“The chances of Wu Yenza dying of heartache over the sorry likes of you,” shouted one guy jovially, “is about the same as old Grolo running out of sniggers.”
Everyone hooted in mock horror. A quick look around showed me that everyone was drinking from clear mugs that were filled with a deep red liquid that I figured was the legendary sniggers. Spader leaned back over the bar and grabbed the handle of the tap that I assumed was where they drew the sniggers. He pretended to pull it, and his eyes went wide with shock.
“Empty!” he shouted in overblown horror. “Hobey-ho, he’s run out of sniggers! Yenzadoesfancy me!”
Everybody laughed. A heavyset guy behind the bar, who must have been Grolo, playfully shoved Spader away from the tap.
“Don’t go startin’ rumors,” he said, laughing, “or it’ll be up to you to stop the riot!”
Spader laughed and rolled away. Grolo grabbed the tap and drew another mug of the frothy red liquid. Everyone was having a great time and Spader was the reason. He was the center of attention and he didn’t disappoint those who wanted him to keep the party rolling. He grabbed a mug of sniggers and exclaimed, “So where is he, Press?”
“Standing right here, watching the show,” answered Uncle Press.
Who were they talking about? Spader handed Press the mug of sniggers and quickly glanced around. In a second his eyes settled on me. Uh-oh. He was talking about me. I was sure that he had already told the story about how I got tangled up in the water sled and had to be rescued. I wanted to crawl away and hide. If I was going to live on Grallion, I didn’t want people to think that I was a total loser. For a second I thought of turning and running, but that would have made it worse. No, I was going to have to face the ridicule. I could only hope that it would be fast.
“That’s the guy!” shouted Spader.
All eyes turned to me. The best I could do was stand there and take it. I thought that maybe I could come up with something clever to make it all a joke. But my mind locked. I couldn’t come up with anything funny about what had happened. My sore ribs and aching shoulder were a painful reminder of that.
“If it weren’t for him,” began Spader, “Press would be shark meat.”
Huh? I looked to Uncle Press. He raised his mug of sniggers at me and winked.
“Press was trapped under the shelf,” said Spader, spinning a dramatic tale that had everyone enthralled. “The nasty wog-glie was nosing in on him. He was a big ‘un, mind you. But then Pendragon here came flying by with the water sled. With no fear for himself, he distracted the beggar and gave Press the chance to slip away. Bravest thing I ever saw. Of course, I was lucky enough to be in the right place to put the finishing touches on the big wogglie myself.”
He added this last bit with false modesty and everyone responded with hoots, like they didn’t think he deserved any credit at all. No, in their minds, the real hero was me! I couldn’t believe it. Suddenly, a mug of sniggers was thrust into my hand.
“To Pendragon!” shouted Spader. He raised his mug in a toast. Everyone else around the bar raised their mugs toward me as well. Uncle Press did too, with a huge smile on his face.
“Welcome to Grallion!” added Spader.
“Hobey-ho ho!” chimed everyone else as they raised their mugs to drink in my honor.
I couldn’t believe it. Talk about snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, no pun intended. Of course, I felt a little guilty. It didn’t exactly happen the way Spader described it. But still, it was sort of the truth. I looked to Spader and he gave me a little smile that told me he knew it was only sort of the truth too. But it didn’t matter to him. He motioned for me to take a drink of sniggers, and I did.
I wasn’t sure what to expect. I had tasted beer once before and I guess that’s what I thought it would be like, but it wasn’t. That was a good thing because I hated the taste of beer. To be honest, the first taste of sniggers that hit my tongue was totally nasty. It was like drinking carbonated cabbage juice. But in an instant the sour taste went away and what I was left with was an incredibly sweet sensation that actually left my mouth tingling. I once had this soda in Maine called Moxie. When Moxie first hits your tongue it tastes sweet, but after you swallow it leaves a nasty, bitter taste. This sniggers stuff was like reverse-Moxie. The first taste was foul, but it immediately went away and left a wonderful memory that lingered until your next sip. I liked this stuff! Hobey-ho ho!
