Read Online Article 23 by William R. Forstchen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: William R. Forstchen
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"my favorite."
"We grow half a dozen varieties here. There's another deck for subtropical fruit and one for tropical. Some wonderful blends come out of them."
"Blends?"
"You'll see."
"Ah, Brother, our shipment has it arrived?"
Justin saw an elderly monk rolling towards them on a power chair through a narrow pathway in the orchard.
"Yes, Brother Abbot, all safe and sound."
"Good, very good."
Bartholomew introduced them. Tanya was awed when the abbot, discovering her lineage, announced that he had been introduced to her great-grandfather when he had visited the old Soviet Union as a boy.
" A school group from Maine , oh, back let's see now back in 1986 it was. We went over there and met him at a conference. I'll never forget him. Funny, hope you don't take offense but he looked just like a comedy actor from long ago though the name of the three in that group escapes me."
The abbot laughed. "When you reach my age such things do tend to drift. We were all honored to meet your great-grandfather, just as I'm honored to meet you carrying on the family tradition."
Justin was surprised when Tanya bowed and asked for the monk's blessing. Justin shook his hand and the monk rolled on.
"Well over a hundred and still going strong," Bartholomew announced. "Space is good for folks like him." Justin looked back at a group working in the orchard and noticed that a number of the monks seemed quite old.
"A lot of men, when they reach their later years, they look for lives of contemplation," Bartholomew said, as if reading Justin's thoughts.
The monk smiled and looked over at Tanya, who was walking several paces ahead, and then back at the young cadet. "Once you hit eighty some of the distractions of youth are at last behind you."
Justin felt himself blushing, wondering if Bartholomew knew about the inner turmoil she was creating.
"So that's why our orbital monasteries are flourishing. More than a thousand monks on this one alone. We have several thousand others living here, too, lay brothers and sisters we call them. They are mostly part of our geriatric care center, which is our service to humanity since we are, after all, a serving brotherhood. Some of our residents were born as far back as 1950 and are still spry and fit. Low gravity is indeed a blessing.
"We lead a simple life prayer, tending our gardens, helping our patients. Our food is plain but there are a few indulgences we do allow."
He stopped and pointed towards a door that was nearly concealed under a rose-covered trellis. As he opened the door a rich heady aroma wafted out.
"Our distillery," Bartholomew announced. "Finest apple brandy in Earth orbit comes out of here. That's what you're carrying, spare parts; we were on our last backup for a few things and getting worried. Old Thorsson came through for us though, with this little emergency shipment."
A knot of monks gathered around the group as they came through the door. Eager hands grabbed the canisters carried by Justin and Tanya and the men scurried off, weaving through a line of vats and into a back room.
"Apple brandy, peach brandy, a few new concoctions we've cooked up from our tropical blends." Bartholomew led them over to a wooden table and motioned for them to be seated. A monk came up to them, bearing three small glasses and half a dozen flasks.
Bartholomew took one of the metal containers. He uncorked it, sniffed the contents, smiled and poured'out three minute samplings.
"Ah, sir, we're on duty and, well, sir," Tanya announced, "I don't think we should."
"Old Thorsson said it was all right as long as I didn't get any of you soused before dinner. Thorny and I go back a ways. I was his commander once."
The two looked at him, incredulous.
"Certainly was. Back aboard the Celestial Beagle on the run to Jupiter. Not all of us monks are as boring as you might think. Brother Abbot there was an out-and-out United States Marine, fought in three wars. Flew in the First and Second Gulf Wars. Old tradition
"We grow half a dozen varieties here. There's another deck for subtropical fruit and one for tropical. Some wonderful blends come out of them."
"Blends?"
"You'll see."
"Ah, Brother, our shipment has it arrived?"
Justin saw an elderly monk rolling towards them on a power chair through a narrow pathway in the orchard.
"Yes, Brother Abbot, all safe and sound."
"Good, very good."
Bartholomew introduced them. Tanya was awed when the abbot, discovering her lineage, announced that he had been introduced to her great-grandfather when he had visited the old Soviet Union as a boy.
" A school group from Maine , oh, back let's see now back in 1986 it was. We went over there and met him at a conference. I'll never forget him. Funny, hope you don't take offense but he looked just like a comedy actor from long ago though the name of the three in that group escapes me."
The abbot laughed. "When you reach my age such things do tend to drift. We were all honored to meet your great-grandfather, just as I'm honored to meet you carrying on the family tradition."
Justin was surprised when Tanya bowed and asked for the monk's blessing. Justin shook his hand and the monk rolled on.
"Well over a hundred and still going strong," Bartholomew announced. "Space is good for folks like him." Justin looked back at a group working in the orchard and noticed that a number of the monks seemed quite old.
"A lot of men, when they reach their later years, they look for lives of contemplation," Bartholomew said, as if reading Justin's thoughts.
The monk smiled and looked over at Tanya, who was walking several paces ahead, and then back at the young cadet. "Once you hit eighty some of the distractions of youth are at last behind you."
Justin felt himself blushing, wondering if Bartholomew knew about the inner turmoil she was creating.
"So that's why our orbital monasteries are flourishing. More than a thousand monks on this one alone. We have several thousand others living here, too, lay brothers and sisters we call them. They are mostly part of our geriatric care center, which is our service to humanity since we are, after all, a serving brotherhood. Some of our residents were born as far back as 1950 and are still spry and fit. Low gravity is indeed a blessing.
"We lead a simple life prayer, tending our gardens, helping our patients. Our food is plain but there are a few indulgences we do allow."
He stopped and pointed towards a door that was nearly concealed under a rose-covered trellis. As he opened the door a rich heady aroma wafted out.
"Our distillery," Bartholomew announced. "Finest apple brandy in Earth orbit comes out of here. That's what you're carrying, spare parts; we were on our last backup for a few things and getting worried. Old Thorsson came through for us though, with this little emergency shipment."
A knot of monks gathered around the group as they came through the door. Eager hands grabbed the canisters carried by Justin and Tanya and the men scurried off, weaving through a line of vats and into a back room.
"Apple brandy, peach brandy, a few new concoctions we've cooked up from our tropical blends." Bartholomew led them over to a wooden table and motioned for them to be seated. A monk came up to them, bearing three small glasses and half a dozen flasks.
Bartholomew took one of the metal containers. He uncorked it, sniffed the contents, smiled and poured'out three minute samplings.
"Ah, sir, we're on duty and, well, sir," Tanya announced, "I don't think we should."
"Old Thorsson said it was all right as long as I didn't get any of you soused before dinner. Thorny and I go back a ways. I was his commander once."
The two looked at him, incredulous.
"Certainly was. Back aboard the Celestial Beagle on the run to Jupiter. Not all of us monks are as boring as you might think. Brother Abbot there was an out-and-out United States Marine, fought in three wars. Flew in the First and Second Gulf Wars. Old tradition
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