“That is little enough to ask,” Laesara said. “It is a very small intervention, lesser than when we sent you to Ciencia in the first place, though I suspect your influence will be wide.”
So Venture was retrieved, leaving false evidence of an intruder’s destruction to be found by Fleet; and it was made spaceworthy under its new name Estel. And when the Elders’ starship had jumped to Ciencia’s system, Terry took leave of them and set out alone to orbit the world he would set foot on again but once.
He was no longer an exile, for Estel was his home, and wherever he took it he would offer hope: hope for the future he alone knew was awaiting humankind. For him, too, the future was hopeful. He thought now of Alison as he had not dared to think of her while with her; and he knew that at last he could love again—and that he had come full circle to a life of journeying between the stars.
# # #
The Rising Flame, Book Two
Herald of the Flame
* * *
A major way of dealing with the fear of Psi is to deny that Psi exists. After all, if there is no Psi, there is nothing to be afraid of, so one has no fear to acknowledge. . . . The vehement denial of the existence of Psi, as in the case of some pseudo-critics whose behavior suggests they are protecting their ‘faith’ against heresy, strongly suggests that fear of Psi is quite strong in them at an unconscious level. —Charles T. Tart, “Acknowledging and Dealing with the Fear of Psi,” 1984
* * *
Real psychic effects lurking in the dark boundaries between mind and matter are so frightening and disorienting that defense mechanisms immediately snap into place to protect our psyches from these disturbing thoughts. We become blind to personal psychic episodes and to the supportive scientific evidence, we conveniently forget mind-shattering synchronicities, and if the intensity of the mysterium tremendum becomes too hot, we angrily deny any interest in the topic while backing away and vigorously making the sign of the cross. Within science this sort of behavior is understandable; science doesn’t like what it can’t explain because it makes scientists feel stupid. But the same resistance is also endemic in comparative religion scholarship, which is supposed to be the discipline that studies the sacred. —Dean Radin, Supernormal: Science, Yoga, and the Evidence for Extraordinary Psychic Abilities, 2013
Prologue
When the Elders’ small lander disappeared into the perpetually gray sky of sunless Ciencia, Terry Steward, né Terry Radnor, turned toward the deserted forest he was about to cross for the second and last time. Before, abandoned here years ago, he had been numb with despair. Now he was numb with shock. It had all happened so fast: the unexpected removal from Ciencia’s prison, intended by his guard to last mere hours; the joy of getting back into space; the miraculous opportunity not just to pilot a starship again but to reach the world to which he’d been told he could never return—and then the discovery that his passengers were terrorists. That he could not reach Maclairn after all, but must crash his ship elsewhere to prevent them from destroying the secret colony on that world.
He had nearly died in the crash. He was barely convinced that he hadn’t, for the events since then still seemed unreal. Much more had been restored to him than the life he’d been resigned to losing. He had gained permanent release not merely from prison but from Ciencia itself, after twelve long years of exile here. And incredibly, the once-imaginary starship Estel, in which he’d led Ciencian dissidents to believe, now existed, and it was his. He was free to take it anywhere—almost anywhere—he chose to go.
The ship was waiting for him in high orbit, guarded by the Elders, the aliens of whose presence in the galaxy he alone knew. They had rescued him from the crash site and restored him to life. Not quite the life they’d previously taken from him—not the world he thought of as home, or the wife with whom there could be no reunion, or the son he had never seen. Not his once-promising career as a Fleet officer. But his youthful dream of exploring the stars would come true. He had Estel. And soon, he hoped, he would have Alison.
Only for Alison had he come back to Ciencia, a world he had hated with good reason. Now, striding through the frigid snow-covered forest toward the planet’s single city, he thought again of how blind he had been not to recognize his love for her. He had lived in the spare room of her apartment for more than half the span of his exile, unaware that he wanted more than her friendship. He had gone on mourning the forced separation from his wife Kathryn, although he knew underneath that Kathryn, believing herself a widow, would have moved on. Not until he was dying had he allowed himself to feel what he might otherwise have felt for Alison long before. She had loved him; he had grasped that the day they parted, having repressed it till then despite his telepathic ability. She would still be grieving for him, and would be stunned by his appearing suddenly, in disguise, when she thought he’d been locked up forever. Would she want to leave her world to spend the rest of her life as a nomad?
Terry was not sure. He knew only that it was worth the risk of returning, escaped convict though he was under Ciencian law, to find out.
It took nearly two days of trudging through the dim frozen wilderness to reach the city, guided only by the GPS of his phone. Having done it before, Terry knew what to expect—tall closely-planted evergreens, snow, and glacial cold he could not have endured were it not for the mind training that gave him voluntary control of his body temperature. There were no seasons on Ciencia, just permanent unbroken cloud cover. The trees survived without sun only because they were genetically engineered; they were grown for lumber. No one would come into the forest until it was time to harvest them, which was why the Elders, whose ship couldn’t be shielded from sight when near the ground, had been able to land there; they could not risk being seen.
