Filename : D:\My Ebooks\Robert Silverberg - To Open The Sky.pdf Title : 6ToOpenSky.0460.0479 Author : Dougherty Subject : 6ToOpenSky.0460.0479 Keywords : Creator : Adobe PageMaker 6.5 Producer : Acrobat Distiller 3.0 for Power Macintosh Created Date : D:19990608023802 Modified Date: SavedBy : Encrypt : No Version : 1.1 Filesize : 568691 Page Count : 236 --------------------------------------- 1 --------------------------------------- 2 Other Books for Pulpless.Com by Robert Silverberg To Live Again --------------------------------------- 3 To Open the Sky by Robert Silverberg --------------------------------------- 4 PULPLESS.PULPLESS.COMCOM, , INCINC.. 10736 Jefferson Blvd., Suite 775 Culver City, CA 90230-4969, USA Voice & Fax: (500) 367-7353 Home Page: http://www.pulpless.com/ Business inquiries to info@pulpless.com Editorial inquiries & submissions to editors@pulpless.com Copyright © 1967 by Author All rights reserved. Published by arrangement with the author. Printed in the United States of America. The rights to all previously published materials by Robert Silverberg are owned by the author, and are claimed both under existing copyright laws and natu- ral logorights. All other materials taken from pub- lished sources without specific permission are either in the public domain or are quoted and/or excerpted under the Fair Use Doctrine. Except for attributed quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. This novel is fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are prod- ucts of the authorÕs imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. First Pulpless.Comª, Inc. Edition June, 1999. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 99-60339 Trade Paperback ISBN: 1-58445-042-8 Acrobat/PDF Digital Edition ISBN No. 1-58445-046-0 HTML Digital Edition ISBN No. 1-58445-047-9 Book and Cover designed by CaliPer, Inc. Cover Illustration by Billy Tackett, Arcadi Studios © 1999 by Billy Tackett --------------------------------------- 5 --------------------------------------- 6 --------------------------------------- 7 For Frederik Pohl --------------------------------------- 8 --------------------------------------- 9 Table of Contents CHAPTER PAGE One Blue Fire 2077...................................................... 11 Two The Warriors of Light 2095 ................................ 47 Three Where the Changed Ones Go 2135.................... 99 Four Lazarus Come Forth 2152 ................................ 149 Five To Open the Sky 2164........................................ 193 --------------------------------------- 10 --------------------------------------- 11 One Blue Fire 2077 Stations of the Spectrum And there is light, before and beyond our vision, for which we give thanks. And there is heat, for which we are humble. And there is power, for which we count ourselves blessed. Blessed be Balmer, who gave us our wavelengths. Blessed be Bohr, who brought us understanding. Blessed be Lyman, who saw beyond sight. Tell us now the stations of the spectrum. Blessed be long radio waves, which oscillate slowly. Blessed be broadcast waves, for which we thank Hertz. Blessed be short waves, linkers of mankind, and blessed be micro- waves. Blessed be infrared, bearers of nourishing heat. Blessed be visible light, magnificent in angstroms. (On high holidays only: Blessed be red, sacred to Doppler. Blessed be orange. Blessed be yellow, hallowed by FraunhoferÕs gaze. Blessed be green. Blessed be blue for its hydrogen line. Blessed be indigo. Blessed be violet, flour- ishing with energy.) Blessed be ultraviolet, with the richness of the sun. Blessed be X- rays, sacred to Roentgen, the prober within. Blessed be the gamma, in all its power; blessed be the highest of fre- quencies. We give thanks for Planck. We give thanks for Einstein. We give thanks in the highest for Maxwell. In the strength of the spectrum, the quantum, and the holy angstrom, peace! --------------------------------------- 12 12 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 13 Blue Fire 2077 1313 one There was chaos on the face of the earth, but to the man in the Nothing Chamber it did not matter. Ten billion peopleÑor was it twelve billion by now?Ñ fought for their place in the sun. Skyscrapers shot heaven-ward like sprouting beanstalks. The Martians mocked. The Venusians spat. Nut-cults flourished, and in a thousand veils the Vorsters bowed low to their devilish blue glow. All of this, at the moment, was of no significance to Reynolds Kirby. He was out of it. He was the man in the Nothing Chamber. The place of his repose was four thousand feet above the blue Caribbean, in his hundredth-story apartment on Tortola in the Virgin Islands. A man had to take his rest somewhere. Kirby, as a high official in the U.N., had the right to warmth and slumber, and a substantial chunk of his salary covered the overhead on this hideaway. The building was a tower of shining glass whose foundations drove deep into the heart of the island. One could not build a skyscraper like this on every Caribbean island; too many of them were flat disks of dead coral, lacking the substance to support half a million tons of deadweight. Tortola was differ- ent, a retired volcano, a submerged mountain. Here they could build, and here they had built Reynolds Kirby slept the good sleep. Half an hour in a Nothing Chamber restored a man to vitality, draining the poisons of fatigue from his body and mind. Three hours in it left him limp, flaccid-willed. A twenty-four-hour stint could make any man a puppet. Kirby lay in a warm nutrient bath, ears plugged, eyes capped, feed-lines bringing air to his lungs. There was nothing like crawling back into the womb for a while when the world was too much with you. The Mondschein ticked by. Kirby did not think of Vorsters. Kirby did not think of Nat Weiner, the Martian. Kirby did not think of the esper girl, writhing in her bed of torment, whom he had seen --------------------------------------- 14 14 To Open the Sky in Kyoto last week. Kirby did not think. A voice purred, ÒAre you ready, Freeman Kirby?Ó Kirby was not ready. Who ever was? A man had to be driven from his Nothing Chamber by an angel with a flaming sword. The nutrient bath began to bubble out of the tank. Rubber-cush- ioned metal fingers peeled the caps from his eyeballs. His ears were unplugged. Kirby lay shivering for a moment, expelled from the womb, resisting the return to reality. The chamberÕs cycle was complete; it could not be turned on again for twenty-four hours, and a good thing, too. ÒDid you sleep well, Freeman Kirby?Ó Kirby scowled rustily and clambered to his feet. He swayed, nearly lost his balance, but the robot servitor was there to steady him. Kirby caught a burnished arm and held it until the spasm passed. ÒI slept marvelously well,Ó he told the metal creature. ÒItÕs a pity to return.Ó ÒYou donÕt mean that, Freeman. You know that the only true pleasure comes from an engagement with life. You said that to me yourself, Freeman Kirby.Ó ÒI suppose I did,Ó Kirby admitted dryly. All of the robotÕs pious philosophy stemmed from things he had said. He accepted a robe from the squat, flat-faced thing and pulled it over his shoulders. He shivered again. Kirby was a lean man, too tall for his weight, with stringy, corded arms and legs, close-cropped gray hair, deep- set greenish eyes. He was forty, and looked fifty, and before climb- ing into the Nothing Chamber today he had felt about seventy. ÒWhen does the Martian arrive?Ó he asked. ÒSeventeen hours. HeÕs at a banquet in San Juan right cow, but heÕll be along soon.Ó ÒI canÕt wait,Ó Kirby said. Moodily he moved to the nearest window and depolarized it. He looked down, way down, at the tranquil water lapping at the beach. He could see the dark line of the cord reef, green water on the hither side, deep blue water --------------------------------------- 15 Blue Fire 2077 1515 beyond. The reef was dead, of course. The delicate creatures who had built it could stand only so much motor fuel in their systems, and the level of tolerance had been passed quite some time ago. The skittering hydrofoils buzzing from island to island left a trail of murderous slime in their wake. The U.N. man closed his eyes. And opened them quickly, for when he lowered the lids there appeared on the screen of his brain the sight of that esper girl again, twisting, screaming, bit- ing her knuckles, yellow skin flecked with gleaming beads of sweat. And the Vorster man standing by, waving that damned blue glow around, murmuring, ÒPeace, child, peace, you will soon be in harmony with the All.Ó That had been last Thursday. This was the following Wednes- day. She was in harmony with the All by now, Kirby Thought, and an irreplaceable pool of genes had been scattered to the four winds. Or the seven winds. He was having trouble keeping his clichŽs straight these days. Seven seas, he thought. Four winds. The shadow of a copter crossed his line of sight. ÒYour guest is arriving,Ó the robot declared. ÒMagnificent,Ó Kirby said sourly. The news that the Martian was on hand set Kirby jangling with tension. He had been selected as the guide, mentor, and watch- dog for the visitor from the Martian colony. A great deal depended on maintaining friendly relations with the Martians, for they rep- resented markets vital to EarthÕs economy. They also represented vigor and drive, commodities currently in short supply on Earth. But they were also a headache to handleÑtouchy, mercurial, unpredictable. Kirby knew that he bad a big job on his hands. He had to keep the Martian out of harmÕs way, coddle him and cosset him, all without ever seeming patronizing or oversolicitous. And if Kirby bungled itÑwell, it could be costly to Earth and fatal to KirbyÕs own career. He opaqued the window again and hurried into his bedroom --------------------------------------- 16 16 To Open the Sky to change into robes of state. A clinging gray tunic, green fou- lard, boots of blue leather, gloves of gleaming golden meshÑhe looked every inch the important Earthside official by the time the annunciator clanged to inform him that Nathaniel Weiner of Mars had come to call. ÒShow him in,Ó Kirby said. The door irised open, and the Martian stepped nimbly through. He was a small, compact man in his early thirties, unnaturally wide-shouldered, with thin lips, jutting cheekbones, dark beady eyes. He looked physically powerful, as though he had spent his life struggling with the killing gravity of Jupiter, not romping in the airy effortlessness of Mars. He was deeply tanned, and a fine network of wrinkles radiated from the corners of his eyes. He looked aggressive, thought Kirby. He looked arrogant. ÒFreeman Kirby, itÕs a pleasure to see you,Ó the Martian said in a deep, rasping voice. ÒThe honor is mine, Freeman Weiner.Ó ÒPermit me,Ó Weiner said. He drew his laser pistol. KirbyÕs ro- bot scurried forward with the velvet cushion. The Martian placed the weapon carefully on the plush mound. The robot slid across the floor to bring the gun to Kirby. ÒCall me Nat,Ó the Martian said. Kirby smiled thinly. He picked up the gun, resisted the insane temptation to ash the Martian on the spot and briefly examined it. Then he replaced it on the cushion and flicked his hand at the robot, who carried it back to its owner. ÒMy friends call me Ron,Ó Kirby said. ÒReynolds is a lousy first name.Ó ÒGlad to know you, Ron. WhatÕs to drink?Ó Kirby was jarred by the breach of etiquette, but he maintained an equable diplomatic mask. The Martian had been punctilious enough with his gun ritual, but youÕd expect that with any fron- tiersman; it didnÕt mean that his manners extended beyond that. Smoothly Kirby said, ÒWhatever you like, Nat. Synthetics, --------------------------------------- 17 Blue Fire 2077 1717 realiesÑyou name it and itÕs here. What about a filtered rum?Ó ÒIÕve had so much rum IÕm ready to puke it, Ron. Those gabogos in San Juan drink it like water. What about some decent whis- key?Ó ÒYou dial it,Ó Kirby said with a grand sweep of his hand. The robot picked up the console of the bar and carried it to the Mar- tian. Weiner eyed the buttons a moment and stabbed almost at random, twice. ÒIÕm ordering a double rye for you,Ó Weiner announced. ÒAnd a double bourbon for me.Ó Kirby found that amusing. The rude colonial was not only se- lecting his own drink but one for his host. Double rye, indeed! Kirby hid his wince and took the drink. Weiner slipped comfort- ably into a webfoam cradle. Kirby sat also. ÒHow are you enjoying your visit to Earth?Ó Kirby asked. ÒNot bad. Not bad. Sickening the way you people are crammed together here, though.Ó ÒItÕs the human condition.Ó ÒNot on Mars it isnÕt. Not on Venus, either.Ó ÒGive it time,Ó Kirby said. ÒI doubt it. We know how to regulate our population up there, Ron.Ó ÒSo do we. It just took us a while to get the idea across to ev- erybody, and by that time there were ten billion of us. We hope to keep the rate of increase down.Ó ÒYou know what?Ó Weiner said. ÒYou ought to take every tenth person and feed Ôem to the converters. Get some good energy back out of all that meat Cut your population by a billion over- night.Ó He chuckled. ÒNot serious. WouldnÕt be ethical. Just a passing joke.Ó Kirby smiled. ÒYou arenÕt the first to suggest it, Nat And some of the others were plenty serious.Ó ÒDisciplineÑthatÕs the answer to every human problem. Dis- cipline and more self-discipline. Denial. Planning. This whiskey --------------------------------------- 18 18 To Open the Sky is damned good, Ron. How about another round?Ó ÒHelp yourself.Ó Weiner did. Generously. ÒDamned fine stuff,Ó he murmured. ÒWe donÕt get drinks like this on Mars. Got to admit it, Ron. Crowded and stinking as this planet is, itÕs got comforts. I wouldnÕt want to live here, mind you, but IÕm glad I came. The womenÑmmmm! The drinks! The excitement!Ó ÒYouÕve been here two days?Ó Kirby asked. ÒThatÕs right. One night in New YorkÑceremonies, banquet, all that garbage, sponsored by the Colonial Association. Then down to Washington to see the President. Nice old chap. Soft belly, though. Could stand some exercise. Then this idiot thing in San Juan, a day of hospitality, meeting the Puerto Rican com- rades, that kind of junk. And now here. WhatÕs to do here, Ron?Ó ÒWell, we could go downstairs for a swim firstÑÓ ÒI can swim all I like on Mars. I want to see civilization, not water. Complexity.Ó WeinerÕs eyes glowed. Kirby abruptly real- ized that the man had been drunk when he walked in and that the two stiff jolts of bourbon had sent him into a fine glow of intoxication. ÒYou know what I want to do, Kirby? I want to get out and grub in the dirt a little. I want to go to opium dens. I want to see espers have ecstasies. I want to take in a Vorster session. I want to live the life, Ron. I want to experience EarthÑ muck and all!Ó --------------------------------------- 19 Blue Fire 2077 1919 two The Vorster hall was in a shabby, almost intolerably seedy old building in central Manhattan, practically within spitting distance of the U.N. buildings. Kirby felt queasy about entering it; he had never really conquered his uneasiness about slumming, even now when most of the world was one vast teeming slum. But Nat Weiner had commanded it, and so it must be. Kirby had brought him here because it was the only Vorster place he had visited before, and so he didnÕt feel too sharply out of place among the worshipers. The sign over the door said in glowing but splotchy letters: Brotherhood of the Immanent Radiance All Welcome Services Daily Heal Your Hearts Harmonize With the All Weiner snickered at the sign. ÒLook at that! Heal your hearts! HowÕs your heart, Kirby?Ó ÒPunctured in several places. Shall we go in?Ó ÒYou bet we shall,Ó Weiner said. The Martian was sloshingly drunk. He held his liquor well, Kirby had to admit. Through the long evening Kirby had not even tried to match the colonial envoy drink for drink, and yet he felt hazy and overheated. The tip of his nose prickled. He yearned to shake Weiner off and crawl back into the Nothing Chamber to get all this poison out of his system. But Weiner wanted to kick over the traces, and It was hard to blame him for that. Mars was a rough place, where there was no time for sell-indulgence. Terraforming a planet took a maximum effort. The job was nearly done now, after two generations of toil, and the air of Mars was sweet and clean, but no one was --------------------------------------- 20 20 To Open the Sky relaxing up there yet. Weiner was here to negotiate a trade agree- ment, but it was also his first chance to escape from the rigors of Martian life. The Sparta of space, they called it. And here he was in Athens. They entered the Vorster hall. It was long and narrow, an oblong box of a room. A dozen rows of unpainted wooden benches ran from wall to wall, with a narrow aisle down one side. At the rear was the altar, glowing with the inevitable blue radiance. Behind it stood a tall, skel- eton-thin man, bald, bearded. ÒIs that the priest?Ó Weiner whispered harshly. ÒI donÕt think theyÕre called priests,Ó said Kirby. ÒBut heÕs in charge.Ó ÒDo we take communion?Ó ÒLetÕs just watch,Ó Kirby suggested. ÒLook at all these damned maniacs,Ó the Martian said. ÒThis is a very popular religious movement.Ó ÒI donÕt get it.Ó ÒWatch. Listen.Ó ÒDown on their kneesÑgroveling to that half-pint reactorÑÓ Heads were turning in their direction. Kirby sighed. He had no love for the Vorsters or their religion himself, but be was embarrassed at this boisterous desecration of their shrine. Most undiplomatically, he took WeinerÕs arm, guided the Martian into the nearest pew, and pulled him down into a kneeling position. Kirby knelt beside him. The Martian gave him an ugly glance. Colonists didnÕt like their bodies handled by strangers. A Venu- sian might have slashed at Kirby with his dagger for something like that. But, then, a Venusian wouldnÕt be here on Earth at all, let alone cutting capers in a Vorster hall. Sullenly, Weiner grabbed the rail and leaned forward to watch the service. Kirby squinted through the near darkness at the man behind the altar. The reactor was on and glowingÑa cube of cobalt-60, shielded --------------------------------------- 21 Blue Fire 2077 2121 by water, the dangerous radiations gobbled up before they could sear through flesh. In the darkness Kirby saw a faint blue glow, rising slowly in brightness, growing more intense. Now the lat- tice of the tiny reactor was masked in whitish-blue light, and around it swirled a weird greenish-blue glow that seemed al- most purple at its core. It was the Blue Fire, the eerie cold light of the Cerenkov radiation, spreading outward to envelop the entire room. It was nothing mystical, Kirby knew. Electrons were surging through that tank of water, moving at a velocity greater than light in that medium, and as they moved they hurled forth a stream of photons. There were neat equations to explain the source of the Blue Fire. Give the Vorsters credit: they didnÕt say it was anything supernatural. But it made a useful symbolic in- strument, a focus for religious emotions, more colorful than a crucifix, more dramatic than the Tables of the Law. The Vorster up front said quietly, ÒThere is a Oneness from which all life stems. The infinite variety of the universe we owe to the motion of the electrons. Atoms meet; their particles en- twine. Electrons leap from orbit to orbit, and chemical changes are worked.Ó ÒListen to the pious bastard,Ó Weiner snorted. ÒA chemistry lecture, yet!Ó Kirby bit his lip in anguish. A girl in the pew just in front of theirs turned around and said in a low, urgent voice, ÒPlease. PleaseÑjust listen.Ó She was such a numbing sight that even Weiner was struck dumb for once. The Martian gasped in shock. Kirby, who had seen surgically altered women before, scarcely reacted at all. Iridescent cups covered the openings where her ears had been. An opal was mounted in the bone of her forehead. Her eyelids were of gleaming foil. The surgeons had done things to her nos- trils, to her lips. Perhaps she had been in some terrible accident. More likely she had had herself maimed for cosmetic purposes. --------------------------------------- 22 22 To Open the Sky Madness. Madness. The Vorster said, ÒThe energy of the sunÑthe green life surg- ing in plantsÑthe bursting wonder of growthÑfor this we thank the electron. The enzymes of our bodyÑthe sparking synapses of our brainsÑthe beating of our heartsÑfor this we thank the electron. Fuel and food, light and heat, warmth and nourish- ment, everything and all, rising from the Oneness, rising from the Immanent RadianceÑÓ It was a litany, Kirby realized. All around him people were swaying in rhythm with the half-chanted words, were nodding, even weeping. The Blue Fire swelled and reached to the sag- ging ceiling. The man at the altar raised his long, spidery arms in a kind of benediction. ÒCome forward,Ó he cried. ÒCome kneel and join in praise! Lock arms, bow heads, give thanks for the underlying unity of all things!Ó The Vorsters began to shamble toward the altar. It woke memo- ries of an Episcopalian childhood for Kirby: going forward to take communion, the wafer on the tongue, the quick sip of wine, the smell of incense, the rustle of priestly robes. He hadnÕt been to a service in twenty-five years. It was a long way from the vaulted magnificence of the cathedral to the dilapidated ugliness of this improvised shrine, but for a moment Kirby felt a flicker of religious feeling, felt just the faintest urge to move forward with the others and kneel before the glowing reactor. The thought stunned and shocked him. How had it stolen upon him? This was no religion. This was cultism, a wildfire movement, the latest fad, here today, gone tomorrow. Ten million converts overnight? What of it? Tomor- row or the next day would come the newest prophet, exhorting the faithful to plunge their hands into a scintillation counterÕs sparkling bath, and the Vorster halls would be deserted. This was no Rock. This was quicksand. --------------------------------------- 23 Blue Fire 2077 2323 And yet there had been that momentary pullÑ Kirby tight- ened his lips. It was the strain, he thought, of shepherding this wild Martian around all evening. He didnÕt give a damn for the supernal Oneness. The underlying unity of all things meant noth- ing to him. This was a place for the tired, the neurotic, the nov- elty-hungry, for the kind of person that would cheerfully pay good money to have her ears cut off and her nostrils slit. lit was a measure of his own desperation that he had been almost ready to join the communicants at the altar. He relaxed. And in the same moment Nat Weiner burst to his feet and went careening down the aisle. ÒSave me!Ó the Martian cried. ÒHeal my goddam soul! Show me the Oneness!Ó ÒKneel with us, Brother,Ó the Vorster leader said smoothly. ÒIÕm a sinner!Ó Weiner howled. ÒIÕm full of booze and corrup- tion! I got to be saved! I embrace the electron! I yield!Ó Kirby hurried after him down the aisle. Was Weiner serious? The Martians were notorious for their resistance to any and all religious movements, including the established and legitimate ones. Had he somehow succumbed to that hellish blue glow? ÒTake the hands of your brethren,Ó the leader murmured. ÒBow your head and let the glow enfold you.Ó Weiner looked to his left. The girl with the surgical alterations knelt beside him. She held out her hand. Four fingers of flesh, one of some turquoise-hued metal. ÒItÕs a monster!Ó Weiner shrieked. ÒTake it away! I wonÕt let you cut me up!Ó ÒBe calm, BrotherÑÓ ÒYouÕre a bunch of phonies! Phonies! Phonies! Phonies! Noth- ing but a pack ofÑÓ Kirby got to him. He dug his fingertips into the ridged muscles of WeinerÕs back in a way that the Martian was likely to notice, drunk as he was. --------------------------------------- 24 24 To Open the Sky In a low, intense voice Kirby said, ÒLetÕs go, Nat. WeÕre getting out of here.Ó ÒTake your stinking hands off me, Earther!Ó ÒNat, pleaseÑthis is a house of worshipÑÓ ÒThis is a bughouse! Crazy! Crazy! Crazy! Look at them! Down on their knees like stinking maniacs!Ó Weiner struggled to his feet. His booming voice seemed to batter at the walls. ÒIÕm a free man from Mars! I dug in the desert with these hands! I watched the oceans fill! What did any of you do? You cut your eyelids off and wallowed in muck! And youÑyou fake priest, you take their money and love it!Ó The Martian grabbed the altar rail and vaulted over it, coming perilously close to the glowing reactor. He clawed at the tower- ing, bearded Vorster. Calmly the cultist reached out and slipped one long arm through the pinwheeling chaos of WeinerÕs threshing limbs. He touched his fingertips to the MartianÕs throat for a fraction of a second. Weiner fell like a dead man. --------------------------------------- 25 Blue Fire 2077 2525 three ÒAre you all right now?Ó Kirby asked, dry-throated. Weiner stirred. ÒWhereÕs that girl?Ó ÒThe one with the surgery?Ó ÒNo,Ó he rasped. ÒThe esper. I want her near me again.Ó Kirby glanced at the slender, blue-haired girl. She nodded tensely and took WeinerÕs hand. The MartianÕs face was bright with sweat, and his eyes were still wild. He lay back, head propped on pillows, cheeks hollow. They were in a sniffer palace across the street from the Vorster hail. Kirby had had to carry the Martian out of the place himself, slung across his shoulders; the Vorsters did not let robots in. The sniffer palace seemed as good a place as any to take him. The esper girl had come over to them as Kirby staggered into the place. She was a Vorster, tooÑthe blue hair was the tip-offÑ but apparently she had finished her worship for the day and was topping things off with a quick inhalation. With instant sympa- thy she had bent to peer at WeinerÕs flushed, sweat-flecked face. She had asked Kirby if his friend had had a stroke. ÒIÕm not sure what happened to him,Ó Kirby said. ÒHe was drunk and began to make trouble in the Vorster place. The leader of the service touched his throat.Ó The girl smiled. She was waif-like, fragile, no more than eigh- teen or nineteen. Cursed with talent. She closed her eyes, took WeinerÕs hand, clutched the thick wrist until the Martian revived. Kirby did not know what she had done. All this was mystery to him. Now, strength flowing back into him visibly from moment to moment, Weiner tried to sit up. He seized the girlÕs hand and held it. She did not attempt to break free. He said, ÒWhat did they hit me with?Ó ÒIt was a momentary alteration of your charge,Ó the girl told him. ÒHe turned off your heart and brain for a thousandth of a --------------------------------------- 26 26 To Open the Sky second. There will be no permanent damage.Ó ÒHowÕd he do it? He just touched me with his fingers.Ó ÒThere is a technique. But youÕll be all right.Ó Weiner eyed the girl. ÒYou an esper? You reading my mind right now?Ó ÒIÕm an esper, but I donÕt read Mondschein. IÕm just an empath. YouÕre all churned up with hatred. Why donÕt you go back across the street? Ask him to forgive you. I know he will. Let him teach you. Have you read VorstÕs book?Ó ÒWhy donÕt you just go to hell?Ó Weiner said casually. ÒNo, donÕt. YouÕre too cute. We got some cute espers on Mars, too. You want some fun tonight? My nameÕs Nat Weiner, and this is my friend, Ron Kirby. Reynolds Kirby. HeÕs a stuffed shirt, but we can give him the slip.Ó The MartianÕs grip on the slender arm grew tighter. ÒWhat do you want?Ó The girl didnÕt say anything. She simply frowned, and Weiner made a strange face and released her arm. Kirby, watching, had to repress a grin. Weiner was running into trouble all over the place. This was a complicated world. ÒGo across the street,Ó the girl whispered. ÒTheyÕll help you there.Ó She turned without waiting for a reply and faded into the dim- ness. Weiner passed a hand over his forehead as though brush- ing cobwebs from his brain. He struggled to his feet, ignoring KirbyÕs proffered arm. ÒWhat kind of place is this?Ó he asked. ÒA sniffer palace.Ó ÒWill they preach to me here?Ó ÒTheyÕll just fog your brain a little,Ó said Kirby. ÒWant to try?Ó ÒSure. I told you I wanted to try everything. I donÕt get a chance to come to Earth every day.Ó Weiner grinned, but it was a somber grin. He didnÕt seem to have the bounce he had had an hour ago. Of course, getting knocked out by the Vorster had sobered him some. He was still --------------------------------------- 27 Blue Fire 2077 2727 game, though, ready to soak up all the sins this wicked planet had to offer. Kirby wondered whether he was making as big a mess of this assignment as it seemed. There was no way of knowingÑnot yet. Later, of course, Weiner might well protest the handling he had received, and Kirby might find himself abruptly transferred to less sensitive duties. That was not a pleasant thought. He re- garded his career as an important matter, perhaps the only im- portant matter in his life. He did not want to wreck it in a night They moved toward the sniffer booths. ÒTell me,Ó Weiner said. ÒDo those people really believe all that crap about the electron?Ó ÒI really donÕt know. I havenÕt made a study of it, Nat.Ó ÒYouÕve watched the movement appear. How many members does it have now?Ó ÒA couple of million, I guess.Ó ÒThatÕs plenty. We have only seven million people on all of Mars. If youÕve got this many joining this nutty cultÑÓ ÒThere are lots of new religious sects on Earth today,Ó Kirby said. ÒItÕs an apocalyptic time. People are hungry for reassur- ance. They feel the EarthÕs being left behind by the stream of events. So they look for a unity, for some way out of all the con- fusion and fragmentation.Ó ÒLet them come to Mars if they want a unity. We got work for everybody, and no time to stew about the alieness of it all.Ó Weiner guffawed. ÒThe hell with it. Tell me about this sniffer stuff.Ó ÒOpiumÕs out of fashion. We inhale the more exotic mercap- tans. The hallucinations are said to be entertaining.Ó ÒSaid to be? DonÕt you know? Kirby, donÕt you have firsthand information about anything? You arenÕt even alive. YouÕre just a zombie. A man needs some vices, Kirby.Ó The U.N. man thought of the Nothing Chamber waiting for him in the lofty tower on balmy Tortola. His face was a stony mask. He said, ÒSome of us are too busy for vices. But this visit of --------------------------------------- 28 28 To Open the Sky yours is likely to be a great education for me, Nat. Have a sniff.