped him to his feet. "I want to meet her." "No, you don't." "Are you afraid she'll think you've acquired me?" Envyss tried desperately to not laugh. He almost succeeded. "If you insist." He took a minute, scanning the crowd. Yes. Ross, waiting patiently for him. "This way." She barely kept up with him. She was looking for someone his height or less, long blonde hair, his age, with a slight tan. The last few steps were at a run, and Ross was braced for the impact. It still swung them around, embrace and a long, passionate kiss. Thoasis stood and stared . . . Well, the hair was golden, yes. Some tiny touches of silver as well -- "Auryn Rhos" was maybe twenty years older than Envyss. Nice looking man . . . obviously Envyss's partner. "Ah, Envyss . . ." Eventually Envyss came up for air, although the embrace was still tight. "Yes?" Thoasis was smiling, "You forgot one little detail when you were talking about Auryn." "Oh. That. Yes. The Akshobhya wouldn't even have let me in the country if they knew my partner was another man. There really wasn't a good time to explain that to you. Not until we were on the way out,and by then . . ." He was turned around in Ross's arms, Ross was nuzzling the side of his neck, nibbling on his ear. "How long has it been?" "With the detention, two years since we've been together in private." She laughed. "Then get out of here before he decides that the asphalt is soft enough." Ross, "I wouldn't do that to him." Thoasis started to make a snappy comeback, but the voice hit her. "Do you sing?" A faint smile, "Everyone sings." "No, I've heard you singing. Envyss? Is it possible?" "Yes." Ross looked startled. "Jheraind recorded your singing, when you first went to work for him. I made copies of the songs and took them with me to school." Envyss pulled Ross's head down and whispered, "I have been using those recordings when I pleasure myself since I was twelve. I couldn't have you there with me, so . . ." Ross blushed. Envyss put his face up, lips slightly parted, kiss me? Ross leaned down, kissed the tip of Envyss's nose, then his lips, but only lightly. Then he started whispering in Envyss's ear. Envyss giggled. --- "And who are these others?" A small, dark-skinned woman, "Adibud-Dha, a doctoral candidate in physics." A tall man, dark hair and eyes like the hruss, but nervous and abrupt, with none of the liquid flow, "Lunantishee, an engineering professor." Lunantishee nodded. "Ricamonte," a round man barely out of his teens? "flight medicine research fellow. And Valmiiki, who has been working on some interesting counter-acceleration drugs." Ice-blond, not golden like Ross, colorless eyes. Ross smiled. "The Akshobhya are fools. You're free to return home, of course, but we are willing to provide you lab space and personnel, to continue your work." "And you are?" Lunantishee asked. "Ross Colburn." "Doctor Ross Colburn? The same Ross Colburn who holds the current world's record for sending a man-made object into the stratosphere?" "That was my team, yes." Ricamonte grinned, "Are you planning to send a human some day?" "As soon as we get something to stay up there, yes." "Then you need me." "Yes. We need all of you." --- "You didn't open the safe." Ross shrugged. "I thought it could wait until I heard you were actually dead. Your message sounded like a 'this is where I keep my will' to me." Envyss grinned, "Well, that's in there, too, but it's in a sealed envelope, so it would not have ambushed you. I wanted you to look through the records of us." "All three years of us, two and a half of which you haven't even been in the same country as me? Have you had cameras?" "Centuries of us. Nearly a millennium of us." Envyss went to the wall and slid back a photo of Ross at one of the rocket tests. There was a safe behind it, with letters rather than numbers on a dial. "That's a lot of dialing." "Except that the keyword this time is easy to remember. Nothing in here is actually valuable -- it's all copies of documents stored in much more secure locations. Even the recordings are copies." "The recordings of my singing." "The recordings of three generations of your singing." "That's impossible." "Perhaps." The entire center of the safe came out, and Envyss carried the box to a table in front of a couch. "I'm going to read something to you. It's a rough translation -- I'm not an expert on archaic hruss forms, and I'm sure I miss some of the subtleties." He took a breath . . . "And this is our charge to you, said the gods, the golden rose, that you find and cherish it. And in turn it will serve you, with joy and with deeds and with music. And this charge we give to your children and their children, until the world ends." Envyss ran his finger down the page, looking for the next piece, "And it was a thing that the hruss did not know of their own kind, a child with golden hair. And the laughter of the child was as gold." Envyss giggled, "We won't mentioned that when the priest went to change the child's diaper, he got peed on." "Does it _say_ that_?" "No. but I've changed boys' diapers before. They usually store up a surprise." Ross glowered, then grinned. "Where did the child come from, this 'golden rose'?" "No one knows. We still don't. We don't know where you came from. Or your predecessor." "I know where I came from!" "Your aunt and your uncle, who were always full of stories about your parents . . . Both of them had brothers and sisters, but there are no missing children who could have been you. Your uncle never talked, and your aunt will not speak to us -- or likely to you, either, not now." Ross had heard the word "thunderstruck" and was wondering why he didn't feel it, even now. No proof, of course. "Do you have documentation?" "Jheraind had searches done. There were no missing children in your area at the time of your birth, no missing teenaged girls who might have given up a child. Just a birth certificate with your name on it, with the right date. A year to the day after Ivar MacCrossan died. "I pity Jheraind. He was only ten when Ivar died, and then he had to wait for you to grow up . . . and then he missed you, by so little. By letting you stay in your own country -- if he had taken you home, you would have been together since you were sixteen." "And where would that leave you?" Envyss smiled, and the smile was sad and a bit haunted. "If he had lived, I would have been him, still in your arms, but for the last twenty years and more instead of the last three. And no school separating us." "This is garbage." Envyss shrugged. "Alright. It's garbage. It's totally trivial romantic garbage. I still pity Jheraind. He was so close to having you . . ." "Change the subject." "Alright. Recordings. Can you recognize your own voice when you hear it recorded?" "I've listened to recordings of my press conferences, yes." "Alright." A coil of wire dropped into a machine. Sound . . . The first song was one that Ross remembered singing, a love song to no one in particular, more than mildly embarrassing now, since he knew that someone had been recording. "Is this you?" Envyss asked. "Yes." Further down the recording. Same voice, a different love song. And it sounded like Envyss singing with him. "I didn't take that one to school with me. Had to avoid even the suspicion of liking men." "That can't be me singing. I don't know that song." "It's Ivar. Recorded shortly before his partner's death. That was Hlindghessan. I think he was my grandfather's granduncle or something. He and Ivar were together forty years." "You said you had three generations of my singing. That's not possible." "It is, barely. There was a man who invented a method of recording voices. He died before he got funding, and his invention was lost. Except that he visited court before his death and made a recording of Aurhyn Rhos singing. It took years before we found a machine that would play it." "You called me that." "Close. Aurhyn is a woman's name. Auryn is masculine." "And she has the same voice?" "Nearly." Further along on the recording. The voice was higher in pitch, but it was the same as a recording Ross had heard of his church choir, the one time he was given a solo as a child, before his voice broke. His voice. All three times. "Just birth records?" "Photographs . . . then before that, paintings." "Show me." --- Chapter Fifty Four "Right here by my side . . ." "You filled him up with this nonsense, virtually programmed him to fall in love with me. For what? To keep me here for your space program?" Mairyonven sat calmly and looked up at Ross. "I will not have you shouting at me. More to the point, if my guards hear you shouting, they will decide to intervene. Neither of us wants that." Ross paced, hissing . . . then sat next to Mairyonven on the couch. Much lower in volume, but still harsh. "How could you do that to your son? In a few years, he's going to find someone he actually will get attached to, and then . . ." "What do you fear, Ross? That he will leave you? That you'll become so used to accessible sex that you'll forget how to hunt?" "I am afraid he will learn to hate me, when he finds out I'm not this mythical thing he's entranced with. The Golden Rose. I ask you again, did you fill his head with this nonsense?" "No. Jheraind did. One of the duties of the royal family is to find the Golden Rose and his or her companion. Companion is not always mate, do you understand? 'Keeper' might be a better word, although since the lives overlap each other, the rose is often older than the companion." "How did they know it was Envyss?" "Birthdate, mostly. There isn't a birthmark or anything. Just someone of our royal blood, born the right day. When he becomes thirteen -- or she -- she is given the legend. Eventually, all of the records." That was news. "He's recording me?" Ross jumped to his feet. "Ross. Calm down." Ross stood there, staring at her. "He makes notes. The only 'recordings' I know he has are of public events. And some songs that Jheraind recorded you singing. He _loves_ you. He is not going to embarass you by writing something private down, much less filming you." "He thinks he loves me. I think he is in love with the myth." "Please stop towering over me." Ross froze. "I'm sorry. This has me really worried." "So I see. Please sit down." Ross stared down at Mairyonven for a long instant, then just folded his legs and sat on the floor at her feet. "Is that better?" "Yes. Thank you." "I'll try to keep my temper . . . what would have happened if the child born at the right time had been a girl? Would you have insisted that I marry her?" "'Companion is not always mate,'" Mairyonven repeated. "You don't even have to like each other. But it is his duty to keep the record of his birth and yours, and your death. Call it a priestly obligation." "Thirteen. He said he fell in love when he was two. That's impossible." "He remembered you quite clearly. He --" she smiled, almost shyly, "-- he wanted to know if he could have gold hair like that. And he asked me why you smelled so nice. And a few years later, he asked me if you had a girlfriend, because he wanted to meet kids that looked like you." Ross had started to joke, stopped. "What?" "He had no idea he was going to get you. He didn't even know you weren't interested in women. It had been three years since he had seen you, and he remembered, and he knew you were something he wanted. At least a part of. That's why I sent him away. His father's people regard the golden rose as a myth, something long ago. They don't know we still have you with us. Certainly, _they_ didn't feed him any fairy tales." A chime -- the specific signal that said it was Envyss on the way up. Ross started to get to his feet. "Stay there." "Yes, ma'am." It was Envyss, but there was something else as well -- a puppy, smaller than Ross usually liked them, but . . . the puppy struggled in Envyss's arms until he let it go onto the floor. "She's just been weaned, and has some paper training. Now that I'm home, I can help take care of her -- I know you couldn't manage one when you were handling the project all by yourself. But you get to name her." An unfamliar breed, but very playful and affectionate. "Is Gretchen acceptable as a name? My aunt did a good job of taking care of me, especially if I was not actually kin of hers." --- "I want to see everything you have put into the archive about me." "There isn't much . . ." Envyss paged to the end of a sheaf of papers. "Here." He read, "I, Envyss son of Mairyonven daughter of Trefaldyn, acknowledge my duty as companion to Ross Colburn, successor to Ivar MacCrossan, Aurhyn Rhos . . ." Envyss read off at least four other names, then turned to Ross, "Do you want the whole list? It's here." "No. You're stalling. That isn't about me. That's about you." "Very well. Let's see . . . My next entry . . . 'This is my sixteenth birthday. Tonight, I will be provided with companions for the night, to explore my adulthood. And it will not happen. There was someone I met, many years ago, and that is what I want. He is the one I want. And no one will even _listen_ to me. My father says that such a one would be a foreigner, and is not fit for my attentions, not this night. So be it." "I thought that was a place to record details about the golden rose, not for a teenager to whine." Envyss colored a little. "I wanted my protest to be permanently inscribed somewhere. No one would dare change that book. It does sound a bit whiny, doesn't it." "Yes. Is the next entry any better?" "That depends on what you mean. 'I have met the one named by Jheraind son of . . . alright, alright, you don't want to hear that . . . as being the golden rose. I am shocked and dismayed -- I remember this man from my childhood. And now I see that Jheraind's words were aimed at me -- that "companion" was not enough. I dare not write more of this.' " "And? Next entry?" "There isn't one. Not in the book." "That is going to scare your successor to death." "It scares _me_. I know why the entries are so cold. Any warmth, and all the doubts flow through . . ." He closed the book gently. "I need to add something for the next one, that the fear was groundless." He closed his eyes, sat with his hand on the book. "This is not what I planned for my life." "But it is. You decided to keep me after I fed you pastry." "Yes. I did." His eyes opened, and he looked up, up at Ross. "I'm used to having my life run for me -- anyone born to high rank is. It's the price of the privileges. And our religion says we accept that, we choose the bodies we are born into. Do your people have a better answer? When I went to school, I met so many people with different gods . . . and some were similar, and some very different. But no one had a myth living with them, gracing their bed. And I couldn't talk to anyone about it, either. Not without getting thrown out of school." Ross smiled at the word "gracing." "I'm not a myth. I'm real." "I know. That's why I kept playing the songs. To remind me that you really existed." Envyss stood up, pushed the chair back under the desk. "I could see your face, while they had us under detention . . ." Eyes half-lidded, "They let me keep my recordings. Your voice kept me sane." "Come here," Ross said softly. Envyss moved into the older man's arms. "I was worried about you. Worried that they would hurt you. Your mother had to order me not to charge out and rescue you." Ross could hear the grin in his partner's voice. "She did? You let her?" "She threatened me with house arrest. I decided not to force her hand. She owns more troops than I do." Envyss laughed. "But she sent them all to get me. The other detainees were impressed, at least." --- "Are you in love with this 'golden rose'?" Envyss rolled over to face his partner. His hand reached out, traced the side of Ross's face. "I thought the idea was absurd. Even if the gods did something a thousand years ago, why should they meddle with my love life now?" "Thought. Not think." "There is nothing in the legends that say I have to love the rose. I fell in love with you. I think I fell in love with your smell." "It's a good thing I showered, then." "Oh?" Envyss thought about it, "Oh. Did you have both of them? My mother and Medlen?" "You know I'm not going to answer that." "Those were the two other adults that had those chemicals in their blood. I know that Mother tasted funny . . ." a very strange smile on Envyss's face. "She looked like Jheraind, or you wouldn't have bothered. _You_ are as doomed to me as I am to you. Admit it." Ross took a pillow and tried to smother Envyss, not pushing all _that_ hard. And the wrestling turned to lovemaking, as it almost always did. --- Chapter Fifty Six "It seems like only yesterday Perhaps, at most, the day before . . ." "You aren't in the first group of fliers selected." Envyss sighed. "I didn't expect to be. You want your most experienced people there in your initial lineup. I understand." Ross looked through his notes, to make sure there hadn't been any last-minute down-checks. "You _are_ in final selection for the second group, the one with the two-man ships." Envyss grinned, "Any chance it can be you and me together up there?" Ross shook his head, smiling, "I'm not on any of the lists. Boy, your best chance of survival is for me to be downstairs if something goes wrong." "My best chance