Distant Thunders (34 page)

Chack looked at Safir and caressed her furry cheek. They’d made no announcement at Aryaal after all. They hadn’t had the heart. No one felt much like celebrating the reconquest of Aryaal and B’mbaado. “Do not fear, my love. I shall see you at Sing-aapore.”

Matt looked at Jenks. “Commodore, if you’d care to dine with me, I’d appreciate it. Juan?” he called, summoning the Filipino who always hovered nearby, “if he has no objection, please escort Commodore Jenks to my quarters. I’ll be along directly.”

Knowing he was being dismissed, but not resenting it—he
wasn’t
a member of the Alliance, after all—Jenks bowed and went with Juan.

Matt turned to Jim. “Take O’Casey with you. I think he’s a good guy and he might be a help. Besides, I expect to be spending a lot of time with Commodore Jenks over the next few weeks, and O’Casey needs a break. He can’t keep hiding forever.”

O
ne of the changes Adar had made during the reconstruction of Nakja-Mur’s Great Hall (he still had difficulty considering it
his
Great Hall) was the addition of a number of separate chambers. Some of these were offices, such as the War Room, which was usually occupied by Matt when he was present. Letts had a small office of his own as well. There was also a conference room large enough to accommodate a fair number of attendees while still being relatively cozy. He’d been inspired in this by Keje. In Keje’s case, the chamber on
Salissa
wasn’t partitioned, but he often had informal, intimate meetings around a simple wooden table supplied with crude stools. In Adar’s conference room, the table was bigger of necessity, and there were more stools, but there were also a number of the more traditional cushions for guests to lounge upon. The somewhat uncomfortable stools tended to keep those present awake and relatively alert, but Adar had discovered that often, people he met with needed to contribute only brief reports or accounts. There was no reason for them to suffer while others hashed things out. Many times, for example, he’d watched an exhausted Ben Mallory fall fast asleep on a comfortable cushion while Captain Reddy and the members of his battle line discussed the ramifications of his aerial observations.

Mallory wasn’t here for this discussion. Those present were essentially the same ones he and Alan discussed inviting earlier, with the exception of Keje, whom Adar had asked to attend as well. Most of them—Letts, Sister Audry, Rebecca, Sandra, and Keje—joined Adar on stools around the table. Only Spanky and Courtney took advantage of the cushions. Spanky was exhausted after his perpetual “watch-on-watches,” and claimed to be only marginally Catholic anyway. Adar got the impression he didn’t know why he was there. Courtney was fascinated by the looming discussion, but he always accepted a cushion (and the beer he preferred over seep) when the occasion allowed.

Adar had secretly hoped Alan Letts would start things off, but for once, the light-skinned officer waited for Adar to begin. “Well,” he said at last. “I suppose we must hammer things out, as you Amer-i-caans so aptly phrase it. Mr. Letts and I have long planned what he calls an economic discussion, but there appears to be a more pressing matter before us. The economic discussion will . . .
must
happen, I’m sure, but it need not require the presence of some of you. What we must fashion this evening is some sort of accommodation between what appears to be a growing spiritual factionalism.” He blinked at Sister Audry.

“I have long enjoyed our brief discussions concerning your faith and how it may have . . . influenced ours historically, but until recently I presumed you understood my fears that openly revealing that faith might contribute to a schism of some kind among our people—right when our growing unity is our greatest advantage. Aryaalans, B’mbaadans, and even Sularans hold substantially different beliefs from most sea folk, and even the People of Baalkpan, yet those differences are primarily matters of interpretation. The fundamental belief system is quite similar. We all revere the Sun and the Heavens, even if we place slightly different emphasis on one or the other, and our understandings of our lives beyond this one are somewhat different as well. Still, the differences are little more profound than the color of our fur. My dear Sister Audry, the differences you preach are far more profound—and potentially more corrosive to the mutual trust and understanding my people have achieved.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Sister Audry replied in her strangely accented English.

“Of course you do,” Adar remonstrated gently. “I consider you a personal friend, and I thought we had an understanding. You assured me you would do nothing to undermine the solidity of the Alliance during this time of trial.”

