Odyssey

“What would you say?”

“I don’t know.”

“Enough to scorch your hand?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Enough to sear the flesh?”

“I would think so.”

“And it goes on for a thousand years?”

“It goes on forever.”

“Without stopping.”

“There is no lunch break.” Pullman turned a broad smile to the onlookers.

“Very good, Reverend. Now, if I am, say, twelve years old, what might I do that would incur this sort of punishment?”

“You mean hell?”

“Yes.”

“There are various sins.”

“Could you give us some examples?”

“Murder. Adultery.”

“A twelve-year-old, Reverend. Let me put it to you this way. Is it possible for a twelve-year-old boy to warrant hell?”

“Yes.”

MacAllister found himself again fixating on Co

“What can he do that would deserve that kind of punishment? Aside, perhaps, from murder?”

“He might miss Sunday service.”

He saw the Yankee in the courtyard while the light drained from the day.

“That in itself would be sufficient?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“What else?”

“Dancing.”

And he thought of the Galactic.

“Dancing?”

“Yes. It is strictly forbidden. I know that, for godless people in a godless society, the reasoning can be difficult to grasp.”

MacAllister lost the drift of the proceedings. The courtyard at Camelot floated before his eyes, and gradually dissolved into the skeletal gridwork of the Galactic. He saw it as he had from the Salvator, turning slowly, reflecting light from nearby Capella.

He watched the asteroid, growing larger on one of the screens. Recalled how difficult it had been to gauge its size until it got close to the hotel, which, at the end, had been only a brief glimmer of light going out.

And he knew how it had been done.

But as he thought about it, and realized the implications, his heart sank.

GLOCK BROUGHT IN a psychiatrist who had examined Beemer. “No, not clinically insane,” the psychiatrist said, “but disturbed. Mr. Beemer suffers from a radical strain of paranoia, induced by the religious environment imposed on him when he was a child. At the heart of that environment were the teachings of the church and its school regarding divine punishment.”

When the session ended, MacAllister spoke briefly with Glock. “The truth is,” said the lawyer, “the wrong man’s on trial.”

Outside, some in the crowd recognized MacAllister. “Try going to church once in a while,” someone called. And: “You’re damned, MacAllister. Repent while you can.” Sun-flower seeds were thrown toward him. The seeds represented the argument that one should look toward the light and eschew the darkness. Some of the believers had bought into the notion there was a conspiracy to override the First Amendment and shut down the churches. That idea had gotten around, and though there was no chance of its happening, and in fact no likelihood MacAllister could see of Beemer’s not being found guilty, there were nevertheless some who were stoking precisely those fears.

The organ, which had been silenced by police during the trial, was operating again. It was playing an inspirational tune while the crowd sang “Going to Meet My Lord.” They picked up the volume as MacAllister strode past.

Beemer and Glock exited by a side door and were whisked away by police.

It was like traveling in time, like watching the 2216 super-nova explode again. This must have been what it was like in Te

The real enemy, he thought, was fanaticism.

THE MEDIA REPORTED that state police were coming in to bolster the local force. And the hellfire trial was for them the story du jour. Even the moonriders were crowded out.

He closed the blinds against the crowds and wished he could have shut out the noise. Getting a hotel in town had turned out not to be a prudent course of action. He’d expected some disarray, but nothing like this. The trial would probably end tomorrow. He suspected things would get worse.

He called Wolfie.

“They were ru

“Okay,” he said. “I don’t need details.”

Wolfie gri

“The crowd’s getting a little testy.” He heard glass shattering somewhere. And a scream.

“You’ve been all over the news reports, Mac. You look pretty good. One guy challenging a mob. I bet you didn’t know what you were starting with this one.”

“Are you paying attention, Wolfie?”

“Sure.”

“I want you to find out when the papers were filed to authorize construction of the Galactic.”

“That should be simple enough.”

“Then I want you to track back from that date, say, over a seven-year period. During that time span, somebody will have done survey work in the Capellan system. Check ships’ manifests, movement logs, whatever.”

“All right.”

“You might also want to take a look at scientific papers published during the period. Somewhere, you’ll find somebody, a planetary physicist of some sort, most likely, who was out there on a project.”

“What was the nature of the project?”

“Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. We want this person’s name.”

“Okay.”

