“We’ve got to believe that, if we believe full use of emerging human abilities is important,” declared Kira. “It can’t be confined to one small group indefinitely—if what we’ve gained is real, if it’s truly an aspect of evolution, it will affect our whole species.”
But not while we’re alive even if our colony thrives, thought Jesse. Will belief in a future we won’t live to see be enough to sustain us on a remote planet, cut off from the rest of civilization?
“Settling a new world will mean extreme hardship,” Peter warned, “in addition to the obvious danger.” But a trace of his old sparkle had come back; plainly, he was eager to go. It was the only possible salvation for him, Jesse saw. Not only had Peter shared this plan with Ian, but even apart from the problem of the tracking chips, he’d lost faith in the way of the past. He could no longer endure his role at the Hospital, not after what it had just demanded of him and might demand again. If he could not lead the Group to a new world, he would be unable to lead it at all.
It was clear that neither Ian nor Peter had possessed any real grasp of the hazards of the venture or the magnitude of the odds against its success. They had been as sure that a competent Captain could get them to a suitable destination as were the clients who might charter his seaplane! And, Jesse decided, he wouldn’t attempt to enlighten anyone beyond providing honest answers to questions. Any misgivings he might have, he would keep to himself. He owed the Group more than technical expertise. To its leaders, at least, he had become a symbol.
Somewhat reluctantly Peter turned to Jesse, saying, “It’s only fair to tell you that our hacker cleaned up your AWOL record, as well as a notation about off-duty drinking that had put a ceiling on your advancement. You’re now officially on leave. You could go back to Fleet if you wanted to. You might even be offered a promotion.”
“To hell with that,” Jesse said. “What would I want with a promotion in Fleet when I’ve been offered command of a colonizer?”
~ 56 ~
Silently, the people in the Lodge rose and joined hands in a ring around the fireplace. Their minds, too, joined—not for conscious communication, but wordlessly—and Jesse sensed that this was another of the occasions when you were supposed to pray, or not pray, in your own way. For the first time since childhood, he prayed. He was too much in awe at the turns of fortune not to.
After a pause Peter said, “We’re about to hold the most important gathering in the Group’s history. I asked as many members as possible to come to the Island, not only for Ian’s funeral, but because we need a quorum. A vote must be taken, although I don’t expect it to be close. After that, there’ll be no turning back. If there is any disagreement among you, let’s hear it now.”
No one spoke. “One more thing,” Peter continued. “At the conclusion of tonight’s ceremony, I will call on the Council—and you, Jesse—to renew our commitment in the Ritual. If we have not the strength to do so in this time of grief, we’re not fit to lead in the difficult days ahead.”
“You’re asking a lot of yourself, Peter,” Kira said. “Are you sure, considering the heavy stress you’ve been under this week and the unspeakable ordeal this morning—”
“Either I’m qualified to take Ian’s place, or I’m not,” Peter said. “We’ll find out, won’t we?”
Then Jesse knew that it was for Peter’s sake that they must do this, rather than for their own recommitment. It was he who needed renewal, and only the paranormal power engendered by the Ritual—magnified many times by the unusually large group assembled—could give it to him. Furthermore, only in this way could he establish himself as leader in the Group’s eyes. The others were already saddened by Ian’s death; when they heard the details on the morning news, they would be bewildered. They were being asked to leave their homes, the material comforts they had always known, for a perilous trip in space, a trip that would end in raw wilderness where survival would be uncertain. Those who knew Peter loved and trusted him; still the many not present at the last Ritual needed to see him in the role that had always been Ian’s.
And they also needed to see their Captain take part, Jesse realized. No doubt that was why his presence on the Island tonight had been considered important enough to justify the risk of tampering with the tracking system. The coming ordeal did not worry him. Against all hope he’d been given his life back—both lives! His new life with the Group, with Carla, and now his old life too, the youth when he’d dreamed of exploring new worlds in space. It was like being reborn. Any apprehension he might have felt about trusting his newly-healed hand to fire again was a small thing beside that.