of survival is not to go. That's unacceptable." "Envyss. If I thought for a moment you weren't more than qualified, I would yank you off the list instantly. I will not risk the lives of the others by sending up someone who isn't suitable. But by the same token, that means your ship-mate will be the best, too. I want _all_ of you to survive." Envyss looked at launch station six, where the salvage crew was cleaning up after another spectacular failure. "I'm all for that. What happened this time?" "New fuel, more unstable in large quantities than expected. Scaling up is not a simple linear process." "Try to get it right before you put a person on top of one of those things." "No exploration was ever zero-casualty. We minimize risks, not eliminate them." "Even for me?" Ross looked up from his clipboard, but his partner was grinning. "I'm not tired of you yet, love. Just don't start whining at me." "Yes, sir." --- Dinner in Ross's rooms at the main launch facility. "We have a press conference at eight. Me, Flight, Meds,and the ten fliers." "Do you want me to be there?" "Of course. The hruss know you as a member of the royal family, the outside world knows you as that and as the hero of the university rescue in Akshobhya. You bring a certain amount of glamour to the program." Big grin. --- "Meds" -- Chief of Space Medicine Ricamonte, one of the people Envyss had helped retrieve from Akshobhya, smiled at Envyss and Ross when they appeared at the press room -- they were looking a little bit flushed. "Same exercise regimen as usual, gentlemen?" Ross just looked smug, Envyss grinned. "It works." "Indeed it does. Envyss, you've got one of the best cardiovascular systems on the team, and your partner isn't running far behind. I hope you can keep it up during the final training." "As long as we're in the same city, I don't see why not." "Flight" arrived -- the Flight Operations Chief Hlukayrn. Nods to the others, "Director, Your Serenity, Doctor." Envyss, mildly, "You can drop the title while I'm working for you." It was an old and friendly argument. "When you've dressed as one of mine, I will. Not while you're in full plumage." Envyss looked down at himself -- not quite ceremonial garb, but court-formal, with all the rank indicators. "This isn't full plumage. I can't move on my own when they have me fully decked out. "But point taken. Not being in uniform should keep the others of the second string from getting jealous when I'm on stage with the forerunners. They won't think I've been upgraded." "The other fliers are about split between thinking Ross got you the position and that Ross doesn't trust his own ships and won't let you go -- that all you're going to do is wear the suit and have your picture taken." "And what do _you_ think?" "I think you have the space bug as bad as any of the rest of us." "Good call." A cluster of new arrivals -- half of the first string. All of the first group of fliers were hruss -- the later program stages had other peoples mixed in. "Where are the others?" "They were still in the restaurant when we left. Talsarn was ordering another round of beer." Ross's eyebrow went up, Hlukayrn nodded and headed for a phone. In a short while, more fliers arrived, with a polite but firm escort from the civil police. "Thank you for arriving on time, gentlemen. Get yourselves cleaned up. Five minutes." Talsarn stood his ground. "Was it necessary to send the police?" "Yes. If you had delayed any longer and then tried to make up the time, we might have been replacing the lot of you. Is a final beer worth it?" Hlukayrn asked. Talsarn glowered, but then one of his drinking buddies dragged him off to get the suds off the uniform. --- Press conference. The ten fliers were at one long table, the others were at a smaller one. Formal introductions, questions directed to the fliers, then to Ross and the rest of management. No one seemed to want to hear from Envyss during the conference. On the other hand, during the reception following the press conference, almost everyone wanted to talk to Envyss, especially if there was a camera pointed at them. "Does this get on your nerves?" Ross whispered. "No. This is what my primary job is -- or at least the job of most of my family. When someone talks to me, touches me, he or she is talking to the entire hruss people. Most of us get used to it really young. I was a bit delayed -- my father's people didn't let out who I was, so I had a fairly normal childhood. Made it a bit harder to become what I had to, but . . ." More photographs, each of the fliers, Ross with his staff, even some nice shots of the fighter pilots waving their hands around wildly describing dogfights. --- Of course, the photo the popular papers liked the best the next day was Ross's blond head next to Envyss's dark one, as they whispered together. "Nice looking couple," Envyss said, sliding the paper across the breakfast table to in front of Ross. "I should send a copy of the photo to my aunt. She was worried I'd never get married." Envyss grinned. "_Right_. Only if you never want to go home." "True. I'm not quite ready for that." "_Are_ we married?" Ross leaned his face on his half-closed fist, propping his elbow against the table, and studied the younger man. "I don't have your language down completely yet. But when you said I was your partner, you said it was forever. Promises like that are a marriage." "That's not what I said. I said that you had always _been_ my partner. You can walk away. It can be broken." "Talk to me about breaking it in about a hundred years. I might be tired of you by then." "That's a deal." --- A phone call in the middle of the night is seldom a welcome thing. Envyss rolled over and answered, "Yes?" "Tell Director Colburn we just lost Talsarn." Envyss tucked the phone between his ear and his shoulder, shaking his partner awake with one hand as he reached for the light switch with the other. "Details?" "Don't have any yet, the civils still have the area cordoned off. It doesn't look like a simple smash-up, though. I've got the phone number of the lead man on the site; you can get more out of him than I can." Envyss copied the number down, hung up. He ran through his information to Ross, then dialed out. His rank got him answers that Flight couldn't. He placed the headset back on the cradle gently. "Was Talsarn drunk?" "It wouldn't have mattered if he were. The civils think there was a bomb in the car." "Call Flight, tell him. We need to have a meeting -- damn, not until we have all the vehicles checked first. Unless Talsarn had some personal enemy . . ." "The kind of personal enemy Talsarn had wouldn't use a bomb -- too impersonal. This was professional." --- Envyss made some more phone calls. "Alright. Josgoroth is sending out vehicles to pick us up, with the rest of your staff and the other fliers. There are techs coming to inspect our vehicles, and guards to keep them under observation once they are cleared." "Your family was expecting this?" Ross poured hot tea and offered Envyss a cup. Envyss sipped cautiously. "There's always someone with a grudge, real or imaginary, against one of us. We have standard safety procedures. I had them relax security on me when I moved in with you -- that was a mistake." "Do I get a vote on whether I want guards at my door?" "No, you don't. Not until you retire -- they, whoever 'they' are, are targeting the space program. You are vital to its operation. So for the duration, you get a bodyguard. I think we can do without a full motorcade with escort unless we lose someone else." "You're serious." "I'm serious. Talsarn's dead. I don't want to lose you, and I'm not thrilled with the idea of losing me, either. Not to a bomb. I'll take my chances with the rocket." Ross started cursing, "That's another good place to plant explosives. Hand me the phone." --- No bombs were found on any of the rockets being prepped for launch, but someone had been interrupted while mining one of the launch platforms. The security chief had all the sites re-inspected, and doubled the guards. "Take that to the lab. Maybe we can find out more about our saboteur from his work." Two bodyguards, one each for Envyss and Ross, except when they were actually in their home, and only after the place had been checked out first. "Are you used to living like this?" "No. I will be." Envyss grinned, "I understand a lot of the daughters marry guards. Might as well -- they're on the date anyway." Ross shuddered. "How did _we_ manage to get privacy?" "I had some rude words with my mother, so the guards were pulled back out of sight. I didn't have any when I was in school -- pity, it might have kept the females away." "Ah . . . Envyss, did you . . ." "No. Not interested. I'm yours." --- Chapter Fifty Seven "Foundation of the future, courier of dreams. Thunder on." "Envyss, you're going to be CapCom for the first shoot." Envyss looked startled. "Ross wanted that." "Can't do it. He still hesitates with the language, and he's going to be facing the press before, during and after the launch, and he can't concentrate on both. As his deputy, you're familiar with the systems, but not tied up with any one department." "Understood. You've told him, haven't you?" "I told him he was off the list. I didn't tell him who was getting it." Envyss sighed heavily. "You had to leave that to me." "Is it going to be a problem?" "No." --- Final selection for the first flier was down to three -- all test pilots, all with more sense than Talsarn. Josgoroth had a word with Ross. "You don't know anything about the clan rivalries. I don't believe that they should affect the final choice, so I'm leaving it up to you, not Flight, not Meds, although those two can give a final downcheck on a candidate. If you drop below three candidates, hold the launch until you can get more -- don't let Flight especially force your hand. After the first launch, it should be easier." "We've finally had three tests in a row where nothing has blown up. Envyss was joking that he finally had the right assortment of prayers." Jozh laughed, then, "I shouldn't laugh. Envyss takes his duties seriously. And test pilots are allowed to be superstitious if it helps them concentrate. I don't know anyone who knows of the launch who isn't going to be praying for a safe launch and recovery." "Except for the saboteurs and their employers." "Yes." Josgoroth turned and looked out over the expanse to where the launch platform stood. The windows were wide now, but would be heavily shielded on launch day. "We were able to trace one of the saboteurs back two layers, to a payment. We're watching that bank -- it's a forlorn hope, but the enemy doesn't know we've tracked them, so they might use the same method, and then we'll catch them. In the mean time, lots of security." He turned back to Ross. "They can't stop us. All they can do is slow us down. You're authorized to launch on schedule." "Thank you." Ross joined Josgoroth looking out to the window. "I wish your father had been here to see this." "We wouldn't be this far along. His passion was race cars -- he would have delayed. His death freed you to start your real work." --- "Flight called me with the news. He said he didn't want you to hit me with it blind. I agree with his reasons, by the way." "Which has nothing to do with whether or not you resent being knocked off the list, or resent my replacing you." Ross smiled ruefully, "Envyss, the last thing the flier needs is someone who hesitates relaying information to him in an emergency. As for you replacing me . . . You didn't. You replaced someone else who would have been CapCon instead. So I'm actually pleased for you." "You are _way_ too rational." "Not exactly. My ego -- my shadow, if you like -- is tied up with the success of the progam, not with who performs a given task inside it. Find the best person, get the job done, get it done right." --- Launch day. Ross was in a suit, but Envyss showed up dressed as a flier-candidate. "I'm just a voice today. I don't want to distract anyone. I can change for the reception later." "Yes." The big screens showed the rocket on the launch pad, waiting, steaming slightly as the liquid fuels cooled the humid air around their tanks. The final flier selected was named Theniol, with a partner and two children, all of who were at the observation platform for the launch. In the background, the news anouncers were repeating the contents of the press release, detailing the sizes, weights, and functions of the rocket parts, minibiography of the pilot (the broadcasts inserted a pre-recorded interview with Theniol, and then a pre-recorded interview with Ross). And a pre-recorded interview with Josgoroth, surprising Ross with one of his own quotes from years before: "God isn't punishing us. We can leave our room, any time we want to. We just have to learn how to turn the doorknob." --- Final checkdown. Ross went through a long list of sub-directors, getting "Go for launch," for each answer, finally coming to Meds and Flight. "Meds. Go/no go." "We're go for launch here, Director." "Flight? Go/no go?" A pause, as Flight collected one more piece of data he had been waiting for. Finally, he said, "Go for launch." "Start the final countdown sequence." Envyss's voice, quiet but clear in the background, relaying to and from the capsule -- CapCom is the only voice the flier heeds, to avoid confusion. "Five minutes to launch, and counting." Last minute details coming in, as the engines prepared to light off. "One minute to launch. Blast windows secure." Screens showed the rocket from close cameras and far. Ross moved to stand behind Envyss's chair, just hovering, as Envyss hunched forward, concentrating on the numbers on the screen in front of him, talking to the man in the capsule. "Thirty seconds and counting." The tower umbilicals fell away. "On internal power. Minus twenty." On "Ten" Ross stretched out his hand, almost resting it on Envyss's shoulder, but he pulled back. That would be a distraction at the worst possible instant. "Five. Four. three. We have ignition, the holddowns are still in place . . . one. "Holddowns released, we have liftoff." "Zero." The blockhouse was far enough away from the launch pad that the roar of the earlier ignition reached the audience with the count of "zero." "Flight, report." "We're still go." On the screen, some of the cameras perished with the heat of the exhaust, some, further away, transmitted a pencil line of fire with a light house on top of it, all pushing one man into orbit. Downrange as well as up, the first stage ran out of fuel and dropped away. The news people were re-running film of the launch, both from inside the blockhouse and the shots of the rocket itself. Ross tapped lightly on Envyss's shoulder and held out a cup of fruit juice. Envyss took it, wrapping his hand around his partner's for an instant with a quick squeeze, turning back to his work after taking a sip. "How many orbits?" "Two and a half gives us the best weather in a recovery zone." "Do it." Flight scribbled some figures hastily, handed the pad to Envyss to read to Theniol. "I've got some figures for you, pilot." Careful read-off and read-back. Another note dropped in front of Envyss by Meds. He read it and grinned. "I have a message here from your partner. She says there are steaks waiting for you to put on the grill." Laughter in the blockhouse and in the spacecraft. "I'm not sure I'll make it home for dinner tonight -- didn't you just schedule me to land in the other ocean?" Envyss smiled, "I'll have a word with Flight about that. Stand by, but don't get your hopes up." He cut the microphone, looked up at Ross. Ross shook his head. Mike back on, "Sorry, the Director has his mind made up on that one." Clearly, from the speakers, "Tell .. the Director . . . that he's just gotten un-invited to the cookout." "Will do." --- Re-entry blackout. Envyss took the oppportunity to get up, stretch his legs. Across the room, someone kept up a quiet count aloud of the blackout time elapsed. "What was the pause for?" "What pause . . . oh, that. Theniol almost said 'your partner' instead of 'the Director', caught himself, but paused after to emphasise it to me anyway. Just a tease. His lady was flirting with me at the last cookout." "I was wondering why you were hovering so close to me." A change in the hiss on the speaker -- Envyss slid back into his chair. "Theniol, this is Mission control. Do you read?" A different hiss, then "Mission Control, you can cancel the cookout -- I feel singed enough for a while." "Copy that. We read parachute deployment . . ." Cameras from the recovery fleets found the parachutes, a cheer went up in the blockhouse. "We can see you, Theniol. The recovery fleet is practically under you." Splashdown. Some quiet congratulations, but Ross waited until the message came through that the pilot was safely on board the recovery ship. "Nobody leaves until I have final numbers off all your boards." --- Chapter Sixty ". . . the blood of princes . . ." A deep-voiced bell in the distance, a slow cadence. Envyss froze, startling Ross. "What's wrong?" "It has to be Trefaldyn." Envyss took Ross's face in his hands, kissed him thoroughly, but then rolled over and out of the bed. "You . . . don't have to get involved." "You are." "Of course. He was my grandfather." Ross rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. "Was. That's a death bell, then." "It has to be." Envyss grabbed clean clothes and headed toward the shower. "You don't _know_?" "If it's the bell I think it is, it was sounded last for Jheraind. Should I remember that?" A nervous laugh. "I guess not. Your mother would know." Voice from under the running water. "They'll be sending messengers soon enough -- we'll know." "What do I wear?" "Something without scorch marks on it. We'll worry about dressing you for the ceremonies later." --- Guards, not a messenger -- and that startled Envyss. The guards swept in, did an unhurried inspection of the rooms, then stood aside. Josgoroth walked in, dressed in an archaic-looking version of the usual hruss clothing, black and stiff with black embroidery. A word, and the guards left the room. Ross could see one on each side of the door, weapons ready, as the door closed. "Envyss, our grandfather is dead." Envyss bowed his head, then dropped slowly to one knee. "Lord Protector." Ross took a minute to copy the gesture. Jozh didn't seem to take offense at the delay. "Rise." Then, "Is this one of mine? Or is he still an outlander?" "He made oath to your father. He's ours." Ross chose not to dispute the statement -- it would only make trouble now. "And _is_ he the creature of legend? My father used to tell tales of Ivar. Did he leave any to you, in this 'legacy' of yours?" "Some few. Jheraind was still young when Ivar died." "I see." Jozh paced, looking at different things on the walls and shelves. He turned, "And what about you, Ross. What do you think of this 'golden rose'?" Well! Jozh was going to treat him like a human, not just Envyss's pet? "I think the legend is very pretty. I don't claim the title." "It's claiming you, I'm afraid. The investiture ceremony is written to include both the rose and the companion. It's what my people expect, and we aren't going to disappoint them. Envyss, you'll work with the chief of protocol. Ross . . ." Ross listened attentively, Instructions? "Just don't get yourself killed until then. We would have to wait for the new rose to be born and found if we lost you now. Very inconvenient." That startled a grin out of Ross. "You can't have a coronation without me?" "Without the rose. It doesn't have to be Ross Colburn." "I didn't know I could give the office up." "While you live, you cannot. Envyss, keep him alive. And keep yourself alive, too." --- "Josgoroth didn't sound happy about that." "He's happier now that he knows you're one of us. It would be very inconvenient if you ran and he had to send troops to retrieve you." "Has that happened?" "Yes." Envyss searched the bookcase, drew out a dusty volume. "About four hundred years ago. The rose was the husband of a neighboring queen. We were at war -- we had an ambassador at their court, and the companion was one of the ambassador's staff." Envyss scanned the text, "Here we are. Our Lord Protector died, and the companion tried to talk the rose into attending the investiture of his heir. The rose was reluctant because of the hostilities . . . we kidnapped him. He seemed to acquiesce, then bolted again at the last moment." Ross laughed, "Sounds exciting." "Don't do it. If you feel that excitement-starved, we'll arrange something after the investiture." "No, thank you." --- Ross protested, "It looks like you're dressing me for a wedding, not a funeral." Envyss gave the shoulders one last tug, settling the garment in place on his partner's body. "The people need to see that you exist. We've actually been very circumspect about you -- the other roses have all lived at court, at least during the last few hundred years." "Since the one ran off." Envyss grinned, "We learned a few things that time. Like don't let the rose marry outside. The younger we find them, the better -- but they are always outlanders." "Are they all orphans?" "Where records exist at all, yes. Stand _still_." "Why don't you just let a tailor take care of this? Send him my measurements?" "They're busy." Ross waved his hands back and forth. "They? All the tailors in the country?" Envyss finally got the look he was after, tacked the cloth down. "Arms up." He slid the shirt up over Ross's head. "Relax for a while. I need to try it on you one more time after I finish sewing it." "Why are _you_ doing the fitting?" "It's part of my job. It is my duty to know the proper forms and ceremonies, including the prayers for preparing you for display." A quirk of the lips, half a smile, "Intruding as little on your consciousness as possible. If you were one of us, you would be considered a low rank of lay-priest -- no bad jokes, please. But when the rose is found as a near-adult, we don't make him or her undergo the training. Lucky you." "You've had it." "Of course. Most of the royal family has. The ceremonies involving the rose are specialized, and usually passed on by documents rather than by memory -- so few people know them, there is too much chance of losing parts." Ross thought over some of the looks on Jozh's face when he came with the announcement. "Does the Lord Protector ever try to claim the rose for himself?" "Away from the companion? Once in a while, the Lord Protector will court the rose. But the companion is still there." Envyss grinned, "You should read some of the chronicles. Once, both the rose and the companion were female, and they kidnapped the Lord Protector." "_What_?" "Yes. When the guards found him, he was half dead from exhaustion, and the companion was pregnant. Her child became the next Lord Protector." Envyss looked Ross up and down. "If Jheraind had lived, companion and Lord Protector would have been the same person." A slight frown . . ."I'm not sure that has ever happened." --- "One of the reasons you're so intriguing is your foreignness -- you're deliciously exotic." Needle and thread, careful stitches. "You have no idea how happy I am that you're _not_ a woman. I'd have been working on a dress for a year." "Your women don't wear dresses." "The rose does. She's the symbol of the outside world, without which we cannot survive." Envyss looked Ross up and down, smiled, "No. You wouldn't . . ." "Wouldn't what?" --- "Close your eyes, hands over your head." "Alright." Ross cooperated. Falls of cloth, whispering over his skin. Envyss tugged a few places, then, "Arms down. This is just too strange." Ross's hands brushed cloth at his side, below where a shirt would come. He looked down. "No. I am not going to wear . . ." "I'm not asking you to." Envyss circled his partner, inspecting. "The skirt can come off, and leave a tunic exactly the right length, and it fits you." An odd grin on Envyss's face, "Now I'm wondering if Aurhyn Rhos was actually a woman." "Did she have children?" "They never do. At least not the ones who have hruss partners. The only recorded offspring from any of them is when there's another outlander involved." "Like that neighboring queen." "Yes." --- Half a dozen tunics, salvaged from dresses. "I should have some clothing made up for you like this for everyday wear. You look good in it." "You're just trying to distract me." "Maybe. That doesn't mean you don't look good." --- Mairyonven was in tunic and trousers, but with a long overgown so stiff with embroidery that it could literally stand on its own. "That is _heavy_. Envyss, could you design some kind of wheels to carry the weight?" "Too many stairs to negotiate. I think I saw mention of a sedan chair in the older documents, but then you run the risk of being toppled -- we don't have time to train bearers." Mairyonven eyed Envyss and Ross. "Which one of you is more expendable? If we had to wait for him to be reborn, there would be time to train bearers. It's almost worth the trouble." Ross thrust Envyss behind him, then grabbed a chair to fend Mairyonven off. Envyss started laughing. "Calm down, Ross. Mother . . ." Mairyonven laughed. "You should have used Envyss as a shield. I'm less likely to kill my own son." "I'm more likely to be able to fend you off than he is." "I wouldn't bet on that." She stepped forward, swept the chair out of the way, and was on Ross's throat with a knife before he blinked. Then she backed away. "Envyss would not have let me get that far. One of the peculiarities of a royal upbringing -- we are trained to deal with potential assassins. Although it was charming to watch you try to protect him." Ross rubbed his throat. "I see. Charming." --- Chapter Sixty One "Unto the Death gois all Estatis, Princis, Prelatis, and Potestatis," The procession started at the palace, and wound to the temple in the center of the city. Josgoroth walked in the midst of his brothers and sisters. Mairyonven was surrounded by her children, with one exception. Envyss walked by himself, no kin. "I don't walk with you?" "No. You meet me at the temple. If I had a different partner and children, they would walk with me." "Does that happen?" "Josgoroth is Jheraind's son. It obviously happens." Envyss drew the older man's head down for a kiss. "Lucky. It's a long walk, and you get to ride ahead." "What do I do for _your_ funeral?" "Tired of me already?" "No. I was just thinking that I didn't have any special role at Jheraind's funeral." "Jheraind was just the heir, not the Lord Protector." A messenger at the door -- time to go. "We'll talk later. But one funeral a year is more than enough, alright?" --- Chapter Sixty Two "And, since he weighed men from his youth, and no lie long deceived him, "He spoke and exacted the truth, and the basest believed him." The solemn procession ended in front of the temple. At the top of the stair, next to the senior priest, stood Ross, positioned by the Chief of Ceremonies in a direct ray of sunshine. Surrounded by mourners in dark clothes, his gold and silver tunic and his golden hair drew all eyes. And there was an open place around him that made it very obvious when Envyss joined him. "They didn't expect me." "You're forty. It's been that long since there was a golden rose active in the life of the court. The younger ones do not know what you are. The older ones . . ." Ross chinpointed at Josgoroth. "If Jheraind had lived, would I be off to one side? Or with Jheraind as he was honored as chief mourner?" "I don't know. We've never had a Lord Protector who was a companion." The service was fairly long, and more of the family participated than Ross expected. Finally, it was his turn. He and Envyss took a large sheet of sheer silk and lowered it over the coffin, then stood back. A trumpet sounded, then everyone filtered out of the building and the doors were closed. --- "What are you doing?" Envyss had stopped Ross from changing into normal clothing. "Just . . . let me take care of you. In this." His voice sounded strange. "Alright." It didn't sound like grief, or the sudden surge of lust that was sometimes life's answer to losing someone. Envyss moved like he was in a trance. Slow deliberate movements, lifting the tunic over Ross's head, folding it carefully and placing it into a waiting box. His own tunic followed. Envyss draped a soft robe around his partner's shoulders, then went to one knee in front of Ross, easing the trousers down, but without any of the caresses that were usual. "Envyss . . . are you falling asleep?" Envyss's eyes were barely open. "No. Please. Bear with me for a few moments more." Murmuring, neither in Ross's language nor hruss. Something much older, with a few recognizeable words. And then the words came clear in Ross's mind, words he should not know. "What are you doing to me?" Ross choked out. Envyss slowly came to his feet, taking his partner's face in his hands and kissing him gently. Ross found himself moving backwards, eventually pressed against the edge of their bed. Envyss sighed, stepped backwards. "Thank you." "What did you do?" Envyss flushed a little. "I have to make a note for my successor. The rose needs to be presented at the temple. Combining that with the other ceremonies was just . . . too overwhelming. It slighted you." "I am getting very tired of this 'rose' business." "There's only one more ceremony -- the investiture. Then you can go back to being just Ross." "Not while you have that look in your eye, I'm never going to be 'just Ross' to you again." "Perhaps. Tell me -- how do you think of me? Am I Envyss? Is it ever more than a passing thought that I am also Prince Envyss? Or Stavehleth Envyss? That's my religious title. I have to be all of these things." "You're Envyss. That's when you're not 'that nice looking kid I managed to tumble into my bed.'" That got a grin from Envyss. "The word is 'love' or 'lover' or 'partner' . . . I can't see you as a priest." "Are your priests celibate?" "Some of them, depending on the faith." "That makes no sense. How can they understand other humans, their problems?" Ross grinned, shook his head. "That wasn't the variety I was brought up with. And religion isn't my field anyway -- I do science." Envyss, his hands playfully exploring, "Oh, right, rockets. Like this one." Not much effort at all to tumble backwards onto the bed, carrying his partner with him. --- Morning of the investiture. "Eat sparingly. It's going to be a long day." "I have my blocking. I'm still vague on what I actually do." "Josgoroth decides. There are three pieces of regalia he accepts during the ceremony." "A crown." "No. There is a sword, a ring, and a cup. The officiating priest will ask him questions, then call names. When your name is called -- and it will be Ross Colburn, not Auryn Rhos, the priest will hand you something and you will present it to Josgoroth. My best guess is that he will have you hand him the sword. But it could be any of the items." Ross nodded. "Then I step back. I have the rest of it." The great glass windows in the temple aimed beams of light exactly where they would be most impressive, with the glittering robes and jewels of state. The black of mourning was gone. Envyss was in a deep blue, with lighter blue and silver embroidery. "Josgoroth son of Jheraind son of Trefaldyn, you are called to become Lord Protector of your people. Stand forward." The priest's words spoke of the symbolism of each piece of regalia. Josgoroth took his place on a backless chair, draped with silver cloth. Then Ross heard his name called. And the priest placed a large ring in his hand. Ross was startled. "This isn't right." "Auryn Rhos, you have a part to play in this. Do so." Ross turned to Josgoroth, intending to place the ring in the younger man's palm. Josgoroth took Ross's hand and had him slide the ring onto his left hand, onto the ring finger. Ross hesitated. Jozh smiled. "No, you're not marrying me, Ross. Our customs are different." "Good. I'm already spoken for." Envyss was called to hand Josgoroth the sword. And one of Josgoroth's sisters gave her brother the cup. Ross overheard some of the ritual involved with the cup -- now, _that_ would have been embarassing. Final words, and the gathered people started cheering. Josgoroth just looked very tired. His sister and another older woman escorted him into a chamber in the back of the sanctuary. "Ross, come with me." Somewhere else, alone. "Is it done?" "Yes. We can go home. We'd miss some nice parties, but . . . we don't have to attend." "Ah . . . Envyss, when my people get married, there's a ring exchange. I wish someone had warned me -- it felt like I was marrying Josgoroth." "Not on a personal level, but you did. The Auryn Rhos is the outside world. Josgoroth was telling his people that we have to live in the world, not off by ourselves." Ross laughed. "Just as long as he doesn't expect any kids from me." --- Chapter Sixty Five "Twelve thousand, half million, million or more, Picnicking out on the warm-water shore." "How are your girls doing?" Ross turned and looked at the speaker. "What are you talking about?" Valmiiki waved at the simulator. "Envyss and Narayana. Are the numbers keeping up to specs?" "Yes." Then Ross repeated, "Girls?" "Sorry. I imagine that's treason." "Hardly. But it's irritating. Does it bother you that much?" Valmiiki shook his head, smiling a little. "It's amusing. I wondered why Envyss was paired with a female instead of another man." "Four of the fliers for this phase are women. Two of them are on mixed teams, and we have one team that are both women. Val, we don't _know_ what's going to work best. So we try everything. Talk to Meds -- he set the teams up as much by compatability of personality as by needed skills." Ross made notes of the readings on the simulator. "And if Envyss decides he's really compatable with her?" Ross laughed. "For two years, every female in Akshobhya threw herself at him, and I was hundreds of miles away. He came back to me. Even if he tries her out, he's not leaving me." Something else occurred to Ross. "Do you have some idea that there's privacy in a capsule? Just the medical monitors would scream bloody murder, and the sound pickups." --- Envyss was tagged as pilot, which meant that Narayana was going to get the EVA time. But they both got to practice in the pool with the floatation simulator. "That's the new reactionless boltdriver. Narayana suggested more handholds for the worker. Footholds, actually." Ross nodded. The medical monitors showed that the two in the water were a bit exerted, but well