Green Comet

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Grasswind replies to Sunward’s message.

Please join in the conversation. If you like this, let someone know so they can enjoy it, too.

rjb

Chapter Thirty-Seven – The Reply

Long before they were ready to launch, Seagrass was back and working in the mission control division. It was his body that was damaged, not his mind, and he was fully capable of doing the duties of a Mission Control Specialist. Thanks to Tallgrass he was more capable than most, if not all, of his co-workers. The time the two of them spent on the material ensured that Seagrass was well abreast of developments on the whole, and well ahead in many cases.

The murderer, who was taken alive, claimed to be working alone, and there was no way they could prove otherwise. So, while he didn’t kill and injure those young people at the request of anyone, he did claim to have done it in honor of one of the groups opposed to the space program. There were several of those, and most of them caused trouble and some delays, but only one of them was truly dangerous. Only one of them swore to bring down the space program by whatever means necessary, including all forms of violence. They were linked to numerous attempts, including bombings, successful and aborted. They were totally committed to the exhortations of their leader, willing to take suicide missions to fulfill his ambitions. There were no pictures of him, and no one knew his name, but everyone knew the name of the LLL. The Living Lesson League.

The Living Lesson League believed the legends about destruction falling out of the sky, and they believed that it would happen again if they didn’t learn their lesson from the first time. They believed that it happened all those thousands of years ago because they got above themselves. They built their civilization too high, and their buildings too tall. They used too much technology and removed themselves too far from their natural path. They relied too much on machines and made things too easy for themselves. They presumed to lift themselves into space, which was obviously the domain of the mysterious, all-powerful force that knocked them back down. The League believed all that and its members were willing to sacrifice themselves to save their world from another catastrophe.

It is very hard to fight people who are unselfishly dedicated to an altruistic cause. You can’t talk to them because the only time you see them is when they’re trying to kill you or destroy your work. If you could talk to them you couldn’t reason with them because to them you are at least deluded, and possibly evil, and you are an impediment to their cause. All you can do is try to anticipate and prevent their incursions. When that fails, you just have to hope you can react well enough to minimize the damage, and that you can learn something for next time.

The shooting in the auditorium wasn’t the largest loss of life in a single attack. There were incidents that killed more people, as well as seriously damaging property and equipment. Even so this became the worst attack in the popular imagination, partly because it was so public, and partly because of the important people involved. Dignitaries and other public figures were injured, and it became a very big story. For practical purposes, though, it was the deaths and injuries among the flight crew trainees that made it the worst attack ever. These were special people whose qualifications and training made them almost irreplaceable. So, while their lives weren’t more important than any of the lives lost in other attacks, their loss was harder to overcome.

Because of the nature and the timing of the shooting, the Director never got to make her announcement, and that story was buried for a while by the more violent one. Some people thought that must have been part of the LLL’s plan. Whether or not it was, the effect was the same. The story of the message got lost in the turmoil, and their response to it was delayed.

It wouldn’t stay that way for long, though. The Unified Grasswind Space Program, other scientific bodies, and all the world’s governments had to begin thinking about it, almost before the smell of gun smoke had left the auditorium. Was the message genuine? What did it mean? Should they reply? What should the reply say?

In all it took less than a week to decide. By the end of the fourth day after the shooting they were ready to transmit a reply.

“What does it say?” asked Seagrass. He was lying on his side on a raised pad, tubes and wires running to the devices surrounding it. His voice was weak and he didn’t open his eyes. This was the first time Tallgrass was allowed to visit, and he wouldn’t be staying long. Seagrass had interrupted his commiserations to ask about the message.

Tallgrass didn’t waste time fussing after that. From then on his visits were almost all business. In the early days, news and gossip from the outside world, and especially from the project. Later on, almost all work-related, as he strove to keep Seagrass up-to-date. On this day, though, there was just time for the message. Tallgrass cleared his throat and said, “It’s short, like theirs. It says, ‘Greetings to the people of Sunward. The people of Grasswind received your message with joy. We hope all is well with you.’“

Seagrass was quiet for a moment, then he chuckled softly, wincing with pain as he did. When Tallgrass asked, he said, “Twenty-two words. They sent twenty-three, and we sent twenty-two.” He kept chuckling and wincing.