They went out to the Lodge porch, where Peter, using a wireless microphone, said briefly, “We meet here tonight in sorrow and in joy. Sorrow not only for Ian’s passing, but for the fact that his body can’t be brought here to the Island he loved—cannot ever be buried in the sea.” A murmur of dismay arose from the listeners, but he continued without elaboration. “Joy for Jesse’s release from the destruction to which he had been condemned, and joy, too, in the hope he offers us for a better future. I will say more of this after the funeral ceremony.”
The Council members went to the water’s edge, where a boat had been prepared. They climbed aboard and beckoned to Jesse to join them, handing him an oar. As they pushed off into the gleaming bay, ripples caught the last light of the setting moon. On the beach behind them, the assembled people began to light candles.
It wasn’t necessary to go far when no body was to be buried; the anchor was dropped within voice range of the shore. Peter stood in the center of the boat, the others balancing its bow and stern. They too held candles, large ones fixed to buoyant bases, as had those who’d conducted the burial Jesse had observed. That had been the last night he’d been outside the Group—how many weeks ago? He was a different person now. It was hard to remember what being an outsider had felt like.
Peter began to speak words that even without the microphone would have carried across the water. They were formal, poetic words, which at points the others echoed, this ceremony evidently well-known and well-loved. Then, as the candles were put over the side to float away, the people on the shore began to sing. Peter’s voice rose over the rest, clear and strong, and Jesse caught enough of the lyrics to join the chorus:
May the radiance of candles we light now amidst our tears
Fuel the rising flame within us to be passed on through the years.
As the song drew to a close, he saw Kira was crying. He knew Carla would be crying too, as were many, and his own eyes were wet.
They rowed back to shore and left the boat, moving to a beach fire that had been kindled near it. The mourners crowded around. Illumined by firelight, Peter addressed the gathering, saying, “We are here to honor Ian and to grieve for him. Tomorrow you will hear news of him from the media, not all of which is true. You all knew Ian, so I’ll leave it to you to judge which part is true and which is not. For that which is true, you will weep. But know that Ian died as he did for a reason, so the falsehood you hear must not be contested. Say nothing in his defense to outsiders. Hold in your hearts the memory of what Ian was and what he stood for—and respect that memory by doing what he believed we must do, of which I’ll now tell you.”
Peter had been wise to put it to them at Ian’s funeral, Jesse thought—and not only for the practical reason of having a quorum. Though uncontested leader, he had no claim to their obedience. Not only must the plan be accepted by vote, but they all would have to go along with it; the Group was barely large enough to form a viable colony. They must be willing to embark on a hazardous journey. They must abandon their careers and whatever families they had among outsiders. Furthermore, they must give up amenities they had never questioned and somehow learn to survive on an alien planet, with no more equipment than a colonizer routinely carried. Women young enough would have to bear children—not just a few but many, to increase the colony’s population as rapidly as possible. Pledged to the Group though they were, i
t was a lot to ask of them, despite the coming restrictions they would face on Undine. Had they been given time to forget their emotional attachment to Ian, they might have been less easily convinced.
The people remained very quiet while Peter set forth the plan. Jesse could sense, however, what most were feeling. There was no doubt in them. Enthusiasm emerged triumphant over fear; many, after all, had long wished they could go into space. His friends had been fascinated by what he’d told them of it; he’d barely managed to make them stop talking about it when he wanted to forget Fleet. Now, he saw, it would be difficult to make them aware of the risks. And Peter did not seem to be trying very hard. Nor was he emphasizing the hardships—rather, he was using telepathic projection, as on the night of the firewalk, to make the venture seem pleasantly exciting. God, Jesse thought, am I right to go along with this without offering them fair warning?
The vote, taken by voice, was unanimous.
