Prophets

“Humanity. Our creators.”

“Our creators?” She sucked in a breath. “Oh.”

There was a long period of silence before she asked, “If Mosasa is the Devil, what does that make us?”

“Souls untainted by the arrogance of the Fallen who have the possibility of redemption in the eyes of God. You more than I, because you are closer to His creation before the Fall.”

“You believe this?”

“I was raised in the faith of St. Rajasthan.”

“Is that an answer?”

“What I believe is not important. I’m as damned as Mosasa.”

“Why?”

“You never asked me about my arm.”

He couldn’t read her expression, but he could almost feel what she was thinking. She could ask him about his past, but that would open up the opportunity for him to question her about her own.

Kugara didn’t speak for a long time. Then she said, “You truly think I’m closer to God than you are?”

“In my faith, you are considered an Angel.”

He heard her make some soft rhythmic sounds, like she was gasping for breath.

Crying? Why?

She extended her legs, pushing against the portal to shoot out the door above him, out into the corridor. Nickolai turned, body slowly tumbling in the observation room. “Kugara?”

“Shut up, you stupid morey bastard.”

Nickolai drew back, the unexpected slur stinging him more than he thought possible.

“You know nothing about me,” she shouted at him without turning her head. “Nothing! How dare you!” She disappeared out the doorway before Nickolai could pull himself out of the observation room.

He floated alone, in the dark, with the stars.

There was a small area forward of the crew quarters of the Eclipse that served as a common area. Mallory made a point to take meals there when there was a quorum of the scientific team in attendance. On some level he wanted to avoid Dr. Dorner, but that was not really possible on a ship this size, and going to the effort of trying to avoid her would have attracted way more attention to himself.

In the end, his cover was only a means to an end, the end being intelligence on what was happening out toward Xi Virginis. And after Mosasa’s revelations about the Caliphate, Mallory suspected that information was more important than ever.

He hoped the scientific team Mosasa had assembled would be the closest to knowing the answer. That was the theory, anyway.

So, at each meal, he took a seat and eavesdropped, and if they didn’t actively engage him in their conversations, they didn’t shun him either—though Dr. Dorner’s icy stares came close.

Fine, Mallory thought, the more you see me as a mercenary thug, the less likely you’ll see a Jesuit colleague.

Over the past week, just by listening to their small talk, he discovered that none of them had been recruited from Bakunin itself. They came from several far-flung corners of human space. Bill—who was only ever present as a synthetic voice on a comm unit, his massive life-support system never leaving his cargo bay—was from Paralia, of course. Dr. Dorner, Mallory knew, came from Acheron, and that caused Dr. Pak to make an unsubtle comment about the planet contributing to her icy personality. Dr. Pak actually came from Terra, which usually granted him some deference beyond his relative youth but didn’t keep Dr. Dorner from making a sharp comment about people who peaked young looking forward to a “slow, sad decline.”