by Tom Shepherd
Lox smiled enthusiastically. “Please to be asking me.”
“The writing on the building at ground level. What does it say?”
“Ah, yes. Our greatest moral teachings, from the Truth Library. The first principle is Serve the Holy with abandon, remembering all sentient life is sacred. The second, Justice before liberation.”
“Very profound.” Demarcus entered a note in his datacom.
“How may I be your service joyfully?” Lox said.
Tyler said, “My brother and I plan to file a legal action, compelling your government to honor our legitimate rights to free use of a tiny section of Suryadivan space—”
“Please, sir, that is not joyful.” Lox collapsed his hearing fan. “I am just a guide.”
“So, joyfully guide us to the office where we can sue the nightgowns off your Supreme Council of Pontiffs,” Tyler said.
Lox cringed and sank to his knees but never took his eyes off the Terrans. “Please! If anyone heard you say that—” He abandoned Terran and blubbered in his native tongue.
Tyler leaned against the wall of the lift. “We need to tread lightly, Bro. Your witness.”
J.B. nodded. “Lox, son of Erizond, our cause is justice.”
“I am at risk, to talk with you.” He never rose from the elevator floor.
“We mean you no misfortune,” J.B. said. “Tell us how to find to the correct office, and you may depart with honor.”
“No, no. My duty, my sacred duty, is to Greet and Guide.” He stood. “I will take you there.” Greeter Lox punched the control panel, and the lift shot upward so abruptly their knees bent with the G-force.
Tyler leaned to his brother and switched to Español Nuevo. “This poor little funcionario almost soiled himself when I mentioned the Council of Pontiffs. Why do I get the feeling we’re suing the Inquisition?”
J.B. didn’t reply.
Before the Terrans approached the outer ring of government offices which served as the administrative clearing center, an armed platoon of Religious Police appeared, recognizable by the white sashes across their chests. The RPs escorted them down a series of corridors and across an enclosed city-view archway to a briefing room with one large, low table and no windows. The database aboard the Patrick Henry said Suryadivans conducted business while seated on short metal stools, and this particular table offered exactly three spaces for the plaintiffs and a facing panel for six government representatives.
Lox Aspi hovered in the corner, so Tyler assumed his interpretive skills were still needed. The Matthews brothers sat on the stools, but Demarcus went to the corner across from the quivering son of Erizond and folded arms, watching. Surprisingly, a female official entered the room alone and sat on an empty stool. At least Tyler assumed the generally softer facial appearance indicated a woman of their species.
“The Suryadivan Sacred Protectorate welcomes delegates of Matthews Interstellar Industries. I am High Priestess Advocate Erizond Aspi.” She gestured toward the trembling young greeter in the back corner. “I see you have met my son.”
“He is a fine Greeter,” J.B. said.
“You are most gracious. Now, shall we talk about your family, your faith, and the things which bring you joy? Then we can discuss why you have come to our Spiritual Center today.”
“Advocate, you know why we’re here,” Tyler said. “Let’s talk about the Alpha Site.”
Her auditory fin fluttered, and then regained its composure. “Human directness is startling to my culture.”
“Human cultures vary widely,” J.B. said. “Not everyone is as impatient as my brother.”
“I honor his passion,” she said with a slight smile. “In our beliefs, all sentient life is sacred.”
“Like the words on this building,” Tyler said.
“I am pleased you noted them. We honor life, perhaps because our species lives a long while. Thanks to Suryadivan science, we exceed three or four human lifespans. After this life, we believe our souls enter the skyward spirals and launch into the next dimension of eternity. Entering that celestial realm, we are met by loved ones and the angelic host appointed as greeter-guides by the Forty-Six.”
Like any good Catholic, Tyler avoided religious questions. “Shall we discuss the legal situation before us?”
“Of course. Kindly make your formal request.”
J.B. placed a data chip on the table. “This is an official record of the agreement reached fifty-eight Terran years ago between Matthews Interstellar and the chief negotiator of the Suryadivan Sacred Protectorate, ratified by your Council of Pontiffs.”
