She shrugged and took a seat against the bulkhead. This she’d done more than once before. Even so, it wasn’t totally pleasant.
Three bells sounded, followed by a pause, after which it suddenly felt as if she wasn’t holding on to anything at all but falling without physical reference points. The first time she’d experienced this, she almost lost her lunch, but now it was no big deal. There was a roaring, and then a flash. The lighting seemed to go out and then come right back on again. And that was it. Three bells sounded once more to indicate the all clear.
For the next two weeks it would generally feel like they were standing still inside a building on the planet’s surface. From this point on, until they returned to normal space, it was all automatic.
Angel decided to reemerge as herself and perhaps get some dinner in the public dining room before the mandatory ship’s briefing. Heads turned from the still milling group of passengers in their formal wear as she reentered the lounge, but it didn’t bother her. The odds were that few if any of the Terrans, at least, would even recognize her as the same woman who’d been there before.
They weren’t snickering, anyway. The one thing about anyone wearing clerical garb in a crowd of strangers, no matter what the various religions were, was that the cleric usually left the others feeling uncomfortable.
She bypassed onlookers and made for the small cafe entrance. A man and a woman were standing just inside, looking the cafe over, and both turned and gave her the usual facial reaction she got from strangers. She returned a professional smile, and felt very much more at ease with herself. “Please relax,” she told them. “I only try to convert people during business hours. I’m Sister Angel then. Now I’m just Angel Kobe, going to dinner.”
The ice was broken. “I am Ari Martinez,” the man responded in a pleasant voice, and looked at his companion, whom his gesture indicated was not his wife, or probably paramour, either. She was, however, quite a looker, Angel thought, one of those people with all the exotic features of a dozen races and colors and no dominant single one.
“I am Ming Dawn Palavri,” she introduced herself, smiling more nervously than the darkly handsome Martinez. “Please—won’t you join us? I do not think there are many in here at the moment and we’ll be shipmates for quite some time.”
“I…” Angel looked at Martinez, who betrayed no signals. “I shouldn’t like to impose or interrupt…”
“Not a problem,” Martinez assured her at last. “Ming and I are sort of in the same business.” He turned, and Angel was startled to see a formally dressed and quite officious-looking maitre d’. “There will be three for dinner now,” he told the majordomo.
“Very well. Please come this way,” the maitre d’ said in a thin, upper-crust voice, and led them to a quiet table, pulling out the chairs for each of them and lighting the atmospheric period lamp. He then put down three old-fashioned printed menus. “Your waiter will be with you shortly,” he told them, and left.
Angel was startled. “People just to seat you in a restaurant? Am I showing how primitive I’ve been living, or is this truly unusual?”
Ming laughed. “Not really. There are a number of worlds where it’s still the norm, but most of the expensive and classy places, and pretend classy places, are more like this. It’s actually all holographic. You could walk right through him if you really wanted to. It’s kind of pretend service over the usual automation.”
“I see,” she responded, somewhat disappointed. Not that she hadn’t had a lot of human table service, but it had usually been in dumps and in backwater situations where automation of this level, when available, was usually five years out of whack and in bad need of repair. Well, much of what was fun in this life was in the imagination.
The menus certainly felt real, and looked real. Hers seemed tailor-made for her own likes, dislikes, prohibitions, and requirements. No animal matter of any kind, synthetic or not, and a wide variety of veggie, rice, and sauce-heavy dishes including curries, with juices and herbal teas. Ari Martinez’s menu, while apparently identical, appeared from his ruminations aloud to be heavy on steaks and fine wines, while Ming’s seemed to have a lot of egg and seafood dishes and elaborate salads. Out of curiosity, after all three had put down their menus, Angel reached over, picked up Ming’s menu and looked through it.
It listed the same dishes as her menu had.
“Caught them in their little trick, huh?” Ming chuckled.
