"Oh."
"Our job is to protect you."
It made sense, but for some reason, it didn't reassure me. If anything, it left me feeling even more scared.
Douglas explained, "You weren't there for the security briefing. Boynton made it very clear. This isn't a democracy. Not yet. We don't have time for that luxury. His motto is, 'Hang me for it after I get you safely to Outbeyond.' "
I thought about that. For a moment, I thought I could argue the other side of that question—and then I shut up. Douglas wasn't inviting me to argue, he was giving me information. A big difference.
Boynton and Pettyjohn finished their discussion. Each floated back to his own people, and everybody took their places around the gym, stationing themselves on the orange webbing. Some of the webbing was anchored to the walls, some was stretched outward like nets. And there were a lot of those zero-gee perches anchored to the bulkheads too. The effect was kind of like a giant chicken coop with trampolines. But it provided a certain degree of order. There were a hundred and fifty people here.
Boynton switched on his microphone so everybody could hear him clearly. The proceedings would be broadcast throughout the entire ship. "As you all know, in less than seventy-two hours, we have to begin braking to put ourselves into orbit around New Revelation.
"Our original mission plan specified that we would stay in orbit around New Revelation for no more than two weeks, safely delivering colonists and supplies. Our original mission plan allowed for the possibility that the colony on New Revelation might have failed. If we did not receive a response to our signals, we were to assume that the colony had failed or evacuated. Under that circumstance, we were authorized to abort the braking procedure, loop around the planet, and head back out into deep space for transit to Outbeyond.
"The Colony on New Revelation is still there. We are receiving signals from them—but it is not good news. Based on the reports that we have gotten from the colony administration as well as from the colony's own IRMA unit, the failure of the New Revelation colony is inevitable and imminent. And this puts us in a very difficult postion—"
This wasn't unexpected news to most people in the gym. According to J'mee, the rumors had been circulating even before she and I had started climbing up the keel, so there wasn't a lot of surprise. But now that it was confirmed, people reacted as if the air was being let out of them. The Revelationists didn't flinch. They must have already figured this out.
Boynton continued. "New Revelation has always been a stopover point for other colony ships. The Revelationist church purchased shares of many starships like the Cascade, so they could guarantee that commitment. And that meant that the colony could purchase its supplies on a just-in-time basis. Unfortunately, that also gave them very little margin for error.
"Two years ago, as the probability of a polycrisis on Earth rose toward possibility, and then inevitability, it became essential for New Revelation to invest in a massive shipment of supplies to build up long-term viability. They contracted with the Conway company to make three shipments to the colony. There is no question that delivery of those supplies would have guaranteed the long-term survival of the colony.
"We know that the Conway company did seem to be fulfilling its contract. By the time the first load was fully stowed aboard the Conway the other two were already up the Line and waiting at L-5. The Conway is a very fast ship. It has a starflake configuration for its hyperstate engines, so it can make three trips in the time it would take the Cascade to make two. The first shipment of supplies for New Revelation was supposed to arrive ten weeks ago. The Conway never showed up."
Boynton softened his tone. "We suspect—and we have some information to validate this theory—that they were approached at the last minute by a representative from another colony and offered a higher bid for the cargo that New Revelation had already paid for. Perhaps they thought it was too good an opportunity to pass up. And with the inevitable meltdown of authority on Earth, perhaps they thought there would be no one to hold them accountable. We don't know if that's the case, but it wouldn't be the first time the Conway company changed plans at the last moment to go chasing off after some crazier opportunity. How those people stayed in business for so long—never mind. The point is, once again, other people have to pick up the pieces."
Boynton paused to sip from a zero-gee mug. Then he said. "The question is—what can we do?
"We've been running simulations." He looked across to Pettyjohn. "We've even looked at the possibility of dropping some or even all of the supplies for Outbeyond here, to see if that would save the people of New Revelation."