“If we’re lucky, we’ll also discover a link with Orion Tours. Particularly Charles Dryden.”

“Who’s Dryden?”

“An executive over there. Wolfie, I want you to get on this right away.”

“Will do, Boss.”

“Let me know as soon as you have something.”

HUTCH WAS DRAINED. Sitting in for Asquith was never a pleasure. There were always political meetings, public relations issues, and a host of administrative details. Most of the decisions could have been put on automatic by establishing policy, or, better, relegating them to lower-level executives. Like perso

Peter kept in touch and gave her the latest positions of the Carolyn Ray, the Bergen, and the WhiteStar ships. The Rehling had left Nok and was on its way. The others would all be en route within a day or so.

When time allowed she watched the hellfire trial. She sympathized with Beemer, but couldn’t see that he had a chance. She was proud that Mac had taken his side. A few minutes after the judge had recessed the trial for the day, she got a transmission from Marcus Cullen, one of the passengers on the Rehling. It was for her personally, not for the commissioner. The transmission was only a minute or so long, the AI informed her. She could have ignored it until later, but she hated to put unpleasantries off. Cullen was a crank. He wielded a lot of influence, although his fellow physicists did not have a high regard for him. He seemed to be disappointed in his life, a guy who’d never really accomplished anything, had never even gotten into the race for any of the big prizes. So he’d concentrated instead on accumulating power. He was president of Duke University, and a close friend of the president.

“Hutchins,” he said, “I am not happy with your action. You’ve added several days to a flight that was already tedious enough. Every day I have to spend out here costs my university heavily. I understand we are going to rescue, whatever that’s supposed to mean, the staff at Origins. From, as best I can tell, a nonexistent threat. You better damn well know what you’re talking about or your job is gone.”

COMMON SENSE COMMITTEE PLANS CONTACT EFFORT

Will Look for Chance to Say Hello to Rock-Throwing Aliens

Harper: “Our Opportunity for Major Advances”

“May Be a Million Years Ahead of Humanity”

CONGRESS CONSIDERS EMERGENCY MEASURES

Arms Bill Will Pass Easily

Global Effort to Mount Defenses

Gallen: “If They Come for Us, We Will Be Ready”

MARINES IN ORBIT

Special Forces to Get Training in Space Operations

FUNDAMENTALISTS DENY ALIENS EXIST

“Another Effort to Undercut Biblical Teaching”

WORLD COUNCIL OF CHURCHES SAYS

BIBLE TRUTH INTACT

“Nothing in the Bible Prohibits Others”

“We’re All God’s Children”

MOONRIDER GLOBES LATEST ACTION TOYS HIT

What Do Moonriders Look Like? Toy Manufacturers Stand By

REPORTS OF SIGHTINGS UP AROUND WORLD

Globes Seen Everywhere

Authorities Insist No Moonriders near Earth

MOONRIDER “ABDUCTEES” GIVE WARNING

“They’ve Been Watching Us for Years”

“Nobody Would Listen”

INTERSTELLAR BLUES OPENS ON BROADWAY

Perfect Timing for Musical about Lost Alien

MOONRIDERS STILL PRIMITIVE, SAYS BROWNSTEIN

“If They Have to Throw Rocks, We Have Nothing to Fear”

MOONRIDER REACTION RANKS WITH 20TH-CENTURY UFO HYSTERIA

WE’VE BEEN WARGAMING THIS FOR YEARS

Military Says It’s Ready

chapter 36

Human beings, by and large, are a cowardly and despicable lot. They snuggle up to bosses. They support personalities rather than principles. They don’t pay attention when serious malfeasance is in the saddle.

— Gregory MacAllister, Life and Times

On the second day of the trial, Glock introduced a series of psychiatrists who testified they had treated persons with various disorders that could be ascribed to overzealous religious instruction when they were young. A psychologist argued that he had looked through the curriculum for the schools conducted by the Universal Church of the Creator and declared that students reared in that tradition, when they attended college, consistently lagged behind others in both the humanities and the sciences. “Their minds were closed,” he said. “It was not simply that they were indoctrinated with information that was demonstrably false, for example that evolutionary processes occur only on microscopic levels, but also that they were trained to resist competing ideas. No consideration whatever was to be given to any notion that did not comply with accepted doctrine.”