“We need one other vote,” Peter went on. “With Ian gone there is a vacancy on the Council. Normally it would be filled later by secret ballot. However, we are about to put our lives into the hands of Jesse Sanders. In view of this and in accord with Ian’s wish, I propose that he be elected to the Council now, by acclamation.”
Jesse had not anticipated this, but he saw that it was fitting if he was to command in space. No one offered any objection. Somewhat dazed, he found he had—in less than a day—awakened not only to freedom and renewed captaincy but to an immediate share in responsibility for the Group’s safety prior to departure. And departure might not be simple to arrange. The colonial government was unlikely to permit emigration; getting three hundred people onto a ship might prove even more difficult than hijacking it once they were aboard. He hoped he would prove equal to what was demanded of him.
“Relight your candles,” Peter said in the hush that followed. “I ask you all to join us now in the Ritual, as we of the Council renew our commitment.”
The five members took places before the fire, as equals rather than in the normal Ritual roles. There was already such heightened emotion among them, and among the onlookers, that no lengthy prelude would be needed. The upbeat Ritual music, amplified from the Lodge porch by remote control, was sufficient. Jesse felt himself slipping into altered consciousness, letting himself be overwhelmed by the feelings this day had stirred. Peter was right, he thought dreamily. This was a good time to do this. This was the climax they all needed.
Carla, in the front row of watchers, met his eyes and then his mind. She had recovered her balance and felt no fear for him, only love and pride. Peter, noticing, went to her and said, “Your strength too is needed, Carla. Will you be our torchbearer?”
She nodded assent, taking the unlit torch from him, and stepped forward, plunging it into the fire and then holding it steady, extended at waist level. Peter began the Ritual words: “Unfaced fear is the destroyer. We will acknowledge fear and accept it, we will go past it and live free. . . .”
The telepathic support of the onlookers was strong, tangible; Jesse found himself more sensitive to such projection than in the past. Perhaps, he now realized, he’d unconsciously perceived such support that last day in the Hospital, after he’d awakened from the dream. He knew that nothing could harm him while it continued. Into his mind came a vision of Ian . . . Ian, who had come to him telepathically when he most needed courage. Who had trusted him enough to die horribly so that he, Jesse, could take the Group to a new world. Ian: wise, unafraid, smiling—this vision was shared among them all. Each of them cherished the memory of casting aside fear when called on by Ian to touch fire. He too had done so with Ian, in the dream—just as he’d done it with Peter in reality and would now do it again. . . .
“. . . We are stewards of a flame that will illuminate future generations. And we now seal our commitment with the symbol of the mind’s power, which is fire.” Peter thrust his hand into the flame before them. Almost simultaneously, the others followed: Kira, Hari, Reiko and finally Jesse himself. The moment was removed from time, would hold for eternity, although in fact less than thirty seconds passed before the torch dropped and he was staring at his unburned fingers.
A collective sigh rose from the assembled people as they extinguished the candle flames they too had touched. The music faded. Friends crowded around Jesse again, congratulating him, questioning him about the trip to come. It was a long time before they drifted away. Alone on the dark beach with Carla, he looked up at the stars. He wondered to which of them he was heading.
Part Six
~ 57 ~
Jesse took Carla’s hand and together they walked toward the Lodge. “We’ve got to go at sunrise,” Carla said. “We’ll be leaving this place forever. Let’s take one more look inside, to keep in memory.”
They stood by the fireplace gazing into the embers, hearts full of all that was past, the joys and the griefs, wondering how it would seem to look back on from a new world. Peter found them there. “I’ve saved beds for you,” he said. “Best sleep while you can, since you’ll have to be up before dawn.”
They went with him to his private cottage, the one that had originally been Ian’s, which Kira was also sharing. All the cottages and bunkrooms were full, people were camping on the ground—but not, Jesse thought, in public view. Telepathic sensitivity was still so heightened that there could be no doubt this night about what most couples were doing. He wondered, briefly, if it was seemly so soon after a funeral; but it was, after all, symbolic of new life despite Undine’s suppression of that possibility. . . and life was what the Group affirmed. He decided that Ian would have approved.
