Anvil of Stars (33 page)

He had been celibate since Paola Birdsong. The lure of the flesh was nothing compared to the other conflicts he had to resolve.

The crew came to the cafeteria singly and in triples; few entered in pairs. The dyad structure had broken down in Hans' exercises and rewards; those who had lost partners in the Skirmish had not yet made new matches, and only one or two new dyads were apparent.

Rosa began her session with a parable.

"Once, back when Earth was young, three children came upon a sick wolf in the woods. The first child was a girl, and her name was Penelope, and she was sweet and younger than the others, and spoke with a lisp. The second was Kim, her brother, who did not know where to go in life, and who always worried about fighting and winning. The third was Jacob, a cousin, the oldest, frightened of his shadow.

"They circled the wolf and Penelope asked the wolf what was wrong with it.

" 'I am in a trap,' the wolf said, and Penelope saw that this was so; the wolf's paw was caught in a steel jaw chained to the ground. 'Please release me.'

" 'Wait a minute,' Kim said. 'What if the trapper sees us? We'll get in trouble…

" 'The trapper only comes once a week,' the wolf said.

" 'If you know that, then you must know where the trappersets his traps. How did you fall into a trap if you knew where they were?' Kim asked.

" 'You are a very smart boy, so I will tell you something,' the wolf said. 'Something very important. But first you must release me.'

" 'Are you a magic wolf?' Penelope asked. She had heard of such things.

" 'I am a sorcerer, pretending to be a wolf. I can change my shape at will, unless I am caught by iron—and this is iron.'

" 'I think we should release him,' Jacob said. 'I don't like to see live things in pain.'

" 'Wait,' Kim said. 'Maybe this is the wolf that's been killing our sheep. Maybe the trapper is doing us a favor.'

" 'That was the cougar, not me,' the wolf said. 'Have you no trust?'

" 'I trust nothing, and care for nothing, because I have been hurt when I trusted before,' Kim said.

" 'I trust you,' Penelope said.

" 'I don't know whether to trust him or not, but he's in pain,' Jacob said.

" 'What will you give us if we set you free?' Kim asked.

" 'I can grant no wish while I am trapped by iron,' the wolf answered.

" 'So you can't prove you're a sorcerer. I say let's leave him here for the trapper,' Kim said.

"But Penelope reached down to open the trap anyway. Kim saw her and tried to stop her, but Jacob fought with him, and she opened the trap, and the wolf crawled free, lay in the grass with its tongue out, and said, 'I am very ill. I will die now, because I have been in the trap so long, but I will come in your dreams and give you each what you have given to me.'

"And the wolf died. Penelope mourned, and buried its body in the woods where the trapper would not find it. Kim stalked away, angry at Jacob. And Jacob felt sad that they had not saved the wolf, and that he had lost Kim's friendship in the bargain.

"That night, the wolf came to Penelope in her dreams, but it was a slender old man wearing a wolf-fur robe, with sharp gray eyes and a wise smile. The old man said, To you I give long life and children, and in your old age, when your time comes to die, you will be content with the men you have loved, the children you have borne, the life you have lived… This I give to you.'

"To Jacob the sorcerer came as a wolf, and said, 'You will live a long life, and it will be rich and complex, with sadness and joy mixed so that often you cannot distinguish between them. Life will make you a wise soul, because it will be hard, and when you die, you will sit on God's favored side, to render advice on the affairs of men. All this you will have; but this you will lose. You will never know what is truth, and never know certainty. All things will be ambiguous, for this is the curse of wisdom.'

"To Kim, the wolf came as a wolf, and growled at him in his dreams, until the dreams became dark as nightmare. And the wolf told him, 'All your life the world will turn its hand against you. You will scheme and scheme, but gain no advantage, and learn nothing from your failures. You will not live to a ripe old age, but instead, you will die young, bitter and cheated, loved by no one. This I give to you.'

" 'And what do you give to yourself?' Kim cried out in his dream. 'You who have so much power, and can cause so much pain?'

