Green Comet

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

Tallgrass and Seagrass take on the challenges.

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Chapter Thirty-One – Polo

Talking to Professor Trueway kept them going for a long time. Sleep banished, they had something to eat in one of the terminal’s restaurants, and listened to the Professor’s stories about the Academy.

“It hasn’t officially started yet,” he told them. “We’ve spent the last year preparing for the arrival of the first cohort.” He smiled at them. “I guess that would be you, wouldn’t it?”

“So there haven’t been any classes taught at all yet?” said Tallgrass. He contemplated taking another bite from his dry, tasteless biscuit, then put it down.

“Some,” said Trueway. “Some of the staff received instruction to bring them to the required levels. Some of us attended lectures out of interest or curiosity, or in some cases, to upgrade our qualifications. It was a great opportunity.”

“Is that what you did, Professor?” asked Tallgrass. “You said you had just become a professor.”

“Yes,” he said. “It was perfect timing for me. And I was giving lectures and tutorials at the same time, where I was qualified.”

“That must have been exciting,” said Seagrass. “To be in on the beginning of something like that, I mean.”

“It was,” said the Professor. His eyes unfocussed as his mind went elsewhere. Then he snapped back and said, “But now the real excitement begins. Preparing the first batch of students. That’s what all the preparation was for. Getting the bugs out. Streamlining procedures. Finding the kinks. It was so we could give the best possible education to the first class of space professionals.”

“Well,” said Tallgrass, “let’s hope we’re up to it.” He looked at his biscuit again, and pushed the plate away.

“Let’s hope so,” said the Professor, “because if not, we’ll just send you home and call up the next person on the list.” He smiled a wicked smile. “There are always plenty more waiting for someone to fail so they can get their chance.”

The youngsters looked at each other with big eyes.

Professor Trueway’s prophecy came true soon, and often. There were as many ways to fail as there were students who failed. Every time another one went down, Tallgrass remembered his rejected biscuit in the airport restaurant, and soon that became the idiom for it. The person who failed and was sent home was said to have “bitten the biscuit.”

Tallgrass and Seagrass never bit the biscuit, although they lived in constant fear of it. There was probably a connection there. The fear and self-doubt probably drove them to study hard. Between them they ensured that they both completely understood each new concept as they learned it. And because of Tallgrass’s lifelong habit of supplementing his learning at the library, they also had a good picture of where each new concept fit into everything else.

Tallgrass was driven by his need to succeed, but at least equally by his ferocious curiosity and love of learning. Seagrass was driven mainly by his need to keep up with Tallgrass. He didn’t want to be left behind by his friend, but there was more to it than that. Tallgrass liked to talk about things, especially the new things he’d just learned. He liked to hold them up and look at them from all angles. He liked to see where they fit in with everything else he knew. And he especially liked to speculate about the new ways they made him think about things.

Seagrass was always there for him to talk to. He knew he could rely on his friend to know what he was talking about. To see the implications of it, even if he couldn’t articulate them clearly. And once, years before, Seagrass had seen what happened if he let his friend down. When Tallgrass had no one to share his ideas with, he became frustrated and fretful, and Seagrass didn’t like that. Not only did he feel the duty of friendship, he also sensed that his friend was special somehow. He also felt a kind of duty to … what was it? The world? Knowledge? That kind of thinking made him feel uncomfortable, but he knew it was something. He knew that Tallgrass was important, and he felt honored to realize that he could play a role in it. All he had to do was try to keep up with him, at least enough that he would be worth talking to.

The Academy wasn’t all studying, though. It included field trips to places associated with the space industry. They toured the plants where they fabricated the parts for the rockets, and the one where they assembled them. They visited the labs where the electronics and computing gear were developed. Tallgrass was especially interested in the shops that designed and built the satellites. He thought once he was through the generalized education of his first couple of years, he might specialize in satellite technology and take it up as a career when he graduated.