So even the menus were careful illusions. “In this kind of controlled atmosphere, it’s going to be next to impossible to figure out just who and what’s really there,” she responded.
“But that’s the trick,” Ari commented. “Magic shows are far more fun when they are so well done you cannot catch them working the show. The best way is to simply take everything at face value in an environment like this and just enjoy it. We’ll be back in the real universe soon enough.”
A waiter out of a classic movie took their orders, almost certainly a hologram as well, but as Ari had said, it didn’t matter.
“I can’t help noticing the winged cross on the hexagon,” Ming said to her, curious. “I am not familiar with this symbol. Might I ask the order?”
“I am of the Tannonites,” she told them. “It is a very Old Order denomination but it is not well known. It does not go back like so many to old Earth times, but evolved on Katenea, one of the early colonies. It is basically Christian, but there are elements of many ancient faiths in it as well, including some that are from other races. Our goal is to synthesize the One Truth out of the Many, and to do that we no longer have a home, as it were.”
“Sounds like you travel as much as we do,” Ari replied. “We’re management consultants. Not, I might add, from the same company, but we do basically the same thing. We go to the various enterprises our companies run that are having problems, and we try and determine what the cause of those problems might be and to find fixes for them. Nine out of ten times it winds up that we have to discover and weed out an incompetent or nest of incompetents somewhere in management.”
“Ninety out of a hundred,” Ming added. “And all but a tiny speck of the rest turn out to be downright crookedness. It’s quite a fascinating business, really. Sort of like being a detective, only the solution may be far different than simply discovering that it was the butler with the knife in the living room.”
“I should think it would be fascinating,” Angel responded.
“And not nearly so dangerous as tracking down genuine nasties.”
“Oh, we’ve had our share of nasties,” Ari assured her. “I would say that someone’s tried to push me off a balcony or crack me up or some such, oh, maybe on the average of once a year since I started. I think Ming’s average is similar.”
“About that,” she agreed. “The thing that saves you most times is that it always has to look like the perfect accident. Otherwise you’ll just get the real cops plus a lot more people like us showing up, and they’ll find the same thing and generally run down the bad guys. But, it is true, the real challenge is that they are often quite clever and will try and lead you to the wrong person or group or around in circles. Still, it beats sitting in an office somewhere.”
Maybe it did, but they sounded to Angel like two private detectives doing their job for money and the good life rather than out of a sense of service. Still, she wasn’t going to judge them. At least what they did resulted in good; mercenaries could have their uses.
As the food started to come, the conversation turned back to her.
“You say that your denomination has no home?” Ari asked, curious.
“Not anymore,” she told them. “We grew inward on our home world over the years, and very insular, cut off from the rest of society. That was not why God caused us to exist, and it did us very little good except to breed a kind of local colony that was in danger of straying or atrophying. God had no other way to kick us in the backside and get us into action on our true mission, so He caused our sun to go nova.�
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That was a meal stopper. “I beg your pardon?” Ming and Ari almost said as one.
“Oh, there were enough warning signs that we knew it was coming. The whole planet had to be evacuated. In a way, it was a shame, since it was quite rich and quite beautiful, but we would never have gone otherwise. This was long ago, you understand. Centuries. I have only seen the pictures, which are kept by the Elders. It was the Patriarch and Elders of that time who received from God the divine commission, and since then we have had no home. Wherever we are is our home, and we take with us that which we need. I was born on a far-off world inhabited by a race not unlike the Rithians, which is why I think I get along with them so well. When I was eight my birthmother sent me to the nearest convent for formal education. These are small affairs that are actually attached to space stations like the one we were just on. In fact, I just visited the Asswam sisterhood. That’s where I stayed until this ship arrived.”
“Funny. I’m in and out of space stations all the time, and I don’t remember ever seeing or hearing about one,” Ming commented.
