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.All those people who walked into my chapel all of those years while we were imprisoned? I thought they were impressive.I think one of the reasons why I stuck with my job was because I wanted to find out what made those people tick—how they managed.”The captain didn’t say anything after that, for several minutes.“So,” I said, clearing my throat and spitting the grit from my tongue, “what conversation did you and the Queen Mother have? Any groundbreaking heart-to-hearts?”“I don’t think she understood a word I said,” Adanaho replied.“The Professor told me it sounded like you were praying.I didn’t ask before, but I want to ask now: are you a Muslim?”“No,” she said.“Copt.”I stopped short.After the purges in Africa in the 21st and early 22nd centuries, many religious scholars doubted that the Coptic Christian religion had survived at all—that any modern Copts extant were “revivalists” trying to reinvent the faith following its literal extinction.As if reading my thoughts, the captain chuckled.“Oh, we managed,” she said.“On the down-low, of course.Family legend has it that my ancestors fled North Africa, and went to Australia.Succeeding generations then went to Southeast Asia, then South America, then North America, and finally back to North Africa as part of the resettlement agreement with the Brotherhood.Once the war with the mantes began, our enemies among the Muslims had a new devil to hate, so they left us alone.For a change.”“Do you believe?” I said.“Are you a Copt in your heart, as well as by birth?”“I didn’t used to be,” she said as we started up walking again.“What happened?” I asked.“You,” she said.I stopped short for the second time.“Me?”“Yes.”“Whatever could I have done that reignited your belief?”I felt my face growing warm again, and not from exercise.“When I got out of officer school and went to the Intelligence branch, I began studying the roots of the armistice.I read all of your depositions and your final summary.It wasn’t scholarly writing by any stretch of the imagination.But I agreed with you then: the cease-fire was a practical miracle, achieved against all odds.Without it, humanity would have ceased to exist.The mantes had every intention of doing to us what they’d done to previous intelligent competitors in the galaxy.That they did not, and that they did not for the sake of something so utterly beyond their understanding and experience, as religion, spoke to me of a higher power at work.”“Yeah, well…”“You are a modest man, padre,” she said.“I know you try not to take too much credit.I personally believe you were a tool.And I don’t mean that in the pejorative sense.”“Others have said as much, before,” I admitted.“You are uncomfortable with this.”“Of course I am uncomfortable with it!” I said, almost shouting.“Do you know how many human pilgrims have passed through my chapel in the last decade? All of them wanting to sit at my feet like I’m some kind of effng Buddha? An enlightened one? A savior?”“To their minds, that’s not far-fetched.”“No doubt!” I said, facing her directly.We were deep into the weeds of the discussion now, and there was no holding back.“But do you have any kind of idea how much pressure that put on me? How badly I felt when these people—from all over human space—came to my chapel and sat in my pews, and expected some kind of transfiguring or overwhelming experience, and didn’t get it? I saw it in their eyes when they left.Every time: confusion and disappointment.I never wanted to be anyone’s damned prophet.I was never good at preaching.I was never good at teaching.All I was ever trying to do was provide people with a quiet, clean, calming space where they could come and find their own answers.For themselves.”“Because you made a promise to your Chaplain Thomas,” she said.“Yes,” I said, breathing heavily.The Professor had stopped too.Had the mantes overheard? He was chattering for the Queen Mother’s benefit; she seemed intensely interested.I suddenly felt a sharp desire to melt into the ground.Some messiah I’d turned out to be.I’d only delayed the war, not averted it.Things seemed to be more pointless than ever before.I’d have quit right then if I’d not still felt deep down that there was a chance—if only we could get the Queen Mother back to her people, she could make them listen.“Okay,” I said, waving all three of them off.“Let’s get moving again.”The Professor and the Queen Mother floated off without protest.The captain resumed her place at my side.“Thanks, Chief,” she said.“For what?” I asked, embarrassed.“I think I’m finally starting to understand you.”I grunted, and didn’t say anything more.We kept walking.Chapter 28Earth, 2153 A.D.Range firing and simulator training proved to be two entirely different things.For starters, we didn’t have to hike to reach the simulator.Each morning we were out of our bunks an hour earlier than usual, followed by a four-kilometer tactical march across Armstrong Field to the hills on the southwest side.Along the way I was able to do plenty of rubbernecking [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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