Stewards of the Flame (51 page)

“He trusted me,” Jesse said, “but I’m not sure I can live up to his expectations. You know, don’t you, that we’ll be taking a hell of a chance whether or not we get away with the hijacking?”

“Our offworld agent hacked into Fleet’s files,” Peter said, smiling confidently. ”Your technical skill is highly rated.”

“Even so, calculating a jump to an unopened planet, charted maybe a century ago and off regular routes, isn’t simple. Experienced astrogators can and do mess up.”

“There’s danger,” Peter agreed. “But assuming that abandoning our commitment to the Group’s goals isn’t an option, it’s no worse than what we’ll inevitably face here.”

“Well, we’re not in danger of everyone being killed here, or having the whole Group sent to a penal colony.” It was up to him, Jesse saw, to make sure that Peter’s present emotional turmoil didn’t overpower his grasp of reality.

Peter said soberly, “I meant no worse in terms of what matters most to us.”

The others nodded. “If there’s even a chance of having our own colony it’s worth going for,” Kira said. “I, for one, don’t want to live with my every move tracked by the Net. I wouldn’t even if I weren’t doing anything illegal—not to mention the increased risk of being treated for mental illness if our past activities ever come to light.”

“What’s more, we may gain psi powers we’ve not tried to develop while forced to live with outsiders,” Hari said, with fervor Jesse hadn’t seen in him before. “We’ve barely scratched the surface of those known to exist. Free to use them openly—and with children who may inherit talent—who knows what we could become?”

“But won’t it be risky,” someone protested, “to foster those powers in a whole population, to establish them in the collective unconscious of its members from birth, instead of only in people who’ve been carefully selected?”

“It will,” Peter admitted soberly. “But all human progress has involved danger, starting with the discovery of fire. For centuries, certain powers of the mind were confined to adepts who considered their wider dissemination too perilous to be permitted, and so little progress was made toward understanding them. Either universal possession of psi skills is a step forward or it’s not. If it is, it’s worth the inherent risk, just as advances in technology were worth risking misuse.”

“And if it’s not,” Kira pointed out, “we’ll have found out on a single world without affecting any others. Perhaps that’s another reason why large-scale development of psi had to wait until interstellar colonization became possible. I don’t doubt that it
is
an advance, but it may take a while before we learn to control it.”

Risk, apart from the physical risks of colonization? Chilled, Jesse held back his questions. He had long suspected that the Group’s experimentation with psi had gone beyond telepathy and healing, just as it had with altered states of consciousness not mentioned in his presence. But he sensed that Peter did not want to discuss this further. Merely reaching a new world would offer enough problems to occupy their full attention.

“We’ll be making a start toward eventually influencing human history,” Reiko mused. “We’ve been too scattered within society to have significant effect. To found a telepathic culture—I never imagined that could happen within my own lifetime.”

“A colonizer doesn’t have interstellar comm capability,” Jesse said, frowning, “and without supply ships we can’t produce the equipment to establish it. If we’re isolated forever, what impact can we have on the rest of humanity?”

“Our friends on Earth will be told where we’re headed,” said Peter. “They will pass the secret on, so that in the future when our descendants are too numerous for Fleet to displace, contact can be initiated. The culture we’ve created may not be admired at first, but its mere existence will force scientists everywhere to acknowledge the reality of psi instead of sweeping the evidence under the rug. And ultimately, if we succeed in making our way of life work for new generations, it will spread.”

“We’ve got to believe that, if we believe full use of emerging human abilities is important,” declared Kira. “It can’t be confined to one small group indefinitely—if what we’ve gained is real, if it’s truly an aspect of evolution, it will affect our whole species.”

But not while we’re alive even if our colony thrives, thought Jesse. Will belief in a future we won’t live to see be enough to sustain us on a remote planet, cut off from the rest of civilization?