Ó A robot rolled up to them. Kirby clapped his right thumb against the lambent yellow plate set in the robotÕs chest. The light bright- ened as KirbyÕs print-pattern was recorded. ÒWeÕll bill your Central,Ó the robot said. Its voice was absurdly deep: pitch troubles on the master tape, Kirby suspected. When the metal creature rolled away, it was listing a bit to starboard. Rusty in the gut, he figured. An even chance that he wouldnÕt get billed. He picked up a sniffer mask and handed it to Weiner, who sprawled out comfortably on the couch along the wall of the booth. Weiner donned the mask. Kirby took another and slipped it over his nose and mouth. He closed his eyes and settled into the webfoam cradle near the boothÕs entrance. A moment passed; then he tasted the gas creeping into his nasal passages. It was a revolting sour-sweet smell, a sulfuric smell. Kirby waited for the hallucination. There were people who spent hours each day in these booths, he knew. The government kept raising the tax to discourage the sniffers, but they came anyway, even at ten, twenty, thirty dol- lars a sniff. The gas itself wasnÕt addictive, not in the metabolic way that heroin got to you. It was more of a psychological addic- tion, something you could break if you really tried, but which nobody cared to try to break: like the sex addiction, like mild alcoholism. For some it was a kind of religion. Everyone to his own creed; this was a crowded world, harboring many beliefs. A girl made of diamonds and emeralds was walking through KirbyÕs brain. The surgeons had cut away every scrap of living flesh on her body. Her eyeballs had the cold glitter of precious gems; her breasts were globes of white onyx tipped with. ruby; her lips were slabs of alabaster; her hair was fashioned from strings of yellow gold. Blue fire flickered around her, Vorster fire, crack- ling strangely. She said,ÒYouÕre tired, Ron.You need to get away from yourself.Ó --------------------------------------- 29 Blue Fire 2077 2929 ÒI know. IÕm using the Nothing Chamber every other day now. IÕm fighting off a crackup.Ó ÒYouÕre too rigid, thatÕs your trouble. Why donÕt you visit my surgeon? Have yourself changed. Get rid of all that stupid meat. For this I say, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; neither doth corruption inherit incorruption.Ó ÒNo,Ó Kirby muttered. ÒIt isnÕt so. All I need is some rest. A good swim, sunshine, decent amount of sleep. But they dumped that mad Martian on me.Ó The hallucination laughed shrilly, rippled her arms, performed a sinuous convolution. They had sliced away fingers and replaced them with spikes of ivory. Her fingernails were of polished cop- per. The mischievous tongue that flicked out from between the alabaster lips was a serpent of gaudy flexiplast. ÒBehold,Ó she crooned voluptuously, ÒI show you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed.Ó ÒIn a moment,Ó Kirby said. ÒIn the twinkling of an eye. The trumpet shall sound.Ó ÒAnd the dead shall be raised incorruptible. Do it, Ron. YouÕll look so much handsomer. Maybe you can hold the next mar- riage together a little better, too. You miss herÑadmit it. You ought to see what she looks like now. Full fathom five thy loved one lies. But sheÕs happy. For this corruptible must put on incor- ruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.Ó ÒIÕm a human being,Ó Kirby protested. ÒIÕm not going to turn myself into a walking museum piece like you. Or like her, for that matter. Even if itÕs becoming fashionable for men to have it done.Ó The blue glow began to pulse and throb around the vision in his brain. ÒYou need something, though, Ron. The Nothing Cham- ber isnÕt the answer. ItÕsÑnothing. Affiliate yourself. Belong. Work isnÕt the answer, either. Join. Join. You wonÕt carve yourself? All right, become a Vorster, then. Surrender to the Oneness. Let death be swallowed up in victory.Ó --------------------------------------- 30 30 To Open the Sky ÒCanÕt I just remain myself?Ó Kirby cried. ÒWhat you are isnÕt enough. Not now. Not any more. These are hard times. A troubled world. The Martians make fun of us. The Venusians despise us. We need new organization, new strength. The sting of death is in sin, and the strength of sin is the law. Grave, where is thy victory?Ó A riotous swirl of colors danced through KirbyÕs mind. The surgically altered woman pirouetted, leaped and bobbed, flaunted the jewel-bedecked flamboyance of herself in his face. Kirby quivered. He clawed fitfully at the mask. For this nightmare he had paid good money? How could people let themselves become addicts of this sort of thingÑthis tour through the swamps of oneÕs own mind? Kirby wrenched the sniffer mask away and threw it to the floor of the booth. He sucked clean air into his lungs, fluttered his eyes, returned to reality. He was alone in the booth. The Martian, Weiner, was gone. --------------------------------------- 31 Blue Fire 2077 3131 four The robot who ran the sniffer palace was of no help. ÒWhereÕd he go?Ó Kirby demanded. ÒHe left,Ó came the rusty reply. ÒEighteen dollars sixty cents. We will bill your Central.Ó ÒDid he say where he was going?Ó ÒWe did not converse. He left. Awwwrk! We did not converse. I will bill your Central. Awwwrk!Ó Sputtering a curse, Kirby rushed out into the street. He glanced involuntarily at the sky. Against the darkness he saw the lemon- colored letters of the timeglow streaming in the firmament, ir- regularly splotched with red: 2205 Hours Eastern Standard Time Wednesday May 8 2077 Buy PreeblesÑThey Crunch! Two hours to midnight. Plenty of time for that lunatic colonial to get himself in trouble. The last thing Kirby wanted was to have a drunken, perhaps hallucinated Weiner rampaging around in New York. This assignment hadnÕt entirely been one of ren- dering hospitality. Part of KirbyÕs job was to keep an eye on Weiner. Martians had come to Earth before. The libertarian so- ciety was a heady wine for them. Where had he gone? One place to look was the Vorster hall. Maybe Weiner had gone back to raise some more hell over there. With sweat bursting from every pore, Kirby sprinted across the street, dodging the rocketing teardrops as they turbined past, and rushed into the shabby cultist chapel. The service was still going on. It didnÕt seem as tough Weiner were there, though. Everyone obediently knelt in his pew, and there were no shouts, no screams of boozy laughter. Kirby silently loped down the aisle, checking every --------------------------------------- 32 32 To Open the Sky bench. No Weiner. The girl with the surgical face was still there, and she smiled and stretched a hand toward him. For one bi- zarre moment Kirby was catapulted back into his sniffer hallu- cination, and his flesh crawled. Then he recovered himself. He managed a faint smile to be polite and got out of the Vorster place as fast as he could. He caught the slidewalk and let it carry him three blocks in a random direction. No Weiner. Kirby got off and found himself in front of a public Nothing Chamber place, where for twenty bucks an hour you could get wafted off to luscious oblivion. Perhaps Weiner had wandered in there, eager to try every mind-sapping diversion the city had to offer. Kirby went in. Robots werenÕt in charge here. A genuine flesh-and-blood en- trepreneur came forward, a four-hundred-pounder, opulent with chins, Small eyes buried in fat regarded Kirby doubtfully. ÒWant an hour of rest, friend?Ó ÒIÕm looking for a Martian,Ó Kirby blurted. ÒAbout so high, big shoulders, sharp cheekbones.Ó ÒHavenÕt seen him.Ó ÒLook, maybe heÕs in one of your tanks. This is important. ItÕs U.N. business.Ó ÒI donÕt care if itÕs the business of God Almighty. I havenÕt seen him.Ó The fat man glanced only briefly at KirbyÕs identification plaque. ÒWhat do you want me to doÑopen my tanks for you? He didnÕt come in here.Ó ÒIf he does, donÕt let him rent a chamber,Ó Kirby begged. ÒStall him and phone U.N. Security right away.Ó ÒI got to rent him if he wants. We run a public hall here, buddy. You want to get me in trouble? Look, youÕre all worked up. Why donÕt you climb into a tank for a little while? ItÕll do wonders for you. YouÕll feel likeÑÓ Kirby wheeled and ran out. There was nausea in the pit of his stomach, perhaps induced by the hallucinogen. There was also fright and a goodly jolt of anger. He visualized Weiner clubbed --------------------------------------- 33 Blue Fire 2077 3333 in some dark alley, his stocky body expertly vivisected for the bootleg organ banks. A worthy fate, perhaps, but it would raise hob with KirbyÕs reliability rating. More likely was it that Weiner, bashing around like a Chinese bullÑwas that the right simile, Kirby wondered?Ñwould stir up some kind of mess that would be blasphemously difficult to clean up. Kirby had no idea where to look. A communibooth presented itself on the corner of the next street, and he jumped in, opaquing the screens. He rammed his identification plaque into the slot and punched for U.N. Security. The cloudy little screen grew clear. The pudgy, bearded face of Lloyd Ridblom appeared. ÒNight squad,Ó Ridblom said. ÒHello, Ron. WhereÕs your Mar- tian?Ó ÒLost him. He gave me the slip in a sniffer palace.Ó Ridblom became instantly animated. ÒWant me to slap a televector on him?Ó ÒNot yet,Ó Kirby said. ÒIÕd rather he didnÕt know we were upset about his disappearance. Put the vector on me, instead, and keep contact. And open up a routine net for him. If he shows, notify me right away. IÕll call back in an hour to change the instruc- tions if nothingÕs happened by then.Ó ÒMaybe heÕs been kidnapped by Vorsters,Ó Ridblom suggested. ÒTheyÕre draining his blood for altar wine.Ó ÒGo to hell,Ó Kirby said. He stepped put of the booth and put his thumbs briefly to his eyeballs. Slowly, purposelessly, he strolled toward the slidewaik and let it take him back to the Vorster hall. A few people were coming out of it now. There was the girl with the iridescent earshells; she wasnÕt content to haunt his hallucinationsÑshe had to keep intersecting his path in real life, too. ÒHello,Ó she said. Her voice was gentle, at least. ÒIÕm Vanna Marshak. WhereÕd your friend go?Ó ÒIÕm wondering that myself. He vanished a little while ago.Ó --------------------------------------- 34 34 To Open the Sky ÒAre you supposed to be in charge of him?Ó ÒIÕm supposed to be watching him, anyhow. HeÕs a Martian, you know.Ó ÔI didnÕt. HeÕs certainly hostile to the Brotherhood, isnÕt be? That was sad, the way he erupted during the service. He must be terribly ill.Ó ÒTerribly drunk,Ó Kirby said. ÒIt happens to all the Martians who come here. The iron bars are lifted for them, and they think anything goes. Can I buy you a drink?Ó he added mechanically. ÒI donÕt drink, thanks. But IÕll accompany you if you want one.Ó ÒI donÕt want one. I need one.Ó ÒYou havenÕt told me your name.Ó ÒRon Kirby. IÕm with the U.N. IÕm a minor bureaucrat. No, IÕll correct that: a major bureaucrat who gets paid like a minor one. We can go in here.Ó He nudged the doorstud of a bar on the corner. The sphincter whickered open and admitted them. She smiled warmly. She was about thirty, Kirby guessed. Not easy to tell, with all that hard- ware where her face used to be. ÒFiltered rum,Ó he said. Vanna Marshak leaned close to him. She wore some subtle and unfamiliar perfume. ÒWhy did you bring him to the Brother- hood house?Ó she asked. He downed his drink as though it were fruit juice. ÒHe wanted to see what the Vorsters were like. So I took him.Ó ÒI take it youÕre unsympathetic personally?Ó ÒI donÕt have any real opinion. IÕve been too busy to pay much attention.Ó ÒThatÕs not true,Ó she said easily. ÒYou think itÕs a nut-cult, donÕt you?Ó Kirby ordered a second drink. ÒAll right,Ó he admitted, ÒI do. ItÕs a shallow opinion based on no real information at all.Ó ÒYou havenÕt read VorstÕs book?Ó ÒNo.Ó --------------------------------------- 35 Blue Fire 2077 3535 ÒIf I give you a copy, will you read it?Ó ÒImagine,Ó he said. ÒA proselyte with a heart of gold.Ó He laughed. He was feeling drunk again. ÒThat isnÕt really very funny,Ó she said. ÒYouÕre hostile to sur- gical alterations, too, arenÕt you?Ó ÒMy wife had a complete face job done. While she was still my wife. I got so angry about it that she left me. Three years ago. SheÕs dead now. She and her lover went down in a rocket crash off New Zealand.Ó ÒIÕm terribly sorry,Ó Vanna Marshak said. ÒBut I wouldnÕt have had this done to myself if I had known about Vorst then. I was uncertain. Insecure. Today I know where IÕm headingÑbut itÕs too late to have my real face back. ItÕs rather attractive, I think, anyway.Ó ÒLovely,Ó Kirby said. ÒTell me about Vorst.Ó ÒItÕs very simple. He wants to restore spiritual values in the world. He wants us all to become aware of our common nature and our higher goals.Ó ÒWhich we can express by watching Cerenkov radiation in rundown lofts,Ó Kirby said. ÒThe Blue FireÕs just trimming. ItÕs the inner message that counts. Vorst wants to see mankind go to the stars. He wants us to get out of our muddle and confusion and begin to mine our real talents. He wants to save the espers who are going insane every day, harness them, put them together to work for the next great step in human progress.Ó ÒI see,Ó said Kirby gravely. ÒWhich is?Ó ÒI told you. Going to the stars. You think we can stop with Mars and Venus? There are millions of planets out there. Waiting for man to find a way to reach them. Vorst thinks he knows that way. But it calls for a union of mental energies, a blending, aÑ oh, I know this sounds mystical. But heÕs got something. And it heals the troubled soul, too. ThatÕs the short-range purpose: the communion, the binding-up of wounds. And the long-range goal --------------------------------------- 36 36 To Open the Sky is getting to the stars. Of course, weÕve got to overcome the fric- tions between the planetsÑget the Martians to be more toler- ant, and then somehow reestablish contact with the people on Venus, if thereÕs anything human still left in themÑdo you see that there are possibilities here, that it isnÕt mumbo jumbo and fraud?Ó Kirby didnÕt see anything of the kind. It sounded hazy and in- coherent to him. Vanna Marshak had a soft, persuasive voice, and there was an earnestness about her that made her appeal- ing. He could even forgive her for what she had let the knife- wielders do to her face. But when it came to VorstÑ The com- municator in his pocket bleeped. It was a signal from Ridblom, and it meant call the office right away. Kirby got to his feet. ÒExcuse me a minute,Ó he said. ÒSomething important to tend toÑÓ He lurched across the barroom, caught himself, took a deep breath and got into the booth. Into the slot went the plaque; trem- bling fingers punched out the number. Ridblom appeared on the screen again. ÒWeÕve found your boy,Ó the pudgy Security man announced blandly. ÒDead or alive?Ó ÒAlive, unfortunately. HeÕs in Chicago. He stopped off at the Martian Consulate, borrowed a thousand dollars from the consulÕs wife, and tried to rape her in the bargain. She got rid of him and called the police, and they called me. We have a five- man tracer on him now. HeÕs heading for a Vorster cell on Michi- gan Boulevard, and heÕs drunk as a lord. Should we intercept him?Ó Kirby bit his lip in anguish. ÒNo. No. HeÕs got immunity, any- way. Let me handle this. Is there a chopper in the U.N. port I can borrow?Ó ÒSure. But itÕll take you at least forty Mondschein to get to Chi, andÉÓ --------------------------------------- 37 Blue Fire 2077 3737 ÒThatÕs plenty of time. HereÕs what I want you to do: get hold of the prettiest esper you can find in Chicago, maybe an empath, some sexy kid, Oriental if possible, something like that one who had the burnout in Kyoto last week. Plunk her down between Weiner and that Vorster place and turn her loose on him. Have her charm him into submission. Have her stall him in any way possible until I can get there, and if she has to part with her honor in the process, tell her weÕll give her a good price for it. If you canÕt find an esper, get hold of a persuasive policewoman, or something.Ó ÒI donÕt see why this is really necessary,Ó Ridblom said. ÒThe Vorsters can look out for themselves. I understand theyÕve got some mysterious way of knocking a troublemaker out so that he doesnÕtÑÓ ÒI know, Lloyd. But WeinerÕs already been knocked out once this evening. For all I know, a second jolt of the same stuff to- night might kill him. That would be very awkward all around. Just head him off.Ó Ridblom shrugged. ÒThy will be done.Ó Kirby left the booth. He was cold sober again. Vanna Marshak was sitting at the bar where he had left her. At this distance and in this light there was something almost pretty about her artifi- cial disfigurements. She smiled. ÒWell?Ó ÒThey found him. He got to Chicago somehow, and heÕs about to raise some hell in the Vorster chapel there. IÕve got to go and lasso him.Ó ÒBe gentle with him, Ron. HeÕs a troubled man. He needs help.Ó ÒDonÕt we all.Ó Kirby blinked suddenly. The thought of mak- ing the trip to Chicago alone struck him abruptly as being nasty. ÒVanna?Ó he asked. ÒYes?Ó ÒAre you going to be busy for the next couple of hours?Ó Þve --------------------------------------- 38 38 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 39 Blue Fire 2077 3939 The copter hovered over ChicagoÕs sparkling gaiety. Below, Kirby saw the bright sheen of Lake Michigan, and the splendid mile-high towers that lined the lake. Above him blazed the local timeglow in chartreuse banded with deep blue: 2331 Hours Central Standard Time Wednesday May 8 2077 Oglebay RealtyÑThe Finest! ÒPut her down,Ó Kirby ordered. The robopilot steered the copter toward a landing. It was im- possible, of course, to risk the fierce wind currents in those deep canyons; they would have to land at a rooftop heliport. The land- ing was smooth. Kirby and Vanna rushed out. She had given him the Vorster message all the way from Manhattan, and at this point Kirby wasnÕt sure whether the cult was complete nonsense or some sinister conspiracy against the general welfare or a truly profound, spiritually uplifting creed or perhaps a bit of all three. He thought he had the general idea. Vorst had cobbled together an eclectic religion, borrowing the confessional from Catholi- cism, absorbing some of the atheism of ur Buddhism, adding a dose of Hindu reincarnation, and larding everything over with ultramodernistic trappings, nuclear reactors at every altar, and plenty of gabble about the holy electron. But there was also talk of harnessing the minds of espers to power a stardrive, of a com- munion even of non-esper Minds, andÑmost startling of all, the big selling-pointÑpersonal immortality, not reincarnation, not the hope of Nirvana, but eternal life in the here-and-now present flesh. In view of EarthÕs population problems, immortality was low on any sane manÕs priority list. Immortality for other people, anyway; one was always willing to consider the extension of oneÕs own life, wasnÕt one? Vorst preached the eternal life of the body, and the people were buying. In eight years the cult had gone --------------------------------------- 40 40 To Open the Sky from one cell to a thousand, from fifty followers to millions. The old religions were bankrupt. Vorst was handing out shining gold pieces, and if they were only foolÕs gold, it. would take a while for the faithful to find that out ÒCome on,Ó Kirby said. ÒThere isnÕt much time.Ó He scrambled down the exit ramp, turning to take Vanna MarshakÕs hand and help her the last few steps. They hurried across the rooftop landing area to the gravshaft, stepped in, dropped to ground level in a dizzying five-second plunge. Local police were waiting in the street. They had three teardrops. ÒHeÕs a block from the Vorster place, Freeman Kirby,Ó one of the policeman said. ÒThe esperÕs been dragging him around for half an hour, but heÕs dead set on going there.Ó ÒWhat does he want there?Ó Kirby asked. ÒHe wants the reactor. He says heÕs going to take it back to Mars and put it to some worthwhile use,Ó Vanna gasped at the blasphemy. Kirby shrugged, sat back, watched the streets flashing by. The teardrop halted. Kirby saw the Martian across the street. The girl who was with him was sultry, full-bodied, lush-look- ing. She had one arm thrust through his, and she was close to WeinerÕs side, cooing in his ear. Weiner laughed harshly and turned to her, pulled her close, then pushed her away. She clutched at him again. It was quite a scene, Kirby thought. The street had been cleared. Local police and a couple of RidblomÕs men were watching grimly from the sidelines. Kirby went forward and gestured to the girl. She sensed in- stantly who he was, withdrew her arm from Weiner, and stepped away. The Martian swung around. ÒFound me, did you?Ó ÒI didnÕt want you to do anything youÕd regret later on? ÒVery loyal of you, Kirby. Well, as long as youÕre here, you can be my accomplice. IÕm on my way to the Vorster place. TheyÕre wasting good fissionables in those reactors. You distract the priest, --------------------------------------- 41 Blue Fire 2077 4141 and IÕm going to grab the blue blinker, and weÕll all live happily ever after. Just donÕt let him shock you. That isnÕt fun.Ó ÒNatÑÓ ÒAre you with me or arenÕt you, pal?Ó Weiner pointed toward the chapel, diagonally across the street a block away, in a build- ing almost as shabby as the one in Manhattan. He started toward it. Kirby glanced uncertainly at Vanna. Then he crossed the street behind Weiner. He realized that the altered girl was following, too. Just as Weiner reached the entrance to the Vorster place, Vanna dashed forward and cut in front of him. ÒWait,Ó she said. ÒDonÕt go in there to make trouble.Ó ÒGet out of my way, you phony-faced bitch!Ó ÔPlease,Ó she said softly. ÒYouÕre a troubled man. You arenÕt in harmony with yourself, let alone with the world around you. Come inside with me, and let me show you how to pray. ThereÕs much for you to gain in there. If youÕd only open your mind, open your heartÑinstead of standing there so smug in your ha- tred, in your drunken unwillingness to seeÑÓ Weiner hit her. It was a backhand slap across the face. Surgical alteration jobs are fragile, and they arenÕt meant to be slapped. Vanna fell to her knees, whimpering, and pressed her hands over her face. She still blocked the MartianÕs way. Weiner drew his foot back as though he were going to kick her, and that was when Reynolds Kirby forgot he was paid to be a diplomat. Kirby strode forward, caught Weiner by the elbow, swung him around. The Martian was off balance. He clawed at Kirby for support. Kirby struck his hand down, brought a fist up, landed it solidly in WeinerÕs muscular belly. Weiner made a small oofing sound and began to rock backward. Kirby had not struck a hu- man being in anger in thirty years, and he did not realize until that moment what a savage pleasure there could be in some- --------------------------------------- 42 42 To Open the Sky thing so primordial. Adrenalin flooded his body. He hit Weiner again, just below the heart. The Martian, looking very surprised, sagged and went over backward, sprawling in the street. ÒGet up,Ó Kirby said, almost dizzy with rage. Vanna plucked at his sleeve. ÒDonÕt hit him again,Ó she mur- mured. Her metallic lips looked crumpled. Her cheeks glistened with tears. ÒPlease donÕt hit him any more.Ó Weiner remained where he was, shaking his head vaguely. A new figure came forward: a small leathery-faced man, in late middle age. The Martian consul. Kirby felt his belly churn with apprehension. The consul said, ÒIÕm terribly sorry, Freeman Kirby. HeÕs re- ally been running amok, hasnÕt he? Well, weÕll take jurisdiction now. What he needs is to have some of his own people tell him what a fool heÕs been.Ó Kirby stammered, ÒIt was my fault. I lost sight of him. He shouldnÕt be blamed. HeÑÓ ÒWe understand perfectly, Freeman Kirby.Ó The consul smiled benignly, gestured, nodded as three aides came forward and gathered the fallen Weiner into their arms. Very suddenly the street was empty. Kirby stood, drained and stupefied, in front of the Vorster chapel, and Vanna was with him, and all the others were gone, Weiner vanishing like an ogre in a bad dream. It had not, Kirby thought, been a very successful evening. But now it was over. Home, now. An hour and a half would see him in Tortola. A quick, lonely swim in the warm oceanÑthen half an hour in the Nothing Chamber tomorrow. No, an hour, Kirby decided. It would take that much to undo this nightÕs damage. An hour of disassocia- tion, an hour of drifting on the amniotic tide, sheltered, warm, unbothered by the pressures of the world, an hour of blissful if cowardly escape. Fine. Wonderful. Vanna said, ÒWill you come in now?Ó --------------------------------------- 43 Blue Fire 2077 4343 ÒInto the chapel?Ó ÒYes. Please.Ó ÒItÕs late. IÕll get you back to New York right away. WeÕll pay for any repairs thatÑthat your face will need. The copterÕs wait- ing.Ó ÒLet it wait,Ó Vanna said. ÒCome inside.Ó ÒI want to get home.Ó ÒHome can wait, too. Give me two hours with you, Ron. Just sit and listen to what they have to say in there. Come to the altar with me. You donÕt have to do anything but listen. ItÕll relax you, I promise thatÓ Kirby stared at her distorted, artificial face. Beneath the gro- tesque eyelids were real eyesÑshining, imploring. Why was she so eager? Did they pay a finderÕs fee of salvation for every lost soul dragged into the Blue Fire? Or could it be, Kirby wondered, that she really and truly believed, that her heart and soul were bound up in this movement that she was sincere in her convic- tion that the followers of Vorst would live through eternity, would live to see men ride to the distant stars? He was so very tired. He wondered how the security officers of the Secretariat would regard it if a high official like himself began to dabble in Vorsterism. He wondered, too, if he had any career at all left to salvage, after tonightÕs fiasco with the Martian. What was there to lose? He could rest for a while. His head was splitting. Perhaps some esper in there would massage his frontal lobes for a while. Espers tended to be drawn to the Vorster chapels, didnÕt they? The place seemed to have a pull. He had made his job his religion, but was that really good enough now, he asked him- self? Perhaps it was time to unbend, time to shed the mask of aloofness, time to find out what it was that the multitudes were buying so eagerly in these chapels. Or perhaps it was just time to give in and let himself be pulled under by the tide of the new --------------------------------------- 44 44 To Open the Sky creed. The sign over the door said: Brotherhood of the Immanent Radiance Come Ye All Ye Who May Never Die Harmonize With the All ÒWill you?Ó Vanna said. ÒAll right,Ó Kirby muttered. ÒIÕm willing. LetÕs go harmonize with the All.Ó She took his hand. They stepped through the door. About a dozen people were kneeling in the pews. Up front the chapel leader was nudging the moderator rods out of the little reactor, and the first faint bluish glow was beginning to suffuse the room. Vanna guided Kirby into the last row. He looked toward the al- tar. The glow was deepening, casting a strange radiance on the plump, dogged-looking man at the front of the room. Now green- ish-white, now purplish, now the Blue Fire of the Vorsters. The opium of the masses, Kirby thought, and the hackneyed phrase sounded foolishly cynical as it echoed through his brain. What was the Nothing Chamber, after all, but the opium of the elite? And the sniffer palaces, what were they? At least here they went for the mind and soul, not for the body. It was worth an hour of his time to listen, at any rate. ÒMy brothers,Ó said the man at the altar in a soft, fog-smooth voice, Òwe celebrate the underlying Oneness here. Man and woman, star and stone, tree and bird, all consist of atoms, and those atoms contain particles moving at wondrous speeds. They are the electrons, my brothers. They show us the way to peace, as I will make clear to you. TheyÑÓ Reynolds Kirby bowed his head. He could not bear to look at that glowing reactor, suddenly. There was a throbbing in his skull. He was distantly aware of Vanna beside him, smiling, warm, close. --------------------------------------- 45 Blue Fire 2077 4545 IÕm listening, Kirby thought. Go on. Tell me! Tell me! I want to hear. God and the almighty electron help meÑI want to hear! --------------------------------------- 46 46 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 47 47 Two The Warriors of Light 2095 one If Acolyte Third Level Christopher Mondschein had a weak- ness, it was that he wanted very badly to live forever. The yearn- ing for everlasting life was a common enough human desire, and not really reprehensible. But Acolyte Mondschein carried it a little too far. ÒAfter all,Ó one of his superiors found it necessary to remind him, Òyour function in the Brotherhood is to look after the well- being of others. Not to feather your own nest, Acolyte Mondschein. Do I make that clear?Ó ÒPerfectly clear, Brother,Ó said Mondschein tautly. He felt ready to explode with shame, guilt, and anger. ÒI see my error. I ask forgiveness.Ó ÒIt isnÕt a matter of forgiveness, Acolyte Mondschein,Ó the older man replied. ÒItÕs a matter of understanding. I donÕt give a damn for forgiveness. What are your goals, Mondschein? What are you after?Ó The acolyte hesitated a moment before answeringÑ both be- cause it was always good policy to weigh oneÕs words before saying anything to a higher member of the Brotherhood, and because he knew he was on very thin ice. He tugged nervously at the pleats of his robe and let his eyes wander through the Gothic magnificence of the chapel. They stood on the balcony, looking down at the nave. No ser- vice was in progress, but a few worshipers occupied the pews anyway, kneeling before the blue radiance of the small cobalt reactor on the front dais. It was the Nyack chapel of the Brother- --------------------------------------- 48 48 To Open the Sky hood of the Immanent Radiance, third largest in the New York area, and Mondschein had joined it six months before, the day he turned twenty-two. He had hoped, at the time, that it was genuine religious feeling that had impelled him to pledge his fortunes to the Vorsters. Now he was not so sure. He grasped the balcony rail and said in a low voice, ÒI want to help people, Brother. People in general and people in particular. I want to help them find the way. And I want mankind to realize its larger goals. As Vorst saysÑÓ ÒSpare me the scriptures, Mondschein.Ó ÒIÕm only trying to show youÑÓ ÒI know. Look, donÕt you understand that youÕve got to move upward in orderly stages? You canÕt go leapfrogging over your superiors, Mondschein, no matter how impatient you are to get to the top. Come into my office a momentÓ ÒYes, Brother Langholt. Whatever you say.Ó Mondschein followed the older man along the balcony and into the administrative wing of the chapel. The building was fairly new and strikingly handsomeÑa far cry from the shabby slum- area storefronts of the first Vorster chapels a quarter of a cen- tury before. Langholt touched a bony hand to the stud, and the door of his office irised quickly. They stepped through. It was a small, austere room, dark and somber, its ceiling groined in good Gothic manner. Bookshelves lined the side walls. The desk was a polished ebony slab on which there glowed a miniature blue light, the BrotherhoodÕs symbol. Mondschein saw something else on the desk: the letter he had written to District Supervisor Kirby, requesting a transfer to the BrotherhoodÕs ge- netic center at Santa Fe. Mondschein reddened. He reddened easily; his cheeks were plump and given to blushing. He was a man of slightly more than medium height, a little on the fleshy side, with dark coarse hair and close-set, earnest features. Mondschein felt absurdly immature by comparison with the gaunt, ascetic-looking man --------------------------------------- 49 The Warriors of Light 2095 4949 more than twice his age who was giving him this dressing-down. Langholt said, ÒAs you see, weÕve got your letter to Supervisor Kirby.Ó ÒSir, that letter was confidential. IÑÓ ÒThere are no confidential letters in this order, Mondschein! It happens that Supervisor Kirby turned this letter over to me himself. As you can see, heÕs added a memorandum.