“I know the document.”
“Then you know the Suryadivan First Secretary and the reigning Supreme Pontiff signed off on the deal,” J.B. continued. “Therefore, the contract is binding on civil and sacred government.”
“Yes, it was.”
“So, may I assume you will confirm that our rights to the Alpha Site are recognized as valid by church and state?” J.B. said.
“No, Mr. Matthews, you may not.”
“And why is that?” J.B. said coolly.
Tyler leaned forward. I can’t wait to hear the rebuttal.
“Our current Supreme Pontiff received a revelation from the Realm of Light, directing him to declare this contract a work of Ultimate Sin, therefore beyond legality. We do not recognize it, because the Forty-Six have decreed, through intermediaries in the Realm of Light, the agreement is not binding.”
To hell with never discuss religion. They opened fire with Forty-Six gods. All we got is Yahweh, but He kicks ass.
“Wait a second,” Tyler said. “What if I receive a revelation from my Catholic God, who disagrees with your Suryadivan gods?”
“To follow your logic, hypothetically, one could argue your god has no jurisdiction over this part of the galaxy.”
“But my religion proclaims there is only one true God, Who created the Universe,” Tyler said. “That gives my Catholic God ultimate jurisdiction over everything and everyone. Including your Forty-Six Suryadivan gods.”
Lox Aspi squealed like animal caught in a snare. His mother ignored the yelp. “We don’t recognize the authority of your God.” The patronizing geniality Advocate Erizond had projected was gone. Now they faced the implacable bureaucrat.
“And I don’t recognize the authority of yours,” Tyler countered. “Therefore, since your divinities and my God claim omnipotence, and since divine testimonies arguably are inadmissible anyway as hearsay, their contradictory revelations require any reasonable court to default to a binding legal contract enacted between mortal agencies.”
“Faith does not need to be reasonable,” Erizond said.
“But the law does,” Tyler said. “Anything less than empirical justice is beyond the rule of law, therefore not legal.”
“This is very simple for us,” she said. “Unless the Supreme Pontiff receives another revelation, ratified by the secular Assembly, your corporation has no legal right to operate its Andromeda Jump Gate from Suryadivan space.”
“Connecting with Jump Gate Omega will transform Suryadivan space into a new commercial center and bring closer ties with the civilizations of both galaxies,” J.B. said. “How could that possibly be offensive?”
Erizond’s head fin fluttered slightly. “I hesitate to explain the nature of your corporate sin, for it involves criticism of your sire.”
“No, please, go for it. I’ll probably agree,” Tyler said. “The Old Man is a dick.”
J.B. shot Tyler an angry glance.
Tyler shrugged. “Well, he is.”
“The site of your proposed Jump Gate violates the boundaries of the Sacred Perimeter. Let me show you.”
The Advocate called for visuals, and the ceiling became a holographic display, morphed into a starfield, and descended around them like nightfall. She tagged a red star, located beyond the galaxy. Tyler knew the Galactic Rim wasn’t like the sharp disk of planetary rings but a feathered edge built from dust and solitary stars.
Their descent from heaven continued, and soon the horizon of a blue-silver world yawned before them. Watery polar regions were ice-free and presided over a network of warm, mini-oceans, interrupted by island continents. Here and there, mountain ranges jutted skyward and generated rain shadow deserts on the leeward slopes. Most remarkably, this terrestrial world featured endless, unbroken forests that stretched across whole continents.
“Behold the sacred world,” Advocate Erizond said.
At the back of the room her son whispered from the darkness, “Beyak albon l’han Adao.”
“Adao’s divinely appointed solar system defines the outer limit of our civilization. By your Terran method of measuring distance, it lies 20.7 light years from our homeworld.”
“Interesting. Since the Suryadivan Protectorate straddles the astrometric ellipse which describes the Galactic Rim, Adao’s system is technically 20.7 light years into the Void, correct?” He studied the wilderness images and couldn’t help comparing Adao to Tyler-4, his new planet. He briefly worried about giant crabs and monster mosquitos, then shook it off.