Such was academic life at the Space Academy, but it wasn’t all dedicated to developing their young brains. Their educational philosophy included their bodies as well. All the students had to participate in at least one physical activity from the authorized list. They could choose sailing, where the only power available was muscle power. They organized back country expeditions, which interested Tallgrass very much. He liked the prospect of getting more familiar with the conditions his mother faced on her trek to the city. What he chose, though, was polo.

There were enough students interested that they could form two full teams of seven players each, with plenty of spares. What Tallgrass liked most about it was running flat out on a big grassy field, as he had done when he was little. The mallet and the ball and the goals were just the details that could justify a bunch of youngsters running around like that. Tallgrass wouldn’t mind just running on the grass, but the other students, and especially the school, seemed to feel that it needed some structure and purpose.

It was on the polo pitch that he encountered the bully again. He was not accompanied by accomplices this time, but he still carried the same attitude of aggrieved discontent that he could only seem to alleviate through aggression. It was more subtle, though, as he slowly approached maturity. He no longer accosted helpless people smaller than himself and stole their stuff. He’d learned that a lot of people didn’t approve of that and it could get him in trouble. He couldn’t understand why so many people were opposed to his right to take what he could. What about survival of the fittest? Whatever. He knew he couldn’t get away with that any more as long as the bleeding hearts were running things, so he adjusted his approach. His assaults were no longer so crude. Now he was refining his attacks on his victims feelings.

“Hey, Runny,” he said with his familiar fat-faced sneer.

“Oh,” said Tallgrass, startled and lost for words.

“What’s the matter, Runny? Nothing to say?”

“No,” said Tallgrass. “I mean yes. I mean, what are you doing here?”

“Why shouldn’t I be here?” asked the bully, whose name was Blunt. “Do you think I’m not good enough to be here?”

“No, of course not, Blunt. You just never struck me as the intellectual type.”

“Intellectual?” said Blunt. “You think you’re smarter than me, don’t you? I’ve seen your type before. You think you’re better than me.”

Tallgrass had also matured. Even though this encounter was bringing back all the feelings of the earlier bullying, he was able to keep them from overwhelming his mind. He said, “I think it’s more a case of you thinking that everyone is better than you, and I think that’s the whole problem.”

Anger flared in Blunt’s eyes, and he said, “Oh yeah?” He pushed closer to Tallgrass and said, “Now you think you can tell me what I’m thinking, eh? You’re just as big a jerk as you always were.” He smirked. “I guess I’m going to have to straighten you out, and this time your mommy’s not here to save you.”

Tallgrass sighed as he saw his ideal of the academic life wash away. He was trying to think of a way he could salvage something out of it when the coach called the teams in for instructions.

He was saved from the immediate conflict, but it didn’t save him from Blunt’s attentions. In the confusion of play, far out in the middle of the elongated two hectare field, Blunt pretended to be striking at the ball when he hit Tallgrass square on the leg. It didn’t break a bone, but it hurt severely and Tallgrass fell to the pitch. Some of his teammates had seen what happened and they turned on Blunt, whose own teammates rallied to him. It looked like trouble, and the coach was running out onto the field to intervene when Tallgrass struggled to his feet and spoke.

“I’m all right,” he said, looking at Blunt’s triumphant smirk. “No harm done.” He limped forward and reached to shake Blunt’s hand. “It was a good polo play.”

Most of the other players on both teams knew the truth, and the rest guessed. By now the coach had twigged to what happened, too. He clapped Tallgrass on the shoulder and said, “Good man.” Then he looked at Blunt and said, “Shake hands so we can get back to it.”

Blunt reluctantly complied, his eyes burning with resentment, and they went and finished the game. From that day forward, the reputations of the two young men were firmly set in the minds of their peers.

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

Tallgrass and Seagrass take a big trip together.