“Put these on my tab, Grolo!” announced Spader as he jumped off the bar. “I’ve got business with my friends.”
“You don’t have a tab, Spader,” barked Grolo.
“Then start one for me!” Spader shot back with bravura.
Grolo waved him off with a mock disgusted gesture. I didn’t think he minded giving away a few pints of sniggers to Spader. The aquaneer was the life of the party here at the tavern. The more stories he told, the more everyone else drank sniggers. Spader was good for business. He put an arm around Uncle Press, his other arm around me, and led us away from the group toward the front door.
But when we reached the table of agronomers, he suddenly stopped and turned us to them. The scientists stopped their work and looked up to us expectantly.
“We just want you mates to know,” said Spader, “we think you are doing a bang-up job. Really.”
The scientists didn’t know how to react. They just sat there and stared at us.
“Now get back to work!” snapped Spader and led us toward the door. As we walked he whispered to us, “Scientists. They’re brilliant but easily confused.”
We blasted out of Grolo’s into the sunlight, laughing.
I really liked this guy. But even though I was grateful for his story back there, I couldn’t let it go without saying something.
“That story you told about me,” I said. “You know that wasn’t really how it happened.”
“Says who?” Spader shot back. “That’s how I saw it. There’s always two ways of looking at things, Pendragon. In my few short years I learned that seeing what’s positive about a situation is a lot more fun and gets you a lot further than looking for what might be wrong with it. That’s my philosophy, for what it’s worth.”
Spader may not have been a wise old soul, but what he said made a whole lot of sense. I didn’t think I had ever met anyone who was as full of energy and fun as this guy was. Without trying all that hard, he made you feel good. I could tell Spader had even gotten to Uncle Press. He said that Cloral was his favorite territory. I’m sure there were a lot of reasons for that, but I’m guessing Spader was a big one. It was fun to be around him. Over the next few weeks I learned a lot more about Vo Spader, and all of it was good.
He was the kind of guy who knew the right people to go to in order to get things done. He got Uncle Press and me set up in a small house near his. It was on the side of Grallion where the temporary workers lived, and since we had become temporary workers, we were right at home. The place was small, but comfortable enough. There were bunk beds (I got the top) and a small kitchen and some simple furniture. The best part about it though, was that the back window looked right out on the ocean. How great was that?
He got us jobs working on the farm. I was afraid this was going to be torture, but it wasn’t. Not all of it, anyway. At home on Second Earth the big farms employ pickers who show up during harvest time, pick whatever needs to be picked, and move on to another. That seemed like pretty hard work, and not all that rewarding.
But that’s not how it worked on Grallion. Rather than simply going out to pick whatever is ripe, the farm workers on Grallion are assigned to a quadrant. That’s an area roughly the size of an acre. The workers are called “vators” and they have the responsibility of taking complete care of their quadrant, from feeding the plants to pruning, and yes, to picking the fruit. But the vators’ responsibility doesn’t end with the picking. They follow their crops all the way through the washing, sorting, and packing process right up until their crops are shipped out. It’s very cool and gives you a real sense of accomplishment. I guess it’s the difference between working on an auto assembly line where your whole job is to put the wheels on cars as they pass by you, versus staying with the same car from the very beginning and proudly watching it roll off the line.
Now, you may be thinking that I have no business running a farm, and you’d be right. Before coming to Grallion I didn’t know the difference between weeds and worms. I didn’t think Uncle Press did either. But it didn’t matter because we weren’t the only vators assigned to our quadrant. There were six other workers with us and each was pretty experienced. They showed us how to check plants for signs of disease and how to treat them with natural compounds brought up from the ocean floor. All the fertilizer was natural too. It seemed like even though Cloral was covered with water, much of what they used on the surface was brought up from below and processed for use on the habitats.