" 'For my foolishness in being trapped, I can have nothing but oblivion. For to gain this power, long ago I sold my soul. I now have nothing. And when my ghost fades from your dream, I will be less than the echo of wind.' "

Rosa lowered her head. The crew seemed to appreciate the story, but did not applaud. They stood to leave, and Jeanette Snap Dragon said in a stage voice, "Rosa was visited again last night. Something came to her."

The crew stopped, stared at Rosa, who raised her head, eyes distant.

"We don't talk about it, but we think of the death ship a lot now," Rosa said. "We wonder why they all died, and there are no answers. I give no comfort this evening. Our greatest trial comes. Soon another kind of intelligence will join with us. We will be visited by innocents, and we will teach them pain."

Silent, without argument, the crew left the cafeteria.

Ariel followed Martin to Hans' quarters. "Well?" Rex Live Oak asked, beckoning them in as the door opened.

"She was… innocuous," Martin said.

"What kind of word is that?" Hans asked. "Nothing Rosa does can ever be innocuous. What did you think?" He stared at Ariel.

"She's getting better. Much stronger," Ariel said. "Jeanette and Kirsten are with her all the time now. She doesn't ask for me very often. She knows I talk to Martin and you. She's putting together disciples. I think she's building up to something."

Ariel gave Martin a fleeting smile, as if asking for approval but realizing he would not give it.

"Is that right?" Hans asked Martin.

"Whatever she's building up to, she isn't there yet," Martin said. "She spins a good story, but so far, it's just entertainment. Fairytales."

Hans pondered for a moment. "She's not going to stick to telling stories. She's bound to have another revelation. I'm not sure we can afford to let her go off on her own. We're still close to the edge, and having visitors isn't going to make things any easier." He mused, squeezing his palms together, making small sucking sounds. "What Rosa needs is a good slicking. Any volunteers?"

The crudity stunned Martin and made Ariel's neck muscles stand out, but they did not answer.

"Not me," Rex Live Oak said casually.

"Just as I thought. I'll have to bell and feed the cat. Part of the old burden, am I right?"

"The libraries are open, the food's getting better, and the moms tell us we can use remotes to expand our baseline," Rex Live Oak said, looking around the cafeteria. "I think we're ready to meet our new comrades. Any comments, before I let the search team report?"

The crew moved restlessly for a few seconds, as if reluctant to push forward a questioner. Paola Birdsong raised her hand.

"The Pan is supposed to give us the report," she said. "Why isn't Hans here?"

"Hans is doing research now," Rex said.

"Then why not Harpal?" Erin Eire asked.

"I don't know," Rex answered flippantly. "Harpal?"

Harpal shrugged, refusing to be stung. "Rank hath its privileges. Hans can pick anybody he wants as a speaker."

"We don't need a speaker. We need the Pan himself," Erin persisted.

"I'll take your questions directly to Hans," Rex said.

Martin looked around the room. There were two conspicuous absences: Hans, of course, and Rosa Sequoia.

"Think he's giving Rosa her medicine?" Ariel whispered in Martin's ear. Martin didn't answer; if Hans was with Rosa, he must know their absence together would be noticed. If Rosa was giving in to Hans' "medicine," she was at risk of losing her unusual status, and perhaps that was Hans' intent.

Hakim cleared his throat and came forward as Rex cleared the way magnanimously with a sweep of his arm. "We are at least a half a trillion kilometers from the other ship," Hakim said. "We'll drop our camouflage in a few days. The moms think it's very doubtful anyone can detect us out here. We should be able to establish noach a few hours before rendezvous."

"Are we looking at the Cornflower?" Alexis Baikal asked.

Hakim affirmed that the Leviathan system was being studied.

"Anything new?" Bonita Imperial Valley asked.

"There are ten planets around Leviathan," Hakim said. "We have few details on the planets other than their mass and size: five rocky worlds less than twenty thousand kilometers in diameter. The sixth through the tenth planets are gas giants. They emit very little or nothing in radio frequencies. There has been no reaction to the destruction of Wormwood; no armoring, nothing. That is about all we can say for now."

"Are there other orbiting structures?" Erin Eire asked.

"Not that we can detect."