“Settling a new world will mean extreme hardship,” Peter warned, “in addition to the obvious danger.” But a trace of his old sparkle had come back; plainly, he was eager to go. It was the only possible salvation for him, Jesse saw. Not only had Peter shared this plan with Ian, but even apart from the problem of the tracking chips, he’d lost faith in the way of the past. He could no longer endure his role at the Hospital, not after what it had just demanded of him and might demand again. If he could not lead the Group to a new world, he would be unable to lead it at all.

It was clear that neither Ian nor Peter had possessed any real grasp of the hazards of the venture or the magnitude of the odds against its success. They had been as sure that a competent Captain could get them to a suitable destination as were the clients who might charter his seaplane! And, Jesse decided, he wouldn’t attempt to enlighten anyone beyond providing honest answers to questions. Any misgivings he might have, he would keep to himself. He owed the Group more than technical expertise. To its leaders, at least, he had become a symbol.

Somewhat reluctantly Peter turned to Jesse, saying, “It’s only fair to tell you that our hacker cleaned up your AWOL record, as well as a notation about off-duty drinking that had put a ceiling on your advancement. You’re now officially on leave. You could go back to Fleet if you wanted to. You might even be offered a promotion.”

“To hell with that,” Jesse said. “What would I want with a promotion in Fleet when I’ve been offered command of a colonizer?”

~
 
56
 
~

Silently, the people in the Lodge rose and joined hands in a ring around the fireplace. Their minds, too, joined—not for conscious communication, but wordlessly—and Jesse sensed that this was another of the occasions when you were supposed to pray, or not pray, in your own way. For the first time since childhood, he prayed. He was too much in awe at the turns of fortune not to.

After a pause Peter said, “We’re about to hold the most important gathering in the Group’s history. I asked as many members as possible to come to the Island, not only for Ian’s funeral, but because we need a quorum. A vote must be taken, although I don’t expect it to be close. After that, there’ll be no turning back. If there is any disagreement among you, let’s hear it now.”

No one spoke. “One more thing,” Peter continued. “At the conclusion of tonight’s ceremony, I will call on the Council—and you, Jesse—to renew our commitment in the Ritual. If we have not the strength to do so in this time of grief, we’re not fit to lead in the difficult days ahead.”

“You’re asking a lot of yourself, Peter,” Kira said. “Are you sure, considering the heavy stress you’ve been under this week and the unspeakable ordeal this morning—”

“Either I’m qualified to take Ian’s place, or I’m not,” Peter said. “We’ll find out, won’t we?”

Then Jesse knew that it was for Peter’s sake that they must do this, rather than for their own recommitment. It was he who needed renewal, and only the paranormal power engendered by the Ritual—magnified many times by the unusually large group assembled—could give it to him. Furthermore, only in this way could he establish himself as leader in the Group’s eyes. The others were already saddened by Ian’s death; when they heard the details on the morning news, they would be bewildered. They were being asked to leave their homes, the material comforts they had always known, for a perilous trip in space, a trip that would end in raw wilderness where survival would be uncertain. Those who knew Peter loved and trusted him; still the many not present at the last Ritual needed to see him in the role that had always been Ian’s.

And they also needed to see their Captain take part, Jesse realized. No doubt that was why his presence on the Island tonight had been considered important enough to justify the risk of tampering with the tracking system. The coming ordeal did not worry him. Against all hope he’d been given his life back—both lives! His new life with the Group, with Carla, and now his old life too, the youth when he’d dreamed of exploring new worlds in space. It was like being reborn. Any apprehension he might have felt about trusting his newly-healed hand to fire again was a small thing beside that.

They went out to the Lodge porch, where Peter, using a wireless microphone, said briefly, “We meet here tonight in sorrow and in joy. Sorrow not only for Ian’s passing, but for the fact that his body can’t be brought here to the Island he loved—cannot ever be buried in the sea.” A murmur of dismay arose from the listeners, but he continued without elaboration. “Joy for Jesse’s release from the destruction to which he had been condemned, and joy, too, in the hope he offers us for a better future. I will say more of this after the funeral ceremony.”