It would be harmful to humankind for the alien observers’ existence to become known—they had convinced him of that, though at first he had believed it only because to deny it would be to say that his involuntary confinement to the isolated colony world Ciencia was pointless. Now he was trusted to keep their secret, on condition that he stay away from Maclairn’s emissaries and anyone else who’d been connected to him before his exile.
He had resolved to put the past behind him. For the first time in twelve years he could look forward instead of back, Terry thought as he spread his sleeping bag to make camp. During all the time he had served as an underground leader, hacking the Net to insert smuggled literature the citizens of science-obsessed Ciencia were forbidden to read, he’d had no expectation of any happiness. He had thought only of his wish to escape from this planet, insofar as he’d allowed himself to think of anything besides the work. Now he was emerging from numbness into excitement he hadn’t felt since youth.
He had a mission now, a commitment to become to others what his supporters on Ciencia believed the elusive Captain of Estel to be. “Estel” meant hope, and he had kindled hope on this world, hope of ending the repression of knowledge under which its inhabitants lived. He’d been told that the name had become a slogan, even the name of a political party—that people had demonstrated outside the prison to demand his release. Sometimes, through the psi capability with which he was gifted, he had seen them. It occurred to him that while here he would have to hide from his followers as well as from the authorities, for they’d begun to idolize him, all the more because they now knew him to be the healer who, as a partner in Alison Willard’s neurofeedback clinic, had often relieved clients’ pain. That was a status he had never wanted, but—in addition to its value as a cover for his subversive activities—the use of his psi gifts and mind training to help others had been, and still was, a responsibility he could not reject.
It wasn’t his chief responsibility, however. Above all, he was committed to spreading public acceptance of the potential powers of the human mind: psi powers and the others in which he had been trained that led to voluntary control of the body’s response to stress. This had been Maclairn’s goal since its founding over two hundred years ago, though
actively pursued—with extreme secrecy by emissaries on Earth called mentors—only since the colony’s relatively recent discovery by representatives of the League. The Maclairnans were aware that acquisition of these powers was an essential step in human evolution. Only Terry knew its full significance.
He knew because the Elders had told him when, mistakenly, they had allowed him to catch sight of their starship. They had not meant him any harm, but once he’d learned of their existence they were forced to ensure that he could not reveal it. Humankind was destined to join their Federation, they said—but only after psi powers had been independently gained, or at least desired, by a significant percentage of Earth’s population. Until then, knowledge that more advanced species exist would quench humans’ will to reach that level on their own. They would remain unable to meet those species as equals. Yet Earth’s civilization was dying, and the colonies were too small to preserve it; if advanced mind-powers weren’t developed soon the human race might never become mature enough for Federation membership. It might even revert past hope of an eventual renaissance.
Knowing that Maclairn alone was capable of spearheading the widespread acceptance of such powers, the Elders secretly guarded it insofar as that was possible; but the main responsibility for its safety fell on the League’s security force, the Unified Colonial Fleet. For Maclairn had enemies and, Terry thought grimly, the two terrorists he had killed would not be the last of them. No longer a Fleet officer, he couldn’t play a direct part in its defense. All he could do was convince as many people as possible that new faculties of the mind should be sought rather than feared and suppressed. He had done so on Ciencia instinctively, having nothing but his hacking activity to keep him sane. Elsewhere he would do it with enthusiasm—assuming, of course, that he succeeded in escaping from this world again.
Part One: Ciencia
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10
~ 1 ~
There was no way of telling time by sight on Ciencia, where neither the sun or the stars ever appeared, and Terry hadn’t bothered to check the clock on the phone he’d been given. He made camp only when it got too dark to see his way. It had been less than six hours since he’d landed and he wasn’t yet tired or hungry, though he forced himself to eat some energy bars. He scarcely noticed his dislike of them; his mind was too full of his plan for future action.
It was a perilous plan. Was it right to ask Alison to take part in it? She wouldn’t hesitate; if she wanted to come with him, danger wouldn’t hold her back. She was a reserved, dignified woman, a psychotherapist admired for her quiet poise—hardly someone who seemed likely to defy the law. Yet she had risked arrest daily once involved in the dissemination of illicit texts. Though the choice to leave Ciencia would be hers, he couldn’t pretend that he wouldn’t be responsible for putting her at greater risk.
Yet he’d also be responsible for the sorrow she would feel if he went away. So there was really no decision for him to make. He was here, and in one more day he would see her, and that thought was so energizing that he had little desire for sleep.
Aware that fatigue would hinder him in the morning he did sleep, however, dropping off at will through the use of his mind training. As always when stressed, he dreamed of Maclairn—not with the desperate longing of the past years, but with a nostalgia marked more by inspiration than by pain. Maclairn was a memory he would always cherish, but it was behind him now, a foundation for his vision of the future.
Dreaming, he experienced again the psi ritual through which he had become a Steward of the Flame, pledged forever to the support of Maclairn’s ideals and aims; unhesitatingly he reached out to the torch, thrusting his hand into fire, and was not burned. It had been the high point of his life, and it no longer mattered that it had been followed almost immediately by the lowest point. The elation it had produced was back, unsullied by the passage of years.