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rjb

Chapter Thirty – Leaving Home

It was the first time Tallgrass had seen his mother cry, and it made him want to call it off and stay home. Sage didn’t handle it very well, shrugging off the Professor’s attempts at being supportive, and telling Tallgrass to not be silly. She thought of it as showing weakness, and that was something that she’d had forced out of her when she was banished from her village. Digger and Street discreetly found something to look at on the other side of the airport terminal while she struggled, and Tiny’s face wrinkled up with worry. Seagrass didn’t have time to worry about Sage, occupied as he was with the attentions of his adoptive parents. His mother was weeping without restraint, while his father resisted. It made him look angry, but Seagrass knew better.

Tallgrass and Seagrass were both attending the space academy on full scholarships. Tallgrass had a nagging feeling that it was unfair because he’d had so much help from his mother and the Professor. In addition to their constant availability for his hungry, questing mind, he knew that they were involved with the scholarship committees. Seagrass was uncomfortable because he feared he was there because of his friend Tallgrass. Not only had Tallgrass helped and supported him all through school, and virtually dragged him into his enthusiasm for space, Seagrass had long enjoyed having a friend whose mother was so powerful. As an orphan who understood what it meant to have none of that, he was well aware of how lucky he was. So, they both had their doubts, but they were both there on their own merits. At worst they were guilty of enjoying the benefits of supportive friends and family.

They had a seven thousand kilometer journey ahead of them, with three connections, all of which involved waiting for the next flight. In all it was going to take most of a day to get there. Sage fussed and worried and asked again if he had all his documents. Once again he flipped open his blanket to show her his wallet, secure in an inside pocket. He let the blanket fall and smoothed its crenelated pattern, then he smiled and opened his arms to hug her once again.

She smiled, then laughed at herself. “I’m sorry, Tally,” she said. “I know I’m acting silly. It’s just …”

“I know, Mom,” he said. “You’d like to come with me to protect me.” He winked. “With your spear and your necklace.”

Now she laughed out loud, and her friends with her. Only Seagrass’s parents didn’t join in, but only because Sage still kind of intimidated them. Their son did, though. He’d spent enough time with her to know why she was laughing. She said now, “You’re right, Tally. That’s exactly what I’d like.” She shook an imaginary spear. “Just let them try anything.”

Everyone laughed then, even Seagrass’s parents, and they were all feeling pretty good when the boarding call came.

It was a test of their endurance. At first they were buoyed by the excitement and adventure. That wore off four hours into the first leg. It was definitely exciting to be flying – the first time for either of them – and it did qualify as an adventure, but once you’re in the air, every hour is pretty much like the last one.

Conversation carried them for a while, but it didn’t take long to exhaust what they knew, and speculation gets repetitive very quickly when you don’t have much to go on. Besides, they had been over everything many times since they received the brochures months ago. After that, they were down to the food packed for them by Moonshadow, and the delicious sticky buns made by Seagrass’s mother. Even though they tried to ration it, it was gone before they finished the second leg. They were not even halfway there yet.

They were on their second stopover when they met the stranger. Tallgrass was sleeping while Seagrass stood guard, and the conversation woke him up. He heard Seagrass say, “No, thank you. We don’t need any help.”

Tallgrass was really groggy. He hadn’t been asleep long, nor had it been good, so his head was swimming as he tried to take in what was happening. There was his friend, still small for his age, standing resolutely between him and a strange man. The man, who was well-turned-out and quite presentable, was trying to look friendly, or at least non-threatening. Seagrass wasn’t having any of it. This was exactly the kind of situation they’d been warned about before leaving, and his orphan instincts were taking the lead.

Tallgrass said, “What’s going on, Sea?”

“Nothing, T,” said his friend. “This man was just asking if we needed any help.”

Tallgrass looked at the man, who was looking flustered. He asked him, “What kind of help?”

The man sighed and said, “Nothing in particular. I just thought that since you’re going to the Academy …”

“How do you know we’re going to the Academy?” demanded Seagrass.

“Well, it’s obvious,” the man said. “Your baggage tags tell me your destination. You’re two young men the right age.” He spread his hands. “Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll apologize and leave you alone.”

