Holding Wonder Part 2

"The capsule?" He peered at the pile of wreckage and tears flooded down his cheeks. "Now I can't go and I have to! I have to!"

"Come on inside," I said. "Let's get this thing straightened out once and for all." He dragged behind me, his feet scuffling, his sobs and sniffles jerking to the jolting movement of his steps. But he dug in at the porch and pulled me to a halt.

"Not inside!" he said. "OH, not inside!"

"Well, okay," I said. "We'll sit here for now"

He sat on the step below me and looked up, his face wet and shining in the moonlight. I fished in the pocket of my robe for a tissue and swabbed his eyes. Then I gave him another. "Blow," I said. He did. "Now, from the beginning."

"I-" He had recourse to the tissue again. "I came to get the capsule. It wasthe only way I could think of to get the man."

Silence crept around his flat statement until I said "That's the beginning?"

Tears started again. I handed him another tissue. "Now look, Vincent, something's been bothering you for several days. Have you talked it over with your parents?"

"No," he hiccoughed. "I'm not supp-upposed to listen in on people. It isn't fair. But I didn't really. He came in first and I can't shut him out now because I know he's in trouble, and you can't not help if you know about somebody's need-"

Maybe, I thought hopefully, maybe this is still my nap that I'll soon wake from-but I sighed.

"Who is this man? The one that's...o...b..ting?"

"Yes," he said, and cut the last hope for good solid sense from under my feet.

"He's up in a capsule and its retro-rockets won't fire. Even if he could live until the orbital decay dropped him back into the atmosphere, the re-enty would burn him up. And he's so afraid! He's trapped! He can't get out!"

I took hold of both of his shaking shoulders. "Calm down," I said. "You can't help him like this:" He buried his face against the skirt of my robe. I slid one of my hands over to his neck and patted him for a moment.

"How did you make the capsule move?" I asked. "It did move, didn't it?"

"Yes," he said. "I lifted it. We can, you know-lift things. My People can. But I'm not big enough. I'm not supposed to anyway, and I can't sustain the lift.

And if I can't even get it out of this canyon, how can I lift clear out of the atmosphere? And he'll die-scared!"

You can make things fly?" I asked.

"Yes, all of us can. And ourselves, too. See?" And there he was, floating!

His knees level with my head! His shoe laces drooped forlornly down, and one used tissue tumbled to the steps below him.

"Come down," I said, swallowing a vast lump of some kind. He did. "But you know there's no air in s.p.a.ce, and our capsule-Good Lord! Our capsule? In s.p.a.ce? -wasn't airtight. How did you expect to breathe?"

"We have a shield," he said. "See?" And there he sat, a glint of something about him. I reached out a hand and drew back my stubbed fingers. The glint was gone. "It keeps out the cold and keeps in the air," he said.

"Let's-let's a.n.a.lyze this a little," I suggested weakly, nursing my fingers unnecessarily. "You say there's a man orbiting in a disabled capsule, and you planned to go up in our capsule with only the air you could take with you and rescue him?" He nodded wordlessly. "Oh, child! Child!" I cried. "You couldn't possibly!"

"Then he'll die." Desolation flattened his voice and he sagged forlornly.

Well, what comfort could I offer him? I sagged, too. Lucky, I thought then, that it's moonlight tonight. People traditionally believe all kinds of arrant nonsense by moonlight. So. I straightened. Let's believe a little-or at least act as if."Vincent?"

"Yes, ma'am." His face was shadowed by his hunched shoulders.

"If you can lift our capsule this far, how far could your daddy lift it?"

"Oh, lots farther!" he cried. "My daddy was studying to be a regular Motiver when he went to the New Home, but he stopped when he came back across s.p.a.ce to Earth again because Outsiders don't accept-oh!" His eyes rounded and he pressed his hands to his mouth. "Oh, I forgot!" His voice came m.u.f.fled. "I forgot! You're an Outsider! We're forbidden to tell-to show-Outsiders don't-"

"Nonsense," I said, "I'm not an Outsider. I'm a teacher. Can you call your mother tonight the way you did the day you and Gene had that fight?"

"A fight? Me and Gene?" The fight was obviously an event of the neolithic period for Vincent. "Oh, yes, I remember. Yes, I guess I could, but she'll be mad because I left-and I told-and-and-" Weeping was close again.

"You'll have to choose," I pointed out, glad to the bone, that it wasn't my choice to make, "between letting the man die or having her mad at you. You should have told then when you first knew about him."

"I didn't want to tell that I'd listened to the man-"

"Is he Russian?" I asked, just for curiosity's sake.

"I don't know," he said. "His words are strange. Now he keeps saying something like Hospodi pomelui. I think he's talking to G.o.d."

"Call your mother," I said, no linguist I. "She's probably worried to death by now."

Obediently, he closed his eyes and sat silent for a while on the step below me. Then he opened his eyes. "She'd just found out I wasn't in bed," he said.

