we'll have to worry about.'
I didn't like it. My imagination conjured up visions of killer satellites and secret military spacecraft. 'Is there some way they can prevent us from patching into the VideoSat network?' It was the only chance we had to blanket the entire planet's population simultaneously with the neural interruptor field.
'Leave that to me. Just tell me what to do with the stiff here.' He jerked a thumb at Zacharias's immobile form.
Bridget spoke up. 'Don't touch him. Don't even brush up against him.'
The kid squirmed beside me. 'Are we there yet?'
Our pilot checked a computer display. 'About five minutes. You can see the VideoSat off the starboard side at about two o'clock low.'
'This is it, then.' I shot an inquiring glance at Ann.
She shrugged, turning calmly to Bridget. 'Tell me,' she asked, 'exactly how do you go about blessing a spaceship?'
23
The Spell
Canfield had dug up a pressure suit to replace the one Zack had borrowed. It didn't fit well, but was better than trying to wear either mine or Ann's. After aligning
according to Bridget's exacting instructions, he floated outside the shuttle, maneuvering a tool kit nearly as large as he was. With a light kick, he drifted across the void toward the communication satellite a hundred meters away.
After making a minor midcourse correction with a small gas pistol, he bumped up against VideoSat Three, which looked like a ten-meterlong oil drum with a couple of dish antennae and wires poking out of it. He attached a tether to one of the antenna struts and lashed the tool kit down.
'He'll be out there for a while,' I said. 'Let's get ready.' I kicked lightly to float back to the cargo bay. The others were already inside.
With a last look at the immobilized body of the Reverend Emil Zacharias, Ann sealed the hatch and cut a large pentagram into the portal with her hog carver.
She sprinkled pixie dust or something so that it hovered in front of the lock. A bounce off the bulkhead brought her over to the rest of us.
Bridget busied herself with her candles, oiling them carefully so that droplets of the smelly stuff didn't fling around the chamber.
'Neural interruptors, satellite broadcasts,' she muttered. 'All this technology makes me nervous. I've never needed electronic gewgaws in my spells before.'
'You said it yourself, sweetheart. `Two great forces must join.' No one's had the opportunity to assassinate God until the Space Age gave us the means. Science and magick are what it takes. Matter and spirit. Thought and instinct.'
'If you're not a member of the Craft,' she said, 'you ought to be. You certainly blather on the way some of them do.' She firmly pushed the last of the candles into its holder. The five-pointed silver holders were bolted to the altar to keep them from drifting away. She reached for a black and red cloisonne matchbox that floated a few feet to her left, withdrew a kitchen match, and struck it on the side of the box. The match glowed for a few seconds, consuming its fuel. It promptly dimmed and expired, leaving behind a tiny globe of smoke.
'Oh, hell,' she said. A second try yielded identical results.
Ann hovered over her. 'What's wrong?'
'We're weightless. The smoke won't rise. It's choking the matches.' She frowned. 'It'll extinguish the candles, too.'
I tapped at the vanes on the ventilation grill until it blew toward the altar. The breeze would be sufficient to circulate air around the wicks.
'Try again,' I said.
She struck a match. The flame wavered gently but remained lit.
I watched Isadora bound around the cargo bay like a moth in a jar. I hoped she wouldn't careen into anything important. She seemed sober enough. I watched the other two at work.
I had given Ann and Bridget complete control over the setup of the magical environment. Bolted at one end of the
