by Brett Bam
Dalys matched velocities with the station and slid slowly between those steel teeth and into their designated berth with a last desperate wheeze. Docking clamps took hold of the hull and routine maintenance feeds snaked through the vacuum to interface with the Ribbontail’s terminals. Dalys felt a weight lift as control of the ship passed over to the asteroid. Air, power and water from the station poured into the ship. Other pipelines carried waste and refuse away, cleaning her bowels. The routine of the docking procedure kept the crew bustling around the RHS, furiously attempting to complete their chores as fast as possible. There was a muted excitement thrilling through all of them. After so long spent cooped up in the confines of the ship, the luxuries and temptations of the vast asteroid were intensely compelling and they were all impatient to disembark and begin their exploration. Dalys felt a guilty pleasure at the thought of simply walking away from the wounded vessel for a while. She was going to get drunk and eat something fresh cooked by a professional. She wanted to be a predator for a night and hunt some young man with no clue and lots of energy. The size of the job of work which would be waiting for her when she got back was a burden she didn’t want to acknowledge just yet. It could wait a while.
Dalys did have a comprehensive insurance policy which could cover the astronomical expenses of the repair, but it was up to the Gamaridians to honour it. With the millions of refugees moving this way, the authorities would soon be bankrupt if they simply financed every person who came through. People moved from place to place with relative ease in this modern age. Economics, disaster and politics meant human populations surged from one end of the solar system to the other. Mars’ orbital path and the constant war it carried caused many billions of people to flee a given area once every Martian year. Humanity was well practised at being refugees, and economies and corporations were well versed in the delicacies of refugee dynamics. Dalys and the Ribbontail had money supporting them from Saturn and that placed them in a different demographic entirely. They wouldn’t be classed as refugees, more like stricken tourists. And what a place to be stuck. The Gamaridian Group was an oasis in a desert. It was a large cosmopolitan city, home to the rich and famous. Its history was long and it was a well defended establishment in space. It had a representative in a seat on the Jovian Senate and was a well-respected member of the Community of Man. Most notably, it was the home of the Church of the Consumption and the People’s Pope.
There were millions of prospectors in near space who depended on the Gamaridian Group for survival. They would wonder near and far through the rocks searching for their fortunes and return to the asteroid cluster to replenish and refuel. The cluster was a distribution centre, a hub of activity and it dominated a wide swath of the Belt.
There were enough facilities here to build a ship like the Ribbontail from scratch which meant it would be able to replace the components they needed, if Dalys could persuade the authorities to accept her insurance claim.
Oscar had been talking softly into the comm set for ages, and when Dalys looked at his activity log she saw that he had exchanged a large amount of data with the Defence Service on the asteroid.
“Oscar what are you doing?”
“Downloading some stuff Skipper.”
He turned casually to look at her and caught her withering stare. He shrunk into his couch.
“Oh, sorry Skipper. I used to work in customs back home so I know what these guys want to hear. I’m just taking care of a lot of red tape by quickly talking the lingo they understand. I’ve managed to upgrade our berth to a dock further along the rim, which is as close to the repair depots as I can get us. I have applied for several quotes for the refit based on the list of damages I compiled on the flight in. I’ve downloaded a bunch of entertainment packages, it’s best to do that now before they catch on and start charging per terabyte. Also, I’ve sent a request for services to your insurance broker, who has a representative on this rock, so hopefully you’ll get an answer sooner rather than later. And here comes the call from the docking authority I’ve been waiting for.”
As he spoke her anger and suspicion melted away and she found herself amazed as the details of his activities appeared on her displays. He had been really busy. Most of the responsibilities of the docking procedures were bureaucratic and annoying, but he’d taken care of the bulk of it. And she would never have thought of the entertainment packages until they were getting ready to leave. “Very good, carry on."
Oscar squirted the docking call to her and she answered it.
