Rocket Fuel

Epilogue - Spoke Lavender





I remember the way Byron felt,Droover thought, his pink tongue and probing brown fingers. Iremember life.

Pineapple dreams: they come inrings and segments, sweet, yellow, juicy and full of sunshine...

She stood inthe shade of an awning listening to running feet, the captain's, AmyJones a growing, solidifying mass of moon-grey and cloud-blue. Katewas someway behind her - Kate was here waiting, watching as CaptainJones slowed, folded a slab of gum into her mouth, its constitution arecipe of Stylo's, the poison she required so badly, his seed. All ofwhich Droover knew, the truth an open page, the page from Spritzer'sdiary, the repairman plugged into a computer aboard Ernie's Engine,dreaming his dreams while mapping the complicated world.

It was a suitable punishment, anewly defined crime.

Kate stepped out into the street.Amy pulled up, face contorted, a fey smile, one shaped - in part -from alcohol.

‘Hey...’ The captain lookedbehind her, stood with hands on hips. ‘You're in two places atonce,’ she said.

Kate replied, ‘Want to tell meabout it?’

The other woman took a paceback...altered, as if through a pall of refractive gases: retrograde.‘I think you know enough,’ she commented, adding hesitantly,‘Kate, I'm sorry if I hurt you or anyone; I never wanted that.’

‘But?’

‘I'm dying.’ She laughed,girlish. ‘I'd be dead now - maybe I am; but this way I had achance, you see? A chance to live, a closed loop, like orbiting thesame star forever, or spending eternity in no-space. Unaffected, orso I imagined. At peace.’

‘Halfwaybetween somewhereand nowhere...’

‘Right! It was a mistake. I gotscared, that's all.’

Kate approached her, put her armsaround Amy and gave her a hug. ‘Don't worry,’ she said, ‘itcomes out...’ searching for the word, ‘it comes out fine.’

In the end.



She talked withLumping Jack. They had no language in common, no words to write orsay. Frozen Hound wagged her tail and mixed up the colours on thepage, the page in this latest edition (#60) of Last Of The Earth Men.

There was a storm which passed, aspring storm smelling of new leaves, cherry blossom and daffodils,the wind driving it fresh and enlivened, raised from the mountainsand the sea.

She closed her eyes and lay down.Around her the air moved, carrying upon its shoulders the odours ofnatural inks and earthy dyes, the scents of plant extracts, theindefatigable rhythms of the seasons. She was able after a while tocomprehend their various tones and meanings, appreciate the harmonythey favoured and the knowledge they sought, was, in just as short atime, communicating to them with a kind of halting emanation of herown.

Morgan gazed at her from his placein the comic, perhaps aware of her as yet rough delivery, the edgesthat caught and jarred. But he didn't quibble. Why should he? FrozenHound and Dr Henry Grey were with him, nodding enthusiastically,offering advice, senses fine tuned as the aromatic exchange took on aclearer and more definitive shape.

It sailed on by...

Spoke purple and white. Spokelavender.

And in the end, when each was -via channel or conduit, tunnel or passage - in touch with the others,it was plain they all had a lot to convey.

And so, relaxed, mouths shut,inhaled.





There was a storm which passed, aspring storm smelling of new leaves, cherry blossom and daffodils,the wind driving it fresh and enlivened, raised from the mountainsand the sea.

She closed her eyes and lay down.Around her the air moved, carrying upon its shoulders the odours ofnatural inks and earthy dyes, the scents of plant extracts, theindefatigable rhythms of the seasons. She was able after a while tocomprehend their various tones and meanings, appreciate the harmonythey favoured and the knowledge they sought, was, in just as short atime, communicating to them with a kind of halting emanation of herown.

Morgan gazed at her from his placein the comic, perhaps aware of her as yet rough delivery, the edgesthat caught and jarred. But he didn't quibble. Why should he? FrozenHound and Dr Henry Grey were with him, nodding enthusiastically,offering advice, senses fine tuned as the aromatic exchange took on aclearer and more definitive shape.

It sailed on by...

Spoke purple and white. Spokelavender.

And in the end, when each was -via channel or conduit, tunnel or passage - in touch with the others,it was plain they all had a lot to convey.

And so, relaxed, mouths shut,inhaled.

Andrew McEwan's books