"They're coming." He shivered a little. "Daddy gets so mad sometimes. He hasn't the most equitable of temperaments!"

"Oh, Vincent!" I laughed. "What an odd mixture you are!"

"No, I'm not," he said. "Both my mother and daddy are of the People. Remy is a mixture 'cause his grampa was of the Earth, but mine came from the Home. You know-when it was destroyed. I wish I could have seen the ship our People came to Earth in. Daddy says when he was little, they used to dig up pieces of it from the walls and floors of the canyon where it crashed. But they still had a life ship in a shed behind their house and they'd play they were escaping again from the big ship." Vincent shivered. "But some didn't escape. Some died in the sky and some died because Earth people were scared of them."

I shivered too and rubbed my cold ankles with both hands. I wondered wistfully if this wasn't asking just a trifle too much of my ability to believe, even in the name of moonlight.

Vincent brought me back abruptly to my particular Earth. "Look! Here they are already! Gollee! That was fast. They sure must be mad!" And he trailed out onto the playground.

I looked expectantly toward the road and only whirled the other way when I heard the thud of feet. And there they stood, both Mr. and Mrs. Kroginold. And he did look mad! His-well-rough-hewn is about the kindest description-face frowning in the moonlight. Mrs. Kroginold surged toward Vincent and Mr.Kroginold swelled preliminary to a vocal blast-or so I feared-so I stepped quickly into the silence.

"There's our school capsule," I said, motioning towards the crushed clutter at the base of the boulder. "That's what he was planning to go up in to rescue a man in a disabled sputnik. He thought the air inside that shiny whatever he put around himself would suffice for the trip. He says a man is dying up there, and he's been carrying that agony around with him, all alone, because he was afraid to tell you."

I stopped for a breath and Mr. Kroginold deflated and -amazingly-grinned a wide, attractive grin, half silver, half shadow.

"Why the gutsy little devil!" he said admiringly. "And "I've been fearing the stock was running out! When I was a boy in the canyon-" But he sobered suddenly and turned to Vincent. "Vince! If there's need, let's get with it.

What's the deal?" He gathered Vincent into the curve of his arm, and we all went back to the porch. "Now. Details." We all sat.

Vincent, his eyes intent on his father's face and his hand firmly holding his mother's, detailed.

"There are two men orbiting up there. The capsule won't function properly. One man is dead. I never did hear him. The other one is crying for help."

Vincent's face tightened anxiously. "He-he feels so bad that it nearly kills me. Only sometimes I guess he pa.s.ses out because the feeling goes away-like now. Then it comes back worse-"

"He's...o...b..ting," said Mr. Kroginold, his eyes intent on Vincent's face.

"Oh," said Vincent weakly, "of course! I didn't think of that! Oh, Dad! I'm so stupid!" And he flung himself on Mr. Kroginold.

"No," said Mr. Kroginold, wrapping him around with the dark strength of his arms. "Just young. You'll learn. But first learn to bring your problems to your mother and me. That's what we're for!"

"But," said Vincent. "I'm not supposed to listen in- "Did you seek him out?" asked Mr. Kroginold. "Did you know about the capsule?"

"No," said Vincent. "He just came in to me-"

"See?" Mr. Kroginold set Vincent back on the step "You weren't listening in.

You were invaded. You just happened to be the right receptivity. Now, what were your plans?"

"They were probably stupid, too," admitted Vincent. "But I was going to lift our capsule-I had to have something to put him in-and try to intercept the orbit of the other one. Then I was going to get the man out-I don't know how-and bring him back to Earth and put him down at the FBI building in Washington. They'd know how to get him home again."

"Well," Mr. Kroginold smiled faintly. "Your plan has the virtue of simplicity, anyway. Just nit-picking, though, I can see one slight problem. How would the FBI ever convince the authorities in his country that we hadn't impounded the capsule for our own nefarious purposes?" Then he became very business-like.

"Lizbeth, will you get in touch with Ron? I think he's in Kerry tonight. Luckyour best Motiver is This End right now. I'll see if Jemmy is up-canyon. We'll get his okay on Remy's craft at the Selkirk. If this has been going on for very long, time is what we've got little of."

It was rather anti-climactic after all those efficient rattlings-out of directions to see the three of them just sit quietly there on the step, hands clasped, their faces lifted a little in the moonlight, their eyes closed. My left foot was beginning to go to sleep when Vincent's chin finally dropped, and he pulled one hand free from his mother's grasp to curl his arm up over his head. Mrs. Kroginold's eyes flipped open. "Vincent?" Her voice was anxious.

"It's coming again," I said. "That distress-whatever if is."

"Ron's heading for the Selkirk now," she said, gathering Vincent to her.

"Jake, Vincent's receiving again."

Mr. Kroginold said hastily to the eaves of the porch, "-as soon as possible.