Too high from the Ritual to sleep yet, the four of them talked in the cottage by lamplight. Jesse wished the night would go on and on. He wanted time to think, to absorb the momentous decisions of the past few hours, to hold Carla and not worry until tomorrow about his new responsibility. But there was no time. There were things he must say to Peter, because once he was gone from here it might be too late to say them.
“Peter,” he began, “you told me my outside perspective is valuable—”
“Yes, very much so. I wanted you on the Council even before Ian advised me to propose your election. To establish a new colony—even to escape from this one—we’ll need your courage and initiative, as well as your knowledge of Fleet policy.”
“I think you also need my offworld slant on reality,” Jesse said. “You remarked once that I’d seen too many action vids. But I’ve been on worlds where those vids aren’t far-fetched. You haven’t. Bad as the Med government is, there are things that don’t often happen here. There’s no violence to speak of. Kids prone to it are medicated, and the authorities stay on top without it, as a rule. But that doesn’t mean they won’t play rough when it serves their purpose. You say the Administration is responsible for the arsons—”
“Not collectively, except for stirring up public feeling. I suspect only Warick and whoever’s working for him was involved in setting the fires—which weren’t meant to harm anyone, at least not physically.”
“They were meant to reinforce political power over people, Peter.”
“Yes. Warick has an eye on the future; he intends to run for Administrator next year. Like the other Meds, he sincerely believes it’s in people’s best interests for their hearts to be monitored continuously. But he may envision more extensive use of the tracking data.”
“And he’s assumed the whistle-blowers, if any, could be labeled mentally ill. But you, Peter—he could hardly condemn you to treatment in your own psych ward. So what do you think he’s going to do about you?”
“I don’t see that there’s much he can do.”
“That’s where you’re mistaken. For starters, he can bug your office. You don’t really believe he’ll be held back by legalities such as doctor/patient privilege, do you? We were damned lucky he hadn’t bugged it by the time you gave me the truth serum. Carla told me you said my having to report to you every week as an outpatient will give us
a chance to discuss our plans in private. Forgive me, but I think that’s naive.”
Peter was silent. After a long pause he admitted, “I suppose it is.”
“Another thing. You are Ian’s heir, and Ian will be publicly denounced as a criminal. You think he won’t watch your every move, hoping to discover a connection he can exploit? Ian owned the Island, and now you do. A lot of people have been coming here regularly. He won’t wait for them to be microchipped before he puts it under surveillance.”
Both Carla and Kira were staring at him in horrified dismay. “Jesse’s right, Peter,” Kira said. “We’ve been blinded by our past success. We’re used to getting away with what’s called murder; we’ve assumed that as long as none of us were given truth serum, only the discovery of a body would bring about an investigation. But if someone wants to discredit you, that no longer holds.”
“They don’t need evidence of actual crime,” Jesse added. “Ian and I both admitted that we believed failure to prevent death isn’t always an evil. That goes against the premise that ensures public support for the Med government. If Warick could say you’re associated with others who share that belief, perhaps even without guessing that you really are, he could brand you as unreliable and throw you off the Hospital staff. So he will try to find something damaging in your private life. If his investigators look hard enough, they’ll succeed. They might even learn that you’re interested in the paranormal.”
“Oh, God,” said Carla. “They couldn’t have been spying on us tonight, could they? No planes came over, but the Ritual could have been seen from a boat.”
“What’s worse, you explained the whole plan for our future through a wireless mike. That could have been picked up from a boat if they had the right equipment.”
“I don’t think so,” Peter said. “The gathering might have been observed, but from a distance no one could guess what we were doing with the torch. A candlelight memorial for Ian at the lodge he owned would be considered natural. As for remote listening, the technology’s not been imported to Undine; there’s been no use for it. But Jesse’s point is well taken. There can be no more Rituals or firewalks here, and certainly not burials.”
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