Abaddon's Gate

Galley. They called it a galley on ships.

Tilly picked halfheartedly at a farm-grown tomato and real mozzarella salad that A

A

“Awww,” Tilly said. It had a pro forma feel to it. A

“Robert hasn’t checked in for a week now,” Tilly said. She seemed resigned rather than sad.

“You don’t think he—”

“Cheating?” Tilly said with a laugh. “I wish. That would at least be interesting. When he locks himself away in his office at 2 a.m., you know what I catch him looking at? Business reports, stock values, spreadsheets. Robert is the least sexual creature I’ve ever met. At least until they invent a way to fuck money.”

Tilly’s casual obscenity had very quickly stopped bothering A

“Esteban? Who knows? Robert’s job is to be rich and have rich friends. I’m sure that part is coming along just fine.”

They ate in silence for a while, then without pla

Tilly nodded gravely, as though A

“We pray, and we get photographed, and we have meetings about interfaith cooperation,” A

“The Ring?”

“No. I mean yes. I mean we talk about the Ring all the time. What is it, what’s it for, why did the protomolecule make it.”

Tilly pushed her salad away and chewed another lozenge. “Then what?”

“What I thought we came here to do. To talk about what it means. Nearly a hundred spiritual leaders and theologians on this ship. And none of us is talking about what the Ring means.”

“For God?”

“Well, at least aboutGod. Theological anthropology is a lot simpler when humans are the only ones with souls.”

Tilly waved at the waiter and ordered a cocktail A

“But how does the protomolecule fit into that? Is it alive? It murders us, but it also builds amazing structures that are astonishingly advanced. Is it a tool used by someone more like us, only smarter? And if so, are they creatures with a sense of the divine? Do they have faith? What does that look like?”

“If they’re even from the same God,” Tilly said, using a short straw to mix her drink, then taking a sip.

“Well, for some of us there’s only one,” A

A group of workers in civilian jumpsuits came into the dining area and sat down. They ordered food from the waiter and talked noisily among themselves. A

“And, really, it’s all pretty theoretical, even to me,” she continued. “Maybe none of that should matter to ourfaith at all, except that I have this feeling it will. That to most people, it will matter.”

Tilly was sipping her drink, which A

“Cortez acts like he’s in charge,” A

“Cortez is a politician,” Tilly said with a condescending smirk. “Don’t let his folksy Father Hank bullshit snow you. He’s here because as long as Esteban is in office, Cortez is a powerful man. This dog and pony show? This is all about votes.”

“I hate that,” A

“What would you ask Cortez for?”

“I’d like to organize some groups. Have the conversation.”

“Do you need his permission?” Tilly asked.

A

“No,” she said. “I guess I don’t.”

That night A

A

There was very little traffic in the corridor and lifts. The military people she did see looked tense, though to her relief, not particularly frightened. Just aware. Vigilant.

Having nowhere else to go, she wandered into the officers’ mess and ordered a glass of milk. When it arrived, she was stu

The only other people in the mess hall were a few military people with officers’ uniforms, and a small knot of the civilian contractors drinking coffee and slumping in their seats like workers in the middle of an all-nighter. A dozen metal tables were bolted to the floor with magnetic chairs at their sides. Wall displays scrolled information for the ship’s officers, all of it gibberish to her. A row of cutouts opened into the galley, letting through plates of food and the sounds of industrial dishwashers and the smell of floor cleaner. It was like sitting too near the kitchen in a very, very clean restaurant.

A

“Excuse me, ma’am,” said a voice behind her, almost making A

A

A

“Chris Williams,” the young officer replied, giving her hand a short but firm shake. “And yes, ma’am, I know who you are.”

“You do?”

“Yes, ma’am. My people in Mi