From ANALOG - Vol. CXXVII No. 1 & 2, January-February 2007.txtA N.E.R.D's Release

To help, visit http://nerds.no-ip.info

Rusch, Kristine Kathryn - [SS] The Taste of Miracles [v1.0].htm

The Taste of Miracles

byKristine Kathryn Rusch

* * * *

Whats a miracle? Depends on whereyoure looking from....

Hayes stared at thevastness of space through the freighters window. He swiveled slightly in thepilots chair, wincing as he banged his knees on the control panel. No matterhow many times he did this run, the sight fascinated him. Even the blacknesslooked crisp, and the points of light appeared sharp. Thousands of stars.Thousands of possibilities.

Trish brushed hisshoulder. He turned, and she handed him a steaming mug. Cocoa, she said.

He took it, feelingthe heat through the durable plastic. I didnt know we had chocolate aboard.

She smiled and easedin the chair next to his. She was as slim and battered as the freighter, herskin lined with the effort from all the years of hauling, lifting, and loading.He had called her scrappy until he had seen her in a fight with one of the oreminers in the bar at the ass-end of the moon base. After that, Hayes decided, toughwas too wimpy a word for Trish.

Needed a littlesomething special tonight, she said, then blew gently at the steam.

He glanced at her,her small, strong hands wrapped around the mug as if it would give her warmth. Didntthink you celebrated holidays.

Her grin was tiny.She didnt look at him. Dont. Not really, anyway. But I kinda like this runon Christmas.

Earth to the Moon andback. One of the easiest runs on the freight line. He preferred Earth to Marsbecause he liked Mars better. It stirred his imagination in a way the Moonnever did. I like it too, he said. Pays triple.

No. I dont careabout that. She slurped. The entire area smelled of hot chocolate. Youcelebrate Christmas, Hayes?

Im not religious,he said.

I mean as a kid. Youget to celebrate? Tree and tinsel and toys?

Shoppers Mecca, hesaid, remembering the tree from his twelfth year. His mom shelled out for aGrow-Your-Own, the only way to get real trees then. It had been enormous,decorated with popcorn and ornaments generations old. The lights were miniaturecandles that appeared to be burning, and his parents had bought so manypresents that the packages spilled across the living room floor.

Was it fun? Shehuddled in the chair, her legs drawn up to her chest, mug balanced on one knee.

He shrugged andthought. It had been so long since he had done the holiday thing. He wasusually on some run or another, earning extra cash. The anticipation wasgreat, he said after a moment. All month. The tree, the lights, the packagesfilled with surprises. The feeling that something magic could happen. That wasfun.

She was staring atthe stars, like he had, only her scarred features had a touch of wistfulness. Neverhad any of that. The Shoppers Mecca or the religious stuff.

Never? Not even as akid? He regretted the question the minute he asked it. She had spoken of herchildhood enoughin the program from the age of eleven, bounced at sixteen whenshe became too hard to handle after her grandmothers death, running freightever since because she was strong and one of the best damn pilots in thebusiness.

Not the shopping.Not the religion. She finished her cocoa and set the mug on the floor besideher seat. Christmas Eve, my gram would fill a thermos with hot cocoa, then shewould bundle me up, take me outside, and when we were all snug in the snow,drinking our cocoa, shed point to the stars. Shed tell me this story abouthow, when she was a girl, they had this race to get to the moon, and how, oneChristmas Eve, those astronauts orbited the moon for the first time, and theysent holiday wishes to Earth.

Apollo 8, Hayessaid. Borman, Lovell, and Anders.

You know it? sheasked.

Space history is ahobby of mine.

She nodded, stillstaring at the blackness. Anyway, Gram thought it was a miracle. A realmiracle. So every year, she went outside and pretended she could see them upthere, circling.

So thats why you dothis, Hayes said.

She looked at him forthe first time, her nut-brown eyes bright. He could almost see the little girl,bundled against the cold, holding her grandmothers hand and staring at thenight-darkened sky.

No, she said, herflat voice shattering the illusion. We were born to late too be cowboys,Hayes, and theres no such thing as miracles any more.

She picked up her mugand straightened out her legs, then pushed out of the seat. Space was as darkas ever, the stars bright beacons of the future, waiting for him. But he wouldnever go farther than Mars. He was a pilot who shuttled ore, equipment, andpeople from place to place. Not even allowed the glamour title astronautanymore.

She had stoppedbehind his chair. He could see her reflection against the window as if she werestanding in space, unsupported by the freighter.

Thats why I likethis run on Christmas, she said. I need to remember that once upon a time,this was the stuff of dreams.

She touched hisshoulder, a fleeting warmth, a moment, dreamer to dreamer. Then she let go.

More cocoa? sheasked.

Yeah, he said, gladshe had brought it along.

Before handing herhis mug, he took one last sip. He stared at the stars, swirling the chocolateon his tongue, and savored the taste of miracles.

a N.E.R.D's Release ~~ Read First ~~.txtA N.E.R.D's Release

To help, visit http://nerds.no-ip.info

Please help N.E.R.D's continue to provide you with this great service by visiting the link above.