"Any explanation why they've changed since the death ship was there?" Rex asked.

Hakim shook his head. "Perhaps there has been massive engineering, as there was around Wormwood. That would be my guess. Two planets might have been broken down for raw materials."

"Are the planets inhabited?" Paola asked.

"No signs of habitation, but that is expected. We presume they are," Hakim said, averting his eyes. "For now, there is not really much more to say."

"All right," Rex said, standing again, arms folded. "Comments? Anything for me to take to Hans?"

"We're tired of wrestling," Jack Sand said.

"I'll let him know," Rex said, smiling broadly.

Harpal came to Martin's quarters an hour after the meeting, Ariel following. "I'm going to resign as Christopher Robin," he said, stalking through the door, arms swinging loosely, fists clenched.

"I suppose I don't need to ask why," Martin said. Ariel sat with hands between her knees, lost in thought.

"I hope not. You're too smart," Harpal said. "He picks me, then he lights on Rex, and Rex does everything I should be doing… and I do nothing. Does that make sense? "

"He's feeling his way," Ariel said. Harpal turned on her.

"And where do you stand, Mademoiselle Critical?"

Ariel lifted her hands.

"Jesus," Harpal said. "When Martin was Pan, you were so full of bolsh we could grow mushrooms in your mouth!"

"Harpal," Martin said.

"I mean it! What's with the sudden quiet?"

"I trusted Martin," Ariel said. "He wouldn't hold things against me. Not enough to hurt me. I'm not an idiot."

This stopped Harpal cold. He simply stared at her, then at Martin, and threw his hands up in the air. "None of this makes sense."

Martin gestured with his fingers to her: Come on, let it out.

"Martin was sincere. He didn't calculate for effect."

"Thank you very much," Martin said with some bite.

"I mean it. You didn't measure everybody for his coffin. Hans hasn't changed… he's just grown into the job. Everything is weighed according to political advantage."

"Even when he blew up after the neutrino storm?" Harpal asked.

"That was genuine," she admitted, "but it put people in their place. Where he wanted them to be—a little afraid of him. He's big. He hits when he's angry. He's not exactly predictable. So people are more wary and they don't speak up. Big, smart bully. Or didn't you notice?" She looked at Harpal accusingly.

"I don't see how he could plan such outbursts," Martin said.

"You can't tell me you haven't noticed his skills," she said, eyes glittering. Martin saw the former Ariel again, saw she was keeping her anger and dismay tightly wrapped, and felt a fresh surge of concern.

"He's a better Pan than I was."

"Maybe better at manipulating. He knows what he wants."

"He pulled us out of a pit," Martin said, realizing his Devil's advocacy. He wanted to see how much Ariel's views coincided with his—all unvoiced, even unconfirmed in his own mind.

"He put us there in the first place," she countered.

Harpal sat and crossed his legs. Martin and Ariel both looked to him for comment. "Good Pan, bad Pan," he said softly, in wonder.

"The crew puts a lot of faith in the Pan. Martin was good—if a little gullible—because everybody knew they could talk to him, and he wouldn't hurt them, wouldn't even think of it," Ariel said. "I spoke up because I thought I could argue him into seeing certain important things…"

"You went at it pretty forcefully," Martin said.

"I've never claimed to be subtle. When will you resign?"

Harpal squinted. "When the time's right," he said. "Can anybody tell me why he's courting Rosa?"

"He's doing more than courting her," Ariel said. "Rosa's still in his room. You know she hasn't had a real friend for years?"

Martin nodded. "He thinks she's on to something."

"What?" Harpal asked.

"Something we need," Martin said, and Ariel nodded.

"What?" Harpal asked again, genuinely puzzled.

"Faith," Martin said.

Harpal drew back as if bitten. "You're kidding."

"Not at all," Martin said. "She's getting closer and closer to the mark. I've felt it myself." He tapped his chest.

"I'm completely lost now," Harpal said. "I don't deserve to be second. I'm out of touch."

"Things are going to get a lot more complicated very soon," Martin said. "Let's see how he handles the situation."