Tallgrass laughed too, and said, “I wonder if their next message will be twenty-one.” He struggled to keep his laughter quiet.

“Ow, ow, ow,” said Seagrass, helpless to stop laughing in spite of the pain. He opened his eyes and looked at his friend, his expression mixing mirth with agony. “Ow, ow, ow.”

Tallgrass tried to choke down his laughter. He got up and walked over to the window to break the contagious feedback. Behind him he heard Seagrass slowly get control. He stopped saying “ow” and settled into a series of soft moans. When those stopped, Tallgrass walked back to the bedside. “I’m sorry about that,” he said carefully.

Seagrass shifted gingerly on his pad and said, just as carefully, “Don’t be sorry. This is the best I’ve felt in days.”

A nurse came in then and bustled over to read the instruments. He glowered at Tallgrass and said, “You weren’t supposed to get him agitated. You’ll have to leave now.”

“But …” said Tallgrass as he was herded toward the door.

“Keep moving,” said the nurse. “I can’t allow you to disturb my patients.”

Tallgrass gave up and let himself be herded. At the door he stopped and looked back at Seagrass, who was smiling, even though he looked awful. “I’ll come back tomorrow, Sea,” he said.

“Okay,” said Seagrass, flinching from the effort of raising his voice. “Hold on,” he said to the nurse. They waited by the door while he collected himself. Finally he said, “Thanks for coming, T. I’m glad you’re okay.” Then he dropped his head on the pillow and closed his eyes.

As the nurse ushered Tallgrass out of the room, he said, “You two must be good friends. When he woke up after the surgery, the first thing he wanted to know was if you were all right.” He stopped in the hallway and faced Tallgrass. “Usually they want to know what happened. Then they want to know if they’re going to be all right. But this one asked after you.” He looked hard into Tallgrass’s eyes. “You have a very special friend there,” he said.

Tallgrass nodded. “I know,” he said. “I’ve always known that, but now, with all this, I really know.” He looked at the closed door. “I could have lost him,” he said. “He threw himself in front of those bullets, and I could have lost him.”

The nurse’s eyes softened and he said, “Maybe he’s chosen a good one. You must have done something right to have a friend like that.”

“Thank you,” said Tallgrass. He nodded to the nurse, took a last look at the door, then walked out of the hospital.

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Tallgrass has to face Seagrass’s mother.

Please join in the conversation. And subscribe so you don’t miss anything. If you like this, let someone know so they can enjoy it, too.

rjb

Chapter Thirty-Six – Luck

Seagrass recovered, though never completely. It took a long time and a lot of physiotherapy to get to where he could walk almost normally, but he did it. He had a lot of help. In the beginning, all of the rest of the crew members came to the hospital every day to visit him and his three fellow patients. Those three also came back to visit him after they were released. Eventually, though, the visits became less frequent as his recovery dragged on, and as they got caught up in their training once again. The hard truth was that he was no longer part of the crew, and they had a lot of hard work to do.

Tallgrass was the exception. He continued to come every day. He helped Seagrass with his physiotherapy. He brought him books and treats. He read to him, fiction and entertainment at first, then texts and papers related to the project. Seagrass made a point of requesting the work-related materials. Soon they were devouring and discussing ideas just as they had before the shooting, and Seagrass made sure that Tallgrass didn’t find out who was really helping whom.

Immediately after the shooting, when his mother brought Seagrass’s parents down, Tallgrass couldn’t face them. He didn’t understand why – with therapy he would, in time – but he felt guilty. He couldn’t talk to them. He could hardly look at them. When Seagrass’s mother hugged him, it made him uncomfortable. His own mother talked to him, but for the first time in his life it did no good.

Finally his friend’s mother got him alone and made him talk to her. The first thing she said was, “Thank you for being such a good friend to Seagrass.”

That hit him like a kick to the stomach, and he began to cry with hard sobs. He didn’t resist when she took him in her arms and cradled his head under her chin. She held him that way until the sobs subsided, then she let him go.