“That is deliberate. We do not wish the convents to be known. They are primarily shut away from all other parts of the station, in strict seclusion. Only the Elder in charge and the Mother Supervisor deal with the station and maintain commerce and communication, as well as, of course, ones like me who pass through, and I cannot really interact with them, as anyone of the faith just visiting must take a vow of silence while inside to preserve the cloistered atmosphere for the students and permanent staff. I realize this must seem odd to you, but it is our way.”
“I hope you are not offended, but all religions seem odd to me,” Ming commented. “The more you see of the universe, the less you believe that there is anything but randomness out here.”
“You see no pattern? No wonder in its many forms and variations, its sheer complexities?”
“Pattern? No, I don’t think so. Galaxies spin away and crash into one another, stars go nova and wipe out whole worlds, and the range of creatures both sentient and not that could use a much better engineering design, including us, are legion. I live for the here and now, expecting nothing beyond. If I thought there was justice even, I might waver a bit, but I work for too many scoundrels as it is. Did you see that walking zombie Kincaid?”
Angel nodded. “Yes. A very tragic man. He hunts an ancient evil in the guise of a fellow creature, but because it is from vengeance, he usurps God’s role. What about you, Ari?”
The man gave a weak smile and shrugged. “I don’t know. I was raised Catholic, and, I suppose, I remain so, although not exactly in the best of graces. I keep wondering about some things, all those ancient dead worlds of long vanished civilizations we keep stumbling over. Who were they? Where did they go? Why and how did races that traveled through space millions or perhaps a billion years before anybody we know vanish so completely and so abruptly? I was talking with an archaeologist, and he said that the primary mystery civilization had been found across the entire galaxy at the least. We haven’t gone anywhere that we haven’t found their colonies, nor met a new race that didn’t already know them, if no better than we. My old Bible study teacher always was fond of noting that the book of Jeremiah, among others, talks of ancient civilizations and spacefaring angels that existed long before Adam was made. I am not so sure of the faith of my ancestors in a word-for-word fashion, I admit, but I am well aware that there are things of vast cosmic significance about which we know nothing. I lost my father a couple of years ago, and I like to think that he is still somewhere, beyond this sort of life. Call me someone reserving judgment, but with an open mind.”
The meal continued that way, quite pleasant from Angel’s point of view in spite of the lack of spirituality of her companions. There was some hope for Ari, no matter how material his life and attitudes were. Ming, well—none saw God unless they were called to do so, and like most people, Ming was spiritually deaf. Angel knew it was not her job to convert such people, only to find those who heard the call but had no clear idea which direction it was coming from. Converting the deaf ones was not only fruitless, it was, to her people, blasphemous. If God had wanted them, He would have called.
They finished dessert and got up to go to the Captain’s reception and briefing, but they continued trying to get to know one another. The fact that Angel had made no effort to thump a Bible or preach to them made her acceptable as a fellow traveler. Ari had been aboard and thus wasn’t required to attend, but he hadn’t much else to do.
“So where are you heading?” he asked the nun. “If it’s not too personal, that is. You say you have no home, and you’re far too young to have both education and lots of experience.”
“It’s not too personal, no. Actually, you are right. I’ve just come from a two year assignment assisting a mission on a rather primitive world. It was very basic stuff—digging wells, showing how to create and plant and harvest rice in the old ways, that kind of thing. Our tradition is to get right into the mud and teach by example. Of course, I was also being tutored by the Holy Sisters at the mission, and evaluated for personality, aptitude, you name it. They decided that I did have the calling to mission work and that I should be sent to university. I have decided that I have a talent for growing things that experts say can’t grow where I put them, so I will be taking a degree in plant exobiology.”
“Really? And that’s where you are heading now?”
She laughed. “Not directly. Actually, I’m on my way to be married.”
“Married! But I thought—”
“I understand. You were raised Catholic and you probably also have run into Buddhist nuns and that’s what you think when you see me. We’re not celibate. If we were, we wouldn’t last another generation. God commanded us to be fruitful and multiply, and that’s part of it. It would be unthinkable for any of us to go outside of our own people, such as to university, without first the joining of a family and the sacraments of marriage to impose discipline and also liberate us from the usual romantic tugs such places are known for.”