Ariel surprised him by agreeing completely. "He's made mistakes… But he's still in charge, and we're still ready to do the Job."

Harpal stood in the door. "If he accepts my resignation, that's fine by me," he said. "But why did he pick Rex? Rex is not the smartest person on the ship. He knows nothing about leadership."

Martin held back the most obvious and the darkest answer he could think of: Rex won't say no.

Hans kept to the back of the cafeteria, smiling benignly. Rosa stood on a table; sixty-three of the crew listened intently.

"In two days," she said, "we'll meet our new colleagues… What will they be like? What will they think and believe? How can we accommodate them? Interact with them? What are we, to them!"

The crew did not answer. Martin sat a few meters from Hans, beside Harpal and Ariel. Hans winked at Martin.

Rosa looked radiant; the beauty of intense compassion, of selflessness. Awkward Rosa had melted finally, giving way to a new woman; had the defining moment occurred in Hans' arms? Hans revealed nothing.

"In the scale of things, we are the very smallest of intelligences, the very dimmest of lights. Yet like plankton in Earth's seas, we lay the foundations for all the complex glory above us. We are the food and eggs and seed of all intelligence, up to and including that radiant center beyond all understanding. A disturbance in the sea of little thinking creatures can move up the spiritual food column with disastrous consequences, though it may take an age; and so the highest regards the lowest with more than just disinterested love, for we are ultimately them, part of their flesh, if they have flesh, part of their histories, and their futures…

"The colleagues joining us have undoubtedly suffered as we have. They have lost their home world, have wandered for centuries in foreign shells, and have fought and lost loved ones, all to vanquish the poison, the death of the planet killers. We join with them now, and the little intelligences merge… And it is noticed by those high above us, those in attendance on the Most High, the galaxies of bright spirituality that rotate around the unimaginably vast center… And that notice is not just a kind of love, it is love, compared to which the love we feel for the parts of our own body, for our own flesh, is a cheap imitation.

"Our success or failure has a larger meaning. When we die, we are not just lost; I have felt the cradle of the Most High coming for our dead, to embrace their memories, their essence, and draw them to the center, where there is eternal motion and eternal rest, peace and the center of all action."

"She hasn't read her Aquinas," Ariel whispered to Martin.

But what Rosa said sounded good to him. Martin needed to know that Theresa and William were happy, that they had found rest; that sardonic and razor-sharp Theodore and all the others were appreciated somewhere, that perhaps they floated in a sea of painless interaction, showing their highest qualities to something that might finally appreciate them…

"When our ships join, we join purposes as well. All our goals must mesh. We are here not to satisfy the moms, but to clean the seas of a poison that could reach to the center itself. Call it evil, call it senseless greed, call it maladaptation… It is separate from the Most High, and the Most High does not cherish it.

"The cup-bearers of planetary death are not among the lights in attendance to the Most High; they are caught in a vicious cycle of pain and fear. We have felt their fear. It killed our home planet and it has killed our friends; the time has come for us to apply the burning iron to that fear, and to send the Killers back to where they can again become part of the column, rise in usefulness again to the Most High.

"But we will not receive divine aid. Though there are things repugnant to the highest intelligences, the greatest spirits, they do not give us their powers and insights when we fight the repugnant things. That would be a kind of interference even more evil than senseless murder; a confusion of scales, the Most High stifling the potential of the low, where all creativity, all creation begins. We are on our own, but our struggle is not senseless."

"What do the moms think of this?" Harpal asked Martin in a low voice.

Martin shook his head.

"The story I tell this evening is of war. Nothing gentle, nothing soothing, it reminds us of what we face still, and may face for centuries more, before we can lay down our weapons and take up the duties of living for ourselves."

"Why can't I feel the touch and see what you've seen?" Nguyen Mountain Lily asked.

Rosa looked puzzled for an instant, then smiled again and raised her hands, sweeping all around. "The Most High is never not touching us. But it does not tell us what to do, and it does not speak to us in words; its presence is the conviction we all feel, that there must be a loving observer to whom we are very important, and who loves us.

