Martin thought of Theresa waiting at the end of this long journey to explain these things to him, part of the all-enveloping warmth; he put Theresa's face over Rosa's, and wanted to sleep in the comfort of this thought, hoped it would not go away.
"Is Jesus Christ the son of the Most High?" Michael Vineyard asked.
"Yes," Rosa said, her smile broadening. "We are all its children. Christ must have felt the warmth like a fusion fire, even more strongly than I do. It glows from his words and deeds. The Buddha also felt the warmth, as did Muhammad…"
Hakim seemed displeased to hear the Prophet's name in Rosa's mouth.
"… And the many prophets and sages of Earth. They were mirrors to the sun."
"All of them?" Michael persisted.
"All knew part of the truth."
"Do you know only part?" Michael asked.
"A small part. You must explain the rest to me," Rosa said. "Tell me what you find in yourselves."
In murmurs, in challenges and questions, in Rosa's parables and explanations, give and take, for the next two hours the crew spoke and confessed. A current went through the room as something palpable, as if she were a tree, and the wind of feeling passed around her, through her. When others in the crew cried, Martin found tears in his own eyes; when others laughed with a revelation of joy, he laughed also.
"I am not a prophet," Rosa said. "I am simply a voice, no better than yours."
"How can we hate our enemies, when they are just like us?" someone asked.
"We do not hate them; but they are not just like us, they are desperately wrongand we fight them with all our strength, for that is how we correct the imbalances. We must never be cruel, and we must never hate, for that damages us; but we must never forget our duties."
Martin felt the Job fall into place in his thoughts; nothing holy about death and destruction, but a necessary part of their existence, their duty. A natural act, action to reaction.
Nothing they did was sanctioned; nothing they did was judged except by themselves, and by the standards that flooded them from the light of the Most High. The passion of revenge had no place here; it was an abomination. But the duty of correcting the balance, that was as essential as the breath in his lungs and the blood in his veins.
Groups pushed in close around Rosa, hands linked. Together they sang hymns, the wordless Hum, Christmas carols, ballads, whatever they remembered, while others searched the libraries for more songs. All their musical instruments had been absorbed in the emergency, but their voices remained.
The singing lasted an hour. Some were hoarse and weary, and some fell asleep on the floor, but still Rosa ministered to them. Jeanette Snap Dragon brought her a chair and she sat in it atop the table, her red hair standing out in radiant frizz around her head. Jeanette and others sat around her, on the table, at her feet. Jeanette placed her head on Rosa's knees and seemed to sleep.
Others came, until almost all the crew filled the cafeteria. Some looked bewildered, feeling the current, but not letting it pass through them yet; hopeful but confused, resistant but needy.
The special time. Ariel came close to him and he hugged her as a sister. She looked up at him, head against his shoulder, and he smiled, loving all his fellows.
At Rosa's request, the floor softened. The crew lay together on the floor, around the table, as the other tables and chairs lowered and were absorbed. Jeanette's wand projected light behind Rosa and the room fell dark.
"Sleep," Rosa said, her hair an indistinct shadow in the rosy glow. "Soon we begin our duties again. Sleep in peace, for there is work to do. Sleep, and reach into your dreams to find the truth. When you sleep you are most open to the wishes of your friends, and to the love of the Most High. Sleep."
Martin closed his eyes.
Someone tapped his shoulder. Hans kneeled beside him. He shook Martin, whispered into his ear, "Cut it out. Come with me."
Martin rose, a shock like electricity tingling through him. He seemed stuck between two worlds, shame and exaltation. Hans' grim expression and tense marching posture seemed a reproof. Ariel followed, and at first it seemed Hans might send her back, but he said, "All right. Both of you."
Rex Live Oak stood in the corridor, smiling wolfishly.
"Fantastic," Hans said, shaking his head. "She's so good. She's got them all now."
Martin's head cleared as if with a dash of ice water.
"She just needed a little help and encouragement," Hans said. Rex chuckled. "I damn near felt it myself. Didn't you? I think we have this situation under control now."
Ariel touched Martin's shoulder but he shrugged away the touch.
"All she needed was a little reason to live, something just for herself," Hans said.
"Don't slick her too much," Rex said. "Keep her lean and hungry."
Hans shook his head ruefully. "Got to ration my blessings," he said. "I only have so much to be generous with."
Rex and Hans walked along the corridor. Ariel watched Martin for a moment and saw the anger on his face. "You didn't know?" she asked, astonished. "He coached her, Martin. He's been whispering in her ear for days."
His eyes filled and he wiped them. He turned to stamp into another corridor, away from the cafeteria.
Ariel followed. "I'm sorry!" she said. "I assumed you knew! It was so obvious…"
"What was obvious?" Martin asked, still fleeing.
"He was turning Rosa, directing her to shore up the Job. Otherwise she could tear us apart. He thinks—"
"Thinks what?" Martin asked, stopping at the join to the neck. A ladder field appeared and he gripped it with his hand, preparing to descend.
Ariel caught up with him, still astonished by his naïveté. She dropped her voice, murmuring as if embarrassed. "Hans is very smart. He sees that this vision can help him control the crew. He told us so. Remember?"
"Yeah?" The word came out loud and harsh.
"She's warm and cozy in his arms. He says something, you know, about the Job, and our relation to God, something like that. She's happy, she's flattered. She's never been an ascetic by choice. She listens. She goes his way." Ariel spread her arms, eyes narrow, puzzled. "So for him, everything's great."
Martin felt like hitting out, and he went so far as to clench his fist. "Why are you following me?" he shouted. "Why don't you just stay the hell away from me?"
"Hans is dangerous," Ariel said in a conspiratorial, husky voice. "He's hollow inside, and the more he settles in, the hollower he gets. He thinks the Wendys are cattle. He thinks we're allcattle."
"Crap," Martin said.
Ariel's face reddened and her eyes narrowed even more, to angry slits. She spat out, "What are you, celibate! Do you plan on being solitary for the rest of the journey? Is that why you hate me?"
Martin grimaced and laddered into the neck, leaving Ariel behind.
"God damn you!" she cried out after him.
Giacomo and Jennifer hung beside the star sphere in the schoolroom. The ship had stopped accelerating twelve hours before, and all drifted free now. Ladder fields crossed the periphery of the schoolroom and shimmered along what had once been floor and ceiling.
Hakim, Li Mountain and Luis Estevez Saguaro quietly arranged for echoes of the sphere to appear around the schoolroom.