He frowned. “Hmm… That was the best part of going to university, frankly. Oh, well, we each follow our own paths, eh? Have you known your fiance long?”
“Actually, I’ve never met him, only seen a video of him. But I’ve met three of his other wives and they’ve given me a good idea of what he’s like.”
Ari Martinez decided to leave that part alone. He’d been around enough not to be shocked or even surprised at the various cults and cultural systems human beings had devised over the centuries, some of which made totally alien life-forms seem ordinary by comparison. Instead, he decided to keep it casual.
“I don’t remember seeing others like you, and I travel a lot,” he told her. “If your group is large enough to exist on Junctions all over the Realm, I’d think I’d have run into someone else before.”
“You probably have,” she told him. “We don’t travel in uniform, as it were. Not usually, anyway. I carry a modest wardrobe with me, including wigs and such.”
“But you’re not in disguise now.”
“I was, for a little while, but it was too embarrassing, not to say messy. I think in this case I’m better off the way I am.”
He stared. “You’re the girl who took the tumble when we docked! Well I’ll be d—” He stopped himself.
“Damned? I doubt it. That’s the kind of reason we don’t travel as ourselves. People seem to think that if you’re with a mission, you have to be sheltered from bad language and dirty jokes and all the rest. Believe me, there’s very little I haven’t heard already. It’s not what you say, it’s what you mean that counts.”
They went back to the lounge, where the newcomers and most of the rest of the passengers had gathered. Other than returning to the cabin, there really wasn’t much else to do.
There was some milling around and general impatience as the appointed time for the briefing came and went without any announcement, not even that the Captain would be late. An
gel looked around and saw Jeremiah Kincaid sitting by himself, nursing a drink. He was hard to miss; everyone who walked into the lounge got an icy stare and a thorough scrutiny from head to foot from the eerie man, as if he were looking for someone who might not want to be recognized.
Ming had departed for her cabin, but apparently had done whatever she had to do and now reappeared, emerging from a passageway. She saw her two dinner companions and started over, Kincaid giving her the remote third degree.
“You know, I’d swear that bastard had X-ray eyes and was telepathic to boot,” she whispered to them. “It felt like he looked right through me! I don’t know what he thinks he’s looking for here. I mean, everybody knows that the monster he’s looking for is a water breather. He should be on the other side, with a breathing apparatus that didn’t work right.”
“You’re not that sympathetic,” Angel noted.
She shrugged. “Hey, I’m as much a bleeding heart as anybody, but it’s not my war, not my fight, and all I want is him to be somewhere I’m not. If he thinks he’s going to spot water breathers here, then he’s gone completely over the edge. Of course, considering how many decades he’s been chasing his demon without success, it’s not surprising.”
Ari seemed uncomfortable, but not with the sentiment. “What do you mean, he should be on the other side? There are water breathers aboard?”
“Sure. In this module. About a third, or two pie sections. Happens all the time. That’s why you’ll eventually hit a wall if you try a complete circuit. You can call them, or use the virtual bar and lounge to interact. I’ve got to talk to a couple of ’em here on business, in fact.” She looked at Angel. “See, it’s pretty awkward for me to go to their element, and unlikely I can do much anyway. Same goes in reverse. So we swap information, research, and such as a professional courtesy.”
Ari nodded. “Yes, it’s done all the time. I’m pretty much between assignments, but if any of them who know me rang me up in my cabin and asked me to run down something, I’d probably help if it didn’t go against somebody I’m likely to be working for or have worked for in the past.” He looked around at the gathering group. “Funny. I always know some of the people on a trip, because those of us who have to actually move from system to system are a fairly small number within a sector, but I know most of these. Not necessarily well, or as friends, but I know them.”
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