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her breast, forcing herself not to rush forward. This was barbarous! She
trembled with frustration.
We are all children of Ship!
She wanted to shout this to these fools. It was the lesson of her earliest
WorShip classes, the admonition of the Chaplain.
Two soldiers lifted the length of wood, hoisting the man who was nailed to it
by his wrists. He gasped as they moved him. Four soldiers, two on each side
of him, lifted the timber on their spear points into a notch on a tall post
which stood upright between the other two victims. Another soldier scrambled
up a crude ladder behind the post and lashed the crosspiece into the notch.
Two more soldiers moved up to Yaisuah's dangling feet. While one soldier
crossed the ankles, the other nailed the feet to the upright. Blood ran down
the wood from the wound.
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She had to open her mouth wide and breathe in gulping gasps to keep from
fainting.
She saw the brown eyes flash with sudden agony as a soldier shook the upright
to test its firmness. Yaisuah slumped forward unconscious.
Why are they causing him such pain? What do they want him to do?
Hali pressed forward in the suddenly silent throng, elbowing her way through
with a strength which she found surprising in this old body. She had to see
it close. She had to see. Ship had commanded her to observe. It was
difficult moving in the press of people even with the strength of her inner
drive. And she suddenly became aware of the breath-held silence in the
throng.
Why were they so silent?
It was as though the answer had been flashed on her eyes. They want Yaisuah
to stop this by some secret power in him. They want a miracle! They still
want a miracle from him. They want Ship . . . God to reach out of the sky and
stop this brutal travesty. They do this thing and they want a god to stop it.
She pressed herself past two more people and found that she had achieved the
inner ring of the crowd. There were only the three timber constructions now,
the three bodies . . .
I could still save him, she thought.
I play the song to which you must dance. To you is left the freedom of
improvisation. This improvisation is what you call free will.
-- The Oakes Covenant
"THE MEETING will please come to order."
Oakes used his wand-amplifier to dominate the shuffling and buzzing in the
Colony's central meeting hall. It was a domed and circular room truncated by
a narrow platform against the south wall where he stood. When not being used
for meetings, the room was taken over by manufacture of food-production
equipment and the sub-assembly operations for the buoyant bags of the LTAs.
Because of this, all meetings had to be called at least ten hours in advance
to give workers time to clear away machines and fabrics.
He still felt beset by the tensions of moving from shipside to groundside.
His time sense was upset by the diurnal shift and this meeting had been
rushed. It was almost the hour of mid-meal here. There would be
psychological pressures from the audience because of that.
This was the wrong hour for a meeting and there had been some muttering about
interference with important work, but Murdoch had silenced that by leaking the
announcement that Oakes had come groundside to stay. The implications were
obvious. A major push was impending to make Colony secure; Oakes would
command that push.
On the platform with Oakes stood Murdoch and Rachel Demarest. Murdoch's
position as director of Lab One was well known, and the mystery surrounding
that lab's purposes made his presence here a matter of intense curiosity.
Rachel Demarest was another matter. Oakes scowled when he thought about her.
She had learned things while acting as a messenger between Ferry and
groundside.
Sounds in the room were beginning to subside as the stragglers made their way
in and took seats. Portable chairs had been provided, many constructed from
the twisted Pandoran plant material. The unique appearance of each chair
offended
Oakes. Something would have to be done to standardize appearances here.
He scanned the room, noting that Raja Thomas was present in a seat down front.
The woman beside Thomas fitted the description Murdoch had provided of one
Waela
TaoLini, a survivor of the original kelp-research projects. Her knowledge
might be dangerous. Well . . . she and the poet would share Thomas' fate.
End of that problem!
Oakes had been groundside for almost two diurns now and much of that time had
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been taken up in preparation for this meeting. There had been many eyes-only
reports from Lewis and his minions. Murdoch had been quite useful in this.
He would bear watching. Legata had provided some of the data and, even now,
was back shipside gathering more.
This meeting represented a serious challenge to his powers, Oakes knew, and he
intended to meet it head on. Lewis had estimated that about a thousand people
were here. The larger part of Colony personnel could never be spared from
guard and maintenance and building and rebuilding. Two steps forward, one
step back -
- that was Pandora's way. Oakes was aware, though, that most of those facing
him down on that floor carried the proxy votes of associates. There had been
an unofficial election and this would be a real attempt at democracy. He
recognized the dangers. Democracy had never been the ship-side way and it
could not be allowed groundside. It was a sobering thought and he felt
adrenaline overcoming an earlier indulgence in wine.
The people were taking a devilish long time to get settled, moving about,
forming groups. Oakes waited with what show of patience he could muster.
There was a dank, metallic smell in the room which he did not like. And the
lights had been tuned too far into the green. He glanced back at the Demarest
woman.
She was a slight figure with unremarkable features and dull brown hair. She
was notable only for her intensely nervous mannerisms. Demarest had been the
instigator of the election -- a petition-bearer. Oakes managed a smile when
he looked at her. Lewis had said he knew how to defuse her. Knowing Lewis,
Oakes did not probe for details.
Presently, Rachel Demarest came forward on the platform. Leaving her wand-
amplifier on its clip at her wrist, she raised both arms, twisting her palms
rapidly. It was interesting that the room fell silent immediately.
Why didn't she use her amplifier? Oakes wondered. Was she an anti-tech?
"Thank you all for coming," she said. Her voice was high and squeaky with a
whine at the edge. "We won't take much of your time. Our Ceepee has a copy
of your petition and has agreed to answer it point by point."
Your petition! Oakes thought. Not my petition. Oh, no.
But evidence from Lewis and Murdoch was clear. This woman wanted a share in
Colony power. And she had managed most cleverly to say Ceepee with an
emphasis which made the title appear foolish. Battle, therefore, was joined.
As Demarest stepped back, glancing at him, Oakes produced the petition from an
inner pocket of his white singlesuit. Making it appear accidental, he dropped
the petition. Several pages fluttered off the platform.
"No matter." He waved back people in the front row as they moved to recover
the pages. "I remember everything in it."
A glance at Murdoch brought him a reassuring nod. Murdoch had found chairs
for himself and Demarest. They sat well back on the platform now.
Oakes hunched forward toward his audience in a gesture of confidence, smiling.
"Few of our people are here this morning and you all know the very good
reasons for this. Pandora is unforgiving. We all lost loved ones in the four
failures on Black Dragon."
He gestured vaguely westward where the rocky eminences of Black Dragon lay
hidden beyond the mists of more than a thousand kilometers of ocean. Oakes
knew that none of those failures could be laid at his hatch; he had been very
careful about that. And his presence permanently groundside imparted a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]