Ó Mondschein took the letter. A brief note had been scrawled across its upper left-hand corner: ÒHeÕs awfully in a hurry, isnÕt he? Take him down a couple of pegs. The acolyte put the letter down and waited for the withering blast of scorn. Instead, he found the older man smiling gently. ÒWhy did you want to go to Santa Fe, Mondschein?Ó ÒTo take part in the research there. And theÑthe breeding program.Ó ÒYouÕre not an esper.Ó ÒPerhaps IÕve got latent genes, though. Or at least maybe some manipulation could be managed so my genes would be impor- tant to the pool. Sir, youÕve got to understand that I wasnÕt being purely selfish about this. I want to contribute to the larger ef- fort.Ó ÒYou can contribute, Mondschein, by doing your maintenance work, by prayer, by seeking converts. If itÕs in the cards for you to be called to Santa Fe, youÕll be called in due time. DonÕt you think there are others much older than you whoÕd like to go there? Myself? Brother Ashton? Supervisor Kirby himself? You walk in off the street, so to speak, and after a few months you want a ticket to utopia. Sorry. You canÕt have one that easily, Acolyte Mondschein.Ó ÒWhat shall I do now?Ó ÒPurify yourself. Rid yourself of pride and ambition. Get down and pray. Do your daily work. DonÕt look for rapid preferment. ItÕs the best way not to get what you want.Ó --------------------------------------- 50 50 To Open the Sky ÒPerhaps if I applied for missionary service,Ó Mondschein sug- gested. ÒTo join the group going to VenusÑÓ Langholt sighed. ÒThere you go again! Curb your ambition, Mondschein!Ó ÒI meant it as a penance.Ó ÒOf course. You imagine that those missionaries are likely to become martyrs. You also imagine that if by some fluke you go to Venus and donÕt get skinned alive, youÕll come back here as a man of great influence in the Brotherhood, whoÕll be sent to Santa Fe like a warrior going to Valhalla. Mondschein, Mondschein, youÕre so transparent! YouÕre verging on heresy, Mondschein, when you refuse to accept your lot.Ó ÒSir, IÕve never had any traffic with the heretics. IÑÓ ÒIÕm not accusing you of anything,Ó Langholt said heavily. ÒIÕm simply warning you that youÕre heading in an unhealthy direc- tion. I fear for you. LookÑÓ He thrust the incriminating letter to Kirby into a disposal unit, where it flamed and was gone instantly. ÒIÕll forget that this whole episode ever happened. But donÕt you forget it. Walk more humbly, Mondschein. Walk more humbly, I say. Now go and pray. Dismissed.Ó ÒThank you, Brother,Ó Mondschein muttered. His knees felt a little shaky as he made his way from the room and took the spiral slideshaft downward into the chapel proper. All things considered, he knew he had got off lightly. There could have been a public reprimand. There could have been a trans- fer to some not very desirable place, like Patagonia or the Aleu- tians. They might even have separated him from the Brother- hood entirely. It had been a massive mistake to go over LangholtÕs head, Mondschein agreed. But how could a man help it? To die a little every day, while in Santa Fe they were choosing the ones who would live foreverÑit was intolerable to be on the outside. MondscheinÕs spirit sank at the awareness that now he had al- most certainly cut himself off from Santa Fe for good. --------------------------------------- 51 The Warriors of Light 2095 5151 He slipped into a rear pew and stared solemnly toward the cobalt-60 cube on the altar. Let the Blue Fire engulf me, he begged. Let me rise purified and cleansed. Sometimes, kneeling before the altar, Mondschein had felt the ghostly flicker of a spiritual experience. That was the most he ever felt, for, though he was an acolyte of the Brotherhood of the Immanent Radiance, and was a second-generation member of the cult, at that, Mondschein was not a religious man. Let others have ecstasies before the altar, he thought. Mondschein knew the cult for what it was: a front operation masking an elaborate program of genetic research. Or so it seemed to him, though there were times when he had his doubts which was the front and which the underlying reality. So many others appeared to derive spiritual benefits from the BrotherhoodÑwhile he had no proof that the laboratories at Santa Fe were accomplishing anything at all. He closed his eyes. His head sank forward on his breast. He visualized electrons spinning in their orbits. He silently repeated the Electromagnetic Litany, calling off the stations of the spec- trum. He thought of Christopher Mondschein living through the ages. A stab of yearning sliced into him while he was still telling off the middling frequencies. Long before he got to the softer X rays, he was in a sweat of frustration, sick with the fear of dying. Sixty, seventy more years and his number was up, while at Santa FeÑ Help me. Help me. Help me. Somebody help me. I donÕt want to die! Mondschein looked to the altar. The Blue Fire flickered as though to mock him by going out altogether. Oppressed by the Gothic gloom, Mondschein sprang to his feet and rushed out into the open air. --------------------------------------- 52 52 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 53 The Warriors of Light 2095 5353 two He was a conspicuous figure in his indigo robe and monkish hood. People stared at him as though he had some supernatural power. They did not look closely enough to see that he was only an acolyte, and, though many of them were Vorsters themselves, they never managed to understand that the Brotherhood had no truck with the supernatural. Mondschein did not have a high regard for the intelligence of laymen. He stepped aboard the slidewalk. The city loomed around him, towers of travertine that took on a greasy cast in the dying red- dish glow of a March afternoon. New York City had spread up the Hudson like a plague, and skyscrapers were marching across the Adirondacks; Nyack, here, had long since been engulfed by the metropolis. The air was cool. There was a smoky tang in it; probably a fire raging in a forest preserve, thought Mondschein darkly. He saw death on all sides. His modest apartment was five blocks from the chapel. He lived alone. Acolytes needed a waiver to marry and were forbidden to have transient liaisons. Celibacy did not weigh heavily on Mondschein yet, though he had hoped to shed it when he was transferred to Santa Fe. There was talk of lovely, willing young female acolytes at Santa Fe. Surely not all the breeding experi- ments were done through artificial insemination, Mondschein hoped. No matter now. He could forget Santa Fe. His impulsive letter to Supervisor Kirby had smashed everything. Now he was trapped forever on the lower rungs of the Vorster ladder. In due course they would take him into the Brotherhood, and he would wear a slightly different robe and grow a beard, perhaps, and preside over services, and minister to the needs of his congregation. Fine. The Brotherhood was the fastest-growing religious move- ment on Earth, and surely it was a noble work to serve in the --------------------------------------- 54 54 To Open the Sky cause. But a man without a religious vocation would not be happy presiding over a chapel, and Mondschein had no calling at all. He had sought to fulfill his own ends by enrolling as an acolyte, and now he saw the error of that ambition. He was caught. Just another Vorster Brother now. There were thousands of chapels all over the world. Membership in the Broth- erhood was something like five hundred million today. Not bad in a single generation. The older religions were suffering. The Vorsters had something to offer that the others did not; the com- forts of science, the assurance that beyond the spiritual ministry there was another that served the Oneness by probing into the deepest mysteries. A dollar contributed to your local Vorster chapel might help pay for the development of a method to as- sure immortality, personal immortality. That was the pitch, and it worked well. Oh,, there were imitators, lesser cults, some of them rather successful in their small way. There was even a Vorster heresy now, the Harmonists, the peddlers of the Tran- scendent Harmony, an offshoot of the parent cult Mondschein had chosen the Vorsters, and he had a lingering loyalty to them, for he had been raised as a worshiper of the Blue Fire. ButÑ ÒSorry. Million pardons.Ó Someone jostled him on the slidewalk. Mondschein felt a hand slap against his back, dealing him a hard jolt that almost knocked him down. Staggering a bit, he recovered and saw a broad-shoul- dered man in a simple blue business tunic moving swiftly away. Clumsy idiot, Mondschein thought. ThereÕs room for everyone on the walk. WhatÕs his hellish hurry? Mondschein adjusted his robes and his dignity. A soft voice said, ÒDonÕt go into your apartment, Mondschein.Ó Just keep moving. ThereÕs a quickboat waiting for you at the Tarrytown station.Ó No one was near him. ÒWho said that?Ó he demanded tensely. ÒPlease relax and cooperate. You arenÕt going to be harmed. This is for your benefit, Mondschein.Ó --------------------------------------- 55 The Warriors of Light 2095 5555 He looked around. The nearest person was an elderly woman, fifty feet behind him on the slidewalk, who quickly threw him a simpering smile as though asking for a blessing. Who had spo- ken? For one wild moment Mondschein thought that he had turned into a telepath, some latent power breaking through in a delayed maturity. But no. It had been a voice, not a thought-mes- sage. Mondschein understood. The stumbling man must have planted a two-way Ear on him with that slap on the back. A tiny metallic transponding plaque, perhaps half a dozen molecules thick, some miracle of improbable subminiaturizationÑ Mondschein did not bother to search for it. He said, ÒWho are you?Ó ÒNever mind that. Just go to the station and youÕll be met.Ó ÒIÕm in my robes.Ó ÒWeÕll handle that, too,Ó came the calm response. Mondschein nibbled his lip. He was not supposed to leave the immediate vicinity of his chapel without permission from a su- perior, but there was no time for that now, and in any event he had no intention of bucking the bureaucracy so soon after his rebuke. He would take his chances. The slidewalk sped him ahead. Soon the Tarrytown station drew near. MondscheinÕs stomach roiled with tension. He could smell the acrid fumes of quickboat fuel. The chill wind cut through his robes, so that his shivering was not entirely from uneasiness. He stepped from the slidewalk and entered the station, a gleaming yellowish-green dome with lambent plastic walls. It was not particularly crowded. The com- muters from downtown had not yet begun to arrive, and the out- ward-bound rush would come later in the day, at the dinner hour. Figures approached him. The voice coming from the device on his back said, ÒDonÕt stare at them, but just follow behind them casually.Ó Mondschein obeyed. There were three of them, two men and a slim, angular-faced woman. They led him on a sauntering stroll --------------------------------------- 56 56 To Open the Sky past the chattering newsfax booth, past the bootblack stands, past the row of storage lockers. One of the men, short and square- headed, with thick, stubby yellow hair, slapped his palm against a locker to open it. He drew out a bulky package and tucked it under one arm. As he cut diagonally across the station toward the menÕs washroom, the voice said to Mondschein, ÒWait thirty seconds and follow him.Ó The acolyte pretended to study the newsfax ticker. He did not feel enthusiastic about his present predicament, but he sensed that it would be useless and possibly harmful to resist. When the thirty seconds were up. he moved toward the washroom. The scanner decided that he was suitably male, and the ADMIT sign flashed. Mondschein entered. ÒThird booth,Ó the voice murmured. The blond man was not in sight. Mondschein entered the booth and found the package from the locker propped against the seat. On an order, he picked it up and opened the clasps. The wrap- per fell away. Mondschein found himself holding the green robe of a Harmonist Brother. The heretics? What in the worldÑ ÒPut it on, Mondschein.Ó ÒI canÕt. If IÕm seen in itÑÓ ÒYou wonÕt be. Put it on. WeÕll guard your own robe until you get back.Ó He felt like a puppet. He shrugged out of his robe, put it on a hook, and donned the unfamiliar uniform, it fitted well. There was something clipped to the inner surface: a thermoplastic mask, Mondschein realized. He was grateful for that. Unfolding it, he pressed it to his face and held it there until it took hold. The mask would disguise his features just enough so that he need not fear recognition. Carefully Mondschein put his own robe within the wrapper and sealed it. ÒLeave it on the seat,Ó he was told. ÒI donÕt dare. If itÕs lost, how will I ever explain?Ó --------------------------------------- 57 The Warriors of Light 2095 5757 ÒIt will not be lost, Mondschein. Hurry now. The quickboatÕs about to leave.Ó Unhappily, Mondschein stepped from the booth. He viewed himself in the mirror. His face, normally plump, now looked gross: bulging cheeks, stubbly jowls, moist and thickened lips. Unnatural dark circles rimmed his eyes as though he had ca- roused for a week. The green robe was strange, too. Wearing the ouffit of heresy made him feel closer to his own organization than ever before. The slim woman came forward as he emerged into the wait- ing room. Her cheekbones were like hatchet blades, and her eyelids had been surgically replaced by shutters of fine plati- num foil. It was an outmoded fashion of the previous genera- tion; Mondschein could remember his mother coming from the cosmetic surgeonÕs office with her face transformed into a gro- tesque mask. No one did that any more. This woman had to be at least forty, Mondschein thought, though she looked much younger. ÒEternal harmony, Brother,Ó she said huskily. Mondschein fumbled for the proper Harmonist response. Im- provising, he said, ÒMay the Oneness smile upon you.Ó ÒIÕm grateful for your blessing. Your ticketÕs in order, Brother. Will you come with me?Ó She was his guide, he realized. He had shed the Ear with his own robe. Queasily, he hoped he would get to see that garment again before long. He followed the slim woman to the loading platform. They might be taking him anywhereÑChicago, Hono- lulu, MontrealÑ The quickboat sparkled in the floodlit station, graceful, elegant, its skin a burnished bluish-green. As they filed aboard, Mondschein asked the woman, ÒWhere are we going?Ó ÒRome,Ó she said. --------------------------------------- 58 58 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 59 The Warriors of Light 2095 5959 three MondscheinÕs eyes were wide as the monuments of antiquity flashed by. The Forum, the Colosseum, the Theater of Marcellus, the gaudy Victor Emmanuel Monument, the Mussolini ColumnÑ their route took them through the heart of the ancient city. He saw also the blue glow of a Vorster chapel as he whizzed down the Via dei Fori Imperiali, and that struck him as harshly incon- gruous here in this city of an older religion. The Brotherhood had a solid foothold here, though. When Gregory XVIII appeared in the window at his Vatican palace, he could still draw a crowd of hundreds of thousands of cheering Romans, but many of those same Romans would melt from the square after viewing the Pope and head for the nearest chapel of the Brotherhood. Evidently the Harmonists were making headway here, too, Mondschein thought. But he kept his peace as the car sped north- ward out of the city. ÒThis is the Via Flaminia,Ó his guide announced. ÒThe old route was followed when the electronic roadbed was installed. They have a deep sense of tradition here.Ó ÒIÕm sure they do,Ó said Mondschein wearily. It Was mid- evening by his time, and he had had nothing to eat but a snack aboard the quickboat. The ninety-minute journey had dumped him in Rome in the hours before dawn. A wintry mist hung over the city; spring was late. MondscheinÕs face itched fiercely be- neath his mask. Fear chilled his fingers. They halted in front of a drab brick building some where a few dozen miles north of Rome. Mondschein shivered as he hur- ried within. The woman with platinum eyelids led him up the stairs and into a warm, brightly lit room occupied by three men in green Harmonist robes. That confirmed it, Mondschein thought: IÕm in a den of heretics. They did not offer their names. One was short and squat, with a sallow face and bulbous nose. One was tall and spectrally thin, --------------------------------------- 60 60 To Open the Sky arms and legs like spiderÕs limbs. The third was unremarkable, with pale skin and narrow, bland eyes. The squat one was the oldest and seemed to be in charge. Without preamble he said, ÒSo they turned you down, did they?Ó ÒHowÑÓ ÒNever mind how. WeÕve been watching you, Mondschein. We hoped youÕd make it. We want a man in Santa Fe just as much as you want to be there.Ó ÒAre you Harmonists?Ó ÒYes. What about some wine, Mondschein?Ó The acolyte shrugged. The tall heretic gestured, and the slim woman, who had not left the room, came forward with a flask of golden wine. Mondschein accepted a glass, thinking dourly that it was almost certainly drugged. The wine was chilled and faintly sweet, like a middling-dry Graves. The others took wine with him. ÒWhat do you want from me?Ó Mondschein asked. ÒYour help,Ó said the squat one. ÒThereÕs a war going on, and we want you to join our side.Ó ÒI donÕt know of any wars.Ó ÒA war between darkness and light,Ó said the tall heretic in a mild voice. ÒWe are the warriors of light. DonÕt think weÕre fa- natics, Mondschein. Actually, weÕre quite reasonable men.Ó ÒPerhaps you know,Ó said the third of the Harmonists, Òthat our creed is derived from yours. We respect the teachings of Vorst, and we follow most of his ways. In fact, we regard our- selves as closer to the original teachings than the present hier- archy of the Brotherhood. WeÕre a purifying body. Every religion needs its reformers.Ó Mondschein sipped his wine. He allowed his eyes to twinkle maliciously as he remarked, ÒUsually it takes a thousand years for the reformers to put in their appearance. This is only 2095. The BrotherhoodÕs hardly thirty years old.Ó The squat heretic nodded. ÒThe pace of our times Is a fast --------------------------------------- 61 The Warriors of Light 2095 6161 one. It took the Christians three hundred years to get political control of RomeÑfrom the time of Augustus to that of Constantine. The Vorsters didnÕt need that long. You know the story: there are Brotherhood men in every legislative body in the world. In some countries theyÕve organized their own politi- cal parties. I donÕt need to tell you about the financial growth of the organization, either.Ó ÒAnd you purifiers urge a return to the old, simple ways of thirty years ago?Ó Mondschein asked. ÒThe ramshackle build- ings, the persecutions, and all the rest? Is that it?Ó ÒNot really. We appreciate the uses of power. We simply feel that the movementÕs become sidetracked in irrelevancies. Power for its own sake has become more important than power for the sake of larger goals.Ó The tall one said, ÒThe Vorster high command quibbles about political appointments and agitates for changes in the income tax structure. ItÕs wasting time and energy fooling around with domestic affairs. Meanwhile the movementÕs drawn a total blank on Mars and VenusÑnot one chapel among the colonists, not even a start there, total rejection. And where are the great re- sults of the esper breeding program? Where are the dramatic new leaps?Ó ÒIfs only the second generation,Ó Mondschein said. ÒYou have to be patientÓ He smiled at thatÑcounseling patience to othersÑ and added, ÒI think the Brotherhood is heading in the right di- rection.Ó ÒWe donÕt, obviously,Ó said the pale one. ÒWhen we failed to reform from within, we had to leave and begin our own cam- paign, parallel to the original one. The long-range goals are the same. Personal immortality through bodily regeneration. And fail development of extrasensory powers, loading to new meth- ods of communication and transportation. ThatÕs what we wantÑ not the right to decide local tax issues.Ó Mondschein said, ÒFirst you get control of the governments. --------------------------------------- 62 62 To Open the Sky Then you concentrate on the long-range goals.Ó ÒNot necessary,Ó snapped the squat Harmonist. ÒDirect action is what weÕre interested in. WeÕre confident of success, too. One way or another, weÕll achieve our purposes.Ó The slim woman gave Mondschein more wine. He tried to shake her away, but she insisted on filling his glass, and he drank. Then he said, ÒI presume you didnÕt waft me off to Rome just to tell me your opinion of the Brotherhood. What do you need me for?Ó ÒSuppose we were to get you transferred to Santa Fe,Ó the squat one said. Mondschein sat bolt upright. His hand tightened on the wine- glass, nearly breaking it. ÒHow could you do that?Ó ÒSuppose we could. Would you be willing to obtain certain in- formation from the laboratories there and transmit it to us?Ó ÒSpy for you?Ó ÒYou could call it that.Ó ÒIt sounds ugly,Ó Mondschein said. ÒYouÕd have a reward for it.Ó ÒIt better be a good one.Ó The heretic leaned forward and said quietly, ÒWell offer you a tenth-level post in our organization. YouÕd have to wait fifteen years to get that high in the Brotherhood. WeÕre a much smaller operation; you can rise in our hierarchy much faster than where you are. An ambitious man like you could be very close to the top before he was fifty.Ó ÒBut what good is it?Ó Mondschein asked. ÒTo get close to the top in the second-best hierarchy?Ó ÒAh, but we wonÕt be second-best! Not with the information youÕll provide for us. That will allow us to grow. Millions of people will desert the Brotherhood for us when they see what we have to offerÑall that they have, plus our own values. WeÕll expand rapidly. And --------------------------------------- 63 The Warriors of Light 2095 6363 youÕll have a position of high rank, because you threw your lot in with us at the beginning.Ó Mondschein saw the logic of that. The Brotherhood was swol- len already, wealthy, powerful, top-heavy with entrenched bu- reaucrats. There was no room for advancement there. But if he were to transfer his allegiance to a small but dynamic group with ambitions that rivaled his ownÑ ÒIt wonÕt work,Ó he said sadly. ÒWhy?Ó ÒAssuming you can wangle me into Santa Fe, IÕll be screened by espers long before I get there. TheyÕll know IÕm coming as a spy, and theyÕll screen me out. My memories of this conversa- tion will give me away.Ó The squat man smiled broadly. ÒWhy do you think youÕll re- member this conversation? We have our espers, too, Acolyte Mondschein!Ó --------------------------------------- 64 64 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 65 The Warriors of Light 2095 6565 four The room in which Christopher Mondschein found himself was eerily empty. It was a perfect square, probably built within a tolerance of hundredths of a millimeter, and there was nothing at all in it but Mondschein himself. No furniture, no windows, not so much as a cobweb. Shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, he stared up at the high ceiling, searching without success for the source of the steady, even illumination. He did not even know what city he was in. They had taken him out of Rome just as the sun was rising, and he might be in Jakarta now, or Benares, or perhaps Akron. He bad profound misgivings about all this. The Harmonists had assured him that there would be no risks, but Mondschein was not so sure. The Brotherhood had not attained its eminence without developing ways of protecting itself. For all the assur- ances to the contrary, he might well be detected long before he got into those secret laboratories at Santa Fe, and it would not go happily for him afterward. The Brotherhood had its way of punishing those who betrayed it. Behind the benevolence was a certain streak of necessary cru- elty. Mondschein had heard the stories: the one about the re- gional supervisor in the Philippines who had let himself be be- guiled into providing minutes of the high councils to certain anti- Vorsterite police officials, for example. Perhaps it was apocryphal. Mondschein had heard that the man had been taken to Santa Fe to undergo the loss of his pain receptors. A pleasant fate, never to feel pain again? Hardly. Pain was the measure of safety. Without pain, how did one know whether something was too hot or too cold to touch? A thousand little injuries resulted: burns, cuts, abrasions. The body eroded away. A finger here, a nose there, an eyeball, a swatch of skinÑ why, someone could devour his own tongue and not realize it. Mondschein shuddered. The seamless wall in front of him --------------------------------------- 66 66 To Open the Sky abruptly telescoped and a man entered the room. The wall closed behind him. ÒAre you the esper?Ó Mondschein blurted nervously. The man nodded. He was without unusual features. His face had a vaguely Eurasian cast, Mondschein imagined. His lips were thin, his hair glossily dark, his complexion almost olive., There was something of a fragile look to him. ÒLie down on the floor,Ó the esper said in a soft, tarry voice. ÒPlease relax. You are afraid of me, and you should not be afraid.Ó ÒWhy shouldnÕt I? YouÕre going to meddle with my mind!Ó ÒPlease. Relax.Ó Mondschein gave it a try. He settled on the yielding, rubbery floor and put his hands by his sides. The esper sank into the lotus position in one corner of the room, not looking at Mondschein. The acolyte waited uncertainly. He had seen a few espers before. There were a goad many of them now; after years of doubt and confusion, their traits had been isolated and recognized more than a century ago, and a fair amount of deliberate esper-to-esper mating had increased their number. The talents were still unpredictable, though. Most of the espers had little control over their abilities. They were unstable individuals, besides, generally high-strung, often laps- ing into psychosis under stress. Mondschein did not like the idea of being locked in a windowless room with a psychotic esper. And what if the esper had a malicious streak? What if, instead of simply inducing selective amnesia in Mondschein, he decided to make wholesale alterations in his memory patterns? It might happen thatÑ ÒYou can get up now,Ó the esper said brusquely. ÒItÕs done.Ó ÒWhatÕs done?Ó Mondschein asked. The esper laughed triumphantly. ÒYou donÕt need to know, fool. ItÕs done, thatÕs all.Ó The wall opened a second time. The esper left. Mondschein stood up, feeling strangely empty, wondering somberly where --------------------------------------- 67 The Warriors of Light 2095 6767 he was and what was happening to him. He had been going home on the slidewalk, and a man had jostled him, and thenÑ A slim woman with improbable cheekbones and eyelids of glit- tering platinum foil said, ÒCome this way, please.Ó ÒWhy should I?Ó ÔTrust me. Come this way.Ó Mondschein sighed and let her lead him down a narrow corri- dor into another room, brightly painted and lit. A coffin-sized metal tank stood in one corner of the room. Mondschein recog- nized it, of course. It was a sensory deprivation chamber, a Noth- ing Chamber, in which one floated in a warm nutrient bath, sight and hearing cut off, gravityÕs pull negated. The Nothing Cham- ber was an instrument for total relaxation. It could also have more sinister uses: a man who spent too much time in a Nothing Chamber became pliant, easily indoctrinated. ÒStrip and get in,Ó the woman said. ÒAnd if I donÕt?Ó ÒYou will.Ó ÒHow long a setting?Ó ÒTwo and a half hours.Ó ÒToo long,Ó Mondschein said. ÒSorry. I donÕt feel that tense. will you show me the way out of here?Ó The woman beckoned. A robot rolled into the room, blunt- nosed, painted an ugly dull black. Mondachein had never wrestled with a robot, and he did not intend to try it now. The woman indicated the Nothing Chamber once more. This is some sort of dream, Mondschein told himself. A very bad dream. He began to strip. The Nothing Chamber hummed its readi- ness. Mondschein stepped into it and allowed it to engulf him. He could not see. He could not hear. A tube fed him air. Mondschein slipped into total passivity, into a fetal comfort. The bundle of ambitions, confficts, dreams, guilts, lusts, and ideas that constituted the mind of Christopher Mondschein was tem- --------------------------------------- 68 68 To Open the Sky porarily dissolved. In time, he woke. They took him from the ChamberÑ he was wobbly on his legs, and they had to steady himÑand gave him his clothing. His robe, he noticed, was the wrong color: green, the heretic color. How had that happened? Was he being forc- ibly impressed into the Harmonist movement? He knew better than to ask questions. They were putting a thermoplastic mask on his face now. IÕm to travel incognito, it seems. In a short while Mondschein was at a quickboat station. He was appalled to see Arabic lettering on the signs. Cairo, he won- dered? Algiers? Beirut? Mecca? They had reserved a private compartment for him. The woman with the altered eyelids sat with him during the swift flight. Sev- eral times Mondschein attempted to ask questions, but she gave him no reply other than a shrug. The quickboat landed at the Tarrytown station. Familjar terri- tory at last. A timesign told Mondschein that this was Wednes- day, March 13, 2095, 0705 hours Eastern Standard Time. It had been late Tuesday afternoon, he remembered distinctly, when he crept home in disgrace from the chapel after getting his come- uppance over the matter of a transfer to Santa Fe. Say, 1630 hours. Somewhere he had lost all of Tuesday night and a chunk of Wednesday morning, about fifteen hours in all. As they entered the main waiting room, the slim woman at his side whispered, ÒGo into the washroom. Third booth. Change your clothes.Ó Greatly troubled, Mondschein obeyed. There was a package resting on the seat. He opened it and found that it contained his indigo acolyteÕs robe. Hurriedly he peeled off the green robe and donned his own. Remembering the face mask, he stripped that off, too, and flushed it away. He packed up the green robe and, not knowing what else to do with it, left it in the booth. As he came out, a dark-haired man of middle years approached him, holding out his hand. --------------------------------------- 69 The Warriors of Light 2095 6969 ÒAcolyte Mondschein?Ó ÒYes?Ó Mondschein said, not recognizing him, but taking the hand anyway. ÒDid you sleep well?Ó ÒIÑyes,Ó Mondschein said. ÒVery well.Ó There was an exchange of glances, and suddenly Mondschein did not remember why he had gone into the washroom, nor what he had done in there, nor that he had worn a green robe and a thermoplastic mask on his flight from a country where Arabic was the main language, nor that he had been in any other country at all, nor, for that matter, that he had stepped bewildered from a Nothing Chamber not too many hours ago. He now believed that he had spent a comfortable night at home, in his own modest dwelling. He was not sure what he was doing at the Tarrytown quickboat station at this hour of the morning, but that was only a minor mystery and not worth detailed explo- ration. Finding himself unusually hungry, Mondschein bought a hearty breakfast at the food console on the lower level of the station. He bolted it briskly. By eight, he was at the Nyack chapel of the Brotherhood of the Immanent Radiance, ready to aid in the morn- ing service. Brother Langholt greeted him warmly. ÒDid yesterdayÕs little talk upset you too much, Mondschein?