Stewards of the Flame (27 page)

“I don’t know,” Carla confessed. “Peter will think of something.”

“Peter is too softhearted,” said Kira, coming in on the conversation. “He should never have recruited Valerie; she is not stable enough, and he knew it. But she’s alone in the world and he felt responsible for her, though he couldn’t bear to subject her to the kind of therapy the Hospital would have forced him to provide. I don’t know what will become of him if someday one of us faces a major criminal charge.”

“Has that ever happened?” Jesse asked.

Carla dropped her eyes, “Once,” she said shortly. “Peter wasn’t allowed to take the case.”

“From what I’ve seen of Peter, I imagine he could handle it. ‘Soft’ isn’t how I’d describe him.”

“Of course not, not in the sense of weakness,” Kira agreed. “Peter is very strong indeed. But he empathizes. That’s a good thing in most situations, and yet if he were forced to give harmful treatment to someone over a long period, it would wear him down. It would destroy him, I think.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” Carla said, keeping her voice steady. Jesse could see that she was disturbed by this topic, and cursed himself for bringing it up. Group members survived awareness of danger by accepting it and then setting it aside. He must not question the risks they took. That served no purpose, since they were in too deep to back off. All the same, his knowledge of Carla’s peril frightened him.

From now on, Peter decreed, all patients who’d been hospitalized under the care of any Group doctor, as well as members who were involved in illegal activities in the city, must avoid medical telemetry from the Lodge. Since the one bathroom they could use was downstairs and was reachable only through the locked lab, he enlisted volunteers to build a permanent latrine in the woods, far enough back from the cottages to be considered a camping convenience if it was ever noticed. Jesse took on coordination of the job, while Liz, who was a history buff, downloaded pictures from the Net of the interior and exterior of a small hut called an “outhouse.” This was typical, she explained, of structures common on Earth before the invention of indoor plumbing. It was a bit hard to believe that for generations families had relied on such crude facilities, but on the other hand, what else could they have done? The advent of the flush toilet had indeed been progress. Too bad the progress hadn’t stopped there, before the addition of electronic sensors.

“Why can’t the police still find people the same way they found Valerie before there was any telemetry at all from here?” Jesse protested.

“They can if they’re hunting for someone,” Carla told him, “which is a good reason for not openly defying the law. But actually, now that we’ve got to enter false data for everyone whose presence here must be hidden, it won’t occur to them to search outlying islands. The telemetry doesn’t show specific source locations within the city—it’s only because of the separate uplink that it would show where we are.” Seeing his expression, she added, “Stop worrying! I’m no more likely to be caught hacking telemetry data for a lot of people than for a few.”

“Won’t they notice if what you enter doesn’t match previous days?”

“Don’t worry,” she assured him, “Peter and Kira have taught me enough about medical data to put in variations that won’t be flagged by the system, even in cases like yours where it’s all been faked, or where I have to modify actual sensor readings to conceal conditions our people don’t want reported. If anyone ever questioned the figures they’d blame equipment failure; the Meds couldn’t imagine there being a motive for hacking health data. It’s not as if these were financial records.”

Carla’s offshift on the Island passed too quickly; soon she was gone again, with nothing more than conversation having passed between them. Jesse tried to forget that at any moment in the city, her hacking career might be brought to an abrupt and disastrous end. His own problems, though less alarming, were more than enough to occupy his full attention.

Learning skills in the lab was one thing, but making practical use of them was another. He was mortified to think that suppressed fear of psi might still rule his unconscious reactions—despite Kira’s assurance that this was normal, it was a blow to his self-confidence. A starship captain, afraid of capabilities possessed by hundreds of colonials? Not that he’d had much experience in confronting fear while ferrying freighters in Fleet . . . had his whole life been built on illusion? he wondered. Had he clung inwardly to a boyish image of what spacers were like, despite all-too-clear knowledge of the reality, simply because he’d possessed the title and uniform he had coveted during his youth on Earth?