within acceptable parameters. The overhead crane motors started to power-up -- experiment over. The two suited figures were lifted from the water and deposited on the side of the pool. The harnesses were clipped onto stays on the pool-edge -- one of the early fliers had almost drowned half-way out of his suit when he overbalanced and fell back into the pool. The open suit was too heavy to swim in, and filled rapidly with water. Narayana got her helmet off first. She was still sweating a bit, even with the cool air flowing out of the air suppply. "That is work. You don't expect it to be." "Weight isn't mass. You don't lose your mass in orbit." Envyss lifted his helmet, handed it off to an attendant, held his hands out to have the suit gloves removed. He smiled over at Ross. "That was very odd. Is someone working on making the suits more flexible?" "Of course. But there isn't going to be a change in time for your flight. Get used to it." "I think I'm going to start running with a full pack every morning. That ought to help." "It should." --- "Valmiiki's worried about you alone with Narayana in orbit." "Alone? Is someone planning to sabotage the radio?" "I tried to explain that, but . . ." "Tell him to worry about Gallagher and Cisihlte. They're both straight and Gallagher's having problems with his partner." "Is that a recommendation for a psych down-check for Gallagher?" "No. His wife has just found out that most of our people don't have marriages the way she thinks of them, and she is not taking it well." "Is this a problem with the other outlanders in the program?" "Most of your other outlanders are pilots, not techs. Pilots think of themselves as being privileged, in certain ways. And their partners get used to it. Or turn a blind eye." "Outlander pilots." Envyss grinned. "Yes. Our pilots don't expect any treatment the rest of us don't get normally." He stood and carried his dishes into the kitchen, started to run water in the sink. Half muffled, he said, "Hahnemann made a pass at me today." Ross froze -- what was he supposed to say? Hahnemann was one of the outlander fliers -- probably even shyer than Ross had been about hunting. So he had approached one of two men he _knew_ had the same orientation . . . "Is there going to be a problem?" Did he take "no" for an answer? Did you even _say_ "no," love? By your people's rules . . . "I steered him over to someone who was available." Envyss turned just a little, until he could see Ross's expression. "Last time I saw him, Tarrell had dragged him behind the suit rack. Tarrell likes blonds, too, but he has more sense to try for you." "What . . . would happen if someone did? Back when my people had kings, if the king's wife took a lover, she was guilty of treason, and so was the lover." "Legally? Nothing at all. Got your eye on someone? Want me to make myself scarce so he won't run?" "No. I've got what I want." "You wouldn't be giving me up." "Envyss, I don't think that way. One person, that's it. If you choose to walk away from me . . ." "It's not going to happen." "Good." --- Gallagher's wife left him, left the country, went home. Meds sighed, checked the psych tests, made notes . . . there was less stress now, but was the combo right for in the confines of a two-seater capsule? "I might just bump them back a few missions. Envyss, are you ready to move up?" "Bad idea, both cases. The missions have specific research goals -- you would have to retrain someone to do Gallagher's work. I'd rather stay with my own mission, too." "Alright. But I'll be watching him." --- "Narayana and I want Ross to be CapCom. I can understand him perfectly, and Narayana has less problems with his accent than with the native speakers." Flight's eyebrow rose. "Narayana? Did Envyss push this on you? Or Ross?" "No. I've been spending a lot of time with Ross and Envyss. Ross is very clear to my ears." A lot of time with both of them? Now _that_ was interesting. --- Launch day, the first two-man crew. Theniol was assigned as CapCom. Envyss was hovering around as his deputy, ready to step in for an instant if needed. Ross was being followed by a reporter, while Ross's deputy flitted from console to console, recording figures. The reporter was out of earshot for an instant, something having caught his eye on a screen. "I wish I had a double right now." Envyss grinned, "Well, other than the obvious benefits from my point of view, something in particular?" "I can't do my job with him on my heels." "I'll take care of it." Envyss whispered something to Theniol, then headed for the reporter. Ross saw his partner lead the reporter away -- good enough, let's get this bird launched. --- "This is my capsule-mate Narayana. She's got all the particulars of the current flight as well as for some of the future ones." "She's going up? Which mission?" "Dual Mission Five, with me. Nara, I've got to get back on the wire." Narayana nodded curtly, then smiled at the reporter. "Let's go where we can oversee the entire operations room." --- Envyss nodded at Ross when he re-entered the room. "Does she resent that?" "No." The speaker crackled -- Envyss picked up a headset and put it on. Theniol spoke softly to the command pilot. Minus ten minutes and holding for final checklists. The reporter had a clipboard and was following the reports. Finally, Flight reported, "Director, we're go for launch." "Lift the hold. Resume the countdown." A bit of a stir at the entrance -- Josgoroth had slipped into the room, with only a few guards. Envyss looked up at the noise, called Ross's attention to him with a chin-point. A bare nod -- don't bother me _now_, I've got a launch in progress. "Minus three minutes and counting." "Flight, give me a last round of go/no go." Reports. All nominal, exactly where they needed to be. Forty seconds and counting. At twenty, Ross noticed Josgoroth standing next to him, watching the screens with the same avidity as his cousin. "Ten. Nine. Eight . . ." Ignition at three, holddowns released at zero. From the command pilot "Clock is started." A low murmur in mission control. Readings from the ship, both the pilot and the command pilot. "It just got quiet here." "We copy," Theniol said. "You're go for staging at my mark." Silence, then, "Four three two one . . ." The pilot, "Okay, we had staging." A muffled cheer went through the room. Then the command pilot, "Wow. Look at that horizon." "Bring us home some pictures, 'Keetays. Meds wants some readings . . ." Josgoroth spoke quietly to Ross. "Congratulations." "Thank you. Let's get them down safely though, alright?" Ross leaned over and read a figure off the notes Theniol was taking. "Check that. I don't like it." Theniol relayed the request, a new number came back, better but still not to Ross's satisfaction. "Lord Protector, if you'll excuse me . . ." "You don't need me breathing down your neck. I understand." --- There wasn't a lot of work being done in Nat Drummond's shop that day. Someone had brought in a television from home, and jury-rigged a connection to the big antenna. The image was still snowy, but it was better than just the radio broadcast. Pat had that running, too, which was fine for the actually Mission Control talk, but the cross talk of the commentators was a confusion and a half. "Hey. Isn't that your old buddy Ross Colburn?" Drum nodded, distracted, trying to understand the hruss underneath the translation. "Pat, can you get me an untranslated broadcast? I have the feeling our people are skipping over parts they don't understand." Pat pulled on a headset and started fiddling with dials. After a while . . . "Here you go." Straight from the hruss, no intervening commentary or translations. Drum sat with the headset, barely watching the video. He started to scribble notes. "Pat, see if you can get me . . . damn . . . Ross would talk to me, but I think they have him buffered." "Mairyonven." "Excuse me?" "She was here when Ross visited. I think she's their king's sister or aunt or something. I might be able to reach her, and then . . ." "Try it." Informal communication channels were always delightful. "Who's that?" Drummond asked. "He . . ." The video flashed up with Envyss's name, and that he was the Lord Protector's cousin. "Envyss looks like . . . what was his name . . . Jheraind? the old Lord Protector's son?" "Josgoroth's father. Envyss is Mairyonven's son. And Ross's lover." Drum grinned, "Openly? I'm astonished. He's almost as pretty as a girl, though . . . I remember the crush I had on the kid's mother, back when I met her. Oh, well. I wonder if I missed a chance." --- "I've got six photos for you, Flight. About to cross the terminator." "Watch your temperature gauges. Transfering you to the next ground control station." Theniol waited until he heard the next CapCom pick up the conversation, caught some of the temperature readings. "They'll be back around in a little while, Ross. Envyss, stand watch for me while I stretch and get a bite . . . Lord Protector!" Theniol shot up out of his chair. A quick babble in archaic hruss, which Josgoroth waved away. "Do your job. You need a break, get going. Ross, how long are they going to be up?" "Six days. Four more orbits and main crew here trades off with the next shift." Ross looked around, and in a somewhat louder voice, "And we _are_ going to go and get some sleep, gentlemen?" Muffled laughter and the occasional, "Yes, sir," or , "Of course, Director." "Are _you_ going to get any sleep?" Josgoroth asked. "Eventually. Envyss . . ." Too many reporters around for the obvious question of _how_ Envyss was going to get Ross relaxed snough to sleep. "What are you going to do when it's _him_ in orbit?" Ross shook his head. "Lose a lot of sleep, I imagine. I can't even just go off somewhere and drink -- he and Narayana want me as CapCom." "Even if you weren't anything but director, I don't see you hiding during any of your flights. That's not you." "You're right." --- Heated sandwiches, drinks with caffeine in them. Josgoroth disappeared for a short while and returned wearing a tech's uniform. He circulated, and everyone officially ignored his presence, except for answering questions when he posed them. "All right, we're back online here. Welcome back, 'Keetays, how's she behaving?" "A bit of a shimmy problem -- the techs gave us a couple of fixes, they haven't eliminated it. Here's the new data." Envyss wrote down a second copy as Theniol wrote. He studied it . . ."Tell them," he murmured to Theniol, "to check the edges of the air intakes. I think something loose is depressing one of the controls." Theniol nodded, relayed the instructions. Ross turned to Envyss, "Explain?" "Everything ends up at the air vents. But . . . something on its way there might hit a button en route." 'Keetays let out a bitten-off curse. "Shard of plastic had worked its way next to one of the buttons. It was triggering just every once in a while." "Get me new figures." "Well, the shimmy has pretty well stopped. And we've stopped that tiny fuel leak we thought we had." "Good. Figures anyway, gentlemen." --- Sleep was on a pair of cots in Ross's office. "I'm going to get you a fold-out couch for in here." "No. Then I'll be taking too many mid-day breaks with you. We should have gone home." "Ross. You _live_ here. Where you stay between missions is unimportant. I think we can get a small apartment set up, with at least a decent sleep space for you. And somewhere to have a meal without a mission report in reach." "There is no such place." "I can get Josgoroth to issue an order." "He can replace me, too." Envyss glared at his partner, then sighed. "No, he can't. But he can treat you better." Ross propped himself up on one elbow and looked at the young man on the other cot. "I don't see how. I'm doing work that I love, have a comfortable place to live, and you. What can he do to improve that?" --- The floor was more comfortable than the cots. And the floor wouldn't collapse under the weight of two moderately active adults. A soft knock at the door some hours later instead of a phone call. "Yes?" "Director Colburn, there's a call for you down at the main switchboard. A Doctor Drummond." "Have them patch it through here." Ross made a long arm and snagged the phone off the desk, bringing it to rest next to him on the floor. Envyss muttered something in his sleep and snuggled in closer. A quarter of a ring and Ross answered it. "Drum. Can you call back in about three hours . . . oh, okay, you aren't sure they'll patch it through again. What's your number?" Ross reached for paper, was handed a notepad and pen by his partner. "I'll give you a call back when I wake up. Sure, it's going well . . . Oh. Tell her I'm spoken for. Look, I have to get back to sleep. Bye." Ross hung up. Envyss took the phone and put it above their heads, but still on the floor, and put the notepad with it. "Her?" "Patricia something. Drum introduced her to me as Patrick and . . . well, there was a minor unpleasantness. I thought she would know better by now." Envyss grinned and shook his head. "Ross, you're too pretty. We won't mention the 'good and wise and kind' parts. I can't see anyone ever getting over you once they like you." "I don't mind being liked. I mind being . . . Oh, go back to sleep. You know what I mean." "Will she go away if you give her some kids?" "Not until after I get _you_ pregnant." --- Breakfast as scheduled, then back down to mission control and pick up on the night's developments. Ireomela hadn't been able to sleep in microgravity -- Meds was going to have him take a pill and try again. There were some jokes around about other relaxation methods, but they were all noted to either be too messy or too likely to puch the wrong buttons. --- No Josgoroth today. When control was passed to the next ground station, Ross ducked into his office and called Drummond. Apparently they were on skewed sleep schedules from each other. "What did you want?" "I'd like to visit for your next launch. Do you know how hard it is to get a good picture here of what you're doing?" "I'm not sure you'll be allowed." "Our people barely got one man off the ground. We're no threat to you." "And the hruss want it to stay that way. I'll see what I can do, but be prepared to not take anything home with you -- not paper, not photos, possibly not even clothes. And a thorough inspection on the way in, too." "Suspicious bastards." "We lost one of our original fliers to a bomb in his car. We still haven't traced the source. We're not taking chances." Ross heard a deep sigh. "I hadn't heard about that. You're right. Maybe I should not bother. Not for a while, at least." "No. Come visit. But tell Patricia that . . ." "You told me last night." "I was thinking of something else. Drum, don't bring anyone with you that you aren't willing to lose." "What? Oh. In case someone gets put in prison?" Ross laughed, "Not exactly. I never went home." --- Orbits. And days. Ireomela got his sleep, finally, when Meds threatened him that if he didn't take a pill this was his last flight. Not much of a threat at the time, but . . . "Any dropsickness, other nausea?" "Only medical problem other than the sleep was when 'Keetays didn't get the shade closed in time when the sun came around. Dazzled himself for a few minutes." "Roger that." Nat Drummond arrived two days before scheduled splashdown with only the clothes on his back, and Patricia. "I thought I would just buy clothes here -- save your troops from having to search them." "That might work. Dr. Nathaniel Drummond, Miss LaRoque." Quietly, and shifting to their language, not hruss. "I'd like to introduce you to my husband, Prince Envyss." She had expected "companion" or "friend." But "husband." Not even "wife." "Husband." Some of the closer technicians snickered. She stiffened, "I'm pleased to meet you, Your Serenity." At least she had that much of her homework done. Envyss nodded, "Miss LaRoque. What do you think of our operation so far?" She smiled at the princeling. "I'm impressed." And startled -- he spoke her language flawlessly. Then again, his mother? had as well. Pretty young man . . . But he looked at her . . . then looked at Dr. Drummond with apparently more interest, then back at his partner. No, no chance at that one, either. Ever. Drummond started to ask questions, in passable hruss. Ross waved one of the technicians over and had her take Drum and Pat to a briefing room for a quick fill-in. --- "I think you solved her problem," Envyss said, once the door was firmly shut behind the two outlanders. "Is that what you call it?" "I . . . didn't think you would say that. 'Partner' is hard enough for your people to wrap their minds around, when it's two men or two women." "Yes, it was. But 'husband' has other literal meanings. Like 'caretaker.' You are stavehleth to me, _and_ khymreth. 