“Ribbontail, welcome to Gamaridia.” The accent was short and clipped and the speaker had a lilting tone which had an interesting rhythm. “Your identity has been processed and cleared for a maximum two month stay. After this time period has elapsed it will be necessary to reapply for a visa.” The man sounded bored and completely unconcern. “Please read the rules and regulations carefully and forward any questions to the relevant authority, contact details have been provided. It is also standard procedure to attend a safety briefing and city orientation before you will be allowed into the main chamber. Captain Xristian, the Gamaridian Asteroid Security Department have some questions for you concerning the occurrences on Earth and the state of your ship. Please contact Agent Sherizad of the Gamaridian Asteroid Security Department to schedule an interview as soon as possible. Thank you for your time, that is all.”
“Oscar, please contact the Otherc for me, person to person for Captain Jabesh.”
Jabesh’s dark features filled Dalys’ data display and she smiled at him. He was wearing the military uniform of the Gamaridian Navy and he was very formal in his communications as always.
“Thank you sincerely for all your help Ronid, I hope you never need me to return the favour.”
“It has been the pleasure of Gamaridia to aid you in your difficulty.”
“Buy you a drink?”
“Ah, a fine offer Captain, but I am afraid it will have to be some other time. I’m going back to Earth to see what aid we can render. Luna has been turned into a refugee camp and there are plenty of ships in trouble between here and there. It’s important to relieve the pressure there soon. Gamaridia is currently well located to help and the disaster has raised the attention of the Community of Man. I have my orders.”
Dalys stood and saluted the Captain of the Otherc. He stood and returned the salute smartly.
“Stay safe Captain.”
“May your dearly departed bless you and smile upon you, Captain Xristian.”
“And yours upon you.” she finished the ritual.
Jabesh signed off and his image vanished.
Moabi stood and stretched massively. “It feels so good to be back in real gravity.”
The rest of the crew were emerging from their couches, Curtis stepped onto the RHS.
“So, what’s the plan people? We going to a bar or what?”
“We’re going to a Consumption Ceremony.” said Jack Mac.
“You want us to go to church?” scoffed Moabi.
“Yes, for Berea, I… yes.”
“We can't all go.” said Dalys flatly. “I’m sorry Jack. The boy needs monitoring, Curtis has to stay.”
After their short induction, Dalys, Jack Mac, Moabi and Oscar travelled from the central docking spindle down to the asteroid floor in an elevator that dropped through the metal maze of the endcap. While they descended, they gained weight as they matched velocity with the spin of the asteroid. It was a strange sensation, to gain weight slowly rather than suddenly under the Ribbontail’s hard acceleration. There were a few procedural delays as the GASD examined their personal identity signatures and confirmed them as safe to enter. For some unknown reason the agents shone a light in their eyes and examined their pupils closely before entrance was granted. The doors swished open and they stepped out onto a wide thoroughfare swarming with people. A busy road framed by thick glass barriers bordered the walkway. Smooth, sleek multi-coloured transport capsules zipped by in a blur. They looked around and followed neon signs directin
g them to a public taxi rank. It was a short wait before they boarded a flimsy looking taxi, which swivelled sideways into the traffic and accelerated smoothly on its magnetic rail.
Dalys fed their destination into its interface and relaxed into her seat. She wore her captains jacket, a fresh one printed only hours before. As she folded her legs she showed sheer white pants with a bold black stripe over the knees to her sealed boots. Her data glasses were dark, hiding her eyes and her hair was fluffy and curled. The look was more conservative than she was used to, but then they were going to church.
They were all dressed in white to show they were in mourning.