They looked at each other, then Seagrass said, “Anyone could have figured that out. What is it to you?”

The man smiled and said, “I’m going there, too. Look, I don’t have my cards on me right now, but my name is Trueway and I’m with the academy. I’m one of the instructors.”

“Trueway?” The name rang a bell with Tallgrass. He’d seen it somewhere in the literature.

“Yes. I live here, and I’m just on my way back for the commencement.” He was looking more relaxed now. “I saw you and thought we could travel together. That’s all.”

Tallgrass nodded and looked at Seagrass. “What do you think?” he said.

Seagrass thought about it, then said, “If you think it’s okay.”

Tallgrass thought it probably was. He said, “Well, Mister Trueway, I guess we’ll be traveling together.”

“That’s Professor Trueway,” said the man, looking embarrassed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Professor,” said Tallgrass, who knew how important the distinction was.

“That’s all right,” said Professor Trueway. “It still sounds funny to say it. It just happened. I’ve just been home to celebrate.”

“Well, congratulations, Professor,” said Tallgrass, and they shook hands as he introduced himself and Seagrass.

“Tallgrass?” asked Trueway. “Of Sage? The astronomer?”

“Yes,” said Tallgrass, genuinely surprised.

“And Professor Tailor. They’re working together on the artifacts, aren’t they?”

“That’s right. How do you know about them?”

Trueway gave him a look. “Come on,” he said. “Everybody knows about Sage and Tailor. The books? The movies?” He looked back and forth in disbelief. “All the papers they’ve published on the artifacts. And your mother’s astronomy papers.” It was clear to him that Tallgrass had no idea how famous his mother was. “Never mind,” he said. “In fact, it’s refreshing that she’s apparently not made a big deal of it. It adds even more to the legend.”

“Legend?” Tallgrass knew how great his mother was, but he didn’t know that everyone else thought so too.

“Yes,” said Trueway, his eyes shining. “Does she still have the spear, and the necklace made of talons?”

That stopped Tallgrass. Suddenly it was into things that felt private to him. Trueway saw and quickly said, “Oh, I’m sorry. This is much too personal. I’m thinking of Sage the legend, when she’s really your mother. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Tallgrass, trying to sort out his feelings. “I’m kind of used to it.”

“Still,” said Trueway, “she’s your mother first, at least to you. All that other stuff is for people who don’t know her.”

“Yes,” said Tallgrass. “Yes. That feels right.”

“Good,” said Trueway. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No offence taken,” said Tallgrass. “It just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“Good,” said Trueway again. “So, let’s talk about something else.” The obvious thing was the Academy and everything he could tell them about it.

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

Tallgrass continues his education..

Please join us in the comments. And subscribe so you don’t miss anything.

rjb

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Education

School was good for Tallgrass, now that the bullies were taken care of. He felt a little uncertain about that. He thought maybe he should have handled it more on his own rather than relying on his mother and other grown-ups. She herself had told him that he would be facing things like that his whole life, so maybe he should be learning how to do it on his own. But now she was telling him that this was part of the learning, and that one of the things he learned was that it’s good to have friends to help you. “You were outnumbered,” she said. “We were just evening things up.”

That was good enough for Tallgrass. She was the smartest person he knew, so he accepted her explanation. He was sure he would understand it better as he grew up and learned more. For now, though, he had other learning to do. He enjoyed the reading and the arithmetic, although Sage already had him started on them before he went to school. He found out that that wasn’t the case for most of the children, and he soon learned that they didn’t appreciate him “showing off.” He stopped volunteering answers every time the teacher asked, and waited to be called upon, and everyone was happier.

It was a lesson worth learning because the situation was replicated with every subject they studied. Either he already knew a lot about it from his mother or from his own reading, or as soon as it came up he went to the library and got into it. His performance in the requirements – tests and other assessments – was always more than adequate. Academically, his school career was brilliant. But he tried to not let that set him apart socially. He was always ready to help the other students, but unless they showed an interest, he never went beyond the school curriculum. And if they marveled at his grades, he just shrugged and said, “My mom helps me.”