At times these doubts troubled him. Then, at other times, he thought of space crews he’d shipped with, and was jolted by the thought of what they would say if they knew what he was worrying about. Difficulty in controlling his own biochemistry? An inability to become telepathic? They wouldn’t call him fearful; they’d call him crazy! They would scorn such ideas, and laugh. He himself would have laughed only a few weeks ago. He wished he still could; it would be more comfortable. He longed to be back among people who never stretched the bounds of normality. . . .

But of course he didn’t, really. He longed to be with Carla—with her in a more intimate way than she now seemed likely to permit.

He dreamed of Earth sometimes. He’d hated it while he was there and had vowed never to go back. Now, he knew, he never could. That illumined it in his memory—the proverbial greener pasture. Actually very little of Earth was green anymore, and hadn’t been since long before his birth. Undine, on the other hand, had green islands along with a sparkling blue sea and clear sky that during his waking hours inspired him with its beauty. But in his dreams Earth, and the home he’d left behind, were a refuge. Jesse was not unperceptive. He knew perfectly well, when awake, that it was the stirrings of his own mind he sought refuge from. Kira, when he confessed this, told him that having nostalgic dreams was a sign of strength; she said that to many people, the terrors of the mind appeared as monstrous forms in nightmares. He supposed he should feel fortunate not to have seen any.

As the days passed, he was in limbo, not knowing what was to become of him. It was like being in hyperspace, Jesse thought—you’d set an irrevocable course and left normal space, relying only on what you’d been taught to tell you that you would get back to it. There were no mileposts along the way. You couldn’t see the stars. You saw nothing, in fact, beyond the interior of your ship. And if you were exploring new regions, you couldn’t be sure there would be anything at all where you emerged.

He had no idea what his future would hold if he managed to achieve what the Group expected of him. He couldn’t live at the Lodge forever, and besides, Carla worked in the city, where there would be nothing for him to do. Though he’d mentioned to her that he wasn’t qualified for onworld employment, she had told him not to worry. “Peter has connections,” she’d said. “He’s got some important job in mind for you, I think, something he’s not willing to talk about yet.” In a troubled voice she’d added, “I hope it’s nothing dangerous. He seems to believe you’ll play a special role in the Group, one he’s got to make sure you’re ready to take on.”

Special role? This seemed unlikely, considering that he was the least-skilled among three hundred members and had no natural bent toward psi whatsoever. Still, Peter seemed not to doubt he would get through the training. He maintained that his aptitude was high . . . and looking back, Jesse could see he’d been taught the rudiments of volitional control on the first day. Yet he couldn’t seem to apply them to daily living. That tolerance of failure had been among the lessons did not occur to him for some time.

The prospect of personal danger was less disturbing. If he could just get on with it, accomplish something worthwhile . . . but life in the Group wasn’t like that. Carla had been hacking for years and she would keep on doing it. If she ever did marry him, would he have to be afraid for her, day after day, for the rest of their lives? Sooner or later she would be caught! The Group’s hope of lasting forever was built on illusion. And yet, Jesse thought, there was no way out of the situation that required it to exist.

~
 
29
 
~

Three days into Carla’s next visit to the Island, Peter himself took Jesse downstairs to the lab. Jesse performed well, as he usually did during training sessions; only the carryover into real life seemed beyond him. Silently, he despaired of ever altering his inner biochemistry enough to influence his health. “You’re trying too hard,” Peter told him, “which defeats your purpose. Remember, you can’t do it by force of will. Volitional control means letting go—forming an intention and letting your unconscious mind take over. You have proven ability to do that in a crisis, so we know you’re capable of it. But it takes years
to become automatic, Jess.”

“Years?”

“Of course. You didn’t think we became what we are overnight, did you? You’re learning basic skills quickly—much more quickly than most people do, since you’re here every day. As far as preserving your health goes, though, it depends on continuous sensing of how the rest of us do it, plus an ongoing commitment to practice those skills and use them when you feel your body reacting to emotions. No one expects more of you than that.”

