"Almost nine."
"But we're so mature."
"They picked us because we have a mental age much higher than the norm."
"I have religious parents," said Wiggin. "Unfortunately not the same religion, which caused a little conflict. For instance, my mother doesn't believe in infant baptism and my father does, so my father thinks I'm baptized and my mother doesn't."
Zeck winced a little at the idea. "You can't have a strong marriage when the parents don't share the same faith."
"Well, my parents do their best," said Wiggin. "And I bet your parents don't agree on everything."
Zeck shrugged.
"I bet they don't agree on you."
Zeck turned away. "This is completely none of your business."
"I bet your mother was glad you went into space. To get you away from your father. That's how much they disagree on religion."
Zeck turned around to face him, furious now. "What did those bunducks tell you about me? They have no right."
"Nobody told me anything," said Wiggin. "It's you, oomay. Back when people were still talking to you, when you first came into Rat Army, it was always, Your father this, your father that."
"You only just joined Rat yourself."
"People talk outside their armies," said Wiggin. "And I listen. Always your father. Like your father was some kind of prophet. And I thought, I bet his mother's glad he isn't under his father's influence anymore."
"My mother wants me to respect my father."
"She just doesn't want you to live with him. He beat you, didn't he?"
Zeck shoved Wiggin. Before he even thought of doing it, there was his hand, shoving the kid away.
"Come on," said Wiggin. "You shower. People see the scars. I've seen the scars."
"It was purification. There's no way a pagan like you would understand that."
"Purification of what?" asked Wiggin. "You were the perfect son."
"Graff's been feeding you information from their observation of me, hasn't he! That's illegal!"
"Come on, Zeck. I know you. If you decide something's right, then that's the thing you'll do, no matter what it costs you. You believe in your father. Whatever he says, you'll do. So what have you done wrong that makes it so you need all this purification?"
Zeck didn't answer. He just closed down. Refused to listen. He let his mind go off somewhere else. To the place where it always went when Father purified him. So he wouldn't scream. So he wouldn't feel anything at all.
"There it is," said Wiggin. "That's the Zeck he made you into. The Zeck who isn't really here. Doesn't really exist."
Zeck heard him without hearing.
"And that's why you have to get home," said Wiggin. "Because without you there, he'll have to find somebody else to purify, won't he? Do you have a brother? A sister? Some other kid in the congregation?"
"He never touched any other kid," murmured Zeck. "I'm the impure one."
"Oh, I know. It's your mother, isn't it? Do you think he'll try to purify your mother?"
At Wiggin's cue, Zeck started thinking about his mother. And not just any picture of her. It was his mother saying to him, "Satan does not give good gifts. So your good gift comes from God."
And then Father, saying, "There are those who will tell you that a thing is from God, when it's really from the devil."