The taxi emerged from the docking bay interchange and they sped into the main chamber. The road they were moving along swept into the distance. The first thing that made an impression was the sheer size of the chamber. Its circular mass dwindled away to a far-off point, like a long tunnel with a light at the end. On either side the walls curved upwards covered in buildings, roads, traffic and greenery, which seemed to be perched at an insane angle, as if they should slide off in a landslide and engulf them. The ground arched and became the walls and eventually the roof as the eye followed the curve to the far away ceiling. Traffic and people moved in the city hanging precipitously overhead, comfortable in the centrifugal force of the spinning space rock. The asteroid cavern was a cylinder 20 kilometres across and 40 kilometres long which gave it a surface area of more than a thousand square kilometres, a truly massive living space by any standards. The Gamaridian citizens had filled every inch of that ground space over the 750 years of its construction. There was no single source of light in the sky. Instead the ambient light of the city combined to be as bright as a late summer sunset on old Earth. Dalys felt her gaze being pulled upwards as she took in the sweeping vista around and above her. She felt a moment of agoraphobia and dizziness as the space overwhelmed her.
The city stretched in all directions and the sky was filled with zip lines and balloons, stretching and floating between the tallest of the buildings. Each zip line was tethered to an intricate network of supporting pylons and way stations perched on the tops of spindly platforms. In the middle distance, further down the chamber, a large grouping of the tallest buildings clustered together, forming a nexus for all the buzzing activity, filling the cylinder like a row of teeth in a circular maw. Beyond the nexus was more city, but shrouded in misty obscurity.
Towards the centre of the cavern, directly up from anywhere in the interior, the gravity lessened as the spin slowed until there was a zone of zero gravity which ran down the centre of the cylindrical space. Because of the sharp gravity arc, the city builders had been able to make the buildings higher than they would have been otherwise. The tallest of them reached across the gap and descended to the ground on the opposite side. Smaller buildings filled the gaps between the larger ones, balconies and rooftops held gardens and fountains. Windows spilled light, and everywhere people thronged. Amongst the jagged architecture Dalys saw a sparkling network of roads, monorails and zip lines crawling with balloons, trains and bullet shaped cars. It was a sight she could sit and look at for hours, such a complexity of human endeavour and creativity. Millions of people filled the city and their daily activity brought it to life, giving it a vibrant, shifting appearance.
They were driving through a warehouse and manufacturing district placed near the docking endcap. On three sides of the cavern around her she could see refineries and factories and stark grey blocks of buildings that housed the many goods Gamaridia produced and traded. The road swept through the district and curved to the left to begin a long lazy spiral around the interior.
The warehouse district gave way to a wide variety of businesses and high density residential zones. It was a strange perspective. The detail of near did not eclipse the detail of the far. Instead, the landscape just kept going on, upward, rising and rising until it turned back on itself. Beyond the residential zones came a sprawling suburbia. Homes dotted a green background crisscrossed by roadways. Dalys could see a few small bodies of water linked by small threads of what appeared to be rivers winding sinuously. The rivers were surrounded by tree-filled parks and green fields of grass. The parks were used as recreational and sport zones, and Dalys could see people hitting and kicking balls and flying kites and walking pets and pushing prams. Beyond came a wide band of agricultural farms. Animals and crops shared the zone behind quaint wooden fences. Row upon row of crops zipped by, their straight horizontal lines hypnotic in their blurred passage. The motorway they were travelling on was raised above ground level and they looked down on the scene as the taxi swept them along. The agricultural sector slowly gave way to warehouses and then houses and then buildings until they looked up to the central city with its sawtooth profile dominating the central chamber. As they entered the city proper they were swallowed by deep canyons of glass and steel. Dalys looked up through the transparent roof of the taxi to see the buildings on the opposite side of the chamber pointing directly at her like spear points. At last the taxi slowed to a stop and the crew climbed out to find themselves in a square with a huge baroque church looming above them.
A Consumption Ceremony is a grand yet sombre occasion, and the cathedral of the Gamaridian Chapter of the Church of the Consumption was an extremely suitable building to host one. From the outside, it was plain and unadorned with a sharply pitched roof and the ubiquitous gargoyle ensconced bell tower. It sat adjacent to a public square which held some beautiful gardens. There was plenty of access for the public, train stations, balloon moorings and zip lines all converged on the far side of the square. The rest of the space was occupied by street side cafés, restaurants and bakeries.