'Husband' is both." "Yes. I just never imagined you would use the word 'husband.'" --- Re-entry. The blackout period was longer than expected -- "I have to go over my figures on that. The time was logged . . ." "Ross, breathe." Ross growled, "I _am_ breathing. I am just annoyed. I'm not taking something into account, and it is going to get someone killed." "Drum's got better computers. He can help." "His government won't let him." A faint smile. "I think we can persuade them. Or him." --- "I can't just pack up everything and move to your country," Drummond protested. "We are not asking you to. I want to buy some computer time from you." Drum paced. The phone cord was long enough to follow him across the room in both directions. "This needs to go through diplomatic channels. We can't do this on a 'neighbors talking over the fence' basis." "I have a lot of authority with my people. What do you think your people will want?" "Minimum, sending up satellites on your boosters." Laughter over the phone. "Building a new computer system would be cheaper." "You're probably right. How many lives are you willing to pay while you develop and build it?" Ooh. Ross had learned some new curse words since he was a teenager. --- Chapter Sixty Six "Striving, flying, people try to rise above it all "World is turning, fires burning, all within my view Launch Site Seventeen, on the edge of the facility, was close to an old railway line that had been used to bring in materials early in the program. "The launch is Tuesday. This will be the first mission that is primarily scientific -- we need more information on how different materials and biologicals behave in microgravity." The tour guide sent the accompanying guard after a youngster who wandered off, then stood and counted heads to be sure no one else had lost his way. One of the teen-aged boys shoved another one. The teacher with them started screaming at the top of her lungs, as two more boys took sides and started pummeling each other and the original pair. The guide got on her radio and called for more of an escort. "I'm cutting the tour short. We can send the innocent bystanders out with the next tour." --- Dual Flight Three. The Command Pilot was Corchuelos, the Pilot was Belanagare. 'Keetays was acting as CapCom at Mission Control. "Minus ten minutes and holding. Final go/no go." Reports. Flight finally reported, "We're go for launch, Director." "Resume the countdown." Envyss pressed a cup of coffee into Ross's hand. Ross sipped carefully at the hot, sweet liquid. "Thank you. Round me up a couple of sandwiches, would you?" "As soon as the bird's up." Ross nodded. "Of course. 'Keetays, how are they doing out there on the pad?" "Everything's nominal, Director. Belanagare has the binoculars out and is watching the waterfowl circling. I hope they have the sense to clear out when the engines start." "The sense, sure. Are they going to have the speed to get clear before it takes off?" "I don't see anything we can do about that." Envyss, "Falcons." "What?" "An hour before launch, take a falcon out there. Five minutes' flying will scare the rest of the birds from the area, and then we bring her in where she's safe. Maybe leave a falcon decoy on top of the launch tower, just in case." Ross nodded. "Sounds like that will work. Arrange it for the next flight." "Noted." "Minus five minutes and counting." "Thirty seconds and counting." "Eight seconds -- Ignition sequence has started. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Clamps released -- we have liftoff." Splash of fire from the base of the rocket, smoke/steam . . . but it was the wrong shape. "Director, we've lost first stage telemetry." "Get them out of there," Ross snapped. The rocket blew before Ross's last word. The escape tower lifted, but the fireball overtook the capsule. Then the shock wave hit the blockhouse. Flight said, "We've lost _all_ the telemetry." Ross could hear Envyss softly praying behind him. "Lock the boards. I want all of the data as soon as possible." Sirens as rescue vehicles cleared their garages in the blockhouse. --- The cockpit voice recorder didn't have anything to add that hadn't been heard in Mission Control. The instrument recorder had been right next to the primary explosion and was torn apart. "There's very little chance we can retrieve any data we don't already have." The capsule had been breached by the explosion, but the bodies were in the same condition as many a plane crash victim's: battered, burned, but recognizably human. "Josgoroth has proclaimed a national month of mourning." Envyss chewed on his lower lip. "I'm to officiate at the funerals. He'll be attending." "Officiate? Not just speak?" "Yes. I'll be gone for a day or so. Unless you absolutely need me here -- I can plead my duty to you overrides his wishes." "Your people need you, Envyss. I have work to do here." Envyss bowed, and turned and left. Ross picked up his clipboard and continued to make notes. --- Three days. Ross turned off the radio -- what the hruss considered suitable music for mourning mostly turned his stomach with its weird pitches and rhythms. "You've got the preliminary report?" "Yes. It looks like sabotage." Sabotage. More murder. "Let me see the report." Ross read. Most of the device had been disassembled in the explosion, but a piece of it had been thrown far enough to survive. "Not the same as the car bomb." "Much more sophisticated. The triggering mechanism was quite different. This time, the material was not reactive until it reached a certain temperature." More details. --- The funeral itself was an invitation to a mass assassination plot. "One bomb and they'll wipe out all of the royal family. And half the clan heads. The only ones left will be the clans who don't support the Lord Protectors politics." "Not quite. Look at the list. None of the heirs are attending. We might be in for regencies, but no clan is going to be wiped out." Ross looked over the proposed schedule. "Missing man formation flyover. I always hated those." Flight shrugged. "You hate them because you understand them. So do I. But the men are entitled." "Oh, yes. What's the schedule look like for our next launch." "We're giving it an extra month to work on the new security procedures, and to train Gallagher and Cisihlte on the experiments that were supposed to be done on Three." "Yes." --- A twenty-piece marching band in black, with muffled drums but unmuffled reed instruments came first down the wide avenue toward the temple. There followed a flatbed wagon, painted black, drawn by a team of black horses led by an officer of the Lord Protector's household, in mourning uniform. Two coffins on the wagon, flag-draped. And walking behind, a small unit of liveried guards and the Lord Protector. With Josgoroth walked Ross and the partners of the two men. At a small distance behind Josgoroth walked other dignitaries, foreign and domestic. At the temple, there was a lone bugle call. And then planes overhead . . . two formations of four planes in lopsided V. Then the lead plane in each peeled off and joined its formation behind to leave the lead position empty. Ross shuddered. The space flier corps supplied the pallbearers that carried the coffins up the temple stairs where Envyss waited. It took Ross an instant to recognize his partner -- he looked ten years older, exhausted, pale. Josgoroth leaned over and spoke in a low voice. "He's had no food and no sleep for days. He's permitted both after the service, and whatever other comfort you want to offer him." "I understand. Why did you choose him to do it?" "He is one of their own." --- The service was lengthy, and in an archaic hruss that Ross gave up on understanding, except that it was in Envyss's voice. Again, at last, the lone bugle call. Josgoroth held Ross back from joining the procession outside. "No. Your duties are here, now. Go to Envyss." Ross ducked his head. "Lord Protector." --- A small apartment in the back of the temple, and the guards let him in at just a glance. Inside, Ross could hear the shower running. There was an unopened bottle of wine and two glasses on the table in the "living room" area. There was only a thin curtain separating off the "bedroom." Envyss came out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry, wearing nothing else. Ross grinned at him. "What would you have done if there had been someone else here?" "I'd have had the heads of a couple of guards. They signaled that it was you by yourself." "Okay. Should I pour?" "I'm not sure I dare have any, not until I get something to eat." The towel dropped and Envyss was in Ross's arms, just holding on tightly. The younger man was trembling, and not from the temperature. "I don't want to ever have to do that again." "I do not know anyone who could have honored them more." Envyss shuddered, then relaxed. "Thank you. I think that is what I needed to hear." "Do you still want to go on your mission?" "I have to. If _I_ don't trust your rockets, how can I ask anyone else to?" "The problem wasn't my rocket. It was sabotage." Silence, then a soft keening. Then something soft-voiced but dark -- a priest, asking for justice for the slain innocents. Something was warm and wet where Envyss's head rested against his shoulder -- tears? --- The lovemaking was slow and thorough. Envyss was attentive -- almost too attentive, from Ross's point of view. "I need some room to breathe." "I need to feel you here with me. I have been surrounded by ghosts for days." "I can understand that. I think we should go somewhere else. Somewhere with no memories." "I can't leave for several days. There are still ceremonies." Ross closed his eyes. "Can you get out of them?" "I don't know." "Let's put it this way -- who are your most important duties to?" "To the gods, of course. After that, to you." Ross nodded slowly. "I understand. I can't stay here with you." "Not while you have an investigation to run, no. Stay the night with me, then go. I'll come home when I can." --- Dinner was served by a pair of underpriests who kept peeking at Ross when they hoped he wasn't watching. Finally Envyss shooed them out of the room. "I'll take care of him. Go." Ross broke up laughing when they scurried away. "What was that about?" "You're the rose. Some people automatically think of a rose as female. In nature, roses have both sexes in one flower. Some people just don't pay attention." "So they are wondering how feminine I am?" Envyss looked startled, "No, I don't _think_ so. Most of them have seen you. It's just . . ." "I'm a myth." "Yes." "Well, I'm a hungry myth, and it's your job to feed me, right? Get to it." --- Early in the morning -- too early from Ross's point of view -- it had been nearly dawn when Envyss had let him sleep. A soft knock on the door. Envyss climbed over his partner, pulled on a robe, and pulled the curtain across the opening behind him. "Yes?" "A messenger from the Lord Protector to the Stavehleth Envyss." "One moment." Envyss pulled on trousers and opened the door. Ross rolled over. He could see through the thin cloth into the rest of the living space. Messenger. His bones ached, unhappily, but his muscles ached for a happier reason. He slid to the side of the bed just in time to see Envyss stumble against the messenger, and both of them fall to the floor. _Through_ the curtain, first to see if his partner was still breathing -- yes, although bleeding -- then to see if the other was still moving -- no, and never again. Direct pressure until Ross could reach over and find anything cloth to cover the wound and hold the pad against the cut. "Envyss. What happened?" "Call security. And get that door locked." Door first, with furniture in front of it for good measure. Then security, and medical attention, rush. "It looks worse than it is. I'm just happy I answered the door instead of you." "Why?" "Because you're not replaceable at this stage. I'm sorry I had to kill him to stop him. I wish I could ask him some pointed questions right now." --- Noise outside. Envyss waited until someone arrived he could identify personally by voice. "Do you have a medic with you?" "Yes. Ross said you had been hurt." Since only someone on the other end of the phone could have known that . . . Ross moved the furniture away from the door, stood with a staff in his hand to strike anyone acting suspiciously. The medic stuck his head in cautiously first, saw a seated Envyss holding a reddened rag against his side, and headed for him. Security was a little bit slower coming in. From the animated conversation beyond the door, both the guards outside were dead. Envyss looked up when the medic removed the pressure pad. "Ross, get some clothes on." "Are you all right?" "I will be. It's a slice, not a stab." Ross pulled trousers on and slipped on shoes, then came back out to help. --- Chapter Sixty Seven " 'Cause your heart is pure, and your dreams are mine . . ." "I am your best bodyguard. Until the saboteurs are caught, you are going to have security breathing down your neck. You're lucky that I'm acceptable to Josgoroth to watch you." Ross nodded curtly. "Suits me. If you were somewhere else, I'd be worried about an assassin targeting you. I'm not used to being on a list like that." "You don't get used to it. You don't want to get used to it -- that's when you start thinking that your bodyguards are enough to protect you. They aren't." --- Gallagher and Cisihlte were not pleased by the mission experiment shuffling, but saw the logic. "We need the data for later flights." Cisihlte's eyes flicked over toward Envyss. "Is he still going up?" "Unless he changed his mind and didn't tell me. Ask him." Ross backed away, and Cisihlte motioned Envyss over to talk. Low words, then a nod. Cisihlte moved over next to where Gallagher was standing, spoke to him. He looked up, over at Envyss, and smiled. Envyss looked over a few of the experiments laid out on the benches, then found his way to Ross's side. "You haven't changed my schedule, have you?" "No. Dual Flight Five, right after Gallagher and Cisihlte. How much training time are you missing bodyguarding me?" "Very little. The delay covered the difference. It gave me an extra month." "Physical conditioning?" Was that a smirk? "Meds is happy with my exercise program." Oh. That. Ross grinned back. "Do you know, I might actually get _more_ sleep than usual when you're up?" Definitely a smirk, "I don't think so. I'm making some tapes to keep you company. Lock the guards out of your office before you play them." Ross turned and looked at Envyss. "Fascinating. You shouldn't have told me ahead of time -- I'll be imagining more than you could possibly put on a tape." "You're probably right. Should I destroy them, then? I have four of them made already." "_No_." Envyss laughed. "I need to tease you more often -- you've gotten used to getting what you want right away, like a two year old." His hand came up and touched the side of Ross's neck. Ross held up his hand. "I appreciate what you're trying to do . . . well, what I _think_ you're trying to do . . . but not now. Not until after your launch. If I'm distracted and miss something vital, and something happens to you . . ." Envyss dropped his hand, backed up just two inches. "Yes. You're right. Let's get back to work." --- Late hours that night, and falling into bed exhausted, barely enough energy for a cuddle. "What you _think_ I'm trying to do?" Ross brushed a strand of hair away from Envyss's face. "I can never tell. I've been here all of your life, and I still miss clues." "Ah. We need a month alone together some time. Then I'll go native, and you can try to figure me out." "I take it by that that you baffle some of your countrymen, too." "Constantly. A stavelheth often does. By definition, we're xenophiles. We aren't always partner to the rose, but we are almost always close friends. And that means that I understand your people better than most of my countrymen do." --- "Did you ever add to your journal? After the one entry guaranteed to scare the next kid completely off?" Envyss grinned, "Yes. I told him how wonderful you are, and how it is worth finding you." "There's an assumption there." "Oh?" "That the stavelheth going to be the one finding the rose." "It happens, half the time. If not this time, then the time after. That journal will be read for a thousand years." --- "Any luck tracing back that assassin?" "No. The cover identity was seamless, even when we knew it had to be bogus. So we're working on the other end -- people with a motive." "Who else has a program? I'd look at them, first." "Callamer. Maceyka. And Trafford. I don't actually suspect Dr. Drummond, but his government . . ." "We've been trading technology. It's not to their advantage to sabotage us. Callamer . . . I've been negotiating with Captain Villatuya to train some of her fliers. So . . . concentrate on Maceyka." "They were high on our list anyway." --- Two days to launch. "Cisihlte has a request to make of you." It was well after hours, and most of Mission Control was deserted, except for the silent guardians. "Something to do with the mission?" "She said it was personal. I can step outside, if you like." "Would I sound too paranoid if I said I want you to stay here?" "Not at all. Should I search her for weapons?" "I don't think that will be necessary. Envyss . . ." "Yes?" "Do you know what a wedding ring is? Do your people use anything like that?" A smile, "Do you see her as that much of a threat?" "Not exactly. I don't want to be bothered by offers. I'm going to start wearing a ring, and whatever your people wear. Someone should get a hint." Then Ross hesitated. "You're allowed to object. You don't necessarily want to acknowledge me." Envyss laughed. "There might be three people in the kingdom who don't know we're attached." "Is there