As for the other students, most of them came around in time. There were a few who could never accept him, or his friend Seagrass, because they were outsiders. Never mind that they were both born in the city, they weren’t born to the right people. And there were some who resented him because he was smart, even though he went out of his way to not show off. He was smart and they weren’t, and they blamed him for that. Another lesson for Tallgrass: you can’t please everyone.

Every year they put him forward for things. Class president. Captain of the debating team. Star in the school play. He turned them all down and eventually they stopped asking, but it took a while. It was obvious to them. He was smart, good looking and athletic – all his youthful running paid off – and he was likable. They didn’t understand why he didn’t fulfill their expectations. He made excuses, like he was too busy. He made rationalizations, like someone else should have the chance. But the real reason was that he just didn’t want to. He had a visceral reaction when faced with it, then had to find reasonable explanations afterward. Somehow he knew that putting himself above and in front of people was not for him.

Something he did go in for was the polo team. Right from the early years when it was just a mass of yelling kids whacking a little ball and various painful body parts with short mallets, all the way up to very good university teams, Tallgrass was always one of the first to sign up. When he was talking to Sage one day about his affinity for the game, she said, “Well Tally, you do a lot of running in that game, and you are a Plainsrunner after all.”

He never forgot that. In spite of the continuing discrimination, he always proudly embraced his heritage. Sometimes it might have been easier to pretend, but he never took the easy way. After all, his mother was a Plainsrunner, and as far as he was concerned, she was the greatest and bravest person in the city, maybe the world. The more he could be like her, the better.

As the school years progressed, his educational horizons expanded. Now, in addition to the basics, he was learning about bigger things. There was the geography of his world. He already knew it was a planet among others orbiting an orange dwarf star. His mother the astronomer told him that. Now he was learning more about it. Along with the geography came the geology and the geopolitics.

“There’s just one big continent,” he was telling her over dinner, “and one little one. Other than some volcanic islands and atolls, that’s it.” He was excited and, even though she already knew most of what he was telling her, she let him continue without interruption or correction. “And the little one is going to crash into the big one in about ten million years.”

“Oh my,” she said. “That will be a big crash.”

They had a good laugh at that, before Tallgrass explained how slow the collision would be. “Not even as fast as our hooves or fingernails grow. All it’s going to do is make a new mountain range. Or at least that’s what my teacher says.”

“Is that all?” she said with a smile. “And then we’ll have one big continent. I wonder what that will be like.”

“That’s what I asked,” he said.

“And what did they say?”

“Not much different from now, really. The continent is already so big that the changes will be minor.”

“That makes sense,” she said. “Some small changes to the ocean currents, maybe.”

“Yes,” he said. “And the atmosphere too, she said.”

“Your teacher.”

“Yes. But it won’t change the climate that much, other than right where they come together. Our continent will still be mostly desert.”

“Because it’s mostly too far from the ocean for the rain to reach it, right?”

“That’s right. We have wetter climates near the coast, then a wide band of grasslands, then the desert in the middle.”

“And that’s why we only live around the outside, isn’t it?”

“Yes. We could never cross the desert. It’s too big. We can’t even fly across, because no airplane can fly that far without refueling.”

“Hm,” she said.

“What?”

“Impossible you say?”

He grinned at her. This was one of their mental adventures. How to do something that’s difficult, or even impossible. He said, “That’s what they say,” and they settled in for a long, far-reaching postprandial discussion, as they often did. Moonshadow was used to clearing up around them while they hardly noticed. One minute their dirty dishes were there, and the next there was a plate of cookies.