The Council members went to the water’s edge, where a boat had been prepared. They climbed aboard and beckoned to Jesse to join them, handing him an oar. As they pushed off into the gleaming bay, ripples caught the last light of the setting moon. On the beach behind them, the assembled people began to light candles.

It wasn’t necessary to go far when no body was to be buried; the anchor was dropped within voice range of the shore. Peter stood in the center of the boat, the others balancing its bow and stern. They too held candles, large ones fixed to buoyant bases, as had those who’d conducted the burial Jesse had observed. That had been the last night he’d been outside the Group—how many weeks ago? He was a different person now. It was hard to remember what being an outsider had felt like.

Peter began to speak words that even without the microphone would have carried across the water. They were formal, poetic words, which at points the others echoed, this ceremony evidently well-known and well-loved. Then, as the candles were put over the side to float away, the people on the shore began to sing. Peter’s voice rose over the rest, clear and strong, and Jesse caught enough of the lyrics to join the chorus:

May the radiance of candles we light now amidst our tears

Fuel the rising flame within us to be passed on through the years.

As the song drew to a close, he saw Kira was crying. He knew Carla would be crying too, as were many, and his own eyes were wet.

They rowed back to shore and left the boat, moving to a beach fire that had been kindled near it. The mourners crowded around. Illumined by firelight, Peter addressed the gathering, saying, “We are here to honor Ian and to grieve for him. Tomorrow you will hear news of him from the media, not all of which is true. You all knew Ian, so I’ll leave it to you to judge which part is true and which is not. For that which is true, you will weep. But know that Ian died as he did for a reason, so the falsehood you hear must not be contested. Say nothing in his defense to outsiders. Hold in your hearts the memory of what Ian was and what he stood for—and respect that memory by doing what he believed we must do, of which I’ll now tell you.”

Peter had been wise to put it to them at Ian’s funeral, Jesse thought—and not only for the practical reason of having a quorum. Though uncontested leader, he had no claim to their obedience. Not only must the plan be accepted by vote, but they all would have to go along with it; the Group was barely large enough to form a viable colony. They must be willing to embark on a hazardous journey. They must abandon their careers and whatever families they had among outsiders. Furthermore, they must give up amenities they had never questioned and somehow learn to survive on an alien planet, with no more equipment than a colonizer routinely carried. Women young enough would have to bear children—not just a few but many, to increase the colony’s population as rapidly as possible. Pledged to the Group though they were, it was a lot to ask of them, despite the coming restrictions they would face on Undine. Had they been given time to forget their emotional attachment to Ian, they might have been less easily convinced.

The people remained very quiet while Peter set forth the plan. Jesse could sense, however, what most were feeling. There was no doubt in them. Enthusiasm emerged triumphant over fear; many, after all, had long wished they could go into space. His friends had been fascinated by what he’d told them of it; he’d barely managed to make them stop talking about it when he wanted to forget Fleet. Now, he saw, it would be difficult to make them aware of the risks. And Peter did not seem to be trying very hard. Nor was he emphasizing the hardships—rather, he was using telepathic projection, as on the night of the firewalk, to make the venture seem pleasantly exciting. God, Jesse thought, am I right to go along with this without offering them fair warning?

The vote, taken by voice, was unanimous.

“We need one other vote,” Peter went on. “With Ian gone there is a vacancy on the Council. Normally it would be filled later by secret ballot. However, we are about to put our lives into the hands of Jesse Sanders. In view of this and in accord with Ian’s wish, I propose that he be elected to the Council now, by acclamation.”

Jesse had not anticipated this, but he saw that it was fitting if he was to command in space. No one offered any objection. Somewhat dazed, he found he had—in less than a day—awakened not only to freedom and renewed captaincy but to an immediate share in responsibility for the Group’s safety prior to departure. And departure might not be simple to arrange. The colonial government was unlikely to permit emigration; getting three hundred people onto a ship might prove even more difficult than hijacking it once they were aboard. He hoped he would prove equal to what was demanded of him.

 
“Relight your candles,” Peter said in the hush that followed. “I ask you all to join us now in the Ritual, as we of the Council renew our commitment.”