"The love the Most High feels is not the love of sexuality and reproduction—it is the love of one of us for our own bodies, our own cells, a constant love made of care and nourishment. But we do not interfere with our own cells."

Martin could poke holes in this like ripping a finger through rotten cloth, but he did not want to; he found himself explaining away the inconsistencies, the poor metaphors, as weaknesses in Rosa's perceptions, not in her message.

"I don't think anything watches me, or cares about me," Thorkild Lax said. "I watch out for myself and for my crew-mates."

"I felt that way. I felt lost," Rosa said. "I thought no one cared—not my crewmates, certainly. I was slovenly, out of touch. I didn't really belong. No one was more lost than I was. But there was this final loving in me, this urge to reach out." She folded her hands in front of her, then swept them out and up like two parting doves, fingers spread. "I reached out in the middle of my pain—"

"Enough of this shit," a masculine voice called out. "Tell the story."

The crowd turned and Martin saw George Dempsey, blushing at the accumulated stares. He got up, started to leave, but Alexis Baikal reached up and held on to his hand, pulled him gently down, and he sat.

Martin felt a warmth, and then a tremor of unease. The group spirit, the bonding again—the wish for strong answers, for transcending love. The special time.

He thought of his father and mother, and the touch his father could give, and the warmth of his mother, large and all-encompassing, the way she wore full dresses to cover her ample figure, the sweetness of her round face wrapped in dark silken hair, the complex and giving love of both; and he thought of that love writ large, the beginning place for that sort of love.

"How do I reach up and out?" Terry Loblolly asked, voice small in the cafeteria.

"When you need to, you will do it as a hungry flower blooms beneath the sun," Rosa said. "If you do not need enough, you will not; your time is not yet."

"If we don't love, does the Most High blame us? Does he hate us?"

"The Most High is neither male nor female. It does not blame, it does not judge. It loves, and it gathers." She curled her arms as if to gather unseen children to her breast and hug them.

"I need that touch badly," Drusilla Norway said. "But I don't feel it. Is that my fault?"

"You have no faults except in your own eyes. All fault is human judgment."

"Then who will punish us for our sins?" Alexis Baikal asked, voice distorted with sorrow.

"Only ourselves. Punishment is our way of training ourselves for this level of life. The Most High does not acknowledge a court of law, a court of judgment. We are forgiven before we die, every moment of every day, whether we seek forgiveness or not."

Martin thought of Theresa waiting at the end of this long journey to explain these things to him, part of the all-enveloping warmth; he put Theresa's face over Rosa's, and wanted to sleep in the comfort of this thought, hoped it would not go away.

"Is Jesus Christ the son of the Most High?" Michael Vineyard asked.

"Yes," Rosa said, her smile broadening. "We are all its children. Christ must have felt the warmth like a fusion fire, even more strongly than I do. It glows from his words and deeds. The Buddha also felt the warmth, as did Muhammad…"

Hakim seemed displeased to hear the Prophet's name in Rosa's mouth.

"… And the many prophets and sages of Earth. They were mirrors to the sun."

"All of them?" Michael persisted.

"All knew part of the truth."

"Do you know only part?" Michael asked.

"A small part. You must explain the rest to me," Rosa said. "Tell me what you find in yourselves."

In murmurs, in challenges and questions, in Rosa's parables and explanations, give and take, for the next two hours the crew spoke and confessed. A current went through the room as something palpable, as if she were a tree, and the wind of feeling passed around her, through her. When others in the crew cried, Martin found tears in his own eyes; when others laughed with a revelation of joy, he laughed also.

"I am not a prophet," Rosa said. "I am simply a voice, no better than yours."

"How can we hate our enemies, when they are just like us?" someone asked.

"We do not hate them; but they are not just like us, they are desperately wrong and we fight them with all our strength, for that is how we correct the imbalances. We must never be cruel, and we must never hate, for that damages us; but we must never forget our duties."

Martin felt the Job fall into place in his thoughts; nothing holy about death and destruction, but a necessary part of their existence, their duty. A natural act, action to reaction.