As he said this part, I looked across at Dr. Pettyjohn and the other Revelationists. They were expectant. Even hopeful. They had come to hear good news. Everybody had—
Boynton said, "I wish I had better news for you than this. I wish I could tell you that we'd found a way to produce a miracle. But these equations are so cold that you can work them out on your fingers. The raw numbers are up on the ship's network. If someone can find something we missed … I want to be the first to know."
He looked across the intervening space, and when he spoke, his voice was uncommonly gentle. "I'm sorry, Dr. Pettyjohn. No matter how we crunch the numbers the answer comes up the same. Whatever we might do will only prolong the agony. Nothing we can do will prevent the colony from dying."
The Revelationists looked stunned. Like one of those newsreels where they're telling the people waiting at the gate that the plane blew up over the ocean. It was too much for them to understand. Some of them started repeating the word "no" over and over and over. Others started praying. Trent Colwell's dad started cursing aloud. "God, why have you forsaken us! What have we done to anger you so much that you would punish your faithful?!" A couple were screaming incoherently. It was awful, it was embarrassing. You wanted to do something for them, but there was nothing to do. A couple of well-meaning people tried, but the Revelationists just waved them away, as if it was their fault.
Dr. Pettyjohn was the only one who seemed to have any self-control. He just stared forward for the longest moment, almost without expression—and then, he looked across the gym and his eyes focused on me. For a moment, he looked surprised, then his expression turned purely malevolent.
It scared me.
Douglas saw it too. He put his hand on my shoulder. J'mee took my hand in hers and squeezed.
I had this sudden intuition. It didn't matter what Boynton wanted to try. What Pettyjohn had said was true. Things were already out of control—
A PROPOSAL
For a moment, everything was chaos. I didn't know where to look. Even the Outbeyond colonists were upset and angry. I glanced over at Wanda Biggel. Hilda Bigmouth looked like she was crying into Wanda's shoulder and Wanda was rocking her gently—or she was unconscious. She had to be unconscious. She wasn't capable of crying. She could make other people cry though. Wanda was a very good actress, patting Hilda's back, rocking her …
O'Koshi was holding up his clipboard, showing something to Boynton. The Commander turned up the volume on his microphone and said, "Dr. Pettyjohn, please tell your people to return to their cabins. We're not done yet. They won't get very far anyway, we've locked down the ship. But there's the possibility that some of your people may attempt something foolish or dangerous that would jeopardize everybody's lives. Dr. Pettyjohn, will you please keep your promise? We aren't done yet. Dr. Pettyjohn—"
Pettyjohn was already whispering into his own communicator. Whatever was going on elsewhere in the ship, it had to be pretty serious.
"Dr. Pettyjohn—" Boynton was saying, "I told you I had a proposal that I wanted you to listen to. I told you that I wanted you to take it to your people and consider it carefully. Please hear me out." He glanced at O'Koshi's clipboard. "If everybody will please calm down and listen—"
It took a while to restore order, the biggest problem was getting everybody to stop shushing everybody else. For a moment, the gym sounded like a
giant wind tunnel.
—And then it was deathly silent, and Boynton was speaking again. "The Mission Book is available on the network. Any of you can look it up. You'll see that from the very first planning sessions, we have created contingency plans for whatever circumstances we might have to deal with. The failure of New Revelation was always one of those possibilities, and we always made allowances for that in all of our plans. Dr. Pettyjohn, I am authorized to invite you and your party to continue on to Outbeyond with us."
Dr. Pettyjohn didn't answer immediately. He shook his head sadly. And when he finally did answer, it was with as much remorse as regret. "I'm sorry, that's just not possible."
Boynton said, "I'm afraid you really don't have a choice, Dr. Pettyjohn—"
"No, you don't understand, Commander. This ship isn't going to Outbeyond."
"Eh?"
"The IRMA unit we supplied. It was preprogrammed according to our instructions. It will brake at New Revelation. And it will refuse to break orbit and travel to Outbeyond. This ship is not going on, Commander."