The interior of the church was a surprise after the dark outer skin. It was rich and colourful, with lush red carpets and deeply coloured tapestries. Cold stone floors led to marble statues nestled in ornamental niches. Huge columns supported a pitched roof which was decorated with hand painted scenes from the holy histories of far off Earth. There were stained glass windows above the altar depicting various people touched by light or drenched in blood. A heavy marble carving, depicting men and women in various stages of life framed the altar and covered the walls on either side. The carvings at the base of the wall were ugly and disturbing, skeletons intertwined with the dead and dying, the sick and old. Statues in pain and struggling under the great weight of the carvings above. Then, higher on the wall, the figures were struggling upward, climbing free of the death and disease to become kneeling people, who in turn supported healthier figures reaching upwards, until finally, the depictions were of people who were euphoric and floating toward heaven, bathed in light and grace. The metaphorical growth of mankind. The sculptures dominated the altar at the back of the church. Light fell from above in soft orange beams, dust motes drifting idly through the only warmth in the vast room.
People floated around the large interior on buoyant pews positioned in tiers before the altar. The full congregation was present and seated when Dalys, Moabi, Jack Mac and Oscar entered. There were hundreds of people present and hushed inside the space, it was eerie. They sat on a softly cushioned pew which rose into the highest ranks in the back of the church and settled just in time for them to see Jeremiah Comfort emerge.
He was beautiful. His hair was short and darkly grey, kept neat and tidy. He had old eyes which seemed full of a cold wisdom, shrouded in terrible knowledge. His features were fine and chiselled and his complexion was deeply caramel. His mouth was wide and sensual, turned down slightly at the corners as if never disgraced by something as frivolous as a smile. He wore black robes which fell smoothly to his feet, topped off by a short, stiff, red collar. A glorious diamond-encrusted gold cross lay around his neck on an ornamental chain. It was the sign of his high office, the symbol of the power he wielded over the billions who followed this faith all across the system. He waited, silent for a moment, his face lifted to the light. When he spoke, it was softly and with a strange accent, his deep and sonorous vo
ice was captivating.
“Why has God done this to you?” his voice carried clean and crisp through the cathedral.
“Why does God do this to us? Why does he cause pain and suffering? Why does he allow the trauma of loss and grief?”
He looked at a woman in the front pew. The eye contact seemed to go through her like a static shock.
“Why did God let your mother die? Why would we come to His house to mourn for her? Are you angry child?” At this he stepped forward and her pew lowered to the ground. He crouched and took her hands in his. She looked down, unable to meet his gaze.
“Do you blame God for this loss?”
And though she said it quietly, in an almost whisper, it carried clearly through the cathedral and Dalys heard it as if the woman was seated next to her.
“No.”
Jeremiah Comfort smiled. “No, my child. Of course you don't.” He stood and moved away, her pew stayed on the ground. Dalys assumed that it was filled with the family of the dead woman whose funeral this was. Dalys and Jack Mac thought of Berea. Moabi sat stolidly, silent and dark.
“We don't blame God. We don't blame Life, Luck and Fate. We believe in Him. We believe that he can grant us succour after death. We believe that this mother is in a better place now. We come here to His house to ensure her entry to that heaven He has promised to us. To make the sacrifice we know He will need. God has always demanded blood from us. He has always demanded sacrifice from us. Be it the blood of an animal, or the blood of His own son, or the very blood in our own veins, God has always demanded blood. Blood from the start! And blood at the end! It is the way of this life. It is the most valuable thing we could give or take.”
The crowd murmured assent at this.
“Why do we worship a God like this? One who demands our very blood from us? Who takes our lives away before giving them back again? Well, He's God. So I tell you that this is not about God. This is about you and I, this is about people.” He stopped and gestured at the woman again. “This is about a mother and a daughter. We need this sacrifice to keep us faithful, to remind us of the debt we owe. The blood we give connects us to God, it is after all His before we live, and His after we pass on.” He still stood still as a statue, while his voice reverberated in the great space.