“And then there is contingency. Back on Earth, FTL foreknowledge is understood — it is an essential strategic tool — but it doesn’t affect people, which made the arrival of your FTL twin, Pirius, something of a nine day wonder. Out here, though, everyone knows that the past is as uncertain as the future, because you see the future change all the time, as those ships come limping home from battles that haven’t happened yet. It happened to you, Pirius! Here, the notion that all of this suffering may be washed away by a history change is an easy one to sell.”
Pirius said, “You make it sound almost reasonable, Commissary.”
“Well, so it is! Religions will always emerge, even in a place as emotionally sterile as this; and religions will naturally exploit elements in their environments. It would be fascinating to see how this new faith develops in the future.”
“But you don’t seem to have anything to say about why the cadets need Burden’s teaching in the first place.”
Nilis folded his fingers over his ample virtual belly. “Soldiers have always been superstitious,” he pronounced. “Something to do with a need to take control of one’s destiny in a dangerous and out-of- control environment. And the ordinary troops have always championed the Druz Doctrines. We have come so far from home.” He flexed his fingers before his face, almost curiously. “We still have the bodies of plains apes, you know. But nothing else of our native ecology has survived: nothing but us and our stomach bacteria and the rats and lice and fleas… Now we have come to a place so lethal we have to dig into bits of rock to survive. There is nothing left of our origins but us — and all that holds us together is our beliefs. Lose them and we will become shapeless, flow like hot metal.
“I think the ordinary soldier intuits something of that, and has clung to the Doctrines as a result. But the Doctrines are too severe — inhuman, lacking hope. If you were going to devise a consoling religion you wouldn’t start with them. Druz would not even have us commemorate the dead!”
Burden said, “And hope is what I give the cadets.”
Nilis nodded vigorously. “Oh, I see that.”
“Then why,” Burden said evenly, “won’t you talk to them?”
Nilis was immediately nervous again. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly — it isn’t necessary…”
Burden stood smoothly, crossed to the door, and opened it. The disciples who had gathered outside filed in immediately, a dozen or so of them, their small faces solemn. They stared at Nilis, who was probably, Pirius thought, the most exotic creature they had ever seen.
Tili Three walked boldly up to him. She ought to be more wary of a Commissary, Pirius thought. But there was none of the dread antique grandeur of the Commission for Historical Truth about Nilis. Tili reached out to touch Nilis’s robe. Nilis gaped at her silvered prosthetic hand. Her fingers passed through the hem of his robe, scattering pixels like insects. He actually backed up against the wall, his big hands fluttering defensively before his chest. It was hard not to feel sorry for him.
Burden said, “Why are you afraid?”
“They are so young,” Nilis said. “So young — just children—”
“Children who have seen their comrades die,” Pirius said.
“I’m not afraid of them but of me,” Nilis said. He made to pat Tili’s head, but when his palm brushed her hair it broke up into a spray of multicolored pixels. The little firework display made the cadets laugh, and Pirius saw tears well in Nilis’s foolish old eyes. “You see? I knew I wouldn’t be able to bear this, to come to one of these terrible nurseries — even Arches Base was like an academy compared to this — they are so young! And, my eyes, I can’t save them all — I can’t save any of them.”
Pirius Blue said, “Perhaps we can, Commissary.”
Nilis whispered hoarsely, “At any rate we must try.”
Chapter 28
In Saturn’s orbit, the modifications to the last test greenship took a week of hard work.
It may have been conceptually simplifying to hook up the grav generator to the CTC, as Nilis had suggested, but grumbling Navy engineers, trying to marry together two literally alien technologies, were quick to point out the gap between concept and actuality. At least the delay gave Torec a chance to recover from the last run.
And then, suddenly, here she was, strapped into the cockpit of a greenship once more, with the cold, dark spaces of Sol system stretching all around her. This second ship’s blister seemed to be filled with just as much clutter as before, and she had to squirm to get comfortable. It wasn’t indulgence; when you flew, the last thing you needed was to be distracted by a cloth fold up your ass.
Those sparkling monitor ships were all around her, and she could hear the subdued chatter on her comm loop, just as it was before. Saturn was ahead of her — but this time it was visible only as a pinpoint, not a disc, and her tame Xeelee wasn’t visible at all, save in the sensors. The target area was much further away. In the first step of the new mission profile, the greenship would be pushed close to lightspeed by its conventional sublight drive; a drawback of the new maneuver was that it needed much more room to work.
When she glanced at her crewmates in the other blisters of the greenship, it wasn’t two hardened Navy tars she saw, but to her right, in the navigator’s seat, the stolid form of Commander Darc — and to her left a new enlarged blister held the massive form of a Silver Ghost. It looked as if the cabin had been filled with mercury. It was scarcely believable that she, a mere ensign, was sitting here in control of such a craft, with such a strange crew, but here she was. As the last seconds ticked away, and the clock in her head counted down, she shivered with anticipation.
She polled her crew one last time. “Ambassador. Ready?”
“All my systems are nominal,” the Ghost’s translated voice said.
“Commander—”
“Don’t waste time with useless chitchat, Ensign,” Darc snapped.
“No, sir,” she said.
Once more she felt the throbbing of the gravastar generators, deep in her bones. Three, two, one.
The ship jolted forward.
“Sublight nominal,” Darc called.
“Ambassador?”
“The shield generators are ready.”
“All right. Commander, push us to ninety percent light.”
“On your order.”
A deep breath. “Do it.”
The surge was all but intangible. But as they went relativistic, the speckling of stars before her turned blue and swam closer, like disturbed fish.
Darc called, “Ten seconds to Saturn.”
A random thought passed through her mind. If this Ghost wanted to carry out some sabotage — to destroy this test ship, to kill a Navy Commander — it was in a perfect position to do it. Too late to climb out now, Torec.
“Shield on my mark,” she called.
“Ready,” said the Silver Ghost.
Three. Two. One.
The blueshifted stars swam again.
Torec didn’t even know if the trial had been successful until she brought the greenship back to Enceladus. At least this one hadn’t blown up.
The base medical officer tried to bring the crew in for checks, but neither she nor Darc was willing to take time out for so much as a shower. Hot, stiff, sweating after hours in their cramped blisters, they ran down ice-walled corridors to the briefing room where Nilis waited for them. They were trailed by the silent Ghost, with its escort of heavily armed Guardians.