"So that was their plan!" whispered Douglas in my ear. "We knew they were going to try something—"
Boynton looked at Pettyjohn like the wrath of God—only worse. "So you intended to hijack this ship, its cargo, and her passengers from the very beginning … ?"
Pettyjohn was unashamed. "Commander, we read your contingency plans. We had a contingency plan too. Our destiny is at New Revelation, nowhere else. We will not be hijacked to your godless world."
"Dr. Pettyjohn, New Revelation is dying. Is that the destiny you want?"
"If that's what the Good Lord intends for us, then that's how we will serve the Lord."
"But you have no right to ask the 1200 people who do not share your faith to die with you—"
"I am sure the Good Lord will welcome them into Paradise with the rest of the faithful. The Revelation is available to everyone—"
Cries of outrage filled the gym. If crew members hadn't been spaced so carefully around the webbing, Pettyjohn would have been mobbed. Several people even started for him, but others held them back.
"Dr. Pettyjohn!" Boynton's voice boomed across the gym, loud enough to be painful. It worked. "As of this moment, I am declaring that a state of attempted mutiny exists aboard this starship. I am ordering the arrest of Reverend Dr. Pettyjohn and the Revelationist Coordinating Committee. You have a choice. You can be held for trial at Outbeyond, or we can hold your trial here."
"Commander Boynton—do you really think you are ready to battle the Warriors of the Lord? God is on our side."
As he said this, I looked to J'mee. She whispered, "He's being right, big time."
Boynton was speaking calmly, but his voice was still very loud. "Reverend Dr. Pettyjohn, according to Section Twelve of the Star-ship Charter, the Captain of the Ship has the Ultimate Authority in All Matters Pertaining to the Ship's Safety—and may take whatever steps necessary to protect the integrity of the ship and the security of her passengers. As of this moment, I am invoking Section Twelve."
Pettyjohn looked at him, blandly. "You no longer have authority over us, Commander. We accept only God's authority."
"But I do have authority over the hatches on your cabins," said Boynton. He held up O'Koshi's clipboard. "Unless you guarantee your immediate cooperation, I will evacuate the oxygen from every cabin containing a Revelationist family. It makes no difference to me if you die up here or down there. But it makes a big difference to me if you endanger the other colonists on my starship. Do I need to press the first button here to make my point?"
For the first time, Pettyjohn looked shaken. "You truly are the spawn of Satan, aren't you?"
"If that's what you want to believe, fine. But I want you to know the way things work on my starship. We do it my way or we don't do it at all." The two men stared across the gym at each other—you could almost see the lightning crackling between their eyes. Pettyjohn looked like he was already at war. Boynton looked like a wall of granite.
Finally, Pettyjohn spoke. He said, "In the name of the Holy Lord and Spirit, I rebuke thee, Satan! I command thee—Begone!"
For a moment, there was stunned silence.
Then somebody tittered. Embarrassed? And somebody else—not so embarrassed. And then a whole bunch of others started laughing too. And then it was out-loud laughing.
Boynton waited until the laughter ebbed, then he replied quietly, "Dr. Pettyjohn, you are under arrest for attempted mutiny. You will be escorted to a holding cell. You will not be allowed any more contact with anyone on this ship."
Six armed security people swooped down on Dr. Pettyjohn. I recognized Lang and Martin. All of them were carrying stunners. Some of the Revelationists looked like they wanted to fight and defend Dr. Pettyjohn, but the Reverend motioned them back. "No," he said. "Not here. The Lord will protect me. You know what to do—" Before he could say more, they were already cuffing him and floating him away.
To the others, Boynton said, "You will return to your section of the ship. As a committee, you will have twelve hours to confer with your people and make a decision. Those who want to travel on to Outbeyond, are welcome to join us—under certain conditions. Those who wish to land at New Revelation anyway, we will drop you in cargo pods. You will have to make that decision without Dr. Pettyjohn's input. He is being held for mutiny. If there are any further attempts at violence aboard this ship, I will begin evacuating the oxygen from the most violent sections, regardless of who is in them—and I will continue doing so until the violence stops or until there is no one left."
