“That’s not even going to come into play if they shoot our nuts off before we get there,” he said. “You really think Earth and Mars are going to go for the whole ‘we’re just playing sheriff’ line? There’s going to be a bunch of them who still think whatever Holden was up to, we were in on it. But even if they don’t, the part where they stand to the side and let us take the lead isn’t going to happen. You can bet your ass the head of the Mars force is asking his XO if they want an alien civilization taking its ideas of humanity from Ashford.”
“That was nice,” Pa said. “The reversal thing? That was good.”
“The inner planets may not be making threats yet,” Bull said, “but—”
“They are. Mars has threatened to open fire on us if we get within a hundred thousand kilometers of the Ring.”
Bull put his hand to his mouth. He could feel his mind struggling to make sense of the words. The Martian navy had already laid down an ultimatum. Ashford hadn’t even mentioned it.
“So what the hell are we doing?”
“We’re preparing for burn in four and three-quarter hours, Mister Baca,” Pa said. “Because that’s what we’ve been ordered to do.”
The bitterness wasn’t only in her voice. It was in her eyes and the angle of her mouth. Sympathy and outrage battled in Bull’s mind, and underneath them a rising panic. He was too tired to be having this conversation. Too tired to be doing what had to get done. It had stripped away all the protections that would have made him hesitate to speak. If he could have gotten just one good cycle’s rest, maybe he could have found another way, but this was the hand he’d been dealt, so it was the hand he’d play.
“You don’t agree with him,” Bull said. “If it was your call, you wouldn’t do it.”
Pa took a long pull at her bulb, the flexible foil buckling under the suction. Bull was pretty sure she wasn’t drinking for the taste, and the urge to get some whiskey for himself came on him like an unexpected blow.
“It doesn’t matter what I would or wouldn’t do,” Pa said. “It’s not my command, so it’s not my decision.”
“Unless something happens to the captain,” Bull said. “Then it would be.”
Pa went still. The sound of the music, the shifting patterns of lights, all of it seemed to recede. They were in their own small universe together. Pa thumbed on the bulb’s magnet and stuck it to the wall beside her.
“There are still hours before the burn starts. And then travel time. The situation may change, but I won’t take part in mutiny,” she said.
“Maybe you wouldn’t have to. Doesn’t have to have anything to do with you. But unless you’re going to specifically order me not to—”
“I am specifically ordering you, Mister Baca. I am ordering you not to take any action against the captain. I am ordering you to respect the chain of command. And if that means I have to commit to following through on Ashford’s orders, then I’ll make that commitment. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah,” Bull said slowly. “Either we’re all going to die, or we’re going through the Ring.”
Chapter Eighteen: Anna
E
leven people showed up for Anna’s first worship service. The contrast with her congregation on Europa was unsettling at first. On Europa, she’d have had twenty or so families straggling in over the half hour before the service began, and a few drifting in late. They’d have been all ages, from grandparents rolling in on personal mobility devices to screaming children and infants. Some would come in their Sunday best formal wear, others in ratty casual clothes. The buzz of conversation prior to the service would be in mixed Russian, English, and outer planets polyglot. By the end of the worship meeting, a few might be snoring in their pews.
Her UNN congregation showed up in a single group at exactly 9:55 a.m. Instead of walking in and taking seats, they floated in as a loose clump and then just hovered in a disconcerting cloud in front of her podium. They wore spotless dress uniforms so crisply pressed they looked sharp enough to cut skin. They didn’t speak, they just stared at her expectantly. And they were all so young. The oldest couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.
The unusual circumstances rendered her standard worship service inappropriate—no need for a children’s message or church announcements—so Anna launched directly into a prayer, followed by a scripture reading and a short sermon. She’d considered doing a sermon on duty and sacrifice; it seemed appropriate in the martial setting. But she had instead decided to speak mostly on God’s love. Given the fear Chris had expressed a few days prior, it felt like the better choice.
When she’d finished, she closed with another prayer, then served communion. The gentle ritual seemed to ease the tension she felt in the room. Each of her eleven young soldiers came up to her makeshift table, took a bulb of grape juice and a wafer, and returned to their prior position floating nearby. She read the familiar words in Matthew and Luke, then spoke the blessing. They ate the bread and drank from the bulb. And, as had always happened since the very first church service she could remember, Anna felt something vast and quiet settle on her. She also felt the shiver that tried to crawl up her spine competing with a threatening belly laugh. She had a sudden vision of Jesus, who’d asked His disciples to keep doing this in remembrance of Him, watching her little congregation as they floated in microgravity and drank reconstituted grape beverage out of suction bulbs. It seemed to stretch the boundaries of what He’d meant by this.
A final prayer and the service was over. Not one of her congregation pushed toward the door to leave. Eleven young faces stared at her, waiting. The oppressive aura of fear she’d managed to push away during the communion crept back into the room.
Anna pulled herself around the podium and joined their loose cloud. “Should I expect anyone next week? You guys are making me nervous.”
Chris spoke first. “No, it was real nice.” He seemed to want to say more, but stopped and looked down at his hands instead.
“Back on Europa, people would have brought snacks and coffee for after the service,” Anna said. “We could do that next time, if you want.”
A few halfhearted nods. A muscular young woman in a marine uniform pulled her hand terminal halfway out of her pocket to check the time. Anna felt herself losing them. They needed something else from her, but they weren’t going to ask for it. And it definitely wasn’t coffee and snacks.