“I’m not,” he said, his voice still shaky. “I’m not a good friend.”

“Tallgrass,” she said, “you’re the best friend he has. Has ever had.” Her eyes were glistening, but her voice was firm. “Didn’t he prove that?”

Tallgrass looked away. “But I didn’t …” he began. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t see anything. Not like him. If I had, maybe …”

She reached out and turned his head to face her. She said, tears running freely now, “If you had, then you would have saved him. But this time it was his turn.”

He wasn’t so sure. He had no idea how he would have reacted if their roles were reversed. All he knew was that his friend reacted instinctively to save him, and he wasn’t sure he deserved it. But he nodded and said, “I guess so.”

“I know so,” she said, nodding firmly and wiping away her tears. “You boys have always been there for each other. I’ll tell you this, he won’t tell you, but Seagrass is proud of what he did. And glad. He has no regrets. Now, what you can do is make sure it was worth it. You go on this mission now for both of you.”

He gasped. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ve got to now. For both of us.” He looked around, as if there might be something he could do then and there. When he looked at her, he was almost smiling. “Thank you,” he said. “I won’t let him down. I won’t let you down.”

“Good,” she said. “You work hard and do the best job you can. That’s how you can repay him.”

“I will,” he said, his chin up and his eyes clear.

“And keep Seagrass involved. Keep talking to him, and keep bringing him books. Make sure he’s a part of it.”

“I will,” he said. “I will. I have to. I need him. I don’t think I could do it without him.”

“Of course you could,” she said. “Luckily, you don’t have to.”

“Luckily,” he said, looking into her eyes. “Luckily.”

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

They get a message from Sunward. Tallgrass might lose Seagrass.

Please join in the conversation. And subscribe so you don’t miss anything. If you like this, let someone know.

rjb

Chapter Thirty-Five – The Message

“Did you hear about the radio message from Sunward?”

Tallgrass looked up from his book to see an excited Seagrass standing in his doorway. His mind was still full of celestial mechanics and he had to blink away the images in his mind’s eye to focus properly on his friend. “Message?” he said.

“Yes,” said Seagrass. “From Sunward. It just came in this morning.” He was grinning. Almost dancing.

“From Sunward?” said Tallgrass. “That means …”

“Yes.” Seagrass came partway into the room. “It means there are people there.”

“And that means …” began Tallgrass, putting down his book.

“That means the legends are true,” said Seagrass. “It means we did go into space before. It means we went in to the planet Sunward, and we settled on it.”

“And if that legend is true, then maybe the other one is too.”

“Yes,” said Seagrass. “Maybe someone did pour destruction on us from the sky thousands of years ago.”

Tallgrass’s eyes sharpened. “You don’t think it was them, do you? You don’t think there might have been a war between us, or something.”

Seagrass shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “The message didn’t say.”

“So, what did it say?”

Seagrass closed his predator eyes to think. “It was pretty short,” he said. “Like maybe they were just trying to establish contact.”

“Okay. That makes sense.”

“Yes. No point in a long message before they know whether or not we’re going to reply.” Seagrass nodded and continued. “Okay. It said, ‘People of Grasswind. Greetings from the people of Sunward. Thanks be to the Orbs and Stars that you yet survive. Blessings be upon you.’“

Tallgrass raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Blessings be upon you?” he said. “Did it really say that?”

“Or words to that effect. Their language is really different, but it has some recognizable parts, still. The message only came in a few hours ago, and that’s the linguists’ best guess so far.”

Tallgrass thought about it and said, “Yes. It’s probably pretty close, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” said Seagrass. “Not my area.”

“I know,” said Tallgrass. “Not mine either. But it’s a short message with simple parts. I’d be surprised if it’s very far off.”

Seagrass thought about it, then said, “That makes sense. It’s not as if it’s a great long obscure text or something.”

“That’s right,” said Tallgrass. He looked at his book, then headed for the door. “Come on,” he said. “I can study any time. Let’s find out what’s going on.”