"Will he really do that?" I whispered to Douglas.
"What do you think?"
"I think I don't want to find out the hard way—"
The rest of the Revelationists started leaving. They were angry, and they were ready to start a fight; but all of a sudden, there were too many crew members with stun-weapons pointed at them. They whispered to each other, then turned away and started slowly toward the hatch. The security people followed. Herding them … ?
Douglas leaned toward Mickey, "This is getting ugly. We should get the kids out of here—"
Trent whispered to us, "I think I should go back with my dad—" He started to move, he was going to launch himself across the room.
J'mee grabbed him and pulled him back behind Mickey. "That's not a very good idea, Trent. If they see you with us, what'll they think? You helped Chigger escape—do you want them to know that?"
"But I have to go. I have to be with my family—"
"Trent! Listen to me—you know what they planned for Chigger. Do you want them to do it to you—?"
Trent fell silent. He moved back behind Douglas and me again, where he would be invisible to the rest of the room.
Too late. One of the Revelationists turned around to say something to someone else and he was angled just the right way, and he looked across and saw us—just in time to catch a glimpse of Trent—and then he was grabbing Trent's dad and shouting and pointing in our direction and then Trent's dad was shouting even louder, "They're trying to kidnap my son—!"
And then all of the Revelationists stopped at the hatch, clustering up at the webbing and the bulkhead instead of moving out—and they started clamoring too. A lot of it was incomprehensible, but some of them were pointing at us, and I heard a lot of ugly words. And then some of them looked like they were ready to fight—
Mickey said, "It just got uglier—"
—Douglas had already realized the same thing. "Come on, Chigger, Trent, J'mee. Out that way—" They pointed toward the other end of the hall. But that only made the Revelationists scream louder. "They're trying to get away—! Stop them—!"
And for just an instant, everything froze—and I thought, Oh, God, this is it! This is where it all comes apart!
And then they started toward us, the whole mob of them. I saw weapons pointed in our direction—and sudden loud noises—
—and then the stunners started sizzling and everything
was over before it started. Except for the smell. Stunners aren't nice weapons. They use electric shocks and sonic pulses and the result is that your bladder lets loose and your bowel opens up and you mess yourself pretty bad—and when you do that to twenty or thirty people all at once, it really stinks.
And then there were klaxons and alarms and Boynton's voice was blasting through the ship, thundering like the voice of doom—"Ten Revelationist cabins have just been evacuated of air—all the cabins where illegal weapons were stored. Consider that your last warning. The next ten cabins to be evacuated are inhabited by the families of the Revelationist Council. Are there any more damn fools who want to test my commitment to the safety of this starship?!"
I couldn't believe he'd done it—but at the same time, I knew he had.
We were at war—
AFTERMATH
It was a very short war.
We had three deaths. They had fourteen.
During the last three months, Security had secretly trained and armed almost half the adult-colonists on the Cascade. Douglas and Mickey. Bev, but not Mom. David Cheifetz. Even Professor Whitlaw. Boynton had passed out stunners two days before we popped out of hyperstate. Whatever trouble the Revelationists might have been planning, they were outnumbered three to one.
The worst part was that one of the Revelationists had built a projectile weapon. And he managed to put holes in six people. Three of them died. One of them was Professor Whitlaw. The big gruff bear of a man who growled and roared and demanded that we be as good as we could. He'd never hurt anyone, he'd only meant the best for everyone—but he'd been deliberately targeted, because his crime was to question everything, even the word of God—
It was like losing Dad all over again.
I wanted to hurt them. I wanted to hurt them all. I wanted HARLIE to open up their files and tell everything about everybody until they were all naked and ashamed. I wanted him to dump their pods into the sun and let them experience the flames of blue hell first hand. Enough was enough with the damn killing already—
Leaping to the Stars Page 27
