Faring Soul - Science Fiction Romance (14 page)

Her laughter escaped before she could
censor it. “I’m surprised you don’t know to the year,” she told
him. “Isn’t Glave and his descendants one of the subjects taught in
your graduate schools?”

“Then you
are
his
descendant?”

“So they tell me.” She couldn’t help
smiling at the memory. “My ninety-six percent genetic familiarity
meant I could get away with far more than the other kids in the
crèche. I think they were afraid I’d be damaged if they applied to
much pressure.”

“Physical pressure?” Bedivere asked
curiously, although he knew more of her background than anyone
still alive.

“Both. Although they weren’t above
manipulating the truth to keep me compliant.”

“They?” Lilly asked. “You were College
raised?”

“The College wasn’t around when I was a
child,” Catherine said frankly. “It was created about a hundred
years later. But children were already being raised by the
Faithful, even then.” She gave a shrug. This was all such very old
history. “Glave was reacting to the world he lived in. He could see
the social demographics, the pattern that said humans were killing
themselves. So he preached a course that would save them and he
believed in it so strongly, that he fought twelve wars to make his
point. Brant, you know this better than I. Glave is the cornerstone
of your religion.”

Brant nodded. “Twelve wars, then he was
betrayed by his wife and the Federation—or what would become the
Federation—assassinated him. But still the galaxy we knew refused
to listen. Glave was the defeated, after all.”

“And no one knows if he really existed,
anyway,” Bedivere added.

Brant looked offended.

“There is no definitive proof at all,”
Bedivere maintained. “No official records, nothing.”

“That’s because during the Decline,
data was lost. Colonies were lost. Hell, whole sections of the
Galaxy were cut off from each other, as the population shrank down
to next to nothing.”

Bedivere nodded. “So proof that Glave
exists is all second-hand reporting and interpretation of
second-hand and third-hand verbal reports the writer maintains was
told to him by a reliable source. But the scholars have debunked
nearly every report.”

Brant looked ready to clout him.

“Wait, wait,” Lilly said. She looked at
Catherine. “How do they know you’re compliant with Glave’s genes,
if they can’t even prove he existed?”

“They’re relying on the same
second-hand records the scholars are,” Catherine said evenly.
“Someone told someone who cared, a long time ago, that a particular
DNA pattern was Glave’s.” She shrugged.

“So…you could be the descendant of
anyone?” Lilly asked.

“Except that a lot of people in a lot
of positions of power think otherwise,” Bedivere said. “They have
too much to lose by admitting they could have it wrong.”

“I didn’t learn
any
of this in
school,” Lilly muttered.

“And that is why the Federation want
you so much?” Brant asked. “Because you have a DNA pattern that
closely matches someone they can’t even prove exists?”

“You’re part of those people,”
Catherine reminded him.

“And they taught me to question
everything, including my own faith,” Brant shot back.

“Very liberal of them, considering The
Staff of Ammon enforcers are Crusaders in disguise,” Bedivere said.
Then he considered. “Actually, they’re not even disguised all that
much.”

“Crusaders…?” Lilly echoed, as Brant
laughed hard and long.

Brant coughed and came up for air.
“Ancient Terran history,” he told Lilly. “Crusaders were an army
that enforced one of the dominant religions of the time. They
killed everything that didn’t agree with them and convert to their
religion.”

“And you’re laughing about it?” Lilly
asked, bewildered.

Brant nodded, still smiling. “Because
he’s right.” His smile faded. “That’s exactly what Staffers do.
That’s why I left.”

Lilly was frowning, absorbing it all.
“No, really,” she insisted. “That’s why the Federation wants you so
much? Because you
might
be related to someone who
might
have existed?”

“It doesn’t matter if he existed or
not,” Catherine said patiently. “He represents an idea…and an
ideal, too. It’s the idea that has power, Lilly. It’s the idea that
Cadfael College was built upon. The Staff of Ammon, too. It was the
idea that formed the Church of the Faithful of Mortal Divination
and has shaped the way we live even now, almost three thousand
years later. And no one is disputing that the idea saved humanity
from the Decline and the Interregnum. We wouldn’t be here without
it. So the idea that humanity is worth saving, that children are
the most important thing we can do to help humans survive…that is
why people get so fussed about my possible ancestor.”