“I have not!” Sister Audry declared. She sighed. “My order is not given to radicalism. It is not even much given to aggressive evangelism. I come from a place that was mostly Mohammadan, after all. Immoderation of speech is not our . . .
my
way, except when it pertains to intellectual works and teaching.”

“And yet your ‘teachings’ have gained a number of converts to your faith,” Adar stated as fact. “Ordinarily, I would not concern myself. I cannot dictate faith . . . and I find myself curiously drawn to some of what you say myself. Much requires reconciliation, but it was my understanding that
you
understood our position and would allow me time to consider the merits of our . . . discussions, and decide how best to proceed with that reconciliation. These converts of yours have begun to be noticed, performing unusual rites. Rites that might be misunderstood. That which is strange and poorly understood can bring persecution and factionalism.”

“It has not been my intention to abuse your trust, Mr. Chairman. I do what I may for the good of the people and you have my ungrudging obedience. But when people
ask
about the true faith, I must tell them. I cannot
lie
!”

“But there we have our difficulty.” Adar drummed his fingers on the wooden tabletop. “Here in Baalkpan we have our own ‘true faith.’ It may be observed in different ways, but its basic tenets are a source of unity. You preach an entirely different true faith, and that creates doubt and possibly disunity. At this critical time, I fear your revelations.”

“What if it’s not really a different true faith,” Sandra said slowly. “I’m not Catholic. I was raised Presbyterian, but Sister Audry believes much the same as I do. Only the practices are essentially different. Even among your people, there’s a single Maker of All Things. I know many of your people believe He is personified by the Sun, and I guess that’s understandable. First, there was apparently some misunderstanding passed down from the original tail-less ones, in which your people interpreted the ‘Son’ to mean the ‘Sun.’ ” Also, even among my people, the sun—as the most impressive object in the heavens and the most obvious life-giving object visible above all things—is often venerated as the embodiment of the Maker. But generally, we believe the Maker, or God, is all-powerful, and as such, He made the sun as well. Why would that concept be so difficult for your people to grasp?”

“Yeah,” said Spanky, rousing slightly. “As I said, I’m a little backslid, but I always figured if God
wanted
to be the sun for a while, nobody’s going to tell Him He can’t. Basically, we’re talking a God with even greater powers than some of your folks have ever given him credit for. I like to think, if we can keep Him on our side in this war, the bigger and more powerful He is, the better. Think about it like this: if Sister Audry’s right about her interpretation of this probably same Maker of All Things, maybe you shouldn’t alienate Him by making her shut her trap. Maybe you should think more, not less, about incorporating her teachings and reconciling things
now
before He throws up his hands and leaves us on our own.”

“Cover all our bases, is that what you mean?” demanded Letts.

Spanky shrugged. “Why not? No atheists in trenches—or engine rooms—when somebody’s trying to shoot holes in them. What are you all worked up about, anyway?”

“I was always kind of a Mormon,” Letts confessed.

“Jeez!”

“See what I mean?”

“What?”

Courtney finished his beer and belched politely. “The problem, Mr. McFarlane, is that there are at least as many different versions of Christianity as there are versions of the various Lemurian faiths. I won’t even go into Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism. . . .” He shook his head. “For Catholicism to be the sole representative of human religion on this world might cause some dissent from our very own human ranks!”

Sister Audry glared at Courtney. “I’m sure I don’t understand why
you
are even
here
, Mr. Bradford! I gather you are a Darwinist, and little I can imagine could be more corrosive to spiritual unity than the teachings you espouse—that you regularly, openly
engage
in!”

Courtney goggled at the nun. The sudden attack against him came as a complete surprise. He’d expected to have little participation in the discussion—thus the beer—and had accepted the invitation more out of curiosity than any other reason. He had to remind himself that Sister Audry really didn’t know him well. “My dear sister,” he began, imposing a moderate tone. “I am a Darwinist, as you put it, through evidentiary discovery and understanding,
not
faith. In faith, I do not recognize even you as my superior!” He glanced at Adar and raised a brow. “One of the discoveries, or rather rediscoveries, I’ve made since coming to your world is that I too am quite the Christian!”