something other than a ring? Within your customs?" "An earring, not a finger-ring. And it's a piercing, not a clip-on. The style . . . Once it's in, you can't just remove it. The metal has to be cut. Or the earlobe." "When can it be done?" "Right now, if you wish." "Do it." --- A short post, with a sphere on each end. "You've done this before?" "Yes. Hold still." Something cool touching his ear, then numbness. Envyss did _something_, then stood back. "It's done." When Ross moved his head, he could feel a weight tugging, just a tiny bit. "Mirror?" Envyss handed his partner a small mirror. As Ross moved his head, sometimes his hair hid the earring, sometimes it glinted plain in sight. "What about you?" "Yes." Envyss guided Ross's hands, one behind his ear and one in front. The two halves of the earring met and locked. Ross could hear Envyss murmuring under his breath, prayers, probably. "Is that it? No ceremony?" "You asked and I consented. It's not a public thing. Now, as for finger rings . . . I was uncertain as to the style. Are there supposed to be stones?" "Not usually. Plain bands." "I see." Envyss cleaned and put away the piercing kit, rooted around in the top drawer of his desk. "Ah. Here we go. The size might be off . . ." The rings were a white metal instead of yellow. "Silver?" Then Ross picked one of them up. It was heavier than he thought it would be. "That's heavier than gold." "Platinum-iridium, I think. Gold was too useful as an engineering metal." Ross laughed. "Expense wasn't a question?" "Two rings, no precious stones? Now, are there specific words you want said?" Ross thought, "The ones I know are . . . rather unsuitable for two men together." "I understand." Envyss took a ring and slid it onto Ross's finger. "You are my partner and my love, forever." Ross echoed Envyss's words. Then a long kiss. --- A light tap at the door. It was one of the guards. "Cisihlte is here. She says she asked to speak to you?" "Yes. Let her in." Ross was in a dress shirt, no tie. Envyss wore an embroidered tunic, dark blue with silver and gold. Cisihlte walked in, studied the two for a moment, saw the earrings and the finger rings . . . "I've made a mistake." "No one's angry," Envyss said. "It's just easy to miss subtle clues sometimes." "No. The two of you have not been subtle. Forgive me for intruding." She turned to leave. Ross, "Wait. I'm curious. What did you think you could get?" Her back was still turned. "I want a child." "From Ross," Envyss asked. "Yes. It's not that you're unacceptable, Envyss, but I know you aren't going to want to muddy the succession. Ross is outside that reckoning." Envyss looked over at his partner, who was sitting frozen-faced. "Ross, there doesn't have to be contact. Our doctors have been arranging pregnancies this way for years." That startled the older man. "What? That's . . ." "It's an extension of some veterinary techniques, that's all. And the child has no claim on you." Ross said, softly, "No. I will grant it is possible. But I will not let a child of mine into the world unless I am prepared to be a full father to him or her. And that is not here and now, and not with you." "Yes. I thought you would say that, when I saw the . . ." she motioned at her ear. "But it didn't hurt to ask." She turned around just a bit to peer at Ross, blushing ever so slightly. --- Chapter Sixty Eight "Here's a health to the ship's designers And the welders of her seams, And all who manned the radar scans To watch our dawning dreams." Dual Launch Five -- Envyss and Narayana. Every flier had a shoulder patch that was either rank insignia, or clan badge, or, in the case of some of the foreigners, something more a whim than anything else. "Which clan are you going to let claim you?" Ross asked Envyss. "Mother's or father's?" Envyss shook his head, smiling. "I don't belong to either of them, not now." He looked over at his capsule mate, who nodded. Narayana brought over a presentation folder, dark blue with gold trim. Envyss bowed, and, taking the folder in both hands, presented it to Ross. Ross opened it. Inside, there was an artist's rendition and an actual copy of the patch -- a golden rose on a dark blue background. And a photograph of Envyss and Narayana in their pressure suits, both wearing the patch. Ross's eyebrow lifted. "Both of you?" You're sharing me with a female? Even this little? Eyebrow lift, well, _you_ put me in the capsule with her. "With your permission, of course. She . . . doesn't expect any other privileges, if that is a concern." Ross had stopped rubbing his ear where the new weight was, but his thumb touched the inside of his ring finger, the cool metal of the ring. "I trust you to preserve my honor." Envyss bowed, "Your honor is one with mine in this." --- Envyss left Ross with one audio tape. "Don't wear it out." Ross hefted it, as if its weight had something to do with the contents. "I'll play it the night before you're due home. Then you can get a proper homecoming." --- Security was the tightest it had ever been for a launch. Liftoff was scheduled for noon, but Ross expected holds to blossom as things were checked and double-checked. "We should have set it for dawn." Envyss laughed, "Not if you wanted me on the bird. A noon launch, they still strap us in at six in the morning. Dawn . . ." "All we did was sleep." "Yes. And it was wonderful." The technician was waiting to help Envyss put his helmet on. Envyss reached over and pulled Ross's head to his, for a last long kiss. "I will come back to you." Ross grinned, "You have to. I don't want to have to wait for your replacement to grow up." --- Ross in the CapCom's chair. "Begin standard hold at minus ten." He pushed the chair away from the console, stood up. "Back in a minute." Into the men's room, where he emptied a bladder too full of coffee, and took a pair of antacid tabs. The door behind him opened. "Ross, are you going to be able to handle it?" Three deep breaths. "Yes. I just didn't realize . . . I had never admitted to myself how much I love him. And I let him risk his life on this . . . have I done everything I can to bring him back safe?" "Everything but pray." "I've done that, too. I'm just not sure his gods are listening." "They all listen, if you mean it." --- Chapter Sixty Eight, continued "And send to me a token of thy fair esteem That I may carry as my standard into battle." Theniol stood as Ross returned. "Everything's nominal in the capsule. We were talking about falcons." Ross nodded, slipped back into the CapCom chair. "Flight?" "We're go for launch, Director." The blue presentation folder was on the desk, closed, under Ross's hand. "Resume the countdown." "Tee minus ten minutes and counting." A hand on Ross's shoulder. Cisihlte stood there, holding a flat box, about twenty inches by fifteen, four inches deep. "This is for you." A flier's jacket, but instead of the agency patch on the shoulder, there was the same design as the two fliers in the capsule were wearing -- the golden rose on the dark blue background. The note with the jacket was signed by all of the flier corps. "Thank you." Ross took an instant to shed his coat and put the jacket on instead. There was light applause in the room, then messages started coming in -- all nominal, but needful of attention. Envyss's voice. "It looks like the falcon worked. Neither of us in here can see any birds in our fields of vision at all. How does it look to you?" "Only the decoy on top of the tower." Some numbers read off, then, "Thank you for the jacket." "It fits, I hope? You've lost some weight over the last few months . . ." "It's fine. Let's get this bird off the pad." --- It had taken some time for Narayana to get used to the constant soft murmur of words from Envyss, but now it was reassuring. "Those are prayers, aren't they." "Yes. Don't worry -- I'm not depending on the gods to catch any mistakes we make. It's just . . ." "It's the rose. That's special to you." "Yes." Then, suddenly conscious of the voice recorder and the transmission, "Ground, how do we look?" Ross's voice, "Looks good. You're still go for launch." Narayana saw Envyss's lips move . . . was the word "khymreth" ? Not enough to show up on any of the recorders. Countdown. Trembling as the engines started, the thrust built . . . finally, zero, and the holddowns let go, everything nominal . . . "Dual Flight 5, did you get your roll? "Roger. Roll complete." Numbers flowing. Just seconds and they were above the cloud cover. "Boy, that sun is bright." "Copy that. Be careful -- 'Keetays dazzled himself on his flight." "Roger." Some seconds, then "We're go for staging." "Roger. Staging looks good from here." All the countless details, a reassuring routine of words and numbers. Ross's shoulders unknotted a bit, every time a milestone was passed. All the staging was done, time for a nap, then some experiments. EVA would be the next day, when the ground crew had slept. Tracking changed to another ground station -- Ross was off duty as CapCom, although he was still getting updates as Director. Gallagher practically pulled him out of the chair and steered him to the lounge, where there was a small buffet waiting. Hot caffeine was waiting . . . Ross's hand was trembling -- he carefully held on with both hands. "It was a good launch, Ross." "Thank you. And thank everyone else for me. I'm a bit more involved than usual -- I'm ignoring people. I'm sorry." "Your mind is on the transmissions from the capsule -- exactly where it should be for a CapCom. I haven't noticed any hesitations because of language." "I have enough sense to spit things out in two or three languages, in a hurry, if the first one isn't right there. Envyss is used to that. Narayana learned fast." Someone started to make a joke about Envyss and Narayana being up in the capsule alone, then noticed the earring and ring combination and cut himself off. Then Valmiiki made a remark about "Ross's girls." Ross picked up a pastry, took a bite, rinsed it down. "You're confused. They're both more masculine than I am. I'm just older." Laughter, and they let Ross eat in peace. --- "You have to sleep. Do I have to get Meds over here to dose you?" "How do the other partners manage?" "By not having a job with the agency. So they can do something else. Ross, you're unique." Gallagher steered Ross upstairs to the small apartment Ross and Envyss shared when there was a mission up. "At least fall over." "That I can do." A big recliner, actually large enough for both of them, as long as no one minded cozy. "Don't hesitate to wake me up if anything . . ." "Ross. No one has ever kept you out of the loop before. Why now?" "I just worry." "Understood." Gallagher looked around, "Where's your tape player?" "Why?" "He left me a tape to give to you, first night out." Earlier, Envyss had mentioned making four tapes? And had only handed Ross one before the launch. Ross bolted up from the chair. "You didn't play it, did you?" Gallagher smiled, then, "No. He said I could -- that it was harmless -- but I didn't see the point. It's for you, not for me." Ross found the tape player, set it up. Gallagher let himself out. Ross settled back into the chair, pressed "Play." His own voice, singing. But no song that he knew, it was in the hruss language, and he didn't even understand some of the words. Then he heard the name Jheraind -- this was a ceremony welcoming a new child. Ivar, the rose before Ross in the succession, singing over a baby Jheraind. The voice was dead-on, given the changes in recording technology. A short pause, then two voices together, this time in Ross's native tongue. It sounded like him and Envyss. But again, no song that Ross actually knew. Ross fell asleep midway through the third song. --- Wakeup was a phone call. There were two phones in the apartment, with two distinct rings. One was only used for emergencies. No emergency this time. Ross answered, "Give me ten minutes." "Not a problem. Everything's nominal." "Good." A quick shower and shave. He threw on a technician's uniform instead of more upper-echelon dress shirt and trousers. And comfortable shoes -- he was going to be pacing a lot today, to relieve the stress. Meds met him just outside the room. "You need to go take a run." "I have work to do." "You need to not work yourself into nervous collapse. I can suspend you if you don't cooperate." "Can I get an update first?" "Yes. March right back in there right now and get your running shoes." "Yes, sir," with a salute. --- Two bodyguards, and one of the relief CapComs. "Absolutely no bobbles overnight. At 0900, they're ready to start EVA procedures." "How did they sleep?" "On and off. That's normal for micrograv, at least as short as our missions have been." Most of the CapComs had been up at least once at this point. "I'd love to be on a longer mission where I can find out if that changes. What sleep you get is very restful, though. An hour or two serves for four." The bodyguard looked at his watch. "You've done the minimum that the medical officer required. Shall we return to Mission Control or do you wish to continue running?" Ross stood for a moment, looking at Site Seventeen, then over at the site of the current, successful launch where crews were already cleaning and repairing the blast damage for later flights. "Yes. We have work to do." --- Another quick shower. And this time Ross, deliberately, picked up the different, slightly spicier soap that Envyss used. In the hot steam, the scent created almost an invisible presence. "You're doing fine, love. I'll bring you home safe." And the hot water hissed, "I know you will, partner of mine." --- A loose tunic, no embroidery, but definitely hruss style. And the new jacket over it. A small loaf of fresh, hot bread smeared with honey and spices, almost too chewy to be a quick breakfast. Fruit and cheese, a hasty hand-wash after. "Give me your reports." One by one, the consoles reported, then Ross slid into place at the CapCom's station. "Good morning, children." "Good morning, Ross. Do you know how many sunrises we get up here?" "Do the window shades work?" "Almost. There's leakage around the edges. Already noted for the later models." "Anything to report?" "Ready for today's EVA. We've were watching a slight overdraw on electrical, but the errors seem to have nulled out." "Roger that. Everyone's dressed?" "Helmets and gloves secure, just waiting for your word to pop open the hatch for a look outside." "Do it." Slow release of pressure, reports on how the suits were behaving. Finally, no air in the capsule, and Narayana eased the hatch open. "Remind me not to drop this -- we're going to need it on the way home." Since the hatch was on hinges instead of freely floating, that got a laugh instead of a scowl. "Take the key with you so you don't get locked out if your roommate falls asleep." "Roger that. Ross, are there any more of them where you got this one?" "Yes, but I got the pick of the litter." Snickers in Mission Control. "What's your progress?" "Hatch is open, I'm about to stand up. Bit of a tight fit here -- the suit puffs out more than expected. And the joints are stiff." "Do you want to abort the EVA? Don't risk yourself if you don't think the equipment is right." "No, I'll be okay. Here we go. Lanyard fastened . . . I'm out." Envyss's voice, "Watch out for the sun." "Roger. I'm turning to face away from the sun . . . Nice looking planet you've got there." "Can you make out where the terminator is?" "Lots of cloud cover -- I can't ID anywhere in particular right now. Time to try the toys. Envyss, hand me the boltdriver." Quiet patter as the reactionless tools were tested in actual microgravity. "We need a better system for keeping the flier next to the work. With the bulky gloves, it's hard to hold on at the same time." "Noted. Are you having fun out there?" "It's great. The stars are so bright . . . I think I'm supposed to go back inside now. Hope this works." Silence . . . some muttering from Narayana's microphone, and some heavy breathing. Then, Envyss reported, "In and hatch secured. Repressurizing the capsule." Ross remembered to breathe. "Both of you inside now?" Narayana said, "Counting noses -- yes, two of us. Are we expecting a guest?" "Not unless you invited someone and didn't tell us. Any angels out there?" A long pause. Then, from Envyss, "Nothing obvious. I'll leave other speculation to the theologians." "Sounds good." Medical checks, heartbeat and respiration were working their way back to normal. "You can have your meal and nap a little early if you like." "Sounds good." --- The second night. There was a package on Ross's bed, elaborately wrapped in a rich brocade, with the mark that meant that it had been scanned by Security. Ross picked it up. Not a tape, or at least not just a tape, not from the weight. As he disturbed the folds of fabric, a spicy scent wafted up. A paper-wrapping under the cloth . . . Ross opened it carefully. Some of the flaky sweet-sticky-spicy confection that Envyss loved, that Ross could take only in small dosages. Ross smiled, touched the sweet, put his finger to his lips. "You keep eating that stuff, and Meds will downcheck you for certain." "Not as long as I keep my exercise program going. Which means making sure you have the energy to keep up with me. So you should eat some, too." And Envyss