“We do not speak of Adao traveling the Void,” Erizond said, “but reaching a priestly hand from the body of the Milky Way to bless all Creation.”
“Nice image,” Tyler said. Complete bullshit, but very poetic. “What makes Adao a sacred place?”
“It is the home of the gods. When the Forty-Six made the Universe, Adao was their first creation. It became the passageway from their exalted realm to our plane of suffering and sorrow.”
“The same gods who created suffering and sorrow?” Tyler said.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you actually believe that? You’re an educated woman.”
“Tyler!” J.B. said. “We didn’t come here to challenge Suryadivan theology.”
“No, no. It is all right,” Erizond said. “As a scientifically educated woman, I know the Cosmos originated in an explosive event at the beginning of time. Neither you nor I know what caused that explosion. I choose to accept the mythology of my faith to provide an answer where science is silent.”
Tyler nodded. “I understand. We’re Catholics. Same situation, different pantheon.”
“You are holding a biennial, forty-six-day Sacred Hunt on Adao right now, correct?” J.B. said.
“We are.” The Advocate paused before continuing. “And the very presence of off-worlders within a light year of Adao-2 renders the hunting grounds ritually unclean. Since the new Matthews Jump Gate lies within the sacred circle, your continued presence is intolerable.”
“Your government knew that fifty-eight years ago, when the Sacred Protectorate granted easement for Alpha Gate space,” Tyler said.
“That was before the new revelation from our Supreme Pontiff.”
“How convenient.” Tyler felt J.B.’s hand on his arm.
“Madame Advocate, Matthews Interstellar respects your traditions,” J.B. said. “In fact, we understand there may be a sacramental resolution to this dilemma.”
“You mean the Ritual of Absolution?” She brought the interview room back from their holographic visit to Adao. “Exoneration for offenses against the decree of divine judgment is rarely granted. Satisfactory repentance is required, indicated by allocution of guilt by the offending party, followed by a substantial love offering.”
“So, we’re looking at a public confession, plus twenty trillion galactic credits,” Tyler said.
“Any chance we can receive special dispensation to lower the sin-offering?” J.B. suggested.
“That is quite impossible. The spiritual laws for absolution from guilt are sacramentally grounded, unalterable.”
“Call me a skeptic,” Tyler said, “but it sounds more like racketeering than rite of penitence.
She smiled slightly. “Gentlemen, you are arguing with a sacred legal system, holy laws that existed before your species achieved space flight.”
“Really, Advocate?” Tyler said. “To paraphrase the great Terran philosopher, W.C. Fields, I thought we were haggling over the price.”
Bristling, she shook her cranial fin and stood. “Our discussion is terminated.”
“Madame Advocate, forgive my impetuous brother,” J.B. said. “We will consult our headquarters and return for further negotiations.”
“You still do not understand. There is no negotiation. There is no appeal. Either you comply with Suryadivan law or we shall destroy the Jump Gate you have illegally positioned in our territory. The Sacred Hunt is under way. Our fleet will act very soon to end this standoff.”
“I thought all sentient life was sacred,” Tyler said. “We have workers at the Alpha Site.”
“Remove them.”
“We’ll see you in court,” Tyler said.
“My son will show you the proper way to exit the Gobikan without further offense to the Forty-Six.” She left the room.
“You really know how to screw up a good put-down, Bro.”
“And how did it help our case?”
Tyler sighed. “You’re right.”
J.B. turned to Greeter Lox. “Your mother is formidable. I mean no disrespect.”
“She introduces great discomfort to her adversaries.” Lox cleared his throat with a rolling, amphibian gurgle. “May I show you the exit path?”
“Lead on, O King Eternal,” Tyler said.
“I am not a king. We have an elected First Secretary, and a system of clergy-dominated—”
“Okay, okay. Let’s go.” Tyler glanced at J.B., who shook his head.