“How utterly preposterous!” scoffed the nun. “How can one possibly be both an evolutionist and a Christian?”

“Quite comfortably and compatibly, I assure you,” Courtney said. “In fact, I invariably find the one position complements the other! Even before I came to this fascinating world, I witnessed—
witnessed
, my dear—the endless, unstoppable force of evolution at work on a daily basis. In all of that, I saw the direction of the very hand of God”—he glanced at Adar again—“or the Maker of All Things.” He looked back at Sister Audry. “How do
you
define evolution? I define it as physical and behavioral adaptation to any given species’ environment or situation. Behavior can adapt quite rapidly. You have adapted somewhat to your circumstances here, have you not? Physical adaptations take more time, and there, I think—if you’ll pardon the expression—is the rub between us. Particularly in respect to how those physical adaptations may have been manifested in humanity.”

Sister Audry jerked a nod, and Courtney drew himself up on his cushion. “Personally, I do not believe I am evolved from an ape, although I am relatively certain my ex-wife’s father was. Such a hairy, bestial, primitive . . . !” He shook his head. “In any event, I don’t see that it matters. Why limit God’s imagination? I believe He, like any master architect, would perceive the sundry ways in which His various creations might be better formed to suit their conditions. By His hand, those adaptations would begin!”

“Now you sound dangerously like a Freemason! With your notions of an architect!” Sister Audry scowled. The expression looked out of place on her pleasant features.

“In point of fact . . .” Courtney began.

With a look of horror, Sister Audry clutched the silver crucifix between her breasts as if a serpent had been revealed in their midst.

Courtney sighed. “You were undoubtedly taught and sincerely believe that man was made in the image of God. I must pose you some difficult questions: What
is
man? Are we upright apes like my former father-in-law, or are we sentient, spiritual beings capable of comprehending and returning the love of our Maker? What is the image of God? Is it the black one? The red? The brown, yellow . . . or just the white?” He nodded at Adar. “Or might He be covered in fur? You yourself observed no physical disqualification for salvation when you went among the Javanese and Malays to do His work! You continue it here. Does God have a tail? I submit that God is without form—or is of
any
form He chooses! The only ‘image’ we need concern ourselves with is the spiritual one!”

“But . . . you claim to be a Christian! How can that be? I grant you might be a deist, or some other species of heathen, but how can you claim yourself a Christian?”

“The same way you do, my dear: I have heard and believe the Word. But the Lord Jesus Christ, our
spiritual savior
, appeared only briefly, and his teachings and works were immediately known to but a very few. It was up to others, like yourself ultimately, to spread the knowledge of those works and teachings about. Certainly you don’t believe that all those throughout the centuries who lived and died in ignorance of the Word are damned? The loving God I worship would not make beings such as we only to have them suffer such an automatic fate!”

Courtney shrugged, somewhat apologetically. He wasn’t much given to proselytizing, or even to sharing his own beliefs so freely. “Perhaps that is your purpose here, my dear,” he said more softly. “Your destiny, as it were. But do not reject the possibility that our savior might have come to this place already. If God is capable of creating other worlds such as this, as I certainly
believe
He is, as I believe He is
capable of anything
, perhaps he will send or has already sent his son here as well.”

“I don’t see the problem,” Keje grumbled, surprising everyone. “As I understand it, as Captain Reddy has explained it to me, this Christianity is just another path, another tack sailed to the same destination, to join the Maker of All Things in the Heavens, is it not?” Reluctantly, even Sister Audry nodded. “Chairman Adar is correct that all those who follow such different paths have put their differences aside, for now, at least, to work for the common good—our very survival. Yet, in his wisdom, he has not prevented the priests of Aryaal or B’mbaado or even Sular from ministering to those souls they tend. Why should Sister Audry be different? Her practices are strange, but to me, so are those of the other priests I mentioned. It seems that a simple statement by Adar that her path is yet another, different one leading to the same place should be sufficient to prevent this persecution he fears. And so what if a few people convert?”