had playfully pushed a piece against his partner's lips. Ross broke off a small piece of the pastry, put it into his mouth, letting it dissolve slowly. The tip of his tongue to clean his lips -- one piece was more than enough. He found an empty tin to store the rest of the confection in . . . Something on the kitchen counter -- another bundle that hadn't been here this morning. This one was also Security-marked, but wrapped in a scrap of thin aluminized plastic instead of cloth. Ross smiled. Had Envyss arranged a series of gifts as a game? Were there more packages waiting? Ross slit the tape on the silver wrapping . . . there was a small book inside, no title on the spine or cover. The book was covered in a padded leather, dyed a deep blue. The edges of the paper were gilded over a red dye. A bookmark -- a thin ribbon of blue satin. Ross opened the book to the marked page, had to turn it over to read it. Envyss's handwriting . . . Ross thumbed through the rest of the book -- it was _all_ handwritten -- before returning to the marked page. "My father spoke to me today. He has asked me to pick from among his favorites for my first night, and it is a great honor, but there is no one here . . . I know the color and the shape and the sound of what I want . . . My father does not know about the recordings, or he'd have them destroyed. "Oh my golden one, do you still live? No one will tell me. My father is outraged that I want an outlander. My mother has not answered my letters, but I believe my father has ordered they not be delivered to her. "So I wait, until I can return to the capital, and look through the records there, talk to my mother . . . "How you shone in the sun." Ross closed the book and put it carefully on the countertop. His hand touched the smooth leather. His other hand reached for the phone. "Mission Control." "Ross here. News?" "Everything's nominal. They're both awake -- do you want me to patch you through?" "Please." Envyss's voice, through some static, "Ross? Is there a problem?" Ross suddenly realized he really _didn't_ want to talk about the presents over an open channel. "No . . . there was a complaint about the food seeming bland because so much of taste is related to smell and the air system on board isn't like earthside. Have you noticed anything?" "Sweetness stays the same. Spices . . ." Envyss's voice developed a hint of a purr as he realized what his partner was hinting at, "Things need to be made spicier here. Or we're all going to be losing weight from not finishing our desserts." "Yes. No, just a final check-in before I headed to bed. CapCom, you can have them back now. Thank you." Ross picked up the book... carefully locked it into the safe. He didn't know how explicit Envyss was going to get in later pages, but it certainly wasn't for the casual perusal of a guard. --- In bed, staring at the ceiling, a report in hand from Maceyka's space agency on an inconsequential satellite launch, something that had put him to sleep a dozen times already but no such luck tonight. He shifted his position, felt something under his head? Under the pillow? This time it was a tape, only the Security mark on it. Ross wondered if Security had had instructions on where to plant these presents, or if the items had been cleared by Security and placed by someone else. The tape player was in the living room, but Ross wasn't getting any sleep anyway. He got up, stopped in the kitchen long enough to get a small glass of juice and a bit of confection, and settled into the big recliner. The other tape was still in the player -- Ross popped it out and slid the new one in. Press "Start" . . . A single voice, singing. Ross thought it was Envyss, but some of the pronunciations were not quite on, the voice was just a little deeper than Envyss usually sang at. And it was a collection of love songs, fairly harmless ones, if you didn't try to think of who was listening. Ross drifted off, listening. --- Meds met Ross outside his door the next morning, also dressed to run. "Should I check your blood sugar this morning?" "I didn't eat that much of it." The guards lagged behind so the two men could talk. "Is there another round of gifts for tonight?" "I'm not authorized to tell you anything about that. Did you listen to both sides of the tape?" Ross stopped. "No. I fell asleep. Is it important?" "I don't know. I was told to ask." "I see." Back to running. "I'll take time at lunch and listen, if you need to give him an answer." "Good enough." A few hundred yards, "What was in the third package?" "Excuse me?" "There was a third package, it was in the kitchen. Another tape?" "I don't remember seeing it." Ricamonte grinned. --- Shower and a change of clothes. Ross picked up the pair of tapes . . . and put them into the safe with the book. Then down to Mission Control for the overnight reports and breakfast. "We've had some computer glitches this morning, as we're working on trial setting for re-entry. Since we won't be de-orbiting until tomorrow, we've been working to fix it." Ross snarled, "And why wasn't I notified when it happened?" "You were on your way back in from your run. We were still running through routine checks when you arrived. None of the standard diagnostics worked to fix the problem." Ross waved Ireomela over to his console. "Take over as CapCom while I deal with this." Onto the phone, and Ross cursed the delay as the international operator took his time connecting. "Drum, I need you to run some numbers for me." --- Stacks of paper, numbers scribbled on them. Ross read the numbers over the phone to Drum who plugged them into his computers. "Are you sure about that last batch?" "I'll have them check. Hold on." Ross moved back into the CapCom seat. "Nara, I need you to read me the numbers again." One by one, Ross named an instrument, Narayana gave him a number. "All right. I'll be right back." He slid over one console to where a phone had been installed, and read the numbers off to Drummond. "Working. Those fit. Here are your settings:" Drummond read off numbers, and Ross repeated them to check. "Thank you." "Should I keep the line open?" "Yes. We might need you again." --- Numbers read up to the capsule and back in confirmation. "Only one way to find out if they work. Do you want an early re-entry, Director?" Ross sat back in his chair. "The numbers are for a re-entry tomorrow, with that consumable level. We could dump weight . . ." He leaned forward to the microphone. "Narayana, Envyss." "Roger, Mission Control?" "Do we bring you home before something else goes wrong or do you want to stay up for the scheduled time?" Whispers in the capsule that might be clear on the voice recorder but didn't make it down the radio waves. "The vote up here is split." And phrasing it that way meant they weren't going to say who wanted which option, either. "I see. We'll leave you up there for a while, then, but if anything else goes wrong, you're coming down." "We understand." --- Ross didn't even try to go to the apartment that night. Someone brought cots in and put them in one of the press rooms for the senior staff. And Meds had to threaten to take Ross completely off the project unless he at least left the control room and tried to sleep before he would leave the station chair. "There's a tape I need to listen to." "Tomorrow. You don't want everyone else to hear it, and if you go back to your apartment, you won't sleep. It can wait." --- All through the night Ross woke up every time someone else came in to sleep. He gave up at 0600 and straggled out for a large cup of coffee. "Report?" "Nothing new. They're awake if you want to talk to them." "Let the caffeine kick in first." Ricamonte studied Ross. "I'm not letting you send him up again. Not while you're Director." "That's not fair to him." "He's replaceable, you aren't, not right now. I don't dare slap a blood pressure cuff on you right now -- you know what I'd find, and what I'd have to do." "You'd have to pull me from the job, and then that would create stress upstairs where you can't do anything about it. Let's get them down, then we'll talk. If he wants another mission, I'll have my deputy handle it -- you can keep me sedated for the whole trip if necessary." "The missions keep getting longer. Keeping you calmed by drugs the whole time would damage your body as much as the stress will damage your mind." "Let's get them down," Ross repeated. --- When Ross picked up the headset, he heard Envyss laughing. He just sat and listened. Narayana had just apparently finished telling a joke. "Good morning, children." Narayana chirped, "Good morning, grandfather." In the background, Envyss laughed again. "We're bringing you down today. How many of the experiments were you able to get done?" Numbers reeled off, checked against a list. "We had to take some time out to deal with the computers. Thank Dr. Drummond for us." "I did. Do you have some new numbers for me?" New numbers matched what Drummond had come up with. "Looks good. Flight? Anything to add?" Hlukayrn took his time going over the figures. "Looks right. Bring them home." --- All the figures were checked and rechecked. This was no time to let fatigue destroy the mission, the people. Narayana announced, "Ready for re-entry burn." Flight said, "You're go for re-entry burn." Ross whispered, "Do it." Flight nodded, and took the headset away from Ross. "Pilot, bring her down." "Roger, Mission Control." --- Ross closed his eyes and let the noise flow over him. That was exactly the wrong time to freeze up, a critical point... Someone was putting a cup of warm liquid into his hand, something that didn't smell like coffee. "Drink it." Chocolate, heavily laced with whiskey. "I can't drink this right now." "You can, you're going to, or I'll feed you a pill. Then you'll go up to your station as Director and let us bring them in." "Yes, Doctor." A sip, then a gulp. It burned a bit going down, then Ross could feel his muscles start to unknot. "I better get some food into me if I want to stay upright." "Good idea." Ricamonte took the cup, replaced it with a breakfast sandwich. "Eat." Three bites, then juice instead of chocolate. "Where are we on the re-entry?" "About to enter the blackout period. All of the figures are spot-on." Ross nodded, looked at the big clock. Telemetry went to pure noise... --- "Mission Control, this is Dual Five. We can see the pickup ship." "We see you, too. Come on home. Try not to land on the ship, though." "Roger, Mission Control." --- "They're on the copter. Do you want to talk to them?" "Yes." Ross took the offered headset. "Ross here." Envyss's voice, "We got back in one piece." "Good. When do you think you'll be back here?" "The ship's doctor wants to watch us overnight, because of the length of the mission. You can override that." Ricamonte nodded. "We need to observe them here." Ross said, "Come home." --- Chapter Sixty Nine Ricamonte poured a careful half-tumbler of liquor from the decanter. "You're going to drink this. As long as it's inside you by midnight, you'll be sober by morning,and ready to meet them when they arrive. Otherwise, you'll be up all night, winding down." "I'm going to get sleep, believe me -- I didn't sleep at all last night." "And you're still strung tight enough to break. Start drinking." Ross took a sip. The straight liquor was a bit harsh, but the less mixer, the less he had to put down. A quarter of the way through, he put the glass on the counter. "Leave." Ricamonte looked at the level of liquor, and at the determined set of Ross's jaw. "I'll come back and check on you." "You will _not_. Not until morning." --- Not too much argument, and Ross was alone. He went to the safe and drew out the book and the two tapes. "Both sides, eh? All right..." From under the bed, one of Envyss's shirts that hadn't gotten into the laundry. The tumbler of alcohol was on the table with the tape player, side two of the second tape ready to play, and the handwritten journal in Ross's hand. Just a reading light on -- the rest of the apartment was dark. Ross folded the shirt into a pad, put it under his head. Deliberate slow breathing, calm down, let the alcohol work, let the body heat bring up the scent of Envyss's body... His hand slid over and pushed the button to turn on the player. Envyss singing, at first. Ross took another sip of the alcohol. He opened the book at the bookmark, started to look through some of the entries further on... The tape went to just a narrative, and Ross lost interest in the book. --- Chapter Eighty Five "Who can escape you, who can help Longing for you . . ." "You know I can't live up here with you, love." Ross sighed. "I know. You belong to your people. I'm astonished you are letting me go. Isn't one of your duties keeping the Auryn Rhos contained?" Envyss's hand on Ross's cheek was infinitely tender, as if he thought Ross would bruise at any heavier touch. "My duties including keeping you alive. And as comfortable as possible. Are you planning to run off to one of the other colonies?" "No. They might actually make me work for a living. I feel like retiring, maybe finally catching up on my reading." Envyss shook his head. "You just want to be up where the tests are going on. If Adibud-Dha's figures work out the way she says . . ." "The Solar System will be entirely open to us." "And perhaps beyond." --- Ross floated near the viewport, tried to see the test platform. Not from this office, no luck. The medical officer, his foot tucked into a strap on the wall to anchor himself, made notes. Ross turned and tried to see the record. "How am I doing?" "You are never going to be able to go home." "I knew that, because of the bone mass loss from my extended stay in free fall. But my heart?" "Has been healing. If nothing else goes wrong, you're good for years." Looking out the viewport again. At a big blue and white globe. His home was beyond the terminator, but that didn't matter. Envyss was there, he was here. "Thank you, Doctor." --- "You're supposed to _warn_ me when you're coming up for a visit!" "I don't always make it when I plan to -- I'd rather surprise you." A long embrace, Ross managed to anchor them instead of bouncing around into things. "Now that I'm out of sight, have they tried to get you married yet?" Envyss reached up and touched the metal set into his earlobe. "Josgoroth mentioned it, once. Then I started to appear at court as Stavehleth, and everyone shut up. I'm yours. The world knows it." "The outfit's that conspicuous?" Envyss laughed, "The watchers at the court can tell if one inch of embroidery has been added to an old robe. The stavehleth's clothing has very specific symbols, mine more than most." "Leaving a great problem for the next stavehleth. What if I don't like him?" Ross grinned. "The older, unmated, versions are in storage. And I think the problem will be the other way. I will be very annoyed if I have to claim a girl. I'm a little old to change." Ross's laugh was a bit nervous. "Have . . . they . . . ever died at the same time?" "Certainly. At least once, it was assassins." Envyss looked around, "I don't think that is going to happen here, unless someone blows up the station." "Who teaches them about the rose, then?" "The documents are there. Each stavehleth keeps a journal. The rose does not -- or if they do, they don't tell _us_." Ross shook hs head. "Just my normal journal. And I don't put things like that into it. Test schedules. Something I can hand to my assistant to take over." He pulled back a bit, looked at Envyss. "Am I allowed to read what you've written about me?" "The official parts, sure. My private journal . . . yes, of course. I didn't bring it with me this time. Should I ship it up with the next supply rocket?" "Ah . . . Do you trust it in someone else's hands? Even sealed?" "Truthfully, no. But I will do it if you ask it of me." "Is it all in one book? All forty years?" "There are whole years that are blank. I didn't take the journal to school with me -- it would have been perfect evidence against me." Ross smiled, "Is that the part I want to read?" "I'm working on book three now. Book one is the most lascivious . . ." Envyss reddened a little. "I wanted you so much, and I was contantly rehearsing things to tell you. I was scared you'd get tired of me. Since I was a kid." "Does the rose ever get tired of his keeper?" "Often enough. The gods don't pick us for compatability. They pick the keeper for . . . well, I would call it adherence to duty. Which the rose interprets as obnoxious meddling. We're supposed to find ways to cut back on that. So the official journals are full of quarrels and arguments, with suggestions on how to avoid them." "Really? I don't remember that we quarrelled that much." "I did my homework. The worse mistake seems to be pushing a doubting rose into a public role. I didn't do that." "Are there some roses who enjoy the role?" "Yes. Some love the attention, especially the ladies. Your men seem to think of the word 'rose' as too feminine to be comfortable with." "That part didn't bother me. Except when you tried to put me into a dress." Stop . . ."You said something about the Aurhyn Rhos? That her dress fit me, and was she really a woman? Were there others who hid what they were?" "Some. The records cover a thousand years, Ross. There's something of _everything_. The twins were interesting. We never figured out which one was the actual rose, so we carried both of them off." --- One of the joys of microgravity is sleeping in someone's arms without any bits falling asleep from the weight. Envyss held Ross, his cheek against the top of the older man's head. "I worry about you. I worry that some morning I'll be awakened with a message that you're gone." "I almost was, that once. That's why I'm up here." A wry smile, "If you really believe the story about the rose, you should be wishing for me to die and be reborn. If I don't die soon, you'll be too old to enjoy the new one." "I have just enough doubt not to want to risk you. That will happen soon enough." "And what about the reverse? You're the one riding up and down here on tons of high explosive. What happens if you die? What am I supposed to do?" "When. Not if. We are mortal, my love. I am going to die. Hopefully not for years, though. As to what you are supposed to do . . . You do not have to search as far. The stavehleth is born into the royal family, one year after the old one dies. One of my cousins can do the actual search for you, since you're trapped up here." "Not trapped. Voluntary exile. To save my life." "To drive me crazy, being able to see and hear you but not touch and taste and smell." --- "There's one thing you never mentioned. What if you don't know when the rose died? The companion would be easier --- just keep track of anyone born about the right time, in the right family. But if you had to hunt the whole world for a blond child, not knowing exactly which one . . ." "We wait. And we listen for the voice. You always have that voice." "And have to explain, over and over." "Yes. Of course, the jewels help. The little girls really like the jewels." "Jewels?" Ross pulled back, took his partner's shoulders and shook him. "You didn't tell me there were supposed to be jewels in the bargain." Envyss laughed. "We funded your space program. _You_ are the most expensive rose we have ever had. And worth every copper of it." "Is that how Jheraind was intending to keep me?" "What he had planned worked. First the cars, then schooling, then the rockets. Golden chains on you." "And if I say 'enough' now? If I want out?" "How far are you going to run? If you land on Earth again, you will die within a month. But keeping you in orbit is expensive. If you decide to stop being who you are, who will pay?" "That's blackmail." "No. Bribery, perhaps. Ross, there isn't anything here that is so disagreeable that you want to try to hide from us, is there?" "I'm just tired. Tired of being alone so much of the time." --- Chapter Eighty Six Adibud-Dha took a taste of wine from the squeeze-tube. Her eyebrow rose. "Better than I expected. Envyss takes care of you." "He says it doesn't cost any more to send up good wine than bad. Station regulations means it's strictly rationed, of course." Ross waved toward a mesh-fronted cabinet filled with exotic foods in light-weight but durable wrappers. "Same with things like caviar and smoked oysters. Why send up mere corned beef?" "For variety?" Ross smiled and shrugged. "I suppose. But I have all manner of folk willing to do me favors in trade for a packet or two of non-standard rations. So I can get corned beef if I really want some." She grinned at him. He thought about it for a minute, then, "No. Not that kind of favor. I _have_ a partner, even though I don't see him as often as I would like. Actually... I was looking over some of the possible applications of your equations." "The reduced gravity." "Yes. If that works, I could go home." "If that works, we can have multi-gee ships for interplanetary travel. I'm still working on things." --- It was strange to feel gravity under him again, after two years in orbit. Adibud-Dha said, "I have it set for one-sixth right now." Ross carefully pulled himself to his feet, holding on to a vertical. "My head's spinning a little bit. I never expected to be under gee again, so I didn't keep up all of the exercises." "This wasn't the application you were interested in anyway. You wanted something that would reduce a standard gee to no more than the moon's." Ross tried to walk around. A bit more success. "It looks like even that will be a bit more than I can readily handle. I didn't realize you were so far along with the actual mechanism." "It wasn't me. I've got a really smart kid who attached himself to the project. Not much head for theory, but he can build things." "So I see. I'd like to meet him." She looked him up and down. "I'm not sure that's a good idea." "Oh? Which one of us needs his virtue guarded? I'm not going to molest him, and _he_'s not going to have any interest in an old man." "He doesn't see you as an old man. He has a poster of you standing next to the rocket with Theniol, before the first launch. That's who he's seeing." "_That_ could be trouble," Ross agreed. "He knows about Envyss, I trust?" "Yes, of course. Envyss is in the photograph. They've met, too -- your partner stops in every week or so to see how we're doing." Standing up was suddenly just a little too much work, and Ross folded up gracefully and sat on the platform. "Ask Envyss to bring him up when he visits next." "That should be a clear enough signal. Not that the youngster has any problem getting attention. If he were a girl, I would expect her to spend her life pregnant." Ross smiled, and deliberately swept Adibud-Dha with the same appraising glance she had given him. She giggled. "He's not interested. Not in me, not in any of the younger women." "I see. Is he bothering Envyss? My partner wouldn't mention something like that to me, but I certainly won't want to bring both of them up here if there is an unpleasantness." "As far as I can tell, they get along well. But I'll ask." --- Tests of the new principle as a drive were disappointing. "I'm missing something in the equations." Ross looked out the portal at the blue/white globe beneath him. "I was always more practical than theoretical. And Nat Drummond is gone these ten years." Ross turned away from the sight. "_That_ makes me feel old more than anything else -- losing more and more people I knew." She drew the sun-shade across the view. "I lost most of my people when Akshobhya closed its borders. They were inside, and later... no trace. Ross, there are always new friends." "I know. Except that in the middle of the night, the ghosts outnumber the living." --- The compartment was both bedroom and lounge, with a curtain secured across both ends of the doorway for minimal privacy. "Dr. Colburn?" Ross was sure that the kid was only barely twelve, certainly not old enough to be... no, Adibud-Dha had only said "no problem getting attention." She hadn't actually said anything about bed-mates. What no one had bothered to mention was that he was almost a bleached blond, a far cry from the dark-haired hruss. "Baldridge, sir. Frank Baldridge," offering his hand. Accents of home. But in trouble there if he preferred other men as company already. "How did you end up with the hruss?" He grinned, "I ran off. Your people have a better space program, anyway. That's where I wanted to be." He looked around, pushed off from the bulkhead. "_This_ is where I want to be." He anchored himself on the opposite wall, not bothering to align to a vertical. "If you stay up here, _this_ turns into a prison that you can never leave." "With all of the universe at my front door, why would I ever want to go back _there_?" Well, he certainly had the space bug. "There are reasons." And, perfectly timed, Envyss's voice in the corridor. "All right, I left him here _somewhere_... Ross, do you have a guest?" "Yes. He's just introduced himself." Envyss slid the curtain aside far enough to enter the room. A slight push-off from the wall, and into his partner's arms. A long kiss, and a longer hug. Ross was startled at the amount of grey that had appeared in Envyss's hair since he had been up last. "Oh, that? I decided to stop hiding it. It keeps some of the pursuit away." Ross shot a look at Frank. Envyss shook his head. Softly, "No. He's never even offered. I don't know _what_ he wants... except space. And that we can understand all too well." --- The loose clothing that Envyss favored didn't work quite as well in microgravity, so he was wearing standard coveralls, with the rose-on-blue patch where other would usually have a department designation. Ross smiled when he noticed. "Still?" "Always. Its ashes will be mixed with mine, when the time comes." A sad smile, "If they recover a body. That's not guaranteed, coming up here." "If you're wearing the badge at the time, does it matter?" "Only if they recover most of the pieces but not all." Envyss laughed at the expression on Frank's face. "No, I don't expect to be blown to bits. I've been riding these things since before they were anything but experimental." Envyss shifted to hold Ross in his arms, both of them facing Frank. "Tell Ross what you've been working on." Frank launched into an explanation, but Ross was distracted by something poking him in the lower back. Envyss started giggling in Ross's ear, which didn't help. "Frank, I'm sorry, this is going to have to wait." Frank grinned but didn't blush, surprising Ross. "Where should I wait?" "I showed you where you'll be staying. Wait there." "Done. Anything I should do to the door to..." "I'll take care of it. Get." --- "If he gets it working, I can come up here every few days." "Or I can move back downstairs. That would be nice. There are only three dozen people up here -- I've heard all of their stories, over and over. And listened to them gripe about their love-lives... for some reason, I'm a great confidant." "Because you aren't in the same game? I think it's because you radiate a feeling of peace -- that there aren't any problems that can't be dealt with. So they can think things through." "That's not always the best thing for a love affair." "Oh? How would you know?" Envyss shifted in Ross's arms, took Ross's face carefully in his hands. "I love you dearly, but I don't think you've ever raked yourself over the coals the way other people do. You're too rational. You never had love affairs, you just had the occasional bed-mate." "What about you?" "I've been in love since I was two years old. And the only doubts I ever had were before I actually landed you. And no regrets, ever. So I'm not one to ask, either." "_Do_ you get asked, for advice?" "Sometimes. I can't help them, though. Their problems don't make any sense to me. Especially the ones that fight with a lover." --- Lost and Found 01 "Wait a minute. They're both women." Medlen stopped, turned to look at Ross, "And there is a problem with that?" "Ah . . . what do they _do_?" Medlen laughed. "I didn't realize you were _that_ inexperienced. I guess not even any stories behind the barn?" "Not unless you want to sit down front in church for the next month and be preached at. Aunt Gretchen had a talent for overhearing. We couldn't even speculate over when a married lady was going to have another child, much less . . ." "I get the picture. It's a wonder your people ever managed to breed at all. Anyway . . . You can use your mouth and hands on a lover right? And cause a moderate amount of fireworks?" "Sure. But . . ." Ross still had a "what does _that_ have to do with anything?" look on his face. Medlen tried another nudge. "Would it do the same thing for a woman? I know you're not interested, but on your first night, you spent a little time petting Mairyonven. You could have done more, lips, tongue, hands . . . she could have sparked. Whether you ever got hard or not." "I guess." "Trust me, it happens. And it doesn't matter if the person kissing her is a man or another woman. Well, it does, she prefers men. But as far as purely mechanical action, it doesn't matter. Any more than if it were a woman's hands and mouth on you." Ross shook his head. "I guess so. It just sounds weird. Two women together." "My friend, they didn't tell you _anything_ back home." --- Lost Found 02 Envyss rolled over in the deep pile of cushions and opened his eyes, just a tiny bit. "If you had been a woman, I wouldn't be in bed with you right now. So it isn't all the myth. And despite what other people say, not all of our men take male lovers. Not even half. Not even half of the companions. I am so lucky . . . I was worried that you would not be interested in me. Jheraind wasn't sure. You had the potential, but were too young to have lovers . . . And they certainly didn't tell _me_ which way you had gone, after your first time. I think Josgoroth knew and wouldn't tell me." "He might have guessed, or someone might have told him, but I didn't have a lover at the time he was here, and I didn't approach him, so . . ." --- Lost Found 03 The commanding officer of the station called Ross into his office. "I have a secure transmission coming in for you in two minutes." "About what?" "I was not told, only to get you here to receive it." "Are you going to stay here for the message?" "_No_." A brief sketch of a salute and the station commander left the room, closing the door as he left. The viewscreen flickered. Ross checked to be sure he was oriented corectly. And a quick comb of his fingers through his hair, didn't need to look too disreputable. It was Mairyonven. "I speak to the Auryn Rhos." Mairyonven had never used his title before -- she always called him Ross. "I am here, Star of the World." Lightspeed delay, from orbit to the ground and back. Ross studied Mairyonven. "It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that my son, the Stavehleth Envyss, is dead. He apparently died in his sleep during the night. An autopsy is being performed, but preliminary findings are that it was natural causes." "I mourn with you, Star of the World. Instruct me -- what are my duties?" "You have none, not with your health as it is, unless you choose to record a message for Josgoroth. There will be a ceremony here, and then you may choose to bring his ashes into orbit. I think that would have pleased him, but it is your decision." A nervous laugh, "And he will stay on a shelf in my quarters? Rather a macabre roommate, wouldn't you say?" "Ross . . . there are many options. And you do not have to deal with any of them immediately. Or even at all, if you choose." "Let me think on it. Farewell, Mairyonven." --- A second message, but recorded, not live. Ross almost wiped it when he saw it was Envyss -- anything he had to say now would only tear holes in Ross's heart. But the chance to hear Envyss one last time, to see him . . . "Ross, my love, my partner. If you are seeing this, I am dead. Over all the years, I have had only one regret -- I should have insisted on meeting you earlier, and that is a grief I have with my father, not with you. "Since I have died before you, I will be older than you next time as Jheraind was. I have left instructions to the next stavehleth on finding and wooing you." Envyss smiled fondly, "Perhaps you will live long enough to teach me again. But more likely, I will find and teach you. "Try to be happy, my love. But do not fear death. We will be together again." --- Lost and Found Four Notes on what is missing: Early on, the hruss are in exile. I need a palace coup where the royal family is restored. This might be after Jheraind is killed, and if so, Ross's rockets might play a significant part. I really ought to have forced Ricky into an unhappy marriage, from which Worrell rescues her. Or at least have her have to fight to get a career other than as an heiress. I might change this in the re-write. Ricky and Worrell's experiments. And demonstrations to the admirals. Russian equivalents. They're the ones blowing up Ross's people. Drum's reaction to Ross going to the hruss. Have to see if that's covered when he visits Drum and is introduced to Patrick...er... Ross's other lovers. Did he actually get tackled by Mairyonven? Decide and write it that way. Does he go through self-hate? Or do the hruss just keep him too busy in bed to worry about it? Medlen keeps him around for a while. Who next? Is he actually between lovers when he runs into Drum again? Is there a pass made? Obviously no long term hard feelings. Get a time line drawn up. When did Ross turn 16? Between 16 and 18, Jheraind dies. A year later, Envyss is born. After Dual Flight Five, Drum helps them build a new computer set up. More disasters? Lose an Apollo? Lose an EVA? Screaming match between Envyss and his father. Does Envyss get the documentation at his mom's house and leave most of the originals there? Does his dad know about all the docs? What _does_ Frank want in his bed? How old is he really? Does anyone get a kid from either Envyss or Ross? What does Narayana do? Is she in love with Envyss? Does Envyss get another flight before Ross retires? Where's Gretchen? (puppy dog) Aunt's funeral? Uncle's funeral? Ross and Drum both attended, before hruss visit Drum's shop. Drum's relatives? Obviously, Ross didn't know Drum had gotten married. Do the Akshobhya have a space program? They have the greatest engineering schools... Other fathers for Mairyonven's kids. Josgoroth's mom and the other kids from Jheraind. Other male lovers for Jheraind? One of them takes care of Ross when he first gets to the capital