Ó ÒIÕm settling down now.Ó ÒGood, good. You mustnÕt let your ambitions engulf you, Mondschein. Everything comes in due time. Will you check the gamma level on the reactor, please?Ó ÒCertainly, Brother.Ó Mondschein stepped toward the altar. The Blue Fire seemed like a beacon of security in an uncertain world. The acolyte re- moved the gamma detector from its case and set about his morn- ing tasks. --------------------------------------- 70 70 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 71 The Warriors of Light 2095 7171 Þve The message summoning him to Santa Fe arrived three weeks later. It landed on the Nyack chapel like a thunderbolt, striking down through layer after layer of authority before it finally reached the lowly acolyte. One of MondscheinÕs fellow acolytes brought him the news, in an indirect way. ÒYouÕre wanted in Brother LangholtÕs office, Chris. Supervisor KirbyÕs there.Ó Mondschein felt alarm. ÒWhat is it? I havenÕt done anything wrongÑnot that I know of, anyway.Ó ÒI donÕt think youÕre in trouble. ItÕs something big, Chris. TheyÕre all shaken up. ItÕs some kind of order out of Santa Fe.Ó Mondschein received a curious stare. ÒWhat I think they said was that youÕre being shipped out there on a transfer.Ó ÒVery funny,Ó Mondschein said. He hurried to LangholtÕs office. Supervisor Kirby stood against the bookshelf on the left He was a man enough like Langholt to be his brother. Both were tall, lean men in early middle age, with an ascetic look about them. Mondschein had never seen the Supervisor at such close range before. The story was that Kirby had been a U.N. man, pretty high in the international bureaucracy, until his conversion fif- teen or twenty years ago. Now he was a key man in the hierar- chy, possibly one of the dozen most important in the entire orga- nization. His hair was clipped short, and his eyes were an odd shade of green. Mondschein had difficulty meeting those eyes. Facing Kirby in the flesh, he wondered how he had ever found the nerve to write that letter to him, requesting a transfer to the Santa Fe labs. Kirby smiled faintly. ÒMondschein?Ó ÒYes, sir.Ó ÒCall me Brother, Mondschein. Brother Langholt here has said some good things about you.Ó --------------------------------------- 72 72 To Open the Sky He has? Mondschein thought in surprise. Langholt said, ÒIÕve told the Supervisor that youÕre ambitious, eager, and enthusiastic. IÕve also pointed out that youÕve got those qualities to an excessive degree, in some ways. Perhaps youÕll learn some moderation at Santa Fe.Ó Stunned, Mondschein said, ÒBrother Langholt, I thought my application for a transfer had been turned down.Ó Kirby nodded. ÒItÕs been opened again. We need some control subjects, you see. Non-espers. A few dozen acolytes have been requisitioned, and the computer tossed your name up. You fit the needs. I take it you still want to go to Santa Fe?Ó ÒOf course, sirÑBrother Kirby.Ó ÒGood. YouÕll have a week to wrap up your affairs here.Ó The green eyes were suddenly piercing. ÒI hope youÕll prove useful out there, Brother Mondschein.Ó Mondschein could not make up his mind whether he was be- ing sent to Santa Fe as a belated yielding to his request or to get rid of him at Nyack. It seemed incomprehensible to him tat Langholt would approve the transfer after having rejected it so scathingly a few weeks before. But the Vorster high ones moved in mysterious ways, Mondschein decided. He accepted the puz- zling decision in good grace, asking no questions. When his week was up, he knelt in the Nyack chapel one last time, said good- bye to Brother Langholt, and went to the quickboat station for the noon flight westward. He was in Santa Fe by mid-morning local time. The station there, he noticed, was thronged with blue-robed ones, more than he had ever seen in a public place at any one time. Mondschein waited at the station, uneasily eying the immensity of the New Mexican landscape. The sky was a strangely bright shade of blue, and visibility seemed unlimited. Miles away Mondschein saw bare sandstone mountains rising. A tawny desert dotted with grayish-green sagebrush surrounded the station. Mondschein had never seen so much open space before. --------------------------------------- 73 The Warriors of Light 2095 7373 ÒBrother Mondschein?Ó a pudgy acolyte asked. ÒThatÕs right.Ó ÒIÕm Brother Capodimonte. IÕm your escort. Got your luggage? Good. LetÕs go, then.Ó A teardrop was parked in back. Capodimonte took MondscheinÕs lone suitcase and racked it. He was about forty, Mondschein guessed. A little old to be an acolyte. A roll of fat bulged over his collar at the back of his neck. They entered the teardrop. Capodimonte activated it and it shot away. ÒFirst time here?Ó he asked. ÒYes,Ó Mondschein said. ÒIÕm impressed by the countryside.Ó ÒItÕs marvelous stuff, isnÕt it? Life-enhancing. You get a sense of space here. And of history. Prehistoric ruins scattered all over the place. After youÕre settled, perhaps we can go up to Frijoles Canyon for a look at the cave dwellings. Does that kind of thing interest you, Mondschein?Ó ÒI donÕt know much about it,Ó he admitted. ÒBut IÕll be glad to look, anyway.Ó ÒWhatÕs your specialty?Ó ÒNucleonics,Ó Mondschein said. ÒIÕm a furnace tender.Ó ÒI was an anthropologist until I joined the Brotherhood. I spend my spare time out at the pueblos. ItÕs good to step back into the past occasionally. Especially out here, when you see the future erupting with such speed all around you.Ó ÒTheyÕre really making progress, are they?Ó Capodimonte nodded. ÒComing along quite well, they tell me. Of course, IÕm not an insider. Insiders donÕt get to leave the cen- ter much. But from what I hear, theyÕre accomplishing great things. Look out there, BrotherÑ thatÕs the city of Santa Fe weÕre passing right now.Ó Mondschein looked. Quaint was the word that occurred to him. The city was small, both in area and in the size of its buildings, which seemed to be no higher than three or four stories any- --------------------------------------- 74 74 To Open the Sky where. Even at this distance Mondschein could make out the dusky reddish-brown of adobe. ÒI expected it to be much bigger,Ó Mondschein said. ÒZoning. Historical monument and all that. TheyÕve kept it pretty well as it was a hundred years ago. No new constructionÕs allowed.Ó Mondschein frowned. ÒWhat about the laboratory center, though?Ó ÒOh, thatÕs not really in Santa Fe. Santa FeÕs just the nearest big city. WeÕre actually about forty miles north,Ó said Capodimonte. ÒUp near the Picuris country. Still plenty of Indi- ans there, you know.Ó They were beginning to climb now. The teardrop surged up hillside roads, and the vegetation began to change, the twisted, gnarled junipers and pi–on pines giving way to dark stands of Douglas fir and ponderosas. Mondschein still found it hard to believe that he was soon to arrive at the genetic center. It goes to show, he told himself. The only way to get anywhere in the world was to stand up and yell. He had yelled. They had scolded him for itÑbut they had sent him to Santa Fe anyhow. To live forever! To surrender his body to the experimenters who were learning how to replace cell with cell, how to regen- erate organs, how to restore youth. Mondschein knew what they were working on here. Of course, there were risks, but what of that? At the very worst, heÕd dieÑbut in the ordinary scheme of events that would happen anyway. On the other hand, he might be one of the chosen, one of the elect. A gate loomed before them. Sunlight gleamed furiously from the metal shield. ÒWeÕre here,Ó Capodimonte announced. The gate began to open. Mondschein said, ÒWonÕt I be given some kind of esper scan- ning before they let me in?Ó --------------------------------------- 75 The Warriors of Light 2095 7575 Capodimonte laughed. ÒBrother Mondschein, youÕve been get- ting a scanning for the last fifteen minutes. If there were any reason to turn you back, that gate wouldnÕt be opening now. Re- lax. And welcome. YouÕve made it.Ó --------------------------------------- 76 76 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 77 The Warriors of Light 2095 7777 six The official name of the place was the Noel Vorst Center for the Biological Sciences. It sprawled over some fifteen square miles of plateau country, every last inch of it ringed by a well- bugged fence. Within were dozens of buildingsÑdormitories, laboratories, other structures of less obvious purpose. The en- tire enterprise was underwritten by the contributions of the faith- ful, who gave according to their meansÑa dollar here, a thou- sand dollars there. The center was heart and core of the Vorster operation. Here the research was carried out that served to improve the lives of Vorsters everywhere. The essence of the BrotherhoodÕs appeal was that it offered not merely spiritual counselingÑwhich the old religions could provide just as wellÑbut also the most ad- vanced scientific benefits. Vorster hospitals existed now in ev- ery major population center. Vorster medics were at the fore- front of their profession. The Brotherhood of the Immanent Ra- diance healed both body and soul. And, as the Brotherhood did not attempt to conceal, the greater goal of the organization was the conquest of death. Not merely the overthrow of disease, but the downfall of age itself. Even before the Vorster movement had begun, men had been making great progress in that direction. The mean life expectancy was up to ninety-odd, above one hundred in some countries. That was why the Earth teemed with people, despite the stringent birth-control regulations that were in effect almost everywhere. Close to eleven billion people now, and the birth rate, though dropping sharply, was still greater than the death rate. The Vorsters hoped to push the life expectancy still higher for those who wanted longer lives. A hundred and twenty, a hun- dred and fifty yearsÑthat was the immediate goal. Why not two hundred, three hundred, a thousand later on? ÒGive us everlast- ing life,Ó the multitudes cried, and flocked to the chapels to make --------------------------------------- 78 78 To Open the Sky sure they were among the elect. Of course, that prolongation of life would make the popula- tion problem all the more complex. The Brotherhood was aware of that it had other goals designed to alleviate that problem. To open the galaxy to manÑthat was the real aim. The colonization of the universe by humankind had already began several generations before Noel Vorst founded his move- ment. Mars and Venus both had been settled, in differing ways. Neither planet had been hospitable to man, to begin with, so Mars had been changed to accommodate man, and man had been changed to survive on Venus. Both colonies were thriving now. Yet little had been accomplished toward solving the population crisis; ships would have to leave Earth day and night for hun- dreds of years in order to transport enough people to the colo- nies to make a dent in the multitudes on the home world, and that was economically impossible. But if the extrasolar worlds could be reached, and if they did not need to be expensively Terraformed before they could be occupied, and if some new and reasonably economical means of transportation could be devisedÑ ÒThatÕs a lot of ifs,Ó Mondschein said. Capodimonte nodded. ÒI donÕt deny that. But thatÕs no reason not to try.Ó ÒYou seriously think that thereÕll be a way to shoot people off to the stars on esper power?Ó Mondschein asked. ÒYou donÕt think that thatÕs a wild and fantastic dream?Ó Smiling, Capodimonte said, ÒWild and fantastic dreams keep men moving around. Chasing Prester John, chasing the North- west Passage, chasing unicornsÑwell, this is our unicorn, Mondschein. Why all the skepticism? Look about you. DonÕt you see whatÕs going on?Ó Mondschein had been at the research center for a week. He still did not know his way around the place with any degree of confidence, but he had learned a great deal. He knew, for ex- --------------------------------------- 79 The Warriors of Light 2095 7979 ample, that an entire town of espers had been built on the far side of the dry wash that cut the center in half. Six thousand people lived there, none of them oldcr than forty, all of them breeding like rabbits. Fertility Row, they called the place. It had special government dispensation for unlimited childbearing. Some of the families had five or six children. That was the slow way of evolving a new kind of man. Take a bunch of people with unusual talents, throw them into a closed environment, let them pick their own mates and multiply the genetic poolÑwell, that was one way. Another was to work di- rectly on the germ plasm. They were doing that here, too, in a variety of ways. Tectogenetic microsurgery, polynuclear mold- ing, DNA manipulationÑthey were trying everything. Cut and carve the genes, push the chromosomes around, get the tiny replicators to produce something slightly different from what had gone beforeÑthat was the aim. How well was it working? That was hard to tell, so far. It would take five or six generations to evaluate the results. Mondschein, as a mere acolyte, did not have the equipment to judge for him- self. Neither did most of those he had contact withÑtechnicians, mainly. But they could speculate, and they did, far into the night. What interested Mondschein, far more than the experiments in esper genetics, was the work on life span prolongation. Here, too, the Vorsters were building on an established body of tech- nique. The organ banks provided replacements for most forms of bodily tissue; lungs, eyes, hearts, intestines, pancreases, kid- neys, all could be implanted now, using the irradiation techniques to destroy the graft-rejecting immune reaction. But such piece- meal rejuvenation was not true immortality. The Vorsters Sought a way to make the cells of the body regenerate lost tissue, so that the impulse toward continued life came from within, not through external grafts. Mondschein did his bit. Like most of the bottom-grade people at the center, he was required to surrender a morsel of flesh --------------------------------------- 80 80 To Open the Sky every few days as experimental material. The biopsies were a nuisance, but they were part of the routine. He was a regular contributor to the sperm bank, too. As a non-esper, he was a good control subject for the work going on. How did you find the gene for teleportation? For telepathy? For any of the paranormal phenomena that were lumped under the blanket term of ÒespÓ? Mondschein cooperated. He played his humble part in the great campaign, aware that he was no more than an infantryman in the struggle. He went from laboratory to laboratory, submitting to tests and needles, and when he was not taking part in such enterprises, he carried out his own specialty, which was to serve as a maintenance man on the nuclear power plant that ran the entire center. It was quite a different life from that in the Nyack chapel. No members of the public came hereÑno worshipersÑand it was easy to forget that he was part of a religious movement. They held services here regularly, of course, but there was a profes- sionalism about the worship that made it all seem rather per- functory. Without some laymen in the house, it was hard to re- main really dedicated to the cult of the Blue Fire. In this more rarefied climate, Mondschein felt some of his seething impatience ebb away. Now he no longer could dream of going to Santa Fe, for he was there, on the spot, part of the experiments. Now he could only wait, and tick off the moments of progress, and hope. He made new friends. He developed new interests. He went with Capodimonte to see the ancient ruins, and he went hunting in the Picuris Range with a lanky acolyte named Weber, and he joined the choral society and sang a lusty tenor. He was happy here. He did not know, of course, that he was here as a spy for her- etics. All that had been deftly erased from his memory. In its place had been left a triggering mechanism, which went off one night in early September, and abruptly Mondschein felt a strange --------------------------------------- 81 The Warriors of Light 2095 8181 compulsion take hold. It was the night of the Meson Sacrament, a feast that heralded the autumn solstice. Mondschein, wearing his blue robe, stood between Capodimonte and Weber in the chapel, watching the reactor glare on the altar, listening to the voice intoning, ÒThe world turns and the configurations change. There is a quantum jump in the lives of men, when doubts and fears are left behind and certainty is born. There is a flash as of lightÑa surge of in- ward radiation, a sense of Oneness withÑÓ Mondschein stiffened. They were VorstÕs words, words he had heard an infinity of times, so familiar to him that they had cut grooves in his brain. Yet now he seemed to be hearing them for the first time. When the words Òa sense of OnenessÓ were pro- nounced, Mondschein gasped, gripped the seat in front of him, nearly doubled up in agony. He felt a sensation as of a blazing knife twisting in ins bowels. ÒAre you all right?Ó Capodimonte whispered. Mondschein nodded. ÒJustÑcrampsÑÓ He forced himself to straighten up. But he was not all right, he knew. Something was wrong, and he did not know what. He was possessed. He was no longer his own master. Willy-nilly, he would obey an inner command whose nature he did not at the moment know, but which he sensed would be revealed to him at the proper time, and which he would not resist. --------------------------------------- 82 82 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 83 The Warriors of Light 2095 8383 seven Seven hours later, at the darkest hour of night, Mondschein knew that the time had come. He woke, sweat-soaked, and slipped into his robe. The dormi- tory was silent. He left his room, glided quietly down the hail, entered the dropshaft. Moments later he emerged in the plaza fronting the dormitory buildings. The night was cold. Here on the plateau the dayÕs warmth fled swiftly once darkness descended. Shivering a little, Mondschein made his way through the streets of the center. No guards were on duty; there was no one to fear in this carefully selected, rigor- ously scanned colony of the faithful. Somewhere a watchful esper might be awake, seeking to detect hostile thoughts, but Mondschein was emanating nothing that might seem hostile. He did not know where he was going, nor what he was about to do. The forces that drove him welled from deep within his brain, beyond the fumbling reach of any esper. They guided his motor responses, not his cerebral centers. He came to one of the information-retrieval centers, a stubby brick building with a blank windowless facade. Pressing his hand against the doorscanner, Mondschein waited to be identified; in a moment his pattern was checked against the master list of per- sonnel, and he was admitted. There flowered in his brain the knowledge of what he had come to find: a holographic camera. They kept such equipment on the second level. Mondschein went to the storeroom, opened a cabinet, removed a compact object six inches square. Unhurriedly, he left the building, slid- ing the camera into his sleeve. Crossing another plaza, Mondschein approached Lab XXIa, the longevity building. He had been there during the day, to give a biopsy. Now he moved briskly through the irising doorway, down a level into the basement, entered the small room just to --------------------------------------- 84 84 To Open the Sky his left. A rack of photomicrographs lay on a workbench along the rear wall. Mondschein touched a knuckle to the scanner- activator, and a conveyor belt dumped the photomicrographs into the hopper of a projector. They began to appear in the objective of the viewer. Mondschein aimed his camera and made a hologram of each photomicrograph as it appeared. It was quick work. The cameraÕs laser beam flicked out, bouncing off the subjects, rebounding and intersecting a second beam at 45 degrees. The holograms would be unrecognizable without the proper equipment for view- ing; only a second laser beam, set at the same angle as the one with which the holograms had been taken, could transform the unrecognizable patterns of intersecting circles on the plates into images. Those images, Mondachein knew, would be three-di- mensional and of extraordinarily fine resolution. But he did not stop to ponder on the use to which they might be put. He moved through the laboratory, photographing everything that might be of some value. The camera could take hundreds of shots without recharging. Mondschein thumbed it again and again. Within two hours he had made a three-dimensional record of virtually the entire laboratory. Shivering a little, he stepped out into the morning chill. Dawn was breaking. Mondschein put the camera back where he had found it, after removing the capsule of holographic plates. They were tiny; the whole capsule was not much bigger than a thumb- nail. He slid it into his breast pocket and returned to the dormi- tory. The moment his head touched the pillow, he forgot that he had left his room at all that night. In the morning Mondschein said to Capodimonte, ÒLetÕs go to Frijoles today.Ó ÒYouÕre really getting the bug, arenÕt you?Ó Capodi-monte said, grinning. Mondachein shrugged. ÒItÕs just a passing mood. I want to look --------------------------------------- 85 The Warriors of Light 2095 8585 at ruins, thatÕs all.Ó ÒWe could go to Puye, then. You havenÕt been there. ItÕs pretty impressive, and quite different fromÑÓ ÒNo. Frijoles,Ó Mondschein said. ÒAll right?Ó They got a permit to leave the centerÑit wasnÕt too difficult for lower-grade technicians to go outÑand in the early part of the afternoon they headed westward toward the Indian ruins. The teardrop hummed along the road to Los Alamos, a secret scientific city of an earlier era, but they turned left into Bandelier National Monument before they reached Los Alamos, and bumped down an old asphalt road for a dozen miles until they came to the main center of the park. It was never very crowded here, but now, with summer over, the place was all but deserted. The two acolytes strolled down the main path, past the circular canyon-bottom pueblo ruin known as Tyuonyi, carved from blocks of volcanic tuff, and up the winding little road that took them to the cave dwellings. When they reached the kiva, the hollowed-out chamber that once had been a ceremonial room for prehistoric Indians, Mondschein said, ÒWait a minute. I want to have a look.Ó He scrambled up the wooden ladder and pulled himself into the kiva. Its walls were blackened by the smoke of ancient fires. Niches lined the wall where once had been stored objects of the highest ritual importance. Calmly and without really understand- ing what he was doing, Mondschein drew the tiny capsule of holograms from his pocket and placed it in an inconspicuous corner of the farthest left-hand niche. He spent another moment looking around the kiva, and emerged. Capodimonte was sitting on the soft white rock at the base of the cliff, looking up at the high reddish wall on the far side of the canyon. Mondschein said, ÒFeel like taking a real hike today?Ó ÒWhere to? Frijolito Ruin?Ó ÒNo,Ó Mondschein said. He pointed to the top of the canyon wall. ÒOut toward Yapashi. Or to the Stone Lions.Ó --------------------------------------- 86 86 To Open the Sky ÒThatÕs a dozen miles,Ó Capodimonte said. ÒAnd we hiked there in the middle of July. IÕm not up to it again, Chris.Ó ÒLetÕs go back, then.Ó ÒYou donÕt need to get angry,Ó Capodimonte said. ÒLook, we can go to Ceremonial Cave instead. ThatÕs only a short hike. EnoughÕs enough, Chris.Ó ÒAll right,Ó Mondschein said. ÒCeremonial Cave it is. He set the pace for the hike, and it was a brisk one. They had not gone a quarter of a mile before the pudgy Capodimonte was out of breath. Grimly, Mondschein forged on, Capodimonte strag- gling after him. They reached the ruin, viewed it briefly, and turned back. When they came to park headquarters, Capodimonte said that he wanted to rest awhile, to have a snack before returning to the research center. ÒGo ahead,Ó Mondschein said. ÒIÕll browse in the curio shop.Ó He waited until Capodimonte was out of sight Then, entering the curio shop, Mondschein went to the communibooth. A num- ber popped into his brain, planted there hypnotically months before as he lay slumbering in the Nothing Chamber. He put money in the slot and punched out the number. ÒEternal Harmony,Ó a voice answered. ÒThis is Mondschein. Let me talk to anybody in Section Thir- teen.Ó ÒOne moment, please.Ó Mondschein waited. His mind felt blank. He was a sleepwalker now. A purring, breathy voice said, ÒGo ahead, Mondschein.. Give us the details.Ó With great economy of words Mondschein told where he had hidden the capsule of holograms. The purring voice thanked him. Mondachein broke the contact and stepped from the booth. A few moments later Capodimonte entered the curio shop, look- ing fed and rested. ÒSee anything you want to buy?Ó he asked. --------------------------------------- 87 The Warriors of Light 2095 8787 ÒNo,Ó Mondschein said. ÒLetÕs go.Ó Capodimonte drove. Mondschein eyed the scenery as it whizzed past, and drifted into deep contemplation. Why did I come here today? he wondered. He had no idea. He did not re- member a thingÑnot a single detail of his espionage. The era- sure had been complete. --------------------------------------- 88 88 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 89 The Warriors of Light 2095 8989 eight They came for him a week later, at midnight. A ponderous robot rumbled into his room without warning and took up a sta- tion beside his bed, the huge grips ready to seize him if he bolted. Accompanying the robot was a hatchet-faced little man named Magnus, one of the supervising Brothers of the center. ÒWhatÕs happening?Ó Mondschein asked. ÒGet dressed, spy. Come for interrogation.Ó ÒIÕm no spy. ThereÕs a mistake, Brother Magnus.Ó ÒSave the arguments, Mondschein. Up. Get up. DonÕt attempt any violence.Ó Mondschein was mystified. But he knew better than to debate the matter with Magnus, especially with eight hundred pounds of lightning-fast metallic intelligence in the room. Puzzled, the acolyte quit his bed and slipped on a robe. He followed Magnus out. In the hallway others appeared and stared at him. There were guarded whispers. Ten minutes later Mondschein found himself in a circular room on the fifth floor of the research centerÕs main administration building, surrounded by more Brotherhood brass than he had ever expected to see in one room. There were eight of them, all high in councils. A knot of tension coiled in MondscheinÕs belly. Light glared into his eyes. ÒThe esperÕs here,Ó someone muttered. They had sent a girl, no more than sixteen, pasty-faced and plain. Her skin was flecked with small red blotches. Her eyes were alert, unpleasantly gleaming, never still. Mondschein despised her on sight, and he tried desperately to keep the emotion under rein, knowing that she could seal his fate with a word. It was no use: she detected his contempt for her the moment she came into the room, and the fleshy lips moved in a quick twitching smile. She drew her dumpy body erect. --------------------------------------- 90 90 To Open the Sky Supervisor Magnus said, ÒThis is the man. What do you read in him?Ó ÒFear. Hatred. Defiance.Ó ÒHow about disloyalty?Ó ÒHis highest loyalty is to himself,Ó the esper said, clasping her hands complacently over her belly. ÒHas he betrayed us?Ó Magnus demanded. ÒNo. I donÕt see anything that says he has.Ó Mondschein said, ÒIf I could ask the meaning ofÑÓ ÒQuiet,Ó Magnus said witheringly. Another of the Supervisors said, ÒThe evidence is incontro- vertible. Perhaps the girlÕs making a mistake.Ó ÒScan him more closely,Ó Magnus directed. ÒGo back, day by day, through his memory. DonÕt miss a thing. You know what youÕre looking for.Ó Baffled, Mondschein looked in appeal at the steely faces about him. The girl seemed to be gloating. Stinking voyeur, he thought. Have a good scan! The girl said thinly, ÒHe thinks IÕm going to enjoy this. He ought to try swimming through a cesspool sometime, if he wants to know what itÕs like.Ó ÒScan him,Ó Magnus said. ÒItÕs late and we have many ques- tions to answer.Ó She nodded. Mondschein waited for some sensation telling him that his memories were being probed, some feeling as of invis- ible fingers going through his brain. There was no such aware- ness. Long moments passed in silence, and then the girl looked up in triumph. ÒThe night of March thirteenthÕs been erased.Ó ÒCan you get beneath the erasure?Ó Magnus asked. ÒImpossible. ItÕs an expert job. TheyÕve cut the whole night right out of him. And theyÕve loaded him with countermnemonics all the way down the track. He doesnÕt know a thing about what heÕs been up to,Ó the girl said. --------------------------------------- 91 The Warriors of Light 2095 9191 The Supervisors exchanged glances. Mondschein felt perspi- ration soaking through his robe. The smell of it stung his nos- trils. A muscle throbbed in his cheek, and his forehead itched murderously, but he did not move. ÒShe can go,Ó Magnus said. With the esper out of the room, the atmosphere grew a little less tense, but Mondschein did not relax. In a bleak, hopeless way, he felt that he had been tried and condemned in advance for a crime whose nature he did not even know. He thought of some of the perhaps apocryphal stories of Brotherhood vindic- tiveness: the man with the pain centers removed, the esper staked out to endure an overload, the lobotomized biologist, the ren- egade Supervisor who was left in a Nothing Chamber for ninety- six consecutive hours. He realized that he might find out very shortly just how apocryphal those stories were. Magnus said, ÒFor your information, Mondschein, someone broke into the longevity lab and shot the whole place up with a holograph. It was a very neat job, except that weÕve got an alarm system in there, and you happened to trip it.Ó ÒSir, I swear, I never set foot insideÑÓ ÒSave it, Mondschein, The morning after, we ran a neutron activation analysis in there, just as a matter of routine. We turned up traces of tungsten and molybdenum that brushed off you while you were taking those holograms. They match your skin pat- tern. It took us awhile to track them to you. ThereÕs no doubtÑ same neutron pattern on the camera, on the lab equipment, and on your hand. You were sent in here as a spy, whether you know it or not.Ó Another Supervisor said, ÒKirbyÕs here.Ó ÒIÕd like to know what heÕs got to say about this,Ó Magnus muttered darkly. Mondschein saw the lean, long-limbed figure of Reynolds Kirby enter the room. His thin lips were clamped tightly together. He seemed to have aged at least ten years since Mondschein had --------------------------------------- 92 92 To Open the Sky seen him in LangholtÕs office. Magnus whirled and said with open irritation, ÒHereÕs your man, Kirby. What do you think of him now?