As he woke in the murky Ciencian dawn, he fingered the small copper pin, flame-shaped, that from now on he’d be able to wear at least in private. Insignia of the Stewards, it symbolized the future widespread empowerment of the human mind. It had been given to him during the Ritual; he had swallowed it when the Elders took his clothes from him. They had retrieved it while he was unconscious during the physical alteration of his identity. When they rescued him after the crash they had given it back, saying he had proved himself still a Steward; and he had chosen that as his adopted surname, a choice that could be explained only to a trusted few.
As quickly as possible Terry heated snow for water to fill his canteen, grateful for the battery-powered pot with which he’d been provided, and ate more energy bars. He had no intention of stopping again until he reached the city; though it would be dark before he got there, its skyglow—produced by the lavish use of electricity that enabled its inhabitants to survive the climate—would light his way. It was important that he visit Alison tonight, for the weekend was beginning and if they were to escape together, it must be on a day she wasn’t expected to appear at the clinic.
Once inside the city limits, he waited until nearly midnight to proceed. He didn’t think he would be recognized, disguised as he was with temporarily darkened skin and hair. But it would be disastrous if a stranger were seen entering her apartment. She might well be watched, considering her past association with him, now that his involvement in underground activity was known to the police.
Would she recognize him? Terry wondered. The Elder, Laesara, had said she would recognize his mind-touch even though she wasn’t consciously telepathic. That might not happen immediately, but surely she would let him in if he identified himself as a member of the Estelan movement.
Walking through the nearly-deserted streets past Ciencia’s tall buildings with their transparent glass-like walls, he thought of the last time he had looked upon them—the day of his trial. The sham trial in which he had been condemned to life in prison, never to see the sky again. He had known the sentence in advance, of course. He had committed the ultimate sin of rendezvous with an orbiting starship, and for that, the government racketeers would not forgive him; their profits from surreptitious offworld trade depended on the public’s belief that no contact with starships ever occurred. So he had not doubted that he was seeing the last of the city, which, since he had always despised it, would not have saddened him if the alternative hadn’t been worse.
He turned off the main boulevard onto the side street leading to Alison’s building. Her front window was dark, but he knew she wouldn’t be in bed yet; she had usually read in her room until later than this. He himself had often worked in his own room until dawn.
He entered the familiar vestibule, closing the outer door behind him against the cold, and taking deep breaths, he punched in the code for her comm without activating the vid pickup.
After a long pause, her soft voice came over the speaker, thrilling him with the reality of what he had not quite dared to count on. “Who is it? Why aren’t you showing me your face?”
“I’m a friend of the Captain of Estel,” Terry said. “It’s urgent that I see you tonight.”
“The Captain of Estel has a lot of friends, and also enemies. How do I know which you are?”
She was asking for a password, he realized, and he had no idea what system was in use now; originally the conspiracy had consisted of small cells and passwords hadn’t been needed for identification. He, however, had maintained the master file of those used for access to the reading material in the cloud. He remembered hers; he had given her one from illegally-acquired classic mythology. “Only a friend would know where to find the goddess Athena,” he replied.
Telepathically, he felt her astonishment and projected reassurance he hoped she would sense. The door opened a crack. “No one knows I have that name,” she protested. “No one has ever known, except—” Staring at him, she asked, “Are you really his friend—did you see him in prison? Are you bringing a message from him?”
“Alison. You’ve no need to look at me, jus
t think of him, and hear my voice.”
She stepped back, stunned, letting him push through the door. After a long silence she whispered, “Terry? It’s impossible, I’m imagining something that can’t be true—”
“Do you want it to be true?”
“Too much not to fear that I’m deceiving myself. How could you have escaped and changed even your skin?”
“It’s a long story. For now, just let me in, if you’re willing to hide me.”
“Of course, if it’s safe for you.” She was trembling. “But won’t they search here?”
“Not right away—only one guard knew I escaped, and he won’t admit it. But the sooner I’m away from Ciencia, the better.”
“Away from this planet? You mean you’ve got some way to reach a starship again?”
“I’ve been aboard a starship the past few days,” he said, knowing that no brief elaboration would make such a thing easy for her to believe.
“Then in God’s name, why did you come back?”
“I came for you,” he told her, smiling.
“Oh, Terry.” The next thing he knew she was in his arms, her lips meeting his, and for a while neither of them said anything more.
Finally, reluctantly, Alison broke away from the embrace. “We mustn’t do this,” she protested. “You’re in danger here, and I’ve got to stay strong enough to make you leave. How could I live with myself if you were caught because of me?”
Terry stroked her smooth hair, now released from its usual chignon to flow over her shoulders; she had evidently been getting ready for bed. “I’m not going to be caught tonight,” he said. “But it’s true that we’ve got to make plans. And could you heat up some soup or something? I’ve been out in the cold for two days, and I haven’t eaten since dawn.”
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