Deputy Director Trueway stood at a lectern on stage in the Space Academy’s main auditorium. All the pads were occupied by several hundred interested and important people, and the area directly below the stage was filled by a jostling crowd of journalists. They had all come to hear the official announcement on the message. The hall was filled with the roar of excited chatter.

Trueway tapped his microphone, and the roar subsided. He looked into the faces of his audience and saw nearly uniform attention. In the pit below the stage he saw the avid concentration of the journalists, with their pads and microphones and cameras. And a glimpse of one with none of those things, just his hands in the pockets of his blanket. He looked again, but saw nothing.

He raised his eyes and found one of the security personnel. He made eye contact and indicated with a look where he had seen, or thought he had seen, the man who didn’t fit in. When the security man moved toward the pit, Trueway raised his eyes to the audience and said, “Welcome. Thank you for coming.” He gestured offstage to his right. “Please let me present the Director of the Unified Grasswind Space Program, Director Allbright, who has an important announcement of interest to the whole world.”

He stepped back as Director Allbright strode onto the stage and stepped up to the lectern. “Thank you, Deputy Director Trueway,” she said. Then she smiled at the audience and said, “Welcome. I’m sure that by now most of you have heard of the message.” She paused for their appreciative chuckle, then said, “It’s hard to imagine that anyone hasn’t. This is the biggest news to come along in … well, it’s the biggest news I’ve ever heard, anyway.”

Trueway was nodding and smiling and chuckling in all the right places, but he was scanning the audience, and especially the pit below the stage, for signs of trouble. He spotted Tallgrass and Seagrass and the rest of the crews-in-training on their haunches in the front row, with the most important dignitaries right behind them. He shared a nod with the young men, but it was Seagrass who caught the worry in his face.

The Director was saying, “We received the message yesterday morning, on the radio frequency that we use for general communications in the space program. We can only assume that they have heard our transmissions and chose that frequency accordingly. This tells us that the legends are true. We did go into space in the past, and we did go in and colonize Sunward. It also tells us that our brothers and sisters there survived, and that they, like us, have recovered to the point where they are using radio.” She paused to look at her audience and allow them to absorb what she said. Then, “I’m sure this is significant to you in your own personal way. We all have our own way of seeing things. To me, this is a sign that the space program is more important than ever. Now that we know they are out there, surely we must go and meet them.”

Trueway caught a movement in the pit, but he didn’t see the man, only the ripple he caused. Looking up, he saw that there were now three security personnel closing on the pit. He used his eyes to point, and they moved in that direction. When he glanced at the front row, he saw that Seagrass was looking that way, too.

“And now,” said Director Allbright, “let’s get to the message itself. It’s brief, and it was transmitted only once. It contains twenty-three words, and we think they were chosen in part to be easily translated, given that our languages would obviously have diverged during our isolation.” She lifted a piece of paper. “I’ll read it for you now.”

The audience was rapt, even though it was quite likely that they had heard the message before. After all, this was official. So they were all leaning forward as she began to speak, and the man took advantage of that to draw his weapon. Trueway saw it, and had time to see the security staff moving before he threw himself on the Director, shouting, “Get down!”

He heard a flurry of gunshots, and his skin crawled as he covered the Director with his body, but he didn’t feel the impact of any bullets. The shooting stopped, and there was only the shouting and screaming. He lifted his head and saw that security had the man immobilized, so he got up and helped the Director to her feet. The tension eased out of him, though his heart was still racing. He took a deep breath and shared a look with his boss. Maybe they’d got lucky. Maybe they got him in time.

Then he saw. The man hadn’t been after the Director. His target was the young men and women in the front row. He saw blood. He saw inert bodies. He saw Tallgrass on the floor, with Seagrass on top of him. He saw terrible wounds, and so much blood.

Tallgrass was unharmed, at least physically, but he was deeply wounded in other ways. Eight of his comrades had been shot before security could subdue the man, and four of them died. Of the other four, three were expected to recover enough to continue their training. The fourth was Seagrass. They didn’t know if he would live, and if he did, they were sure he wouldn’t recover in time for the mission to L1.