“They don’t fuss about you. They try to
capture you. Why?” Lilly demanded.

Catherine sighed. She caught Bedivere’s
sympathetic gaze. He knew why she didn’t want to answer the
question, even though she had agreed to let them ask whatever they
wanted.

She side-stepped, giving herself time.
“The Federation themselves want me because just my name alone
causes civil strife. There are people who believe so strongly in
Glave and his ideals that my presence causes them to question
everything around them. If the descendent of Glave is here among
us, they think, then we must be as degenerate as the humans he
fought against and there must be a purging, just as the Staff of
Ammon was razed and humanity was washed clean of all that was
foul.”

“You’re an idea, too,” Lilly said
softly. Her eyes gleamed.

“Yes.” Catherine smiled at her. “I
remind them of the idea. Then there are the ones who object to
their cities and worlds being cleansed in any way. They would
rather the status quo be preserved, so naturally, they appeal to
the Federation to help them preserve it.” She shrugged. “I am
unwelcome as myself no matter where I go. So I rarely go among
anyone as Catherine Shahrazad anymore.”

Brant tilted his head. “Who else wants
you?” he asked. “You said ‘The Federation themselves want me,”
which implies someone else does, too.”

Catherine sat up and gathered together
the empty plates and cups. “Cadfael College,” she said shortly.

“The
College
?” Lilly said,
sounding winded. “But…why?”

“Her mythical DNA,” Bedivere said
softly.

Catherine swallowed, keeping her eyes
down.

The silence made her look up. Lilly was
staring at her, puzzled. Brant was simply watching her. Bedivere
was the only one with any warmth in his expression.

“I don’t understand,” Lilly said
softly. “I’m trying to see the other side, I really am. But why
would the college want you personally? They could access any of
your off-spring, if they really wanted viable DNA…” Her expression
was bewildered.

Catherine made herself say the words.
“I don’t have any children.”

Lilly’s mouth dropped open and Brant’s
eyes narrowed.

“
None
?” Lilly asked softly.

“It wasn’t my choice,” Catherine
said.

“None at all?” Lilly repeated. Her eyes
were filled with unshed tears.

“I bore a child, but not to term.”
Catherine sighed again. “It was a monster. It would not have lived
even if I had managed to bear it to full term. Later, the proctors
told me they suspected this might happen, but that sometimes life
surprised them, so they had wanted to find out. To experiment.” Her
mouth turned down at the bad taste. “Then they explained that I
would never be able to conceive a viable baby.”

Brant gave a soft sigh and looked up at
the sky. “
Now
it all makes sense.”

“I’m glad that makes you happy,”
Catherine said dryly.

“It doesn’t,” Brant said flatly. “My
heart aches for you in this. But now I know the truth, it explains
so much…”

“Yes,” Lilly whispered and wiped her
eyes.

“You asked,” Catherine reminded them.
The sunlight was glittering harshly, making her blink. Her
discomfort made her want to squirm. “Don’t forget, you still work
for me,” she added, as the brightness intensified in the corner of
her eye. She turned to see what was reflecting so sharply in the
midday sun and saw the silver streak heading toward them, winding
its way through the thin, crisp air, leaving a trail behind it that
stretched back to the crest of the mountains.

She scrambled to her feet.
“
Incoming
!” she shouted.

Both Brant and Lilly looked around.

Bedivere threw himself forward, his arm
out. Catherine wondered what he was doing, then his arm took her
out at the knees and she toppled to the ground, landing heavily.
Bedivere pushed upward with both arms and threw himself on top of
her. His arms came around her head and he dropped his upper body
down so that her head and chest were completely enclosed.

Surprise was the only emotion that
occurred to her.

Then the ground shook and the air
throbbed in her ears as the blight bomb exploded.

“The ship! The ship!” she screamed,
struggling to get out from under Bedivere, who was lying with the
weight of solid rock on top of her. Fear was short-circuiting her
thoughts. She shoved and wriggled, gasping, almost moaning at the
rich, coppery panic flooding her.