Nothing they did was sanctioned; nothing they did was judged except by themselves, and by the standards that flooded them from the light of the Most High. The passion of revenge had no place here; it was an abomination. But the duty of correcting the balance, that was as essential as the breath in his lungs and the blood in his veins.

Groups pushed in close around Rosa, hands linked. Together they sang hymns, the wordless Hum, Christmas carols, ballads, whatever they remembered, while others searched the libraries for more songs. All their musical instruments had been absorbed in the emergency, but their voices remained.

The singing lasted an hour. Some were hoarse and weary, and some fell asleep on the floor, but still Rosa ministered to them. Jeanette Snap Dragon brought her a chair and she sat in it atop the table, her red hair standing out in radiant frizz around her head. Jeanette and others sat around her, on the table, at her feet. Jeanette placed her head on Rosa's knees and seemed to sleep.

Others came, until almost all the crew filled the cafeteria. Some looked bewildered, feeling the current, but not letting it pass through them yet; hopeful but confused, resistant but needy.

The special time. Ariel came close to him and he hugged her as a sister. She looked up at him, head against his shoulder, and he smiled, loving all his fellows.

At Rosa's request, the floor softened. The crew lay together on the floor, around the table, as the other tables and chairs lowered and were absorbed. Jeanette's wand projected light behind Rosa and the room fell dark.

"Sleep," Rosa said, her hair an indistinct shadow in the rosy glow. "Soon we begin our duties again. Sleep in peace, for there is work to do. Sleep, and reach into your dreams to find the truth. When you sleep you are most open to the wishes of your friends, and to the love of the Most High. Sleep."

Martin closed his eyes.

Someone tapped his shoulder. Hans kneeled beside him. He shook Martin, whispered into his ear, "Cut it out. Come with me."

Martin rose, a shock like electricity tingling through him. He seemed stuck between two worlds, shame and exaltation. Hans' grim expression and tense marching posture seemed a reproof. Ariel followed, and at first it seemed Hans might send her back, but he said, "All right. Both of you."

Rex Live Oak stood in the corridor, smiling wolfishly.

"Fantastic," Hans said, shaking his head. "She's so good. She's got them all now."

Martin's head cleared as if with a dash of ice water.

"She just needed a little help and encouragement," Hans said. Rex chuckled. "I damn near felt it myself. Didn't you? I think we have this situation under control now."

Ariel touched Martin's shoulder but he shrugged away the touch.

"All she needed was a little reason to live, something just for herself," Hans said.

"Don't slick her too much," Rex said. "Keep her lean and hungry."

Hans shook his head ruefully. "Got to ration my blessings," he said. "I only have so much to be generous with."

Rex and Hans walked along the corridor. Ariel watched Martin for a moment and saw the anger on his face. "You didn't know?" she asked, astonished. "He coached her, Martin. He's been whispering in her ear for days."

His eyes filled and he wiped them. He turned to stamp into another corridor, away from the cafeteria.

Ariel followed. "I'm sorry!" she said. "I assumed you knew! It was so obvious…"

"What was obvious?" Martin asked, still fleeing.

"He was turning Rosa, directing her to shore up the Job. Otherwise she could tear us apart. He thinks—"

"Thinks what?" Martin asked, stopping at the join to the neck. A ladder field appeared and he gripped it with his hand, preparing to descend.

Ariel caught up with him, still astonished by his naïveté. She dropped her voice, murmuring as if embarrassed. "Hans is very smart. He sees that this vision can help him control the crew. He told us so. Remember?"

"Yeah?" The word came out loud and harsh.

"She's warm and cozy in his arms. He says something, you know, about the Job, and our relation to God, something like that. She's happy, she's flattered. She's never been an ascetic by choice. She listens. She goes his way." Ariel spread her arms, eyes narrow, puzzled. "So for him, everything's great."

Martin felt like hitting out, and he went so far as to clench his fist. "Why are you following me?" he shouted. "Why don't you just stay the hell away from me?"

"Hans is dangerous," Ariel said in a conspiratorial, husky voice. "He's hollow inside, and the more he settles in, the hollower he gets. He thinks the Wendys are cattle. He thinks we're all cattle."

"Crap," Martin said.