So that was why almost all of their commerce was coastal. Most of the interior was impassable, and what wasn’t was sparsely inhabited by superstitious people who eschewed most modern technology. You couldn’t do enough trade with them to justify building roads, even if they would have allowed it. And they certainly weren’t going to let you build an airport. So their civilization consisted of a ring of settlements around the outside of the continent, the most distant of which were nearly half a world away, farther when you had to follow the coastline. You could get there by boat, which was how most of their goods were moved. You could fly, which is how most people traveled. Or in some cases you could take the coastal road, or what there was of it.

It was an ambitious project, undertaken cooperatively by the many jurisdictions, to build a continuous highway all the way around the continent. What would in effect be all the way around their world. Due to the size of the project, it was still less than half done. The engineering problems were of an appropriate size. Mountain ranges a thousand kilometers across. Long inlets that would mean going hundreds of kilometers to get around them, and prohibitive distances to bridge them. There was one five thousand kilometer section of coast that was all swamp. This was one of the things that fascinated Tallgrass. The more he learned about it, the more interested he got. If he was getting out of school now, he would probably go to work on The Road.

Tallgrass inherited his mother’s intelligence. And his father’s. That’s why Sage selected the Professor to be the father. She wanted her child to have the best chance at having a good brain, and it worked. So he had their curiosity and perspicacity, and he was also drawn to problems, the tougher the better. Or as he put it, the prettier the better. The Road had those in quantity.

A little later he was captivated by the interior. Was it really an impassable desert all the way? Might there not be a spring somewhere, with water bubbling up out of the ground? He thought about that, and how it might happen. It could never rain out there in the middle of the desert. The water vapor could never make it that far from the ocean in sufficient quantities to produce rain clouds. But maybe it could rain in the mountains nearer the coast and then the water could travel underground and come up out in the desert. Or maybe it didn’t come up at all. Maybe it just collected out there in a big underground lake. What did his teacher call that? An aquifer. Maybe there was a big aquifer out there just waiting to be discovered. But how?

You couldn’t get out there on foot. Nobody could carry that much water. You couldn’t fly, because no airplane could carry that much fuel. Not to do it all in one trip, anyway. But maybe you could fly out partway and set up a base that you could stock with fuel. Then go a little farther and establish another base. And so on. In his mind’s eye he could see the bases spreading like dots on a map. Then his view pulled back and he saw how pathetically small and slow it was when compared with the vast interior of the continent.

He was thinking about balloons and blimps and dirigibles, and the logistics of using them, when he heard about the first satellite being launched. The first thing Tallgrass thought about when he heard that was whether the satellite had a camera, and maybe a radar, and if he could get them to look at the desert for him.

It turned out the first satellite was pretty primitive. It was a proof of concept more than anything else. They just wanted to prove that they could get something into orbit. That they could get it there, onto exactly the orbit they wanted, and have it survive. It had a few sensors, for temperature, radiation, electromagnetic fields, and a radio to transmit the information back down. And once the battery died, that was it. They lost contact with it.

That wasn’t the last satellite they launched. It was only the beginning. Within a few years they had several in orbit. They were progressively more sophisticated, with more instruments and more capabilities. They did indeed fly over the interior with cameras and radar, and they gradually built up a picture of the great desert. There was no evidence of surface water anywhere. No springs bubbling up. Not a speck of green to be found. But the ground penetrating radar did find structures in the subsurface that could possibly hold water if any were to reach them. Subsequent satellites were able to show that it had. There was a large aquifer out there under the sand. One question answered for Tallgrass.

By this time his enthusiasm had moved on. Now he was engrossed in everything to do with space. He was approaching the age when he would leave basic schooling behind and move on to a less general and more specialized education. That would mean the university in town here, with Professor Tailor, or something equivalent here or elsewhere. The Professor really wanted him to stay. He’d waited for years for Tallgrass to come to the university so he could at last get to know him better. He was hurt when his son chose to go elsewhere, but at the same time he was proud and happy for him.

Tallgrass had been selected as part of a very exclusive group of students to inaugurate activities at the newly-formed space academy. He would be moving almost a quarter of the way around the continent to a city near the equator.