When they cleared the building, Demarcus checked out the ground transportation with his bug scanner before they climbed aboard.
“It’s about Adao,” Tyler said.
“Maybe it’s about religious beliefs,” J.B. said thoughtfully.
Tyler scowled. “You were raised Catholic, and you still think people are driven by beliefs?”
“Well, sometimes,” J.B. said.
“I know an exo-anthropologist who speaks Suryadivan,” Demarcus said. “She might have some answers.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” J.B. said. “Let’s find out what Rosalie has learned.”
* * * *
Accompanied by Deputy Security Chief Yumiko Matsuda, Rosalie and Esteban spent the afternoon at the Matthews Trade Embassy where they tracked Dr. Julieta Solorio’s footsteps on Suryadivan Prime. Apparently, Julieta became obsessed with Adao-2, even though the star system was strictly off limits to non-Suryadivans. Despite rigid requirements by local flight central for all departing vessels to file flight plans, her compact starcraft—an express cruiser, slightly smaller than Tyler’s Sioux City—wasn’t in its customary parking slot at the Matthews hangars. No one they questioned knew if she remained on Suryadivan Prime, but the planet had thousands of small cities for Julieta to visit without submitting a flight plan. An off-world excursion from some remote starport might easily evade Suryadivan Flight Central’s scrutiny.
A petite Chinese woman confided to equally petite Yumiko in halting Terran that Julieta frequently exited the planet without proper permission but usually returned after a few days. Investigator Matsuda, who spoke no Chinese, called Rosalie to join their conversation. Once the clerk heard Rosalie’s excellent Mandarin, she relaxed and continued her narrative. Yumiko went to gather forensic information from Julieta’s empty office.
Esteban and Rosalie met Yumiko in the embassy cafeteria. Matsuda refused food or drink, but Esteban spooned sugar into black coffee and they listened to Rosalie’s report.
“My Chinese informant says Julieta skipped town twenty-one days ago,” Rosalie said.
“Three weeks,” Yumiko said. “Very troubling. Enough time to reach Riley’s World and Se
dalia before killer struck.”
“Yumi-san, are you suggesting Julieta was the black-haired dispatcher who killed Tsuchiya’s board members,” Rosalie said, “then turned up on Sedalia in time to save me?”
“Never!” Esteban said. “My sister is a medical doctor. She could not take life.”
“Forgive me,” Officer Matsuda said. “I examine facts only.”
Rosalie’s wristband buzzed. J.B. quickly briefed Esteban and Rosalie on what he and Tyler had learned from Advocate Erizond. She reciprocated, updating her brothers on the search for Julieta.
“Our two paths—Julieta and Jump Gate Alpha—are converging at Adao-2,” Tyler said. “We need more information.”
“Social hour at the Trade Embassy tonight,” Rosalie said. “Fat Tuesday. Twelve days until Easter.”
Esteban grunted. “I still think the Church should have kept the traditional forty days of Lent.”
“Corporations forced the change,” Tyler said. “All that Lenten sacrifice was bad for business.”
“I know Church history, Primo. It doesn’t make it right.”
“It’s about having fun, Estey,” Rosalie chirped. “Don’t get all Benedictine at Carnival.”
“Everybody should go,” J.B. said.
“Hooray—Zulu coconuts!” Rosalie chirped.
J.B. grunted. “Sis, you better return to the Patrick Henry and find something to wear that won’t get you arrested by the Religious Police.”
“Aw—you too, Bear?” Rosalie said. “It’s Mardi Gras!”
J.B. said, “Even during Carnival, you must reach the Embassy door without violating the moral code of this sexually repressed society.”
“Maybe can do. How about a delightful black sack cloth with matching hijab?” Rosalie said.
J.B. closed the link.
“Party time tonight,” she told Cousin Esteban.
“You are morbidly cheerful, Prima.”
“You betcha,” Rosalie agreed. “Trust your gifts, have faith, and never miss a chance to party.”
Esteban sipped his coffee. “I don’t feel like partying.”