Hang on. Vincent's got him again. Wait, I'll relay. Vince, where can I reach him? Show me." And darned if they didn't all sit there again-with Vincent's face shining with sweat and his mother trying to cradle his twisting body.

Then Mr. Kroginold gave a grunt, and Vincent relaxed with a sob. His father took him from his mother.

"Already?" I asked. "That was a short one." Mrs. Kroginold fished for a tissue in her pocket and wiped Vincent's face. "It isn't over yet," she said. "It won't be until the capsule swings behind the Earth again, but he's channeling the distress to his father, and he's relaying it to Jemmy up-canyon. Jemmy is our Old One. He'll help us handle it from here on out. But Vincent will have to be our receptor-"

" 'A sort of telepathy,'" I quoted, dizzy with trying to follow a road I couldn't even imagine.

"A sort of telepathy." Mrs. Kroginold laughed and sighed, her finger tracing Vincent's cheek lovingly. "You've had quite a mish-mash dumped in your lap, haven't you? And no time for us to be subtle."

"It is bewildering," I said. "I've been adding two and two and getting the oddest fours!"

"Like?" she asked.

"Like maybe Vincent's forefathers didn't come over in the Mayflower, but maybe a s.p.a.ceship?"

"But not quite Mayflower years ago," she smiled. "And?"

"And maybe Vincent's Dad has seen no life on the moon?"

"Not so very long ago," she said. "And?"

"And maybe there is a man in distress up there and you are going to try to rescue him?"

"Well," said Mrs. Kroginold. "Those fours look all right to me."

"They do?" I goggled. Then I sighed, "Ah well, this modern math! I knew it would be the end of me!"

Mr. Kroginold brought his eyes back to us. "Well, it's all set in motion.Ron's gone for the craft. He'll be here to pick us up as soon as he can make it. Jemmy's taking readings on the capsule so we'll be able to attempt rendezvous. Then, the Power being willing, we'll be able to bring the fellow back:"

"I-I-" I stood up. This was suddenly too much. "I think maybe I'd better go back in the house." I brushed the sand off the back of my robe. "One thing bothers me still, though:"

"Yes?" Mrs. Kroginold smiled.

"How is the FBI going to convince the authorities of the other country?"

"Ay!" she said sobering. "Jake-" And I gathered my skirts up and left the family there on the school porch. As I closed the teacherage door behind me, I leaned against it. It was so dark-in here. And it was such light out there!

Why, they had jumped into helping without asking one single question! Then I wondered what questions I had expected-Was the man a nice man? Was he worth saving? Was he an important person?. What kind of reward? Is there a need?

That's all they needed to know!

I looked at the sleepcoat I hadn't worn yet, but I felt too morning to undress and go to bed properly, so I slid out my robe and put my dress back on. And my shoes. And sweater. And stood irresolutely in the middle of the floor. After all! What is the etiquette for when your guests about to go into orbit from your front porch?

Then there was a thud at the door and the k.n.o.b rattle heard Mrs. Kroginold call softly, "But Vincent! An Outsider?"

"But she isn't!" said Vincent, fumbling again at the door "She said she isn't-she's a teacher. And I know she'd -'The door swung open suddenly and tumbled Vincent to the schoolroom floor. Mrs. Kroginold was just outside outer door on the porch.

"Sorry," she said, "Vincent thinks maybe you'd like see the craft arrive-but --".

"You're afraid I might tell," I said for her. "And should be kept in the family. I've been repository for odd family stories before. Well, maybe not quite- " Vincent scrambled for the porch. "Here it comes!" cried.

I was beside Mrs. Kroginold in a split second and, grasping hands, we raced after Vincent. Mr. Kroginold had been standing in the middle of the playground, but he drifted back to us as a huge-well, a huge nothing came do through the moonlight.

"It-where is it?" I wondered if some dimension I didn't know was involved.

"Oh," said Mrs. Kroginold. "It has the unlight over Jake! Ask Ron-"

Mr. Kroginold turned his face to the huge nothing. And there it was! A slender silver something, its nose arcing down from a rocket position to rest on the tawny sands of the playground.

"The unlight's so no one will see us," said Mrs. Kroginold, "and we flow it so it won't bother radar and things like that:" She laughed. "We're not the right shape for this year's flying saucers, anyway. I'm glad we're not. Who wants to look like a frosted cupcake on a purple lighted plate? That's what's so Innow."

"Is it really a s.p.a.ceship?" I asked, struck by how clean the lovely gleaming craft was that had come so silently to dent our playground.

"Sure it is!" cried Vincent. "The Old Man had it and they took him to the moon in it to bury him and Bethie too and Remy went with their Dad and Mom and-"

"A little reticence, Son," said Mr. Kroginold, catching Vincent's hand. "It isn't necessary to go into all that histo- "She-she realizes," said Mrs.

Kroginold. "It's not as if she were a stranger."

"We shouldn't be gone too long," said Mr. Kroginold. I'll pick you up here as soon-"