Ó ÒHeÕs not my man,Ó said Kirby. ÒYou approved his transfer here,Ó Magnus snapped. ÒMaybe we ought to run a scan on you, eh? Somebody worked a loaded bomb into this place, and the bombÕs gone off. He handed a whole laboratory away.Ó ÒMaybe not,Ó Kirby said. ÒMaybe heÕs still got the data on him somewhere.Ó ÒHe was out of the center the day after the laboratory was en- tered. He and another acolyte went to visit some ancient Indian ruins. ItÕs a safe bet that he disposed of the holograms while he was out there.Ó ÒHave you tracked the courier?Ó Kirby asked. ÒWeÕre getting away from the point,Ó said Magnus. ÒThe point is that this man came to the center on your recommendation. You picked him out of nowhere and put him here. What weÕd all like to know is where you found him and why you sent him here. Eh?Ó KirbyÕs fleshless face worked wordlessly for a moment He glow- ered at Mondschein, then stared in even greater hostility at Magnus. At length he said, ÒI canÕt take responsibility for ship- ping this man here. It happens that he wrote to me in February, asking to be transferred out of normal chapel duties and sent here. He was going over the heads of his local administrators, so I sent the letter back suggesting that he be disciplined a little. A few weeks later I received instructions that he be transferred out here. I was startled, to say the least, but I approved them. ThatÕs all I know about Christopher Mondschein.Ó Magnus extended a forefinger and tapped the air. ÒWait one moment, Kirby. YouÕre a Supervisor. Who gives you instructions, anyway? How can you be pressured into making a transfer when youÕre in high authority?Ó --------------------------------------- 93 The Warriors of Light 2095 9393 ÒThe instructions came from higher authority.Ó ÒI find that hard to believe,Ó Magnus said. Mondschein sat stock-still, enthralled dcspite his own predica- ment by this battle between Supervisors. He had never under- stood how he had managed to get that transfer, and now it be- gan to seem as though no one else understood it, either. Kirby said, ÒThe instructions came from a source IÕm reluc- tant to name.Ó ÒCovering up for yourself, Kirby?Ó ÒYouÕre taking liberties with my patience, Supervisor Magnus,Ó said Kirby tightly. ÒI want to know who put this spy among us.Ó Kirby took a deep breath. ÒAll right,Ó he said. ÒIÕll tell you. All of you be my witness to this. The order came from Vorst. Noel Vorst called me and said he wanted this man sent here. Vorst sent him. Vorst! What do you make of that?Ó --------------------------------------- 94 94 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 95 The Warriors of Light 2095 9595 nine They were not finished interrogating Mondschein. Waves of espers worked him over, trying to get beneath the erasure, with- out success. Organic methods were employed, too; Mondschein was shot full of truth serums old and new, everything from so- dium pentothal on up, and batteries of hard-faced Brothers ques- tioned him rigorously. Mondschein let them strip his soul bare, so that every bit of nastiness, every self-seeking moment, every- thing that made him a human being stood out in bold relief. They found nothing useful. Nor did a four-hour immersion in a Noth- ing Chamber yield results; Mondschein was too wobbly-brained to be able to answer questions for three days afterward, that was all. He was as puzzled as they were. He would gladly have con- fessed the most heinous of sins; in fact, several times during the long interrogation he did confess, simply to have it over with, but the espers read his motives plainly and laughed his confes- sions to scorn. Somehow, he knew, he had fallen into the hands of the enemies of the Brotherhood and had concluded a pact with them, a pact which he had fulfilled. But he had no inner knowledge of any of that. Whole segments of his memory were gone, and that was terrifying to him. Mondschein knew that he was finished. They would not let him remain at Santa Fe, naturally. His dream of being on hand when immortality was achieved now was ended. They would cast him out with flaming swords, and he would wither and grow old, cursing his lost opportunity. That is, if they did not kill him outright or work some subtle form of slow destruction on him. A light December snow was falling on the day that Supervisor Kirby came to tell him his fate. ÒYou can go, Mondschein,Ó the tall man said somberly. ÒGo? Where?Ó ÒWherever you like. Your case has been decided. YouÕre guilty, --------------------------------------- 96 96 To Open the Sky but thereÕs reasonable doubt of your volition. YouÕre being ex- pelled from the Brotherhood, but otherwise no action will be taken against you.Ó ÒDoes that mean IÕm expelled from the church as a communi- cant, too?Ó ÒNot necessarily. ThatÕs up to you. If you want to come to wor- ship, we wonÕt deny our comfort to you,Ó Kirby said. ÒBut thereÕs no possibility of your holding a position within the church. YouÕve been tampered with, and we canÕt take further chances with you. IÕm sorry, Mondschein.Ó Mondschein was sorry, too, but relieved, as well. They would not take revenge on him. He would lose nothing but his chance at life everlastingÑand perhaps he would even retain that, just as any other common worshiper did. He had forfeited, of course, his chance to rise in the Vorster hierarchy. But there was another hierarchy, too, Mondschein thought, where a man might move more swiftly. The Brotherhood took him to the city of Santa Fe proper, gave him some money, and turned him loose. Mondschein headed immediately for the nearest chapel of the Transcendent Harmony, which turned out to be in Albuquerque, twenty minutes away. ÒWeÕve been expecting you,Ó a Harmonist in flowing green robes told him. ÒIÕve got instructions to contact my superiors the moment you show up.Ó Mondachein was not surprised at that. Nor was he greatly as- tonished to be told, a short while later, that he was to leave by quickboat for Rome right away. The Harmonists would pay his expenses, he was informed. A slim woman with surgically-altered eyellds met him at the station in Rome. She did not look familiar to him, but she smiled at him as though they were old friends. She conveyed him to a house on the Via Flaminia, a few dozen miles north of Rome, where a squat, sallow-faced Harmonist Brother with a bulbous nose awaited him. --------------------------------------- 97 The Warriors of Light 2095 9797 ÒWelcome,Ó the Harmonist said. ÒDo you remember me?Ó ÒNo, IÑyes. Yes!Ó Recollection flooded back, dizzying him, staggering him. There had been three heretics in the room that other time, not just one, and they had given him wine and promised him a place in the Harmonist hierarchy, arid he had agreed to let himself be smuggled into Santa Fe, a soldier in the great crusade, a warrior of light, a Harmonist spy. ÒYou did very well, Mondschein,Ó the heretic said unctuously. ÒWe didnÕt think youÕd be caught so fast, but we werenÕt sure of all their detection methods. We could only guard against the espers, and we did a fair enough job of that. At any rate, the information you provided was extremely useful.Ó ÒAnd youÕll keep your end of the bargain? IÕm to get a tenth- level job?Ó ÒOf course. You didnÕt think weÕd cheat you, did you? YouÕll have a three-month indoctrination course so you can attain in- sight into our movement. Then youÕll assume your new duties in our organization. Which would you prefer, MondscheinÑMars or Venus?Ó ÒMars or Venus? I donÕt follow you.Ó ÒWeÕre going to attach you to our missionary division. YouÕll be leaving Earth by next summer, to carry on our work in one of the colonies. YouÕre free to choose the one you prefer.Ó Mondachein was aghast. He had never bargained for this. Sell- ing out to these heretics, only to get shipped off to an alien world and likely martyrdomÑno, he had never expected anything like that Faust didnÕt expect his troubles, either, Mondschein thought coldly. He said, ÒWhat kind of trick is this? YouÕve got no right to ask me to become a missionary!Ó ÒWe offered you a tenth-level job,Ó the Harmonist said quietly. ÒThe option of choosing the division it would be remained with --------------------------------------- 98 98 To Open the Sky us.Ó Mondschein was silent. There was a fierce throbbing in his skull. The face of the Harmonist seemed to blur and waver. He was free to leaveÑto step out the door and merge into the mul- titudes. To become nothing. Or he could submit and beÑwhat? Anything. Anything. Dead in six weeks, as likely as not. ÒIÕll take it,Ó he said. ÒVenus. IÕll go to Venus.Ó His words sounded like a cage clanging shut. The Harmonist nodded. ÒI thought you would,Ó he said. He turned to leave, then paused and stared curiously at Mondschein. ÒDid you really think you could name your own positionÑspy?Ó --------------------------------------- 99 99 Three Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 one The Venusian boy danced nimbly around the patch of Trouble Fungus behind the chapel, avoiding the gray-green killer with practiced ease. He hop-skipped past the rubbery bole of the Limblime Tree and approached the serried row of jagged name- less stalks that lined the back garden. The boy grinned at them, and they parted for him as obligingly as the Red Sea had yielded to Moses some time earlier. ÒHere I am,Ó he said to Nicholas Martell. ÒI didnÕt think youÕd be back,Ó the Vorster missionary said. The boyÑElwhitÑlooked mischievous. ÒBrother Christopher said I couldnÕt come back. ThatÕs why IÕm here. Tell me about the Blue Fire. Can you really make atoms give light?Ó ÒCome inside,Ó Martell said. The boy represented his first triumph since coming to Venus, and a small triumph it was, so far. But Martell did not object to that. A step was a step. There was a planet to win here. A uni- verse to win, perhaps. Inside the chapel the boy hung back, suddenly shy. He was no more than ten, Martell guessed. Was it just wickedness that had made him come here? Or was he a spy from the chapel of her- etics down the road? No matter. Martell would treat him as a potential convert. He activated the altar, and the Blue Fire welled into the small room, colors dancing against the boards of the groined wooden ceiling. Power surged from the cobalt cube, and the harmless, dramatic radiations wrung a gasp of awe from --------------------------------------- 100 100 To Open the Sky Elwhit. ÒThe fire is symbolic,Ó Martell murmured. ÒThereÕs an under- lying oneness in the universeÑthe common building blocks, do you see? Do you know what atomic particles are? Protons, elec- trons, neutrons? The things everythingÕs made up of?Ó ÒI can touch them,Ó Elwhit said. ÒI can push them around.Ó ÒWill you show me how?Ó Martell was remembering the way the boy had parted those knifeblade-sharp plants In back. A glance, a mental shove, and they had yielded. These Venusians could teleportÑhe was sure of it. ÒHow do you push things?Ó Martell asked. But the boy shrugged the question aside, ÒTell me more about the Blue Fire,Ó he said. ÒHave you read the book I gave you? The one by Vorst? That tells you all you need to know.Ó ÒBrother Christopher took it away from me.Ó ÒYou showed it to him?Ó Martell said, startled. ÒHe wanted to know why I came to you. I said you talked to me and gave me a book. He took the book. I came back. Tell me why youÕre here. Tell me what you teach. Martell hadnÕt imagined that his first convert would be a child. He said carefully, ÒThe religion we have here is very much like the one that Brother Christopher teaches. But there are some differences. His people make up a lot of stories. TheyÕre good stories, but theyÕre only stories.Ó. ÒAbout Lazarus, you mean?Ó ÒThatÕs right. Myths, nothing more. We try not to need such things. WeÕre trying to get right in touch with the basics of the universe. WeÑÓ The boy lost interest. He tugged at his tunic and nudged at a chair. The altar was what fascinated him, nothing else. The glis- tening eyes roved toward it. Martell said, ÒThe cobalt is radioactive. ItÕs a source of betasÑ electrons. TheyÕre going through the tank and --------------------------------------- 101 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 101101 knocking photons loose. ThatÕs where the light comes frontÓ ÒI can stop the light,Ó the boy said. ÒWill you be angry If I stop it?Ó It was a kind of sacrilege, Martell knew. But he suspected that he would be forgiven. Any evidence of teleporting activity that he could gather was useful. ÒGo ahead,Ó he said. The boy remained motionless. But the radiance dimmed. It was as if an invisible hand reached into the reactor, intercepting the darting particles. Telekinesis on the subatomic level! Martell was elated and chilled all at once, watching the light fade. Sud- denly it flared more brightly again. Beads of sweat glistened on the boyÕs bluish-purple forehead. ÒThat is all,Ó Elwhit announced. ÒHow do you do it?Ó ÒI reach.Ó He laughed. ÒYou canÕt?Ó ÒAfraid not,Ó Martell said. ÒListen, if I give you another book to read, will you promise not to show it to Brother Christopher? I donÕt have many. I canÕt afford to have the Harmonists confis- cate them all.Ó ÒNext time,Ó the boy said. ÒI donÕt feel like reading things now. IÕll come again. You tell me all about it some other time.Ó He danced away, out of the chapel, and went skipping through the underbrush, heedless of the perils that lurked in the deep- shadowed forest beyond. Martell watched him go, not knowing whether he was actually making his first convert or whether he was being mocked. Perhaps both, the missionary thought. Nicholas Martell had come to Venus ten days before, aboard a passenger ship from Mars. He had been one of thirty passengers aboard the ship, but none of the others had cared for Nicholas MartellÕs company. Ten of them were Martians, who did not care to share the atmosphere Martell breathed. Martians, now that --------------------------------------- 102 102 To Open the Sky their planet had been cozily Terraformed, preferred to fill their lungs with an Earthside mix of gases. So had Martell, once, for hewas a native Earthman himself. But now he was one of the changed ones, equipped with gills in good Venusian fashion. Not gills, truly: they would serve no function under water. They were high-density filters, to strain the molecules of decent oxy- gen from the Venusian air. Martell was well adapted. His me- tabolism had no use for helium or the other inerts, but it could draw sustenance from nitrogen and had no real objections to fueling on CO2 for short spells. The surgeons at Santa Fe had worked on him for six months. It was forty years too late to make adjustments on Martell-ovum or Martell-fetus, as was the nor- mal practice in fitting a man for life on Venus, so they had done their work on Martell the man. The blood that flowed in his veins was no longer red. His skin had a fine cyanotic flush. He was as a Venusian born. There had been nineteen Venusians of the true blood aboard the ship, too. But they felt no kinship for Martell and had forced him to withdraw from their presence. The crewmen had set up MartellÕs cradle in a storage chamber, with gentle apologies: ÒYou know those arrogant Venusians, Brother. Give them the wrong kind of look and theyÕre at you with their daggers. YouÕll stay here. YouÕll be safer here.Ó A thin laugh. ÒYouÕll be even safer, Brother, if you head for home without ever setting foot on Ve- nus.Ó Martell had smiled. He was prepared to let Venus do its worst. Venus had martyred several dozen members of MartellÕs reli- gious order in the past forty years. He was a Vorster, or, more formally, a member of the Brotherhood of the Immanent Radi- ance, and he had attached himself to the missionary wing. Un- like his martyred predecessors, Martell was surgically adapted to live on Venus. The others had had to muffle themselves in breathing-suits, and perhaps that had limited their effectiveness. The Vorsters had made no headway on Venus at all, though they --------------------------------------- 103 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 103103 were the dominant religious group on Earth, and had been for more than a generation. Martell, alone and adapted, had taken upon himself the long-delayed task of founding a Venusian or- der of the Brotherhood. Martell had had a chilly welcome from Venus. He had blanked out in the turbulence of the landing as the ship plunged through the cloud layer. Then he had recovered. He sat patiently, a thin man with a wedge-shaped face and pale, hooded eyes. Through the port he had his first glimpse of Venus: a flat, muddy-looking field, stretching perhaps half a mile, with a bordering fringe of thick-trunked, ugly trees whose massed bluish leaves had a sin- ister glint. The sky was gray, and swirling clumps of low-lying clouds formed whorling patterns against the deeper background. Robot technicians were bustling from a squat, alien-looking building to service the shipÕs needs. The passengers were com- ing forth. In the landing station a low-caste Venusian stared at the Vorster with blank indifference, taking his passport and saying coolly, ÒReligious?Ó ÔThatÕs right.Ó ÒHowÕd you get in?Ó ÒTreaty of 2128,Ó Martell said. ÒA limited quota of Earthside observers for scientific, ethical, orÑÓ ÒSpare me.Ó The Venusian pressed his fingertip to a page of the passport and a visa stamp appeared, glowing brilliantly. ÒNicholas Martell. YouÕll die here, Martell. Why donÕt you go back where you came from? Men live forever there, donÕt they?Ó ÒThey live a long time. But I have work here.Ó ÒFool!Ó ÒPerhaps,Ó Martell agreed caimly. ÒMay I go?Ó ÒWhere are you staying? We have no hotels here.Ó ÔThe Martian Embassy will look after me until IÕm established.Ó ÒYouÕll never be established,Ó the Venusian said. Martell did not contradict him. He knew that even a low-caste --------------------------------------- 104 104 To Open the Sky Venusian regarded himself as superior to an Earthman, and that a contradiction might seem a mortal insult. Martell was not equipped for dagger-dueling. And, since he was not a proud man by nature, he was willing to swallow any manner of abuse for the sake of his mission. The passport man waved him on. Martell gathered up his single suitcase and passed out of the building. A taxi now, he thought. It was many miles to town. He needed to rest and to confer with the Martian Ambassador, Weiner. The Martians were not par- ticularly sympathetic to his aims, but at least they were willing to countenance MartellÕs presence here. There was no Earth Embassy, not even a consulate. The links between the mother planet and her proud colony had been broken long ago. Taxis waited at the far side of the field. Martell began to cross to them. The ground crunched beneath his feet, as though it were only a brittle crust. The planet looked gloomy. Not a hint of sun came through those clouds. His adapted body was function- ing well, though. The spaceport, Martell thought, had a forlorn look. Hardly anyone but robots seemed to be about. A staff of four Venusians ran the place, and there were the nineteen from his ship, and the ten Martians, but no one else. Venus was a sparsely popu- lated planet, with hardly more than three million people in its seven widely spaced towns. The Venusians were frontiersmen, legendary for their haughtiness. They had room to be haughty, Martell thought. Let them spend a week on teeming Earth and they might change their ways. ÒTaxi!Ó Martell called. None of the robocars budged from their line. Were even the robots haughty here, he wondered? Or was there something wrong with his accent? He called again, getting no response. Then he understood. The Venusian passengers were emerg- ing and crossing to the taxi zone. And, naturally, they had prece- dence. Martell watched them. They were high-caste men, un- --------------------------------------- 105 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 105105 like the passport man. They walked with an arrogant, swagger- ing gait, and Martell knew they would slash him to his knees if he crossed their path. He felt a bit of contempt for them. What were they, anyway, but blue-skinned samurai, border lairds after their proper time, childish, self-appointed princelings living a medieval fantasy? Men who were sure of themselves did not need to swagger, nor to surround themselves with elaborate codes of chivalry. If one looked upon them as uneasy, inwardly uncertain hotheads, rather than as innately superior noblemen, one could surmount the feeling of awe that a procession of them provoked. And yet one could not entirely suppress that awe. For they were impressive as they paraded across the field. More than custom separated the high-caste and the low-caste Venusians. They were biologically different. The high-caste ones were the first comers, the founding families of the Venus colony, and they were far more alien in body and mind than Venusians of more recent vintage. The early genetic processes had been unsubtle, and the first colonists had been transformed virtually into monsters. Close to eight feet tall, with dark blue skins pocked with giant pores, and pendulous red gill-bunches at their throats, they were alien beings who gave little sign that they were the great-great-grandchildren of Earthmen. Later in the process of colonizing Venus, it had become possible to adapt men for the second planet without varying nearly so much from the basic human model. Both strains of Venusians, since they arose from manipulation of the germ plasm, bred true; both shared the same exaggerated sense of honor and the same disdain for Earth; both were now alien strains, inwardly and outwardly, in mind and in body. But those whose ancestry went back to the most changed of the changed ones were in charge, making a virtue of their strangeness, and the planet was their playground. Martell watched as the high-caste ones solemnly entered the waiting vehicles and drove off. No taxis remained. The ten Mar- --------------------------------------- 106 106 To Open the Sky tian passengers of the ship could be seen getting into a cab on the other side of the depot. Martell returned to the building. The low-caste Venusian glowered at him. Martell said, ÒWhen will I be able to get a taxi to town?Ó ÒYou wonÕt. They arenÕt coming back today.Ó ÒI want to call the Martian Embassy, then. TheyÕll send a car for me.Ó ÒAre you sure they will? Why should they bother?Ó ÒPerhaps so,Ó Martell said evenly. ÒIÕd better walk.Ó The look he got from the Venusian was worth the gesture. The man stared in surprise and shock. And, possibly, admiration, mingled some- what with patronizing confidence that Martell must be a mad- man. Martell left the station. He began to walk, following the narrow ribbon of a road, letting the unearthly atmosphere soak deep into his altered body. --------------------------------------- 107 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 107107 two It was a lonely walk. Not a sign of habitation broke the belt of vegetation on either side of the highway, nor did any vehicles pass him. The trees, somber and eerie with their bluish cast, towered over the road. Their knifeblade-like leaves glimmered in the faint, diffused light. There was an occasional rustling sound in the woods, as of beasts crashing through the thickets. Martell saw nothing there, though. He walked on. How many miles? Eight, a dozen? He was prepared to walk forever, if necessary. He had the strength. His mind hummed with plans. He would establish a small chapel and let it be known what the Brotherhood had to offer: life eternal and the key to the stars. The Venusians might threaten to kill him, as they had killed previous missionaries of the Broth- erhood, but Martell was prepared to die, if necessary, that others might have the stars. His faith was strong. Before his departure the high ones of the Brotherhood had personally wished him well: grizzled Reynolds Kirby, the Hemispheric Coordinator, had grasped his hand, and then had come an even greater surprise as Noel Vorst himself, the Founder, a legendary figure more than a century old, had come forth to tell him in a soft, feathery voice, ÒI know that your mission will bear fruit, Brother Martell.Ó Martell still tingled with the memory of that glorious moment. Now he strode forward, buoyed by the sight of a few habita- tions set back from the road. He was at the outskirts, then. On this pioneer world, pioneer habits held true, and the colonists did not build their homes close together. They spread sparsely over a radiating area surrounding the main administrative cen- ters. The man-high walls enclosing the first houses he saw did not surprise him; these Venusians were a surly lot who would build a wall around their entire planet if they could. But soon he would be in town, and thenÑMartell came to a halt as he saw the Wheel hurtling toward him. --------------------------------------- 108 108 To Open the Sky His first thought was that it had broken free from some ve- hicle. Then he realized what it was: no fragment of machinery, but Venusian wildlife. It surged over a crest in the road, a hun- dred yards in front of him, and came plunging wildly toward him at what must have been a speed of ninety miles an hour. Martell had a clear though momentary glimpse: two wheels of some horny substance, mottled orange and yellow, linked by a box-like inner structure. The wheels were nine feet across, at least; the connecting structure was smaller, so that wheel-rims projected around it. Those rims were razor-sharp. The creature moved by ceaselessly transferring its weight within that central housing, and it developed terrific momentum as it barreled to- ward the missionary. Martell leaped back. The Wheel hurtled past him, missing his toes by inches. Martell saw the sharpness of the rim and felt an acrid odor sting his nostrils. If he had been a bit slower, the Wheel would have sliced him in two. It traveled a hundred yards beyond him. Then, like a gyro- scope running amok, it executed a turn in an astonishingly nar- row radius and came shooting back toward Martell. The thingÕs hunting me, he thought. He knew many Vorster combat techniques, but none of them were designed to cope with a beast like this. All he could do was keep sidestepping and hope that the Wheel could not make sud- den compensations in its course. It drew near; Martell sucked in his breath and leaped back once again. This time the Wheel swerved ever so slightly. Its leading left-hand edge sliced through the trailing end of MartellÕs blue cloak, and a ribbon of cloth fluttered to the pave- ment Panting, Martell watched the thing swing around for an- other try, and knew that it could indeed correct its course. A few more passes and it would split him. The Wheel came a third time. Martell waited as long as he dared. With the outer blades only --------------------------------------- 109 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 109109 a few feet away, he broad-jumpedÑinto the path of the creature. Earthborn muscles carried him twenty feet in the light gravity. He more than half expected to be bisected in mid-jump, but when his feet touched ground he was still in one piece. Whirling, Martell saw that he had indeed surprised the beast; it had turned inward, toward the place where it had expected him to be, and had passed through his suitcase. The suitcase had been sliced as though by a laser beam. His belongings were scattered on the road. The Wheel, halting once more, was coming back for an- other try. What now? Climb a tree? The nearest one was void of limbs for the first twenty feet. Martell could not shinny to safety in time. All he could do was keep hopping from side to side in the road, trying to outguess the creature. He knew that he could not keep that up much longer. He would tire, and the Wheel would not, and the slashing rims would pass through him and spill his altered guts on the pavement. It did not seem right, Martell thought, to die purposelessly in this way before he had even be- gun his work here. The Wheel came. Martell sidestepped it again and heard it whistle past. Was it getting angry? No, it was just an insensate brute looking for a meal, hunting in the manner some perverse nature had designed for it. Martell gasped for breath. On the next passÑ Suddenly he was not alone. A boy appeared, run- ning out from one of the stockaded buildings at the crest of the hill, and trotted alongside the Wheel for a few paces. ThenÑ Martell did not see how it was doneÑthe Wheel went awry and toppled, landing on one disk with the other in the air. It lay there like a huge cheese blocking the road. The boy, who could not have been much more than ten, stood by it, looking pleased with himself. He was low-caste, of course. A high-caste one would not have bothered to save him. Martell realized that probably the low-caste boy had had no interest in saving him, either, but simply had knocked the Wheel over for the sport of it. --------------------------------------- 110 110 To Open the Sky Martell said, ÒI offer thanks, friend. Another moment and IÕd have been cut to ribbons.Ó The boy made no reply. Martell came closer to inspect the fallen Wheel. Its upper rim was rippling in frustration as it strained to right itselfÑclearly an impossible task. Martell looked down, saw a dark violet cyst near the center of one wheel writhe and open. ÒLook out!Ó the boy cried, but it was much too late. Two whip-like threads burst from the cyst. One wrapped itself around MartellÕs left thigh, the other around the boyÕs waist. Martell felt a blaze of pain, as tough the threads were lined with acid-edged suckers. A mouth opened on the inner structure of the Wheel. Martell saw milling, grinding tooth-like projections beginning to churn in anticipation. But this was a situation he could handie. He had no way of stopping the headlong plunge of the Wheel, for that was mere mechanical energy at work, but presumably the creatureÕs brain carried an electrical charge, and the Vorsters had ways of alter- ing current flows in the brain. It was a mild form of esping, within the threshold of nearly anyone who cared to master the disci- plines involved. Ignoring the pain, Martell seized the tightening thread with his right hand and performed the act of neutraliza- tion. A moment later the thread went slack and Martell was free. So was the boy. The threads did not return to the cyst, but re- mained lying limp in the roadway. The milling teeth became still; the rippling horny plate of the upper wheel subsided. The thing was dead. Martell glanced at the boy. ÒFair enough,Ó he said. ÔIÕve saved you and youÕve saved me. So now weÕre even.Ó ÒThe debit is still yours,Ó replied the boy with strange solem- nity. ÒIf I had not rescued you first, you never would have lived to rescue me. And it would not have been necessary to rescue me, anyway, since I would not have come out onto the road, and thereforeÑÓ --------------------------------------- 111 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 111111 MartellÕs eyes widened. ÒWho taught you to reason like that?Ó he asked in amusement. ÒYou sound like a theology professor.Ó ÒI am Brother ChristopherÕs pupil.Ó ÒAnd he isÑÓ ÒYouÕll find out. He wants to see you. He sent me out here to fetch you.Ó ÒAnd where will I find him?Ó ÒCome with me.