Then Bedivere rolled to one side, out
of her way, looking beyond her head toward the ship.

Catherine pushed herself up into a
sitting position and twisted around to look at the ship, as Brant
and Lilly picked themselves up. She was expecting to see metal
ruins and burning remains, but the ship hovered fifty meters above
the ground and the grass beneath was blackened and smoking. As she
looked, the pulsing sound of the engines reached her.

She looked at Bedivere, astonishment
rising above the fear still running freely in her veins. Bedivere
was watching the ship. Concentrating on it. He was controlling it
through the mesh tether.

“Fed drones!” Brant cried, making
Catherine jerk back around to look. From the same direction the
blight bomb had come were dozens of black and red vaguely human
figures. They were Federation fighters in their enhanced armor and
they could cover kilometers in seconds. They were heading their
way.

“Everyone, to the ship. Now!” Catherine
cried. “Bedivere, bring it closer!”

The ship immediately dipped and moved
toward them across the valley. The throbbing pulse of the engines
grew louder.

Lilly was already sprinting and Brant
broke into a loping run that covered the ground faster than
Lilly.

Catherine grabbed Bedivere’s sleeve and
tugged.

“Concentrating,” he whispered.

She nodded, even though he wouldn’t see
it. “Just put your feet forward. I’ll steer.” She kept a grip on
his sleeve and led him as he hurried forward, his gaze far-seeing
and unfocused.

The ship slipped across the meadowy
grass, flattening it. It hovered as Lilly reached it. Lilly threw
herself up onto the edge of the ramp, which was a meter above the
ground.

Catherine looked over her shoulder as
Brant reached the ramp and turned to wave them on. The leading
drones were close. If they had managed to destroy the ship, then
there would be no chance of out-running them.

One of the leading drones dropped to
one knee, his arm lifting. Catherine didn’t know what he had for
weapons, but the posture was telling. She yanked on Bedivere’s arm.
“Get out of the way!” she screamed.

The ship jerked sideways and upward, a
maneuver that would not have been possible if it had been any other
pilot. The explosive roared underneath the belly of the ship,
missing by mere centimeters. Brant and Lilly clung to the ramp
support struts and hydraulic legs, thrown about by the sharp
movement.

Then the ship slipped toward them and
came to a halt a few steps away.

“Hurry!” Brant called and held out his
arm.

Lilly copied him.

Catherine threw herself forward,
gripped Lilly’s arm and hauled herself up onto the edge of the
ramp. She could see from the corner of her eye that Brant was
dragging Bedivere on by gripping his clothes and yanking like
Bedivere was a sack of rocks. Having been underneath him, she knew
exactly how heavy he was.

As soon as their feet left the ground
and their bodyweight was more-or-less on the ramp, the ship lifted
upward at a dizzying rate, while also pushing forward, heading out
of the valley and away from the point of attack.

“Watch for Fed ships!” Catherine yelled
at Bedivere as he rolled fully onto the ramp, as Brant gripped an
arm and a trouser leg and held on.

The ramp closed and the screaming throb
of the engines and the building wind cut out. Bedivere scrambled to
his feet. “Two carriers coming in,” he muttered and ran for the
hatch that was closest to the flight deck.

Catherine took off running after
him.

“What do I do?” Brant yelled after
her.

“Weapons console!” she yelled back.

It took Brant five minutes to figure out
where the weapons console was. Lilly leaned over from her own
boards, slapped the switch that changed out the back-up system
feeds for the weapons controls and by that time, they were out of
the atmosphere and the two Federation troop carriers were in their
field of sight.

“Carriers,” Bedivere murmured. “We can
out-run them.”

“Then to the gate and let’s get out of
here. Straight to Drusiss, Bedivere. I’m tired of running
scared.”

He nodded.

Catherine turned to look at Brant, who
was frowning his way through the controls. “You guard our rear,”
she told him.

“Done,” he said flatly.

“Lilly, we’re jumping in…” She looked
at Bedivere.