“I’m expected to turn into a telepath,” Jesse said, rather bitterly, “and that’s something that can’t be taught.”

“It can and will be,” Peter said seriously, “when you’re ready. When you can overcome the fear of your own power. That’s going to happen, Jess. If necessary I’ll give you some kind of push—but I may not need to. You’re in the process of making a very difficult adjustment. Don’t be too impatient with yourself.” Then, brightening, he added, “Forget problems for now. We’re going to have some fun tonight.”

Peter’s idea of fun, Jesse knew, was unlikely to be relaxing. Well, that was okay. Any break from inner uncertainty would be welcome.

When they got upstairs Jesse saw from the Lodge windows that several large bonfires had been built on the beach, below the high tide mark. To make coals for a barbeque, maybe; it wouldn’t be dark for hours and the day was too warm to sit near them. They were being tended by a mere handful of people.

“Are you free, Jesse?” asked Bernie, coming in from the porch. “We could use some more wood.”

Jesse followed him to the woodpile, which to his surprise he saw was almost depleted although he had replenished it only the day before. Kwame and several others were chopping up more logs; he joined them, then helped to haul loads down to the beach. If a barbeque was planned, a large crowd must be expected—and indeed, he noticed that the red pennant was flying from the dock. That meant guests were coming. He hadn’t thought the Group ever brought multiple guests to the Island.

As dusk came on, the fires had been raked down to coals. Several more plane loads of people had arrived, and Carla warned Jesse not to mention the Group’s secrets, or even its existence, to anybody he didn’t know. “The guests are from our front group,” she said. “Tonight’s event is one of the ways we attract potential members.”

“With some sort of cookout?” He was astonished.

“No,” Carla said. “We’re going to eat now, early, in fact.”

The buffet tables had been moved onto the Lodge porch, since the guests weren’t invited inside, and the food offered was lighter fare than usual. Jesse and Carla helped themselves to sandwiches and sat on the beach, some distance from the others, to eat. He could tell that she wanted to talk privately.

“I’ve never understood what the front group does,” he admitted.

“It’s just a gathering of people interested in the paranormal. They think it’s all speculation, of course. We offer lectures, discussion groups, and so forth—plus some colorful ceremonies that provide an outlet for those attracted to the magical and mysterious. And about twice a year, this, which requires just a few hours of training, yet is very impressive.”

“What is it, then, if not just a feast?”

Carla hesitated. “A firewalk,” she said. “Walking barefoot on the coals.”

“Barefoot . . . on hot coals? You’re kidding.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of it? It’s common on Earth, and not only in cultures where it has religious significance,” she informed him. “Starting in the late twentieth century, it was done by thousands of Americans who actually
paid
to attend firewalking workshops. Ian studied what was written about it. It’s illegal here, which is why we do it only on the Island.”

“But Carla, such a thing’s not possible! Those coals out there would burn human feet to a crisp—I could barely get close enough to rake them.”

Carla smiled. “Hardly anyone gets burned. You’ll find that you don’t.”

“
Me
?” He had known they would confront him with more trials—“drastic” had been the term used, he recalled—but this . . .

“Not you alone, of course; we all take part. It would have been nice if we could have done it your first week here—then our powers wouldn’t have been such a shock to you after you were recruited. Also it’s a better confidence-booster when a novice has to overcome real fear, which you won’t, now.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Jesse said dryly.

“You’ve nothing to be afraid of,” she declared. “You know how not to suffer from pain, so even if you are burned, it won’t matter. We can heal you quickly, after all, whereas with guests we’d have to go through the charade of using medical burn treatments.”

“That’s true, I guess,” he agreed dubiously, “though I can’t say it makes me exactly eager for the experience—”

Carla, watching his face, broke in, “I’m teasing, Jesse! Of course it will be challenging—that’s the fun in it. But you won’t be burned. Very few people get worse burns than small blisters even in untrained groups on Earth, and with us, no guest ever has. Peter can judge telepathically, you see, whether a person is in enough of an altered state to try it.”