Ó Martell followed the boy toward one of the buildings. They left the dead Wheel in the road. Martell wondered what would happen if a carload of high-casters came along and had to shove the carcass out of the way with their own aristocratic hands. Martell and the boy passed through a burnished coppery gate that slid open at the boyÕs approach. Martell found himself ap- proaching a simple wooden A-frame building. When he saw the sign mounted above the door, he was so amazed that he released his grip on his sundered suitcase, and for the second time in ten minutes his belongings went spilling to the ground. The sign said: Shrine of the Transcendent Harmony All Are Welcome MartellÕs knees felt watery. Harmonists? Here? The green-robed heretics, offshoots of the original Vorster movement, had made some progress on Earth for a while, and had even seemed to threaten the parent organization. But for more than twenty years now they had been nothing but an ab- surd little splinter group of no significance. It was inconceivable that these heretics, who had failed so utterly on Earth, could have established a church here on VenusÑsomething that the Vorsters themselves had been unable to do. It was impossible. It was unthinkable. A figure appeared in the doorwayÑa stocky man in early middle age, about sixty or so, his hair beginning to gray, his fea- --------------------------------------- 112 112 To Open the Sky tures thickening. Like Martell, he had been surgically adapted to Venusian conditions. He looked calm and self-assured. His hands rested lightly on a comfortable priestly paunch. He said, ÒIÕm Christopher Mondschein. I heard of your arrival, Brother Martell. WonÕt you come in?Ó Martell hesitated. Mondschein smiled. ÒCome, come, Brother. ThereÕs no peril in breaking bread with a Harmonist, is there? YouÕd be mince- meat now but for the ladÕs bravery, and I sent him to save you. You owe me the courtesy of a visit. Come in. Come in. I wonÕt meddle with your soul, Brother. ThatÕs a promise.Ó --------------------------------------- 113 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 113113 three The Harmonist place was unassuming but obviously perma- nent. There was a shrine, festooned with the statuettes and clap- trap of the heresy, and a library, and dwelling quarters. Martell caught sight of several Venusian boys at work in the rear of the building, digging what might be the foundations of an exten- sion. Martell followed the older man into the library. A familiar row of books caught his eye: the works of Noel Vorst, handsomely bound, the expensive FounderÕs Edition. Mondschein said, ÒAre you surprised? DonÕt forget that we accept the supremacy of Vorst, too, even if he spurns us. Sit down. Wine? They make a fine dry white here.Ó ÒWhat are you doing here?Ó Martell asked. ÒMe? ThatÕs a terribly long story, and not entirely creditable to me. The essence of it is that I was a young fool and let myself get maneuvered into being sent here. That was forty years ago, and IÕve stopped resenting what happened by now. It was the finest thing that could have happened to me in my life, IÕve come to realize, and I suppose itÕs a mark of maturity that I was able to seeÑÓ MondscheinÕs garrulity irritated the precise-minded Martell. He cut in: ÒI donÕt want your personal history, Brother Mondschein. I meant how long has your order been here?Ó ÒClose to fifty years.Ó ÒUninterruptedly?Ó ÒYes. We have eight shrines here and about four thousand com- municants, all of them low-caste. The high-casters donÕt deign to notice us.Ó ÒThey donÕt deign to wipe you out either,Ó Martell observed. ÒTrue,Ó said Mondschein. ÒPerhaps weÕre beneath their con- tempt.Ó ÒBut theyÕve killed every Vorster missionary whoÕs ever come here,Ó Martell said. ÒUs they devour, you they tolerate. Why is --------------------------------------- 114 114 To Open the Sky that?Ó ÒPerhaps they see a strength in us that they donÕt find in the parent organization,Ó suggested the heretic. ÒThey admire strength, of course. You must know that, or youÕd never have tried to walk from the landing station. You were demonstrating your strength under stress. But of course it would rather have spoiled your demonstration if that Wheel had slashed you to death.Ó ÒAs it very nearly did.Ó ÒAs it certainly would have done,Ó said Mondschein, Òif I had not happened to notice your predicament. That would have ter- minated your mission here rather prematurely. Do you like the wine?Ó Martell had barely tasted it. ÒItÕs not bad. Tell me, Mondschein, have they really let themselves be converted here?Ó ÒA few. A few.Ó ÒHard to believe. What do you people know that we donÕt?Ó ÒIt isnÕt what we know,Ó Mondschein said. ÒItÕs what we have to offer. Come with me into the chapel.Ó ÒIÕd rather not.Ó ÒPlease. It wonÕt give you a disease.Ó Reluctantly, Martell allowed himself to be led right into the sanctum sanctorum. He looked around with distaste at the ikons, the images, and all the rest of the Harmonist rubbish. At the al- tar, where a Vorster chapel would have had the tiny reactor emitting blue Cerenkov radiation, there was mounted a gleam- ing atom-symbol model along which electron-simulacra pulsed in blinding, ceaseless mo-tion. Martell did not think of himself as a bigoted man, but he was loyal to his faith, and the sight of all this childish paraphernalia sickened him. Mondschein said, ÒNoel VorstÕs the most brilliant man of our times, and his accomplishments mustnÕt be underrated. He saw the culture of Earth fragmented and decadent, saw people ev- erywhere escaping into drug addictions and Nothing Chambers --------------------------------------- 115 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 115115 and a hundred other deplorable things. And he saw that the old religions had lost their grip, that the time was ripe for an eclec- tic, synthetic new creed that dispensed with the mysticism of the former religions and replaced it with a new kind of mysticism, a scientific mysticism. That Blue Fire of hisÑa wonderful symbol, something to capture the imagination and dazzle the eye, as good as the Cross and the Crescent, even better, because it was mod- ern, it was scientific, it could be comprehended even while it bewildered. Vorst had the insight to establish his cult and the administrative ability to put it across. But has thinking was in- complete.Ó ÒThatÕs a lofty dismissal, isnÕt it? When you consider that we control Earth in a way that no single religious movement of the past has everÑÓ Mondschein smiled. ÒThe achievement on Earth is very im- posing, I agree. Earth was ready for VorstÕs doctrines. Why did he fail on the other planets, though? Because his thinking was too advanced. He didnÕt offer anything that colonists could sur- render their hearts and souls to.Ó ÒHe offers physical immortality in the present body,Ó Martell said crisply. ÒIsnÕt that enough?Ó ÒNo. He doesnÕt offer a mythos. Just a cold quid-pro-quo, come to the chapel and pay your tithe and you can live forever, maybe. ItÕs a secular religion, despite all the litanies and rituals that have been creeping in. It lacks poetry. ThereÕs no Christ-child in the manger, no Abraham sacrificing Isaac, no spark of humanity, noÑÓ ÒNo simplistic fairy tales,Ó said Martell in a brusque tone. ÒAgreed. ThatÕs the whole point of our teaching. We came into a world no longer capable of believing the old stories, and instead of spinning new ones we offered simplicity, strength, the power of scientific achievementÑÓ ÒAnd took political control of most of the planet, while also establishing magnificent laboratories that carried on advanced --------------------------------------- 116 116 To Open the Sky research in longevity and esping. Fine. Fine. Admirable. But you failed here. We are succeeding. We have a story to tell, the story of Noel Vorst, the First Immortal, his redemption in the atomic fire, his awakening from sin. We offer our people a chance to be redeemed in Vorst and in the later prophet of Transcendent Har- mony, David Lazarus. What we have is something that captures the fancy of the low-casters, and in another generation weÕll have the high-casters, too. These are pioneers, Brother Martell. TheyÕve cut all ties with Earth, and theyÕre starting over on their own, in a society just a few generations old. They need myths. TheyÕre shaping myths of their own here. DonÕt you think that in another century the first colonists of Venus will be regarded as supernatural beings, Martell? DonÕt you think that theyÕll be Harmonist saints by then?Ó Martell was genuinely startled. ÒIs that your game?Ó ÒPart of it.Ó ÒAll youÕre doing is returning to fifth-century Christianity.Ó ÒNot exactly. WeÕre continuing the scientific work, too.Ó ÒAnd you believe your own teachings?Ó Martell asked. Mondschein smiled strangely. ÒWhen I was young,Ó he said, ÒI was a Vorster acolyte, at the Nyack chapel. I went into the Broth- erhood because it was a job. I needed a structure for my life, and I had a wild hope of being sent out to Santa Fe to become a sub- ject in the immortality experiments, and so I enrolled. For the most unworthy of motives. Do you know, Martell, that I didnÕt feel a shred of a religious calling? Not even the Vorster stuffÑ stripped down, secularÑcould get to me. Through a series of confusions that I still donÕt fully understand and that I wonÕt even begin to explain to you, I left the Brotherhood and Joined the Harmonist movement and came here as a missionary. The most successful missionary ever sent to Venus, as it happens. Do you think the Harmonist mythologies can move me if I was too ratio- nal to accept Vorster thinking?Ó ÒSo youÕre completely cynical in handing out this nonsense --------------------------------------- 117 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 117117 about saints and images. You do it for the sake of preserving your power. A peddler of nostrums, a quack preacher in the back- woods of VenusÑÓ ÒEasy,Ó Mondschein warned. ÒIÕm getting results. And, as I think Noel Vorst himself might tell you, we deal in ends, not in means. Would you like to kneel here and pray awhile?Ó ÒOf course not.Ó ÒMay I pray for you, then?Ó ÒYou just told me you donÕt believe your own creed.Ó Smiling, Mondschein said, ÒEven the prayers of an unbeliever may be heard. Who knows? Only one thing is certain: youÕll die here, Martell. So IÕll pray for you, that you may pass through the purifying flame of the higher frequencies.Ó ÒSpare me. Why are you so sure IÕll die here? ItÕs a fallacy to assume that, simply because all previous Vorster missionaries have been martyred here, IÕll be martyred, too.Ó ÒOur own position is uneasy enough on Venus. Yours will be impossible. Venus doesnÕt want you. Shall I tell you the only way youÕll possibly live more than a month here?Ó ÒDo.Ó ÒJoin us. Trade in that blue tunic for a green one. We have need for all the capable men we can get.Ó ÒDonÕt be absurd. Do you really think IÕd do any such thing?Ó ÒIt isnÕt beyond possibility. Many men have left your order for mineÑmyself included.Ó ÒI prefer martyrdom,Ó Martell said. ÒIn what way will that benefit anybody? Be reasonable, Brother. Venus is a fascinating place. WouldnÕt you like to live to see a little of it? Join us. YouÕll learn the rituals soon enough. YouÕll see that we arenÕt such ogres. AndÑÓ ÒThank you,Ó said Martell. ÒWill you excuse me now?Ó ÒI had hoped you would be our guest for dinner.Ó ÒThat wonÕt be possible. IÕm expected at the Martian Embassy, if I donÕt meet any more local beasts in the road.Ó --------------------------------------- 118 118 To Open the Sky Mondschein looked unruffled by MartellÕs rejection of his of- ferÑan offer that could not have been made, Martell thought, in any great degree of seriousness. The older man said gravely, ÒAllow me, at least, to offer you transportation to town. Surely your pride in your own sanctity will permit you to accept that.Ó Martell smiled. ÒGladly. ItÕll make a good story to tell Coordi- nator KirbyÑhow the heretics saved my life and gave me a ride into town.Ó ÒAfter making an attempt to seduce you from your faith.Ó ÒNaturally. May I leave now?Ó ÒItÕll be a few moments until I can arrange for the car. Would you like to wait outside?Ó Martell bowed and made a grateful escape from the heretical chapel. Passing through the building, he emerged into the yard, a cleared space some fifty feet square bordered by scaly, gray- ish-green shrubbery whose thick-petaled black flowers had an oddly carnivorous look. Four Venusian boys, including MartellÕs rescuer, were at work on an excavation. They were using manual toolsÑ shovels and picksÑwhich gave Martell the uncomfort- able sensation of having slid back into the nineteenth century. EarthÕs gaudy array of gadgetry, so conspicuous and so familiar, could not be found here. The boys glared coldly at him and went on with their work. Martell watched. They were lean and supple, and he guessed that their ages ranged from about nine to fourteen, though it was hard to tell. They looked enough alike to be brothers. Their movements were graceful, almost elegant, and their bluish skins gleamed lightly with perspiration. It seemed to Martell that the bony structure of their bodies was even more alien than he had thought; they did improbable things with their joints as they worked. Abruptly, they tossed their picks and shovels aside and joined hands. The bright eyes closed a moment. Martell saw the loose dirt rise from the excavation pit and collect itself in a neat mound --------------------------------------- 119 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 119119 some twenty feet behind it. TheyÕre pushers, Martell thought in wonder. Look at them! Brother Mondschein appeared at that precise moment ÒThe car is waiting, Brother,Ó he said smoothly. --------------------------------------- 120 120 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 121 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 121121 four As he entered the Venusian city, Martell could not take his mind from the casual feat of the four boys. They had scooped a few hundred pounds of loose soil from a pit, using esp abilities, and had smugly deposited it just where they wanted it to go. Pushers! Martell trembled with barely suppressed excitement. The espers of Earth were a numerous tribe now, but their tal- ents were mainly telepathic, not extending in the direction of telekinesis to any significant degree. Nor could the development of the powers be controlled. A program of scheduled breeding, now in its fourth or fifth generation, was intensifying the exist- ing esp powers. It was possible for a gifted esper to reach into a manÕs mind and rearrange its contents, or to probe for the deep- est secrets. There were a few precogs, too, who ranged up and down the time sequence as though all points along it were one point, but they usually burned out in adolescence, and their genes were lost to the pool. PushersÑteleportsÑwho could move physi- cal objects from place to place were as rare as phoenixes on Earth. And here were four of them in a Harmonist chapelÕs back yard on Venus! New tensions quivered in Martell. He had made two unex- pected discoveries on his first day: the presence of Harmonists on Venus, and the presence of pushers among the Harmonists. His mission had taken on devastating new urgency, suddenly. It was no longer merely a matter of gaining a foothold in an un- friendly world. It was a matter of being outstripped and surpassed by a heresy thought to be in decline. The car Mondschein had provided dropped Martell off at the Martian Embassy, a blocky little building fronting on the wide plaza that seemed to be the entire town. The Martians had been instrumental in getting Martell to Venus in the first place, and a call on the Ambassador was of priority importance. The Martians breathed Earth-type air, and they did not care to --------------------------------------- 122 122 To Open the Sky adapt themselves to Venusian conditions. Once he entered the building, therefore, Martell had to accept a breathing-hood that would protect him against the atmosphere of the planet of his birth. The Ambassador, Freeman Nat Weiner, was about twice MartellÕs age, perhaps even olderÑclose to ninety, even. His frame was powerful, with shoulders so wide they seemed out of proportion to his hips and legs. Weiner said, ÒSo youÕre here. I really thought you had more sense.Ó ÒWeÕre determined people, Freeman Weiner.Ó ÒSo I know. IÕve been studying your ways for a long time.Ó WeinerÕs eyes became remote. ÒMore than sixty years, in fact. I knew your Coordinator Kirby before his conversionÑdid he ever tell you that?Ó ÒHe didnÕt mention it,Ó Martell said. His flesh crept Kirby had joined the Vorster Brotherhood about twenty years before Martell had been born. To live a century was nothing unusual these days, and Vorst himself was surely into his twelfth or thirteenth de- cade, but it was chilling all the same to think of such a span of years. Weiner smiled. ÒI came to Earth to negotiate a trade deal, and Kirby was my chaperon. He was with the U.N. then. I gave him a hard time. I was a drinker then. Somehow I donÕt think heÕll ever forget that night.Ó His gaze riveted on MartellÕs unblinking eyes. ÒI want you to know, Brother, that I canÕt provide any pro- tection for you if youÕre attacked. My responsibility extends only to Martian nationals.Ó ÒI understand.Ó ÒMy advice is the same as itÕs been from the start. Go back to Earth and live to a ripe old age.Ó ÒI canÕt do that, Freeman Weiner. IÕve come with a mission to accomplish.Ó ÒAh, dedication! Wonderful! Where will you build your chapel?Ó --------------------------------------- 123 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 123123 ÒOn the road leading to town. Perhaps closer to town than the Harmonist place.Ó ÒAnd where will you stay until itÕs built?Ó ÒIÕll sleep in the open.Ó ÒThereÕs a bird here,Ó Weiner said. ÒThey call it a shrike. ItÕs as big as a dog, and its wings look like old leather, and it has a beak like a spear. I once saw it dive from five hundred feet at a man taking a nap in an open field. The beak pinned him to the ground.Ó Unperturbed, Martell said, ÒI survived an encounter with a Wheel today. Perhaps I can dodge a shrike, too. I donÕt intend to be frightened away.Ó Weiner nodded. ÒI wish you luck,Ó he said. Luck was about all Martell was going to get from the Ambas- sador, but he was grateful even for that. The Martians were cool toward Earth and all it produced, including its religions. They did not actually hate Earthmen, as the Venusians of both castes appeared to do; the Martians were still Earth-like themselves, and not changed creatures whose bond with the mother world was tenuous at best. But the Martians were tough, aggressive frontiers-men who looked out only for themselves. They served as go-betweens for Earth and Venus because there was profit in it; they accepted missionaries from Earth because there was no harm in it. They were tolerant, in their way, but aloof. Martell left the Martian Embassy and set about his tasks. He had money and he had energy. He could not hire Venusian labor directly, because it would be an act of pollution for a Venusian even of the low caste to work for an Earthman, but it was pos- sible to commission workmen through Weiner. The Martians, naturally, received a fee for serving as agents. Workmen were hired and a modest chapel was erected. Martell set up his pocket-size reactor and readied it for use. Alone in the chapel, he stood in silence as the Blue Fire flickered into glow- --------------------------------------- 124 124 To Open the Sky ing life. Martell had not lost his capacity for awe. He was a worldly man, no mystic, yet the sight of the radiation streaming from the water-shielded reactor worked its magic on him, and he dropped to his knees, touching his forehead in the gesture of submission. He could not carry his religious feeling to the stage of idolatry, as the Harmonists did, but he was not without a sense of the might of the movement to which he had pledged his life. The first day Martell simply carried out the ceremonies of dedi- cation. On the second and third and fourth he waited hopefully for some low-caster who might be curious enough to enter the chapel. None came. Martell did not care to seek worshipers, not just yet. He pre- ferred that his converts be voluntary, if possible. The chapel re- mained empty. On the fifth day it was enteredÑbut only by a frog-like creature ten inches long, armed with wicked little horns on its forehead and delicate, deadly-looking spines that sprouted from its shoulders. Were there no life-forms on this planet that went without armor or weaponry, Martell wondered? He shooed the frog out. It growled at him and lunged at his foot with its horns. Martell drew his foot back barely in time, interposing a chair. The frog stabbed at the wood, sank inch-deep with the left horn; when it withdrew, an iridescent fluid trickled down the leg of the chair, burning a pathway through the wood. Martell had never been attacked by a frog before. On the second try he got the animal out the door without suffering harm. A pretty planet, he thought. The next day came a more cheering visitor: the boy Elwhit. Martell recognized him as one of the boys who had been teleporting dirt behind the Harmonist place. He appeared from nowhere and said to Martell, ÒYouÕve got Trouble Fungus out there.Ó ÒIs that bad?Ó ÒIt kills people. Eats them. DonÕt step in it. Are you really a --------------------------------------- 125 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 125125 religious?Ó ÒI like to think so.Ó ÒBrother Christopher says you shouldnÕt be trusted, that youÕre a heretic. WhatÕs a heretic?Ó ÒA heretic is a man who disagrees with another manÕs reli- gion,Ó Martell said. ÒI happen to think Brother ChristopherÕs the heretic, as a matter of fact. Would you like to come inside?Ó The boy was wide-eyed, endlessly curious, restless. Martell longed to question him about his apparent telekinetic powers, but he knew it was more important at the moment to snare him as a convert. Questions at this point might only frighten him away. Patiently, elaborately, Martell explained what the Vorsters had to offer. It was hard to gauge the boyÕs reaction. Did abstract concepts mean anything to a ten-year-old? Martell gave him VorstÕs book, the simple text. The boy promised to come back. ÒWatch out for the Trouble Fungus,Ó he said as he left. A few days passed. Then the boy returned, with the news that Mondschein had confiscated his book. Martell was pleased at that, in a way. It was a sign of panic among the Harmonists. Let them turn Vorster teachings into something forbidden, and heÕd win all of MondscheinÕs four thousand converts away. Two days after ElwhitÕs second visit, Martell had a different callerÑa broad-faced man in Harmonist robes. Without intro- ducing himself, he said, ÒYouÕre trying to steal that boy, Martell. DonÕt do it.Ó ÒHe came of his own free will. You can tell MondscheinÑÓ ÒThe child has curiosity. But heÕs the one whoÕll suffer. If you keep allowing him to come here. Turn him away the next time, Martell. For his own sake.Ó ÒIÕm trying to take him away from you for his own sake,Ó the Vorster replied quietly. ÒAnd any others whoÕll come to me. IÕm ready to battle with you to have him.Ó ÒYouÕll destroy him,Ó said the Harmonist. ÒHeÕll be pulled apart in the struggle. Let him be. Turn him away.Ó --------------------------------------- 126 126 To Open the Sky Martell did not intend to yield. Elwhit was his opening wedge into Venus, and it would be madness to turn him away. Later that same day there came another visitor, no friendlier than the horned frog. He was a burly Venusian of the lower caste, with armpit-daggers bristling on both sides of his chest He had not come to worship. He pointed to the reactor and said, ÒShut that thing off and dispose of the fissionables within ten hours.Ó Martell frowned. ÒItÕs necessary to our religious observance.Ó ÒItÕs fissionables. Not allowed to run a private reactor here.Ó ÒThere was no objection at customs,Ó Martell pointed out. ÒI declared the cobalt-60 for what it was and explained the pur- pose. It was allowed through.Ó ÒCustoms is customs. YouÕre in town now, and I say no fissionables. You need a permit to do what youÕre doing.Ó ÒWhere do I get a permit?Ó asked Martell mildly. ÒFrom the police. IÕm the police. Request denied. Shut that thing off.Ó ÒAnd if I donÕt?Ó For an instant Martell thought the sell-styled policeman would stab him on the spot The man drew back as though Martell had spat in his face. After an ugly silence he said, ÒIs that a chal- lenge?Ó ÒItÕs a question.Ó ÒI ask you on my authority to get rid of that reactor. If you defy my authority, youÕre challenging me. Clear? You donÕt look like a fighting man. Be smart and do as I say. Ten hours. You hear?Ó He went out. Martell shook his head sadly. Law enforcement a matter of personal pride? Well, it was only to be expected. More to the point: they wanted his reactor off, and without the reactor his chapel would not be a chapel. Could he appeal? To whom? If he dueled with the intruder and slew him, would that give him the right to run the reactor? He could hardly take such a step, any- way. --------------------------------------- 127 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 127127 Martell decided not to give up without a struggle. He sought the authorities, or what passed for authorities here, and after spending four hours waiting to be admitted to the office of a minor official, he was told clearly and coldly to dismantle his reactor at once. His protests were dismissed. Weiner was no help, either. ÒShut the reactor down,Ó the Mar- tian advised. ÒI canÕt function without it,Ó said Martell. ÒWhereÕd they get this law about private operation of reactors?Ó ÒThey probably invented it to take care of you,Ó Weiner sug- gested amiably. ÒThereÕs no help for it, Brother. YouÕll have to shut down.Ó Martell returned to the chapel. He found Elwhit waiting on the steps. The boy looked disturbed. ÒDonÕt close,Ó he said. ÒI wonÕt.Ó Martell beckoned him inside. ÒHelp me, Elwhit. Teach me. I need to know.Ó ÒWhat?Ó ÒHow do you move things around with your mind?Ó ÒI reach into them,Ó the boy said. ÒI catch hold of whatÕs in- side. ThereÕs a strength. ItÕs hard to say.Ó ÒIs it something you were taught to do?Ó ÒItÕs like walking. What makes your legs move? What makes them stand up underneath you?Ó Martell simmered with frustration. ÒCan you tell me what it feels like when you do it?Ó ÒWarm. On top of my head. I donÕt know. I donÕt feel much. Tell me about the electron, Brother Nicholas. Sing the song of photons to me.Ó ÒIn a moment,Ó Martell said. He crouched down to get on the boyÕs eye level. ÒCan your mother and father move things?Ó ÒA little. I can move them more.Ó ÒWhen did you find out you could do it?Ó ÒThe first time I did it.Ó --------------------------------------- 128 128 To Open the Sky ÒAnd you donÕt know how youÑÓ Martell paused. What was the use? Could a ten-year-old boy find words to describe a tele- kinetic function? He did it, as naturally as he breathed. The thing to do was to ship him to Earth, to Santa Fe, and let the Noel Vorst Center for the Biological Sciences have a look at him. Obviously, that was impossible. The boy would never go, and it would hardly be proper to spirit him away. ÒSing me the song,Ó Elwhit prodded. ÒIn the strength of the spectrum, the quantum, and the holy ang- stromÑÓ The chapel door flew open and three Venusians entered: the police chief and two deputies. The boy pivoted instantly and skit- tered past them, out the back way. ÒGet him!Ó the police chief roared. Martell shouted a protest. It was useless. The two deputies pounded after the boy, into the yard. Martell and the police chief followed. The deputies closed in on the boy. Abruptly, the meatier one was flipping through the air, legs kicking violently as he headed for the deadly patch of Trouble Fungus in the underbrush. He landed hard. There was a muffled groan. Trouble Fungus, Martell had learned by watching it, moved quickly. The carnivorous mold would devour anything organic; its sticky filaments, triggering with awesome speed, went to work instantly. The deputy was trapped in a network of loops whose adhesive enzymes immedi- ately began to operate. Struggling only made it worse. The man thrashed and tugged, but the loops multiplied, stapling him to the ground. And now the digestive enzymes were coming into play. A sweet, sickly odor rose from the Trouble Fungus clump. Martell had no time to study the process of dissolution. The man caught in his fatal collars of slime was close to death, and the surviving deputy, his face almost black with fear and rage, had drawn a knife on the boy. Elwhit knocked it out of his hand. He tried to gather strength --------------------------------------- 129 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 129129 for another cast into the fungus patch, but his face was sweat- speckled, and bunching muscles in his cheeks told of the in- ward struggle. The deputy rocked and swayed, resisting the tele- kinesis. Martell stood frozen. The police chief bounded forward, knife on high. ÒElwhit!Ó Martell screamed. Even a telekinetic has no way of defending himself against a stab in the back. The blade went deep. The boy dropped. In the same moment, with the pressure withdrawn, the deputy slipped and fell on his face. The chief seized the wounded, convulsing boy and hurled him into the Trouble Fungus. He landed beside the soft mass of the dead deputy, and Martell watched in honor as the sinister loops locked into place. Sickness assailed him. He ran halfway through the disciplinary techniques before his mind would work properly again. By then the police chief and his deputy had recovered their calmness. With scarcely a look at the two dissolving corpses, they seized Martell and hauled him back into the chapel. ÒYou killed a boy,Ó Martell said, breaking loose. ÒStabbed him in the back. WhereÕs your honor?Ó ÒIÕll settle that before our court, priest. The boy was a mur- derer. And under the spell of dangerous doctrines. He knew we were closing you down. It was a violation to be here. Why isnÕt that reactor off?Ó Martell groped for words. He wanted to say that he did not intend to accept defeat, that he was staying on here, determined to fight even to the point of martyrdom, despite their order that he shut up shop. But the brutal killing of his only convert had smashed his will. ÒIÕll shut the reactor down,Ó he said hollowly. ÒGo and do it.Ó Martell dismantled it. They waited, exchanging pleased glances when the light flickered out. The deputy said, ÒIt isnÕt a real chapel without the light burning, is it, priest?Ó --------------------------------------- 130 130 To Open the Sky ÒNo,Ó Martell replied. ÒIÕm closing the chapel, too, I guess.Ó ÒDidnÕt last long.Ó ÒNo.Ó The chief said, ÒLook at him with his gills flapping. All tricked out to look like one of us, and whoÕs he fooling? WeÕll teach him.Ó They moved in on him. They were burly, powerful men. Martell was unarmed, but he had no fear of them. He could defend him- self. They neared him, two nightmare figures, grotesquely inhu- man, their eyes bright and slitted, inner lids sliding tensely up and down, small nostrils flickering, gills atremble. Martell had to force himself to remember that he was a monster as much as they; he was a changed one now. Their brother. ÒLetÕs give him a farewell party,Ó the deputy said. ÒYouÕve made your point,Ó said Martell. ÒIÕm closing the chapel Do you need to attack me, too? What are you afraid of? Are ideas that dangerous to you?