18

To Nah’ca / Watch Tower

Earth Index 1306.359

Rami Del scooped up a bite of her dessert and popped it into her mouth. Even better than anticipated. “What I don’t understand,” she said as she chewed, “is why they are asking for help from something they don’t believe in.”

Rete looked at her cynically. “You have depended on Nho to work his miracles even though you aren’t Sarconian. What the Way of Law is doing is not different.”

“How do you know I’m not Sarconian?”

“Are you?”

“That’s a personal question.”

Rete laughed. “You asked for it.”

“That’s true,” she admitted, taking another bite and speaking around it. “But you still haven’t answered my question. How does the Way of Law justify seeking the help of an Incarnate whom they explicitly reject?”

“Think about it. Plury’be factions are a complex assemblage of political, religious, social, and economic ideologies that rely on intra-­faction solidarity for their strength. To concede that the religious beliefs of a marginal faction like the No Greater are true would undermine the Way of Law’s considerable power and influence.”

“But the Way of Law already accepts the idea of a universal creator. They’re halfway there.”

“Don’t expect them to get any further,” said Rete. “According to Au’p, the Way of Law was the religious group that Ah’ey—the Plury’be Incarnate—was born into thousands of years ago. When Ah’ey questioned the Way of Law’s teachings, it was the Way of Law who executed Ah’ey for its heresy. If what Au’p says is true, the Way of Law literally has thousands of years of animosity against the No Greater and other like-­minded groups. You don’t simply undo that.”

“If that’s the case, I’m surprised they gave the No Greater an audience.”

“They earned an audience because of us. The Way of Law wanted to see what we were all about. Otherwise, I don’t believe it would have happened, since the Way of Law sees the No Greater as a splinter of the true way.”

“As in,” Rami said, “the true way of the law.”

Rete chuckled. “Yes, as their faction name suggests. It’s a telling name, too. Their faction is defined by what they do rather than who they serve. It clearly shows their priorities. They care more for self-­discipline than the mystical devotion the No Greater favor.” He folded his hands together. “So what about my question?”

“What was it again? I don’t remember.”

“Clever. Are you Sarconian?”

Rami rested her face on her free palm, her elbows on the table. “Is it enough to say that I’m trying to keep an open mind?”

“It would have been a year ago. You’ve seen enough by now.”

Rami pointed her eating utensil at him, half-­seriously. “Are you trying to proselytize me?”

Rete raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Have I ever?”

“No, you have not. You’ve been a perfect gentleman.”

Behind them there was an outbreak of Ritican laughter. Both of them looked that direction and saw a group of security officers engaged jovially in their own separate conversation. As Rami watched them, she also caught sight of two people sitting next to them. One was Kilvin, and sitting across from him was a female Hazionite, a short deck officer with a shock of blue-­gray hair atop her head. Rami searched her memory for the female’s name: it was Nenkin Fiwdl, from cargo bay maintenance. From one of the minor tribes, Rami thought. Kilvin and Nenkin were engaged in an animated conversation, and, it seemed to Rami, laughing.

Rami looked back to Rete, who shook his head in disbelief. “The atmosphere in here is so different than it was a week ago. It’s almost as if we’re on a different ship. I’ve heard more laughter in here the last two days than I’ve heard the last six months combined.”

“The crew has a sense of purpose now,” said Rami. “That’s not to say they didn’t before, but it’s more focused now. A week ago, we were still trying to find our way in this region, and after Wisdom, we thought we might even be headed home without completing what we felt we needed to do. Now we have a target and a goal.”

“Sacred Home,” said Rete.

“The transliteration is Mel’as’u, but I’m probably the only one not named Orel Dayail who calls it that. Anyway, yes, that’s the target. We get to help liberate a planet from the cultural domination of the Domain, and we even get to face another Malum planet.”

“It will be my first.”

“I always forget that.” Rami raised her eyebrows. “Let’s just say that seeing one of those massive things is an experience.”

Rete relaxed in his chair, hands folded on his lap. “So how is Nho going to stop this giant ship, exactly? Is he going to charge at the planet and get sucked in?”

“I suppose we’ll find that out when we meet with the factions at Watch Tower,” said Rami. “And since you are his assistant, you’ll probably get to accompany him.”

Rete’s face fell, as if he hadn’t thought of that. “I can’t wait,” he muttered.

•••

Jared straightened the collar of his dress uniform. He rarely wore it except during weddings and funerals, and at this moment he was fully conscious as to why. It always seemed like he was fighting it rather than wearing it.

At least the occasion wasn’t a funeral. There had been enough of those on this trip already. Instead, the commons was gaily decorated in a flurry of bright colors, with ribbons of reds and greens and blues strung along the ceiling. The chairs were arranged in rows pointing to the front of the room and faux flowers, replicas of those found on the Human colony world of New Tessee, were scattered among the tables near the back wall.

Each of the different Confederal societies approached the subject of pairing and reproducing differently. Aecron family units were built around complex contractual arrangements between prospective partners, a meritocratic system where the best competed among one another for the most qualified companions. Hazionite pairings were traditionally arranged, with powerful females seeking male partners from other local matriarchs in exchange for such currency as political support or property. Riticans were steadfastly devoted to family—it was thoroughly intertwined with their unshakeable desire for self-­defense—but the exact context and manner of how unions were decided was equivalent to a state secret. Exos were asexual and had no concept of family or pairings.

Humans alone made a public ceremony of marriage. The event was usually a communal affair, with large numbers of guests and a program presided over by an officiant. On Human worlds, the conductor of marriages was usually a local legal official, such as a magistrate, but Human law, both on Earth and on the colonies, permitted other methods when no such official was available. Marriages were rare on Navy ships—this was the Hattan’s first—but when such occurrences did take place, either the ship’s captain or another person of the couple’s choosing oversaw the ceremony. As long as the ship’s legal officer was present, the marriage was considered contractual regardless of the officiant.

The prospective couple, neither of whom had any known religious ties, had nevertheless asked Nho to speak. They had also requested that Jared be present.

The room was packed, with various Humans, Hazionites, Aecrons, and Riticans sitting and standing around. Even a few Exos were in attendance, though this was probably because the bride worked in engineering and had asked them to be there. Human weddings on Navy ships, when they happened, were well-­attended by other Humans, but they also almost always drew large, curious crowds of non-­Humans.

The door on the far end of the commons opened and the bride and groom walked in arm-­in-­arm, both dressed in their formal uniforms. The Humans in attendance stood and, realizing the other sentients had no idea what to do, gestured wildly for the audience to join them. A haphazard rising of bodies followed until at last everyone was on their feet, watching the couple as they walked forward through the center of the commons and up to the front where Nho was waiting, flanked on his right by Jared.

Nho began the preliminaries, avoiding any direct mention of Sarco or the Incarnate, but speaking nonetheless of the miracle of marriage and the bond brought together by the Creator. Nho seemed not only buoyant but also comfortable in his delivery; Jared wondered if the cleric had performed one of these ceremonies before. The bride and groom, both of them young deck officers, were radiant. Perhaps the happiest two people Jared had ever seen.

Jared looked out at the sea of familiar faces in the audience, all of them in formal dress. Some of the Riticans were wearing adornments associated with family, though no non-­Ritican knew exactly what they stood for, and history had shown probing about the matter to be a bad idea. Hazionite males stood behind the females, a sign of deference even in the egalitarian Navy. Several of the Aecrons had their eyes closed in prayer, a telltale sign they were Sarconian: Aioua Horae, sciences officer Udos Beyole, interceptor commander Redelia Aroo, and . . . Orel Dayail?

Jared knew the communications officer had been profoundly affected by the mutiny over Ramas-­Eduj, but had not realized he had become a believer. Jared did not see Darel Weye, but would not have been surprised if he, too, was in prayer.

Jared caught sight of a Human with his eyes closed. Brigg Drews, the young, hard-­nosed Human interceptor commander. So Drews was religious. That was interesting. His parents were merchant traders, and they were not always seen as the faith-­based kind. Perhaps they were of the theistic cults.

Nho continued into a short discussion of the importance of devotion and commitment in marriage. This hit close to home for Jared, who had watched helplessly as his own parents’ marriage had collapsed. He was reluctant to admit, even to himself, how deeply their separation had affected him, but his extraordinary caution with respect to romance was clear evidence enough. He was not going to proceed into marriage until the time was right and the person was right.

Out in the audience, about halfway back, she opened her eyes and made eye contact with him, looking at him with tranquil happiness. He offered a calm smile in return.

Maybe.