Ó A fist crashed into the pit of his stomach. Martell swayed. caught his breath, forced himself to remain cool. The edge of a hand chopped at his throat. Martell slapped at it, deflected it, and seized the wrist. There was a momentary exchange of ions and the deputy fell back, cursing. ÒLook out! HeÕs electric!Ó ÒI mean no harm,Ó said Martell mildly. ÒLet me go in peace. Hands went to daggers. Martell waited. Then, slowly, the ten- sion ebbed. The Venusians moved away, apparently willing to let the matter end here. They had, after all, succeeded in throt- tling the Vorster mission, and now they appeared to have qualms about dealing with the defeated missionary. ÒGet yourself out of town, Earthman,Ó the police chief grumbled. ÒGo where you belong. DonÕt come mucking around here with your phony religion. We arenÕt buying any. Go!Ó --------------------------------------- 131 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 131131 five There was no blackness quite like the black of the night sky of Venus, Martell thought. It was like a layer of wool swathing the vault of the heavens. Not a hint of a star, not a flicker of a moon- beam cut through that arch of darkness overhead. Yet there was light, occasional and intermittent: great predatory birds, hell- ishly luminous, skewered the darkness at unpredictable mo- ments. Standing on the rear veranda of the Harmonist chapel, Martell watched a glowing creature soar past, no higher than a hundred feet up, near enough for Martell to see the row of hooked claws that studded the leading edges of the curved, back-swept wings. ÒOur birds have teeth as well,Ó said Christopher Mondschein. ÒAnd the frogs have horns,Ó Martell remarked. ÒWhy is this planet so vicious?Ó Mondachein chuckled. ÒAsk Darwin, my friend. It just hap- pened that way. YouÕve met our frogs, then? Deadly little beasts. And youÕve seen a Wheel. We have amusing fish, too. And car- nivorous fauna. But we are without insects. Can you imagine that? No land arthropods at all. Of course, there are some de- lightful ones in the seaÑa kind of scorpion bigger than a man, a son of lobster with disturbingly large clawsÑbut no one goes into the sea here.Ó ÒI understand why,Ó Martell said. Another luminescent bird swooped down, skimmed the trees, and rocketed away. From its flat head jutted a glowing fleshy organ the size of a melon, wob- bling on a thick stem. Mondschein said, ÒYou wish to join us, after all?Ó ÒThatÕs right.Ó ÒInfiltrating, Martell? Spying?Ó Color came to MartellÕs checks. The surgeons had left him with the flush reaction, although he turned a dull gray when affected now. ÒWhy do you accuse me?Ó he asked. --------------------------------------- 132 132 To Open the Sky ÒWhy else would you want to join us? You were haughty about it last week.Ó ÒThat was last week. My chapel is closed. I saw a boy who trusted me killed before my eyes. I have no wish to see more such murders.Ó ÒSo you admit that you were guilty in his death?Ó ÒI admit that I allowed him to jeopardize his life,Ó Martell said. ÒWe warned you of it.Ó ÒBut I had no idea of the cruelty of the forces that would strike at me. Now I do. I canÕt stand alone. Let me join you, Mondschein.Ó ÒToo transparent, Martell. You came here bristling with the urge to be a martyr. You gave up too soon. Obviously you want to spy on our movement. Conversions are never that simple, and youÕre not an easily swayed man. I suspect you, Brother.Ó ÒAre you esping me?Ó ÒMe? I donÕt have a shred of ability. Not a shred. But I have common sense. I know a bit about spying, too. YouÕre here to sniff.Ó Martell studied a gleaming bird high against the dark back- drop. ÒYou refuse to accept me, then?Ó ÒYou can have shelter for the night. In the morning youÕll have to go. Sorry, Martell.Ó No amount of persuasion would alter the HarmonistÕs deci- sion. Martell was not surprised, nor greatly distressed; joining the Harmonists had been a strategy of doubtful success, and he had more than half expected Mondschein to reject him. Perhaps if he had waited six months before applying, the response would have been different. He remained aloof while the little group of Harmonists per- formed evening vespers. They were not called Òvespers,Ó of course, but Martell could not avoid identifying the heretics with the older religion. Three altered Earthmen were stationed at the mission, and the voices of the two subordinates joined with --------------------------------------- 133 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 133133 MondscheinÕs in hymns that seemed offensive in their religios- ity and yet faintly moving at the same time. Seven low-caste Venusians took part in the service. Afterward Martell shared a dinner of unknown meat and acrid wine with the three Harmonists. They seemed comfortable enough in his presence, almost smug. One, Bradlaugh, was slim and fragile-looking, with elongated arms and comically blunt features. The other, Lazarus, was robust and athletic, his eyes oddly blank, his skin stretched mask-tight over his broad face. He was the one who had visited MartellÕs ill-fated chapel. Martell suspected that Lazarus was an esper. His last name aroused the missionaryÕs curiosity. ÒAre you related to the Lazarus?Ó Martell asked. ÒHis grandnephew. I never knew the man.Ó ÒNo one seems to have known him,Ó said Martell. ÒIt often occurs to me that the esteemed founder of your heresy may have been a myth.Ó Faces stiffened around the table. Mondschein said, ÒI met someone who knew him once. An impressive man, they say he was tall and commanding, with an air of majesty.Ó ÒLike Vorst,Ó Martell said. ÒVery much like Vorst. Natural leaders, both of them,Ó said Mondschein. He rose. ÒBrothers, good night.Ó Martell was left alone with Bradlaugh and Lazarus. An un- comfortable silence followed; after a while Bradlaugh rose and said coolly, ÒIÕll show you to your room.Ó The room was small, with a simple cot. Martell was content. Fewer religious symbols decorated the room than there might have been, and it was a place to sleep. He took care of his devo- tions quickly and closed his eyes. After a while sleep cameÑa thin crust of slumber over an abyss of turmoil. The crust was pierced. There came the sound of laughter, booming and harsh. Some- thing thumped against the chapel walls. Martell struggled to wakefulness in time to hear a thick voice cry, ÒGive us the --------------------------------------- 134 134 To Open the Sky Vorster!Ó He sat up. Someone entered his room: Mondschein, he real- ized. ÒTheyÕre drunk,Ó the Harmonist whispered. ÒTheyÕve been roistering all over the countryside all night, and now theyÕre here to make trouble.Ó ÒThe Vorster!Ó came a roar from outside. Martell peered through his window. At first he saw nothing; then, by the gleam of the light-cells studding the chapelÕs outer walls, he picked out seven or eight titanic figures, striding un- steadily back and forth in the courtyard. ÒHigh-casters!Ó Martell gasped. ÒOne of our espers brought the word an hour ago,Ó said Mondschein. ÒIt was bound to happen sooner or later. IÕll go out and calm them.Ó ÒTheyÕll kill you.Ó ÒItÕs not me theyÕre after,Ó said Mondschein, and left. Martell saw him emerge from the building. He was dwarfed by the ring of drunken Venusians, and from the way they closed in on him, Martell was certain that they would do him some harm. But they hesitated. Mondschein faced them squarely. At this dis- tance Martell could not hear what they were saying. A parley of some sort, perhaps. The big men were armed and reeling. Some glowing creature shot past the knot of figures, giving Martell a sudden glimpse of the faces of the high-caste men: alien, dis- torted, terrifying. Their cheekbones were like knifeblades; their eyes mere silts. Mondschein, his back to the window now, was gesticulating, no doubt talking rapidly and earnestly. One of the Venusians scooped up a twenty-pound boulder and lobbed it against the missionÕs whitewashed wall. Martell nibbled a knuckle. Fragments of conversation came to him, ugly words: ÒLet us have himÉWe could take you allÉTime we crushed all you toadsÉÓ MondscheinÕs hands were upraised now. Imploringly, Martell wondered, or was he simply trying to keep the Venusians at bay? --------------------------------------- 135 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 135135 Martell thought of praying. But it seemed a hollow, futile ges- ture. One did not pray for direct reward, in the Brotherhood. One lived well and served the cause, and reward came. Martell felt tranquil. He slipped into his robe and went outside. Never before had he been this close to a group of high-casters. There was a rank odor about them, an odor that reminded Martell of the scent of the Wheel. They stared in disbelief as the Vorster emerged. ÒWhat do they want?Ó Martell asked. Mondachein gaped at him. ÒGo back inside! IÕm negotiating with them!Ó One of the Venusians unfurled a sword. He drove it a foot into the spongy earth, leaned on it, and said, ÒThereÕs the priestling now! What are we waiting for?Ó Mondschein said helplessly to Martell, ÒYou shouldnÕt have come out. There might have been a chance to quiet them down.Ó ÒNot a chance. TheyÕll destroy your whole mission here if I donÕt pacify them. IÕve got no right to bring that on you.Ó ÒYouÕre our guest,Ó Mondschein reminded him. Martell did not care to accept the charity of heretics. He had come to the Harmonists, as they had guessed, in the hope of spying; that had failed, as had the rest of his mission here, and he would not hide behind MondscheinÕs green robe. He caught the older manÕs arm and said, ÒGo inside. Fast!Ó Mondschein shrugged and disappeared. Martell swung around to face thc Venusians. ÒWhy are you here?Ó he asked. A gob of spittle caught him in the face. Without speaking di- rectly to him, one Venusian said, ÒWeÕll skewer him and throw him in Ludlow Pond, eh?Ó ÒHack him! Spit him!Ó ÒStake him out for a Wheel!Ó Martell said, ÒI came here in peace. I bring you the gift of life. Why wonÕt you listen? What are you afraid of?Ó --------------------------------------- 136 136 To Open the Sky They were big children, he saw, reveling in their power to crush an ant. ÒLetÕs all sit down by that tree, Allow me to talk to you for a while. IÕll take the drunkenness out of you. If youÕll only give me your handÑÓ ÒWatch out!Ó a Venusian roared. ÒHe stings!Ó Martell reacted for the nearest of the giants. The man leaped back with a most ungallant display of edginess. An instant later, as though to atone for bolting that way, his sword was out, a glittering anachronism nearly as long as Martell himself. Two Venusians drew their daggers. They strutted forward, and Martell filled his altered lungs with alien air and waited for the shed- ding of his no-longer-red blood, and then suddenly he was no longer there. ÒHow did you get here?Ó Ambassador Nat Weiner asked. ÒI wish I knew,Ó said Martell. The sudden brightness of the MartianÕs office stabbed at MartellÕs eyes. He still could see the descending blades of the fearsome swords, and he was rocked by a sensation of unreality, as though he had left one dream to enter another in which he was dreaming yet a different thread. ÒThis is a maximum-security building,Ó said Weiner. ÒYou have no right to be here.Ó ÒI have no right even to be alive,Ó replied the missionary flatly. --------------------------------------- 137 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 137137 six Broodingly, Martell considered retreating to Earth to tell Santa Fe what he knew. He could go to the Vorst CenterÑwhere, less than a year ago, he had gone into a room as an Earthman, to be turned by whirling knives and lashing lasers into an alien thing. He could request an interview with Reynolds Kirby and let that grizzled, thin-lipped centenarian know that the Venusians had telekinesis, that they could deflect a Wheel or throw an attacker into Trouble Fungus or speed a living human figure safely across five miles and pass him through walls. Santa Fe would have to know. The situation looked bad. Harmonists snugly established on Venus, and the place chock- full of teleportsÑit could mean a disastrous blow to VorstÕs mas- ter plan. Of course, the Vorsters on Earth had made great gains, too. They were masters of the planet. Their laboratories had run simulated life spans that showed a tally of from three to four hundred years, without organ replacementÑsimple regenera- tion from within, amounting to a kind of immortality. But im- mortality was only one Vorster goal. The other was transport to the unreachable stars. And there the Harmonists had their big lead. They had teleports who already could work miracles. Given a few generations of genetic work, they might be sending expeditions to other solar systems. Once you could move a man five miles in safety, it was only a quantitative jump, not qualitative, to get him to Procyon. Martell had to tell them. Santa Fe called to himÑthat vast sprawl of buildings where technicians split genes and laboriously pasted them back together, where esper families submitted to an end- less round of tests, where bionics men performed wonders be- yond comprehension. But he did not go. A personal report seemed unnecessary. A message cube would do just as well. Earth now was an alien world to Martell, and he was uneasy about returning to it, living --------------------------------------- 138 138 To Open the Sky in breathing-suits. He balked at making the return journey. Through the good offices of Nat Weiner, Martell recorded a cube and had it shipped to Kirby at Santa Fe. He remained at the Martian Embassy while waiting for his reply. He had set forth the situation on Venus as he understood it, expressing his great fear that the Harmonists were too far ahead and would have the stars. In time KirbyÕs reply arrived. He thanked Martell for his invaluable data. And he expressed a calming note: the Harmonists, he said, were men. If they were to reach the stars, it would be a human achievement. Not theirs, not ours, but everyoneÕs, for the way would be opened. Did Brother Martell follow that reasoning, Kirby asked? Martell felt quicksand beneath him. What was Kirby saying? Means and ends were hopelessly jumbled. Was the purpose of the order fulfilled if heretics conquered the universe? In dis- tress, he stood before the improvised altar in the room Weiner had given him, seeking answers to unaskable questions. A few days later he returned to the Harmonists. --------------------------------------- 139 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 139139 seven Martell stood with Christopher Mondschein by the edge of a sparkling lake. Through the clouds came the dull glow of the masked sun, imparting a faint gleam to the water-that-was-not- water. It was not that trickle of sunlight that made the water sparkle, though; it teemed with luminous coelenterates that lined its shallow bottom. Their tentacles, waving in the currents, emit- ted a gentle greenish radiance. There were other creatures in the lake, too. Martell saw them gliding beneath the surface, ribbed and bony, with gnashing jaws and metallic fins. Now and then a snout split the water and a slim, ugly creature whipped twenty yards through the air before subsiding. From the depths came writhing, sucker-tipped ten- drils that belonged to monsters Martell did not care to know. Mondschein said, ÒI thought IÕd never see you again.Ó ÒWhen I went out to face the Venusians?Ó ÒNo. Afterward, when you holed up with the Martians. I thought you were making arrangements to go back to Earth. You know itÕs hopeless to try to plant a Vorster chapel here.Ó ÒI know,Ó Martell said. ÒBut IÕve got that boyÕs death on my conscience. I canÕt leave. I lured him into visiting me, and he died for it. HeÕd be alive if I had turned him away. And IÕd be dead if you hadnÕt had one of your other little Venusians teleport me to safety.Ó ÒElwhit was one of our finest prospects,Ó Mondschein said sadly. ÒBut he had this streak of wildnessÑthe thing that brought him to us in the first place. A restless boyÕ he was. I wish you had left him alone.Ó ÒI did what I had to do,Ó Martell replied. ÔIÕm sorry it worked out so awfully.Ó He followed the path of a sinuous black serpent that swept from right to left across the lake. It extended tele- scoping arms in a sudden terrifying gesture and enveloped a low-flying bird. Martell said carefully, ÒI didnÕt came back here --------------------------------------- 140 140 To Open the Sky to spy on you. I came back to join your order.Ó MoudscheinÕs domed blue forehead wrinided a little. ÒPlease. WeÕve been through all this already.Ó ÒTest me! Have one of your espers read me! I swear it, Mondschein. IÕm sincere.Ó ÒTheyÕve embedded a pack of hypnotic commands in you in Santa Fe. I know. IÕve been through it myself. They sent you here to be a spy, but you donÕt know it yourself, and if we probed you, we might have trouble finding out the truth.YouÕll soak up all you can about us, and then youÕll return to Santa Fe, and theyÕll toss you to a debriefing esper whoÕll pump it all out of you. Eh?Ó ÒNo. Not at all.Ó ÒAre you sure?Ó ÒListen,Ó said Martell, ÒI donÕt think they did anything to my mind in Santa Fe. I came to you because I belong on Venus. IÕve been changed.Ó He held out his hands. ÒMy skin is blue. My metabolism is a biologistÕs night-mare. IÕve got gills. IÕm a Venu- sian, and this is where the changed ones go. But I canÕt be a Vorster here, because the natives wonÕt have it. Therefore IÕve got to join you. Do you see?Ó Mondachein nodded. ÒI still think youÕre a spy.Ó ÒI tell youÑÓ ÒStay calm,Ó said the Harinonist. ÒBe a spy. ThatÕs quite all right. You can stay. You can join us. YouÕll be our bridge, Brother. YouÕll be the link that will span the Vorsters and the Harmonists. Play both sides if you like. ThatÕs exactly what we want.Ó Once again Martell felt the foundations giving way beneath his feet He imagined himself in a dropshaft with the gravity field suddenly goneÑfalling, falling, endlessly falling. He peered into the mild eyes of the older man and perceived that Mondschein must be in the grip of some crazy ecumenical scheme, some private fantasy thatÑ He said, ÒAre you trying to put the orders back together?Ó ÒNot personally. ItÕs part of the plan of Lazarus.Ó Marteil thought --------------------------------------- 141 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 141141 Mondschein was referring to his own assistant. He said, ÒIs he in charge here or are you?Ó Smiling, Mondschein replied, ÒI donÕt mean my Lazarus here. I mean David Lazarus, the founder of our order.Ó ÒHeÕs dead.Ó ÒCertainly. But we still follow the course he mapped for us half a century ago. And that course envisages the eventual re- uniting of the orders. It has to come, Martell. We each have some- thing the other wants. You have Earth and immortality. We have Venus and teleportation. ThereÕs bound to be a pooling of inter- ests, and possibly youÕll be one of the men whoÕll help to bring it about.Ó ÒYou arenÕt serious!Ó ÒAs serious as I know how to be,Ó said Mondschein. Martell saw the darkening of his expression; the amiable mask dropped away. ÒDo you want to live forever, Martell?Ó ÒTm not eager to die. Except for some overriding purpose, of course.Ó ÒThe translation is that you want to live as long as you can, with honor.Ó ÒRightÓ ÒThe Vorsters are getting nearer to that goal every day. We have some idea of whatÕs going on in Santa Fe. Once, about forty years ago, we stole the contents of an entire longevity lab. It helped us, but not enough. We didnÕt have the substratum of knowledge. On the other hand, weÕve made some strides, too, as I think youÕve discovered. Will it be worth a reunion, do you think? WeÕll have the starsÑyouÕll have eternity. Stay here and spy, Brother. I thinkÑand I know Lazarus thoughtÑthat the fewer secrets we have, the faster our progress will be.Ó Martell did not reply. A boy emerged from the woodsÑa Venu- sian boy, possibly the one who had saved him from the Wheel, perhaps the dead ElwhitÕs brother. They looked so interchange- able in their strangeness. Instantly MondscheinÕs manner --------------------------------------- 142 142 To Open the Sky changed. He donned a bland smile; cosmic matters receded. ÒBring us a fish,Ó he told the boy. ÒYes, Brother Christopher.Ó There was silence. Veins throbbed on the boyÕs forehead. In the center of the lake the water boiled, white foam splashing upward. A creature appeared, scaly and dull gold in color. It hov- ered in the air, ten feet of frustrated fury, its great underslung jaw opening and closing impotently. The beast soared toward the group on the shore. ÒNot that one!Ó Mondschein gasped. The boy laughed. The huge fish slipped back into the lake. An instant later something opalescent throbbed on the ground at MartellÕs feetÑa toothy, snapping thing a foot and a half long, with fins that nearly were legs, and a fan-like tall in which wicked spikes stirred and quivered. Martell leaped away, but he was in no danger, he realized. The fishÕs skull caved in as though smit- ten by an invisible fist, and it lay still. Martell knew terror in that moment. The slender, laughing boy, who had so mischievously pulled that monster from the waters and then this equally deadly little thing, could kill with a flicker of his frontal lobes. Martell stared at Mondschein. ÒYour pushersÑare they all Venusians?Ó ÒAll.Ó ÒI hope you can keep them under control.Ó ÒI hope so, too,Ó Mondschein replied. He seized the dead fish carefully by a stubby fin, holding it so the tail-spikes pointed away from him. ÒA great delicacy,Ó he said. ÒOnce we remove the poison sacs, of course. WeÕll catch two or three more and have a devilfish dinner tonight to celebrate your conversion, Brother Martell.Ó --------------------------------------- 143 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 143143 eight They gave him a room, and they gave him menial jobs to do, and in their spare time they instructed him in the tenets of Tran- scendent Harmony. Martell found the room sufficient and the labor unobjectionable, but it was a more difficult matter to swal- low the theology. He could not pretend, to himself or to them, that it had any meaning for him. Warmed-over Christianity, a dollop of Islam, a tinge of latter-day BuddhismÑall spread over a structure borrowed shamelessly from VorstÑit was an unpal- atable mixture for Martell. There was syncretism enough in the Vorster teachings, but Martell accepted those because he had been born to them. Schooling himself in heresy was a different matter. They began with Vorst, accepting him as a prophet just as Christianity respected Moses and Islam honored Jesus. But, of course, there was the later dispensation, represented by the fig- ure of David Lazarus. Vorster writings made no mention of Lazarus. Martell knew of him only from his studies in the his- tory of the Brotherhood of the Immanent Radiance, which men- tioned Lazarus in passing as a tangential figure, an early sup- porter of VorstÕs and then an early dissenter. But Vorst lived, and, so said both groups, he would live for- ever, in tune with the cosmos, the First Immortal. Lazarus was dead, a martyr to honesty, cruelly betrayed and slain by the domi- neering Vorsters in their moment of triumph on Earth. The Book of Lazarus told the sad story. Martell twitched be- neath his skin as he read it: Lazarus was trusting and without guile. But the men whose hearts were hard came upon him and slew him in the night, and fed his body to the converter so that not even a molecule remained. And when Vorst learned of their deed, he wept and said, ÒI wish you had slain me in- stead, for now you have given him an immortality he can never loseÉÓ Martell could find nothing in the Harmonist scriptures that was actually discreditable to Vorst. Even the assassination of --------------------------------------- 144 144 To Open the Sky Lazarus itself clearly was shown to be the work of underlings, carried out without VorstÕs knowledge or desire. And through the writings ran an expression of hope that one day the faith would be reunited, though it was stressed that the Harmonists must submit to unity only out of a position of strength, and in complete equality. A few months before, Martell would have regarded their pre- tensions as absurd. On Earth they were a pip-squeak movement losing members from year to year. Now, among them if not en- tirely of them, he saw that he had badly underestimated their power. Venus was theirs. The high-caste natives might boast and swagger, but they were no longer the masters. There were espers among the downtrodden lower-caste VenusiansÑpushers, no lessÑand they had given their destinies into Harmonist hands. Martell worked. He learned. He listened. And he feared. The stormy season came. From the eternal clouds there burst tongues of lightning that set all Venus ablaze. Torrents of bitter rain flailed the flat plains. Trees five hundred feet tall were ripped from the ground and hurled great distances. From time to time, high-casters arrived at the chapel to sneer or to threaten, and in the shrieking gales they roared their blustering defiance, while within the building grinning low-caste boys waited to defend their teachers if necessary. Once Martell saw three high-caste men thrown twenty yards back from the entrance as they tried to break in. ÒA stroke of lightning,Ó they told one another. ÒWeÕre lucky to be alive.Ó In the spring came warmth. Stripping to his alien skin, Martell worked in the fields, Bradlaugh and Lazarus beside him. He did not yet teach at all. He was well versed by now in the Harmonist teachings, but it was all from the outside in, and a seemingly impermeable barrier of skepticism prevented it from getting deeper. Then, on a steamy day when sweat rolled in rivers from the altered pores of the four former Earthmen at the Harmonist --------------------------------------- 145 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 145145 chapel, Brother Leon Bradlaugh joined the blessed company of martyrs. It happened swiftly. They were in the fields, and a shadow crossed above them, and a silent voice within Martell screamed, ÒWatch out!Ó He could not move. But this was not his day to die. Something plummeted from the sky, something heavy and leather-winged, and Martell saw a beak a yard long plunge into BradlaughÕs chest, and there was the fountaining of coppery blood. Bradlaugh lay outstretched with the shrike on him, and the great beak was withdrawn, and Martell heard a sound of rending and tearing. They gave the last rites to what was left of Bradlaugh. Brother Christopher Mondschein presided, and called Martell to his side afterward. ÒThere are only three of us now,Ó he said. ÒWill you teach, Brother Martell?Ó ÒIÕm not one of you.Ó ÒYou wear a green tunic. You know our creed. Do you still think of yourself as a Vorster, Brother?Ó ÒI donÕt know what I am,Ó answered Martell. ÒI need to think about this.Ó ÒGive me your answer soon. ThereÕs much to be done here, Brother.Ó Martell did not realize that he would know within a day where he really stood. A day after BradlaughÕs funeral the regular thrice- weekly passenger ship from Mars arrived. Martell knew noth- ing of it until Mondschein came to him and said, ÒTake one of the boys in the car, and do it quickly. A man needs saving!Ó Martell did not ask questions. Somehow, news had traveled down a chain of espers, and it was his task simply to obey. He entered the car. One of the little Venusian acolytes slipped in beside him. ÒWhich way?Ó Martell asked. The boy gestured. Martell thumbed the starter. The car sped down the road, toward the airport. When they had gone two and --------------------------------------- 146 146 To Open the Sky a half miles, the boy grunted a command to halt. The car stopped. A figure in a blue tunic stood by the side of the road, his back to the bole of a mighty tree. Two suitcases lay open on the high- way, and a razor-backed beast with a flattened snout and boar- like tusks was rooting through them, while its mate charged the newly arrived Vorster. The beleaguered man was kicking and lashing at the beast. The boy hopped from the car. Without sign of strain, he caused the two animals to rise and slam into trees on the far side of the road. They dropped to the ground, looking dazed but determined. The boy levitated them again and struck their heads together. When they fell this time, they swung around and fled into the underbrush. Martell said, ÒVenus always seems to welcome new-corners like that. My greeting committee was a thing called a Wheel, which I hope you never meet. IÕd be in ribbons now except that a Venusian boy was kind enough to teleport it over on its side. Are you a missionary?Ó The man seemed too dazed to reply immediately. He knotted his hands together, released them, adjusted his tunic. Finally he said, ÒYesÑyes, I am. From Earth.Ó ÒSurgically changed, then?Ó ÒThatÕs right.Ó ÒSo am I. IÕm Nicholas Martell. How are things in Santa Fe, Brother?Ó The newcomerÕs lips tightened. He was a fleshless little man, a year or two younger than Martell. He said, ÒHow can that mat- ter to you if youÕre Martell? Martell the heretic? Martell the ren- egade?Ó ÒNo,Ó Martell said. ÒThat isÑIÑÓ He fell silent His hands tensely smoothed the fabric of his Harmonist green tunic. His cheeks were burning. He realized painfully the truth about himselfÑthat the change in him had worked inward from withoutÑand suddenly he could not meet --------------------------------------- 147 Where the Changed Ones Go 2135 147147 the gaze of his altered successor in the Venus mission, and he turned, staring into the thicket of the no longer very alien forest. --------------------------------------- 148 148 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 149 149 Four Lazarus Come Forth 2152 one Mars Monotrack One, the main line, ran from east to west like a girdle of concrete flanking the planetÕs western hemisphere. To the north lay the Lake District with its fertile fields; to the south, closer to the equator, was the belt of throbbing compres- sor stations that had done so much to foster the miracle. The discerning eye could still make out the old craters and gouges of the landscape, hidden now under a dusting of sawtooth grass and occasional forests of pine. The gray concrete pylons of the monotrack marched to the horizon. Spurs carried the line to the settlements of the outlands, and they were always adding new spurs as the new settlements sprouted. Logistically, it might have been simpler to have all the Martians live in One Big City, but the Martians were not that sort of people. Spur 7Y was being added now, advancing in ungainly bounds toward the new outpost of Beltran Lakes. Already the pylon foun- dations had gone up three-quarters of the way from Mono One to the settlement; a vast pylon-layer was working its way through the countryside, gobbling up sand from ten yards down and spew- ing out concrete slabs that it stapled into the ground. Gobble, spew, staple, and move onÑgobble, spew, staple. The machine moved rapidly, guided by a neatly homeostatic brain that kept it on course. Behind it came the other machines to lay track be- tween the pylons and string the utility lines that would follow the same route. The Martian settlers had many miracles at their command, but microwave kickover of usable electric power --------------------------------------- 150 150 To Open the Sky wasnÕt one of themÑnot yetÑand so the lines had to get strung from place to place even as in the Middle Ages. The monotrack system was intended for heavy-duty transpor- tation. The Martians used quickboats, like everybody else, for getting themselves from place to place. But the slim little ve- hicles werenÕt much use in the shipment of construction materi- als, and this was a planet under construction. Now that the re- construction phase was over. The Terraformers were gone. Mars was a bosky dell, here in this year of grace 2152, and now the task was to plant a civilization on the finally hospitable planet. The Martians numbered in the millions. They had passed their frontiersman stage and were settling down to enjoy the plea- sures of a good commercial boom. And the monotrack marched on, mile after mile, skirting the seas, rimming the lakes and riv- ers. The dogwork was done by clever machines. Men rode herd on the machinery, though. You never could tell when the ho- meostasis would slip ever so slightly and your pylon-layer would go berserk. It had happened a few years ago, and somehow the cutoff relays had been blanked out of the circuit, and before any- one could do anything there were sixteen miles of pylons criss- crossing Holliman LakeÑeight hundred feet under water. Mar- tians hate wastefulness. The machines had shown that they were not entirely trustworthy, and thereafter they were watched. Watching over the construction of this particular spur of Monotrack One was a lean, sun-bronzed man of sixty-eight named Paul Weiner, who had good political connections, and a plump red-haired man named Hadley Donovan, who did not. Redheads were rare on Mars for the usual statistical reasons; plump men were rare, too, but not so rare as they once had been. Life was softer these days, and so were the younger Martians. Hadley Donovan was amused by the antics of his gun-toting el- ders, with their formal etiquette, their theatrically taut bodies, their sense of high personal importance. Perhaps it bad been --------------------------------------- 151 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 151151 necessary to wear those poses in the pioneer days on Mars, Donovan thought, but all that had been over for thirty years. He had allowed himself the luxury of a modest paunch. He knew that Paul Weiner felt contempt for him. The feeling was mutual. The two men sat side by side in a landcrawler, edging through the roadless landscape twenty miles ahead of the pylon-laying rig. Transponders bleeped at appropriate intervals; on the con- trol board in front of them, colors came and went in an evanes- cent flow. Weiner was supposed to be monitoring the doings of the construction rig behind them; Donovan was checking out the planned route of the track, hunting for pockets of subsurface mushiness that the pylon-builder would not be clever enough to evaluate. Donovan was trying to do both jobs at once. He didnÕt dare let a political appointee like Weiner have any real responsibility in the work. Weiner was the nephew of Nat Weiner, who stood high in ruling councils, was a hundred-and-some years old, and went to Earth every few years to have the Vorsters pluck out his pan- creas or his kidneys or his carotid arteries and implant handy artificial substitutes. Nat Weiner was going to live forever, prob- ably, and he was gradually filling the entire civil service up with members of his family, and Hadley Donovan, trying to oversee a job that really required two menÕs full attention, felt vague des- peration as he scanned his own board and covertly glanced over at WeinerÕs every thirty seconds or so. Something was glowing purple on the Anomaly Screen. Donovan wondered about it, but he was too busy with his own part of the job to mention it, and then Weiner was drawling, ÒI got something peculiar over here, Donovan. What do you make of it, Freeman?Ó Donovan kicked the crawler to a halt and studied the board. ÒUnderground rock vault, looks like. ThreeÑfour miles off the track.Ó --------------------------------------- 152 152 To Open the Sky ÒThink we ought to take a look?Ó ÒWhy bother?Ó Donovan asked. ÒThe track wonÕt come any- where near it.Ó ÒYou arenÕt curious? Might be a treasure vault left by the Old Martians.Ó Donovan didnÕt dignify that with a reply. ÒWhat do you think it is, then?Ó Weiner asked. ÒMaybe itÕs a cave carved by an underground stream. You think so? All that subsurface water Mars had before they Terraformed it? Rivers flowing under the desert?Ó Feeling the needles, Donovan said, ÒItÕs probably just a crawl- space left by the Terraforming engineers. I donÕt see whyÑoh, hell. All right. LetÕs go investigate. Shut the whole project down for half an hour. What do I care?Ó He began throwing switches. It was a foolish, pointless interruption, but the older manÕs curiosity had to be satisfied. Treasure cave! Under-ground stream! Donovan had to admit that he couldnÕt think of any ra- tional reason why thereÕd be such a pocket of open space under- ground here. Geologically, it didnÕt make much sense. They cut across to it. It turned out to be about twenty feet down, with undisturbed-looking grass growing above it. Some close- range pinging confirmed that the vault was about ten feet long, a dozen feet wide, eight or nine feet deep. Donovan was con- vinced that it had been left by the Terraformers, But it wasnÕt on thc charts, at any rate. He summoned a dig-robot and put it to work. In ten minutes the roof of the vault lay bare: a slab of green fusion-glass. Donovan shivered a little. Weiner said, ÒI think we got ourselves a grave here, you know?Ó ÒLetÕs leave it. This isnÕt our business. WeÕll report it andÑÓ ÒWhat do we have here?Ó Weiner asked, and slipped his hand into an opening. He seemed to be caressing something within. Quickly he drew his hand back as a yellow glow spread over the --------------------------------------- 153 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 153153 top of the vault. A voice said, ÒMay the blessing of eternal harmony be on you, friends. You have come to the temporary resting place of Lazarus. Qualified medical assistance will revive me. I ask your help. Please do not attempt to open this vault except with qualified medical assistance.Ó Silence. The voice said again, ÒMay the blessing of eternal harmony be on you, friends. You have come to the temporaryÑÓ ÔA voice-cube,Ó Donovan murmured. ÒLook!Ó Weiner gasped, and pointed to the clearing vault-roof. The glass, lit from below, was transparent now. Donovan peered down into a rectangular vault. A thin, hawk-faced man lay on his back in a nutrient bath, feed-lines connected to his limbs and trunk. It was something like a Nothing Chamber, but far more elaborate. The sleeper wore a smile. Arcane symbols were inscribed on the walls of the chamber. Donovan recognized them as Harmonist symbols. That Venusian cult He felt a stab of con- fusion. What had they stumbled on here? ÒThe temporary rest- ing place of Lazarus,Ó the voice-cube said. Lazarus was the prophet of the Harmonists. To Donovan, all of these religions were equally inane. He would have to report this discovery now, and there would be delay in the construction project, and he himself would be pushed unwantedly into prominence, andÑ And none of it would ever have happened if Weiner had been dozing off as usual. Why had he noticed the anomaly on the board? Why? ÒÔWe better tell somebody about this,Ó Weiner said. ÒI think itÕs important.Ó --------------------------------------- 154 154 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 155 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 155155 two In a small jungle-fringed building on Venus, eight men who were not men faced a ninth. All wore the cyanotic blue skins of Venus, though only three had been born with those skins. The others were surgical products, Earthmen converted to Venusians. Not just their bodies had been converted, either. The six changed ones had all been Vorsters at one time in their spiritual develop- ment. The Vorsters were the most powerful figures on Earth. But this was not Earth but Venus, and Venus was in the hands of the Harmonists, sometimes called the Lazarites after their martyred founder, David Lazarus. Lazarus, the prophet of Transcendent Harmony, had been put to death by Vorster underlings more than sixty years before. Now, to the consternation of his followersÑ ÒBrother Nicholas, may we have your report?Ó asked Christopher Mondschein, the head of the Harmonists on Ve- nus. Nicholas Martell, a slender, dogged man in early middle age, stared at his eight colleagues wearily. In the past few days he had had little sleep and many profound jolts to his equilibrium. Martell had made the round trip to Mars to check on the aston- ishing report that had flashed to the three planets not long be- fore. He said, ÒItÕs exactly as the news story had it. Two workmen coming upon a vault while supervising the construction of a monotrack spur.Ó ÒYou saw the vault?Ó asked Mondschein. ÒI saw the vault. TheyÕve got it cordoned.Ó ÒWhat about Lazarus?Ó ÒThere was a figure inside the vault. It matched the image of Lazarus in Rome. It resembled all the portraits. The vaultÕs a sort of Nothing Chamber, and the figure is hooked up inside. The Martian authorities have checked the circuitry of the vault --------------------------------------- 156 156 To Open the Sky and they say that itÕs likely to blow sky-high if anybody tampers with it.Ó ÒAnd the figure,Ó persisted a hollow-cheeked man named Emory. ÒThe figure is Lazarus?Ó ÒLooks like Lazarus,Ó Martell said. ÒYou must remember I never saw Lazarus in the flesh. I wasnÕt born yet when he died. If he died.Ó ÒDonÕt say thatÓ Emory snapped. ÒThis is a hoax. Lazarus died, all right. He was fed to the converter. ThereÕs nothing left of him but loose protons and electrons and neutrons.Ó ÒSo it says in our Scripture,Ó declared Mondschein warily. He closed his eyes a moment. He was the oldest man present; he had been on Venus almost sixty years and had built this branch of the movement to its present dominant position. He said, ÒThere is always the possibility that our text is corrupt.Ó ÒNo!Ó The outburst came from Emory, young and conserva- tive. ÒHow can you say that?Ó Mondschein shrugged. ÒThe early years of our movement Brother, are shrouded in doubt. We know there was a Lazarus, that he worked with Vorst at Santa Fe, that he quarreled with Vorst over procedure and was assassinated, or at least put out of the way. But all that was a long time ago. ThereÕs no one left in the movement who was directly associated with Lazarus. We arenÕt as long-lived as the Vorsters, you know. So if it happened that Lazarus wasnÕt stuffed into a converter, but was simply car- ried off to Mars in suspended animation and plugged into a Noth- ing Chamber for sixty or seventy yearsÑÓ There was silence in the room. Martell gave Mondschein a sidelong glance of distress. It was Emory who finally said, ÒWhat if heÕs revived and claims to be Lazarus? What happens to the movement?Ó Mondschein replied, ÒWeÕll face that when we get to it. Ac- cording to Brother Nicholas, there seems to be some doubt as to whether the vault can be opened at all.Ó --------------------------------------- 157 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 157157 ÒThatÕs correct,Ó Martell said. ÒIf itÕs wired to explode when tampered withÑÓ ÒLetÕs hope it is,Ó put in Brother Ward, who had not spoken. ÒFor our purposes, the best Lazarus is a martyred Lazarus. We can keep the tomb as a shrine, and send pilgrimages there, and perhaps get the Martians interested. But if he comes back to life and begins to upset thingsÑÓ ÒWhat is in that vault is not Lazarus,Ó Emory said. Mondachein stared at him in amazement. Emory seemed ready to crack apart. ÒPerhaps youÕd better rest awhile,Ó Mondschein suggested.. ÒYouÕre taking this much too much to heart.Ó Marten said, ÒItÕs a disturbing business, Christopher. If you had seen that figure in the vaultÑhe looks so angelic so confi- dent of resurrection Emory groaned. Mondschein furrowed his brow a moment, and in response the door opened and one of the native Venusians entered, one of the espers the Harmonists had been collecting so long on Venus. ÒBrother Emory is tired, Neerol,Ó Mondschein said. The Venu- sian nodded. His hand closed on EmoryÕs wrist, dark purple against deep indigo. A nexus formed; there was a momentary neural flow; sluices opened somewhere within EmoryÕs brain. Emory relaxed. The Venusian led him from the room. Mondschein looked around at the others. ÒWe have to operate under the assumption,Ó he said, Òthat the genuine body of David Lazarus has turned up on Mars, that our book is in error about his fate, and that thereÕs at least the possibility that the body in that vault can be brought to life. The question is. how are we going to react?Ó Martell, who had seen the vault and who would never be quite the same, said, ÒYou know IÕve always been skeptical of the char- ismatic value of the Lazarus story. But I see this as operating to our advantage. If we can gain possession of the vault and make --------------------------------------- 158 158 To Open the Sky it the symbolic center of our movementÑsomething to capture the public imaginationÑÓ ÒExactly,Ó Ward said. ÒItÕs always been our big selling point that weÕve got a mythos. The competitionÕs got Vorst and his medical miracles, Santa Fe and all that, but nothing to stir the heart. WeÕve had the martyrdom of Lazarus, and itÕs helped us take control of Venus, which the Vorsters never were able to do. And now, with Lazarus himself come forth from the deadÑÓ ÒYou miss the point,Ó said Mondschein thinly. ÒWhat turned up on Mars doesnÕt tally with the myth. Lazarus isnÕt supposed to be resurrected in the flesh. He was blasted to atoms. Suppose archaeologists found that Christ had really been beheaded, not crucified? Suppose it came to light that Mohammed never set foot in Mecca? WeÕve been caught with our mythology askewÑif this is really Lazarus. It could destroy us. It could wreck all weÕve built.Ó --------------------------------------- 159 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 159159 three Thirty miles from the quaint old city of Santa Fe, the sprawl- ing laboratories of the Noel Vorst Center for the Biological Sci- ences rose within a ring of dark mountains. Here surgeons trans- formed living creatures into alien flesh. Here technicians labo- riously manipulated genes. Here families of espers submitted to an endless round of experiments, and bionics men prodded their subjects mercilessly toward a new realm of existence. The Cen- ter was a mighty machine, bristling with purposefulness. Inconceivably old men were at the heart of the machine. The core of the movement was the domed building near the main auditorium, where Noel Vorst lived when at Santa Fe. Vorst, the Founder, acknowledged more than a century and a quarter of life. There were those who said that he was dead, that the Vorst who occasionally appeared at the chapels of the Brother- hood was a robot, a simulacrum. Vorst himself found this amus- ing. More of him was artificial than flesh, at this point, but he was undeniably alive, with no immediate plans for dying. If he had planned to die, he never would have gone to the trouble of founding the Brotherhood of the Immanent Radiance. There had been hard years at first. It is not pleasant to be deemed a crack- pot Among those who had deemed Vorst a crackpot in those days was his present second-in-command, the Hemispheric Coordi- nator, Reynolds Kirby. Kirby had stumbled into the Brotherhood at a time of personal stress, looking for something to cling to in a storm. That had been in 2077. He was still clinging, seventy- five years later. By now he was virtually VorstÕs alter ego, an adjunct of the FounderÕs soul. The Founder had been less than candid with Kirby about this Lazarus enterprise, though. For the first time in many years Vorst had held the details of a project entirely to himself. Some things could not be shared. When they were matters concerning David --------------------------------------- 160 160 To Open the Sky Lazarus, Vorst held them in pectore, unable to take even Kirby into his confidence. The Founder sat cradled in a webfoam net that spared him most of gravityÕs pull. Once he had been a vigorous, dynamic giant of a man, and when he had to, he could wear that set of attributes even now, but he preferred comfort. It was necessary to spare his strength. His plan had fulfilled itself well, but he knew that without his guiding presence it might all yet come to nothing. Kirby sat before him, thin-lipped, grizzled, his body, like VorstÕs, a patchwork of artificial organs. The Vorster laboratories no longer needed such clumsy devices to prolong youth. Within the last generation they had managed to stimulate regeneration from within, the bodyÕs own rebirth, always the most preferable way. Kirby had come along too early for that; so had Vorst. For them, organ replacement was the road to conditional immortality. With luck, they might last two or three centuries, undergoing peri- odic overhauls. Younger men, those who had joined the move- ment in the last forty years, might hope for several hundred years more than that. Some now living, Vorst knew, would never die. Vorst said, ÒAbout this Lazarus thingÑÓ His voice came from a vocoder box. The larynx had gone sixty years ago. The effect was naturalistic enough, though. ÒWe can infiltrate our men,Ó Kirby said. ÒI can work through Nat Weiner. WeÕll get a bomb clapped onto that vault and give Mr. Lazarus his eternal repose.Ó ÒNo?Ó ÒOf course not,Ó Vorst said. He lowered the shutters that lubri- cated his eyes. ÒNothing must happen to that vault or the man whoÕs in it. WeÕll infiltrate, all right. YouÕll have to use your pull with Weiner. But not to destroy. WeÕre going to bring Lazarus back to life.Ó ÒWeÕreÑÓ ÒAs a gift to our friends, the Harmonists. To show our endur- --------------------------------------- 161 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 161161 ing affection for our brothers in the Oneness.Ó ÒNo,Ó Kirby said. Muscles roiled in his fleshless face, and Vorst could see him making adrenal adjustments, trying to stay calm in the face of this assault on his sense of logic. ÒThis is the prophet of the heretics,Ó Kirby said quietly. ÒI know that youÕve got your reasons for encouraging their growth in certain places, Noel. But to give them back their prophetÑit doesnÕt make sense.Ó Vorst tapped a stud in his desk. A compartment opened and he drew forth the Book of Lazarus, the heretic scripture. Kirby seemed a little startled to find it here, in the stronghold of the movement ÒYouÕve read this, havenÕt you?Ó Vorst asked. ÒOf course.Ó ÒItÕs enough to make you weep. How my shameless under- lings hunted down this great and good man David Lazarus and did away with him. One of the most blasphemous acts since the Crucifixion, eh? The blot on our record. WeÕre the villains in the Lazarus story. Now hereÕs Lazarus, pickled on Mars for the last sixty years. Not physically annihilated after all, despite what this book says. Fine. Splendid! We throw all the resources of Santa Fe into the task of restoring him to life. The grand ecumenical gesture. Surely you know that itÕs my hope to reunite the sun- dered branches of our movementÓ KirbyÕs eyes flickered brilliantly. ÒYouÕve been saying that for sixty or seventy years, Noel. Ever since the Harmonists split away. But do you mean it?Ó ÒIÕm sincere in all things,Ó said Vursi lightly. ÒOf course IÕd take them back. On my terms, naturallyÑbut theyÕd be welcome. We all serve the same ends in different ways. Did you ever know Lazarus?Ó ÒNot really. I wasnÕt very important in the Brotherhood when he died.Ó ÒI forget that,Ó Vorst said. ÒItÕs hard for me to keep everyone positioned in his temporal matrix. I keep sliding forward and --------------------------------------- 162 162 To Open the Sky backward. But certainlyÑyou were coming to the top as Lazarus was moving away. I respected that man, Kirby. I grieved when he died, wrongheaded as he was. I intend to redeem the Broth- erhood from its stain by bringing Lazarus back to life. HeÕs ap- propriately named, wouldnÕt you say?Ó Kirby picked up a bright metallic sphere from the desk, a pa- perweight of some sort, and fingered it. Vorst waited. He kept the sphere there so that his visitors could handle it and discharge their tensions into it; he knew that for many who came before him an interview with Vorst was like a trip to the top of Mount Sinai to hear the Law. Vorst found it charming. He watched Reynolds Kirby struggling with himself. At length KirbyÑthe only man on the whole planet who could use VorstÕs first name to himÑsaid thickly, ÒDamn it, Noel, what kind of game are you playing?Ó ÒGame?Ó ÒYou sit there with that grin on your lips, telling me youÕre going to revive Lazarus, and I can see you juggling world-lines like billiard balls, and I donÕt know what itÕs all about. WhatÕs your motive? IsnÕt this man better off dead?Ó ÒNo. Dead heÕs a symbol. Alive he can be manipulated. ThatÕs all IÕll say.Ó VorstÕs blazing eyes found KirbyÕs troubled ones and held them. ÒDo you think IÕm senile at last, perhaps? That IÕve held the plan in my mind so long that itÕs rotted in there? I know what IÕm doing. I need Lazarus alive, orÑor I wouldnÕt have begun this. Get in touch with Nat Weiner. Gain possession of the vault, I donÕt care how. WeÕll do our work on Lazarus here at Santa Fe.Ó ÒAll right. Noel. Whatever you say.Ó ÒTrust me.Ó ÒWhat else can I do?Ó Kirby wheeled himself out of the room. Vorst, relaxing, fed hormones to his bloodstream and closed his eyes. The world wavered. For an instant he found himself drifting, and it was --------------------------------------- 163 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 163163 2071 all over again, and he was building cobalt-60 reactors in a sordid basement and renting little rooms as chapels for his cult. He recoiled, and was whirled forward, dizzyingly, toward the border of now and a little beyond it. Vorst was a low-grade esper, his skills humble indeed, but occasionally his mind did strange things. He looked toward the brink of tomorrow and desperately anchored himself. With a decisive jab of his fingers Vorst opened his desk-com- municator and spoke briefly to an intern in the burnout ward, without identifying himself. Yes, the Founder was told, there was an esper on the verge of burnout. No, she wasnÕt likely to sur- vive. ÒGet her ready,Ó Vorst said. ÒThe FounderÕs going to visit her.Ó VorstÕs assistants clustered around, readying him for his jour- ney. The old man refused to accept immobility and insisted on leading the most active kind of existence possible. A dropshaft took him to ground level, and then, sheltered by the cavalcade of flunkies that accompanied him everywhere, the Founder crossed the main plaza of the compound and entered the burn- out ward. Half a dozen sick espers, segregated by thick walls and shielded by protective members of their own kind, lay at the verge of death. There were always those for whom the powers proved over- whelming, those who eventually seized more voltage than they could handle and were destroyed. From the very beginning Vorst had concentrated on saving them, for these were the espers he needed most badly. The salvage record was good nowadays. But not good enough. Vorst knew why the burnouts happened. The ones who went were the floaters, insecurely anchored in their own time. They drifted back, forth, seesawing from past to present, unable to control their movements, building up a charge of temporal force that ultimately blasted their minds. It was a dizziness of the time- sense, a deadly vertigo. Vorst himself had felt flashes of it. For --------------------------------------- 164 164 To Open the Sky ten years, nearly a century ago, he had considered himself in- sane, until he understood. He had seen the edges of time, a vi- sion of futurity that had shattered him and remade him, and that he knew, had been only a hint of what the real espers experi- enced. The burnout case was young and female and Oriental: a fatal combination, it seemed. A good eighty percent of the burnouts were of Mongoloid stock, generally adolescent girls. Those who had the trait didnÕt last far into adulthood. This one must have been about sixteen, though it was hard to tell; she could have been anywhere from twelve to twenty-five. She lay twisting on the bed, her body almost bare, clawing at the bedclothes in her agony. Sweat gleamed on her yellow-brown skin. She arched her back, grimaced, fell back. Her breasts, revealed by the dis- array of her robe, were like a childÕs. Blue-clad Vorsters, awed by the presence of the Founder, flanked the bed. Vorst said, ÒSheÕll be gone in an hour, wonÕt she?Ó Someone nodded. Vorst moved himself closer to the bed. He seized the girlÕs arm in his wizened fingers. Another esper stepped in, placed one hand on Vorst, the other on the girl, providing the link that Vorst required. Suddenly he was in contact with the dying girl. Her brain was on fire. She jolted backward and forward in time, and Vorst jolted with her, drawn along as a hitchhiker. Light flared in his mind, as though lightning danced about him. Yes- terday and tomorrow became one. His thin body quivered like a buffeted reed. Images danced like demons, shadowy figures out of the past, dark avatars of tomorrow. Tell me, tell me, tell me, Vorst implored. Show me the path! He stood at the threshold of knowledge. For seventy years he had moved step by step this way, using the contorted and tortured bodies of these burnouts as his bridges to tomorrow, pulling himself forward by his own bootstraps along the world-line of his great plan. --------------------------------------- 165 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 165165 Let me see, Vorst begged. The figure of David Lazarus bestrode the pattern of tomor- row, Vorst knew it would. Lazarus stood like a colossus, come forth to an unexpected resurrection, holding his arms out to the green-robed brethren of his heresy. Vorst shivered. The image wavered and was gone. The frail hand of the Founder relaxed its grip. ÒSheÕs dead,Ó Vorst said. ÒTake me away.Ó --------------------------------------- 166 166 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 167 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 167167 four One old man had given the word, and another obeyed, and a third was approached for a favor. Nat Weiner of the Martian Pre- sidium was always willing to oblige his old friend Reynolds Kirby. They had known one another for more years then they cared to admit. Weiner, like nearly all Martians, was neither Vorster nor Harmonist. Martians had little use for the cults, and steered a neutral and profitable course. On Earth, by now, the Vorsters amounted to a planetary government since their influence was felt everywhere; it was simple good sense for Mars to retain open lines to the Vorster high command, since Mars had business to do with Earth. Venus, the planet of adapted men, was a different case. No one could be too sure what went on there, except that the Harmonist heresy had established itself pretty securely in the last thirty or forty years, and might one day speak for Venus as the Vorsters spoke for Earth. Weiner had served a tour of duty as Martian Ambassador to Venus, and he thought he understood the blueskins fairly well. He didnÕt like them very much. But he was past feeling any strong emotion. He had left that behind with his hundredth birthday. At staggering cost, Reynolds Kirby in Santa Fe spoke face-to- face with Weiner, and begged a favor of him. It was twelve years since they had last metÑnot since WeinerÕs last visit to the reju- venation centers at Santa Fe. It wasnÕt customary for unbeliev- ers to be granted the use of the rejuvenation facilities there, but Kirby had arranged for Weiner and a select few of his Martian friends to come down for periodic treatments, as a favor. Weiner understood quite dearly that Kirby was silently accept- ing promissory notes for those favors, and that the notes would be taken down for repayment one of these days. That was all right; the important thing was to survive. Weiner might even have been willing to become a Vorster, if he had to, in order to --------------------------------------- 168 168 To Open the Sky have access to Santa Fe. But of course that would have hurt him politically on Mars, where both Vorsters and Harmonists were generally looked upon as subversives. This way he had the ben- efits, without the risks, and he owed it to his old friend Kirby. Weiner would go quite a distance to repay Kirby for that service. The Vorster said, ÒHave you seen the alleged Lazarus vault yet Nat?Ó ÒI was out there two days ago. WeÕve got a tight security guard on it. It was my nephew who found it, you know. IÕd like to kill him.Ó ÒWhy?Ó ÒAll we need is finding the Harmonist muck-a-muck out by Beltran Lakes. Why couldnÕt you people have buried him on Ve- nus, where his own people are?Ó ÒWhat makes you think we buried him, Nat?Ó ÒArenÕt you the ones who killed him? Or put him into a freeze, or whatever you did to him?Ó ÒIt all happened before my time,Ó Kirby said. ÒOnly Vorst knows the real story, and maybe not even he. But surely itÕs LazarusÕs own supporters who tucked him away in that vault, donÕt you think?Ó ÒNot at all,Ó Weiner replied. ÒWhy would they get their own story garbled? HeÕs their prophet. If they put him there, they should have remembered it and preached his ressurrection, yes? But they were the most surprised ones of all when he turned up.Ó Weiner frowned. ÒOn the other hand, the message that was recorded with him is full of Harmonist slogans. And there are Harmonist symbols on the vault. I wish I understood. Better still: I wish weÕd never found him. But why are you calling, Ron?Ó ÒVorst wants him.Ó ÒWants Lazarus?Ó ÒThatÕs right. To bring him back to life. WeÕll take the whole vault to Santa Fe and open it and revive him. Vorst wants to make the announcement tomorrow, all-channel hookup.Ó --------------------------------------- 169 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 169169 ÒYou canÕt, Ron. If anybody gets him, it ought to be the Harmonists. HeÕs their prophet. How can I hand him to you boys? YouÕre the ones who supposedly killed him in the first place, and nowÑÓ ÒAnd now weÕre going to revive him, which, as everyone knows, is beyond the capabilities of the Harmonists. TheyÕre welcome to try, if they want, but they simply donÕt have our kind of labora- tory facilities. WeÕre ready to revive him. Then weÕll turn him over to the Harmonists and he can preach all he wants. Just let us have access to the vault.Ó ÒYouÕre asking for a lot,Ó Weiner said. ÒWeÕve given you a lot, Nat.Ó Weiner nodded. The promissory notes had fallen due, he real- ized. He said, ÒThe Harmonists will have my head for this.Ó ÒYour headÕs pretty tightly attached, Nat. Find a way to give us the vault. Vorst will be pretty rough on us all if you donÕt.Ó Weiner sighed. ÒHis will be done.Ó But how, the Martian wondered when contact had broken? By force majeure? Hand over the vault and to hell with public opin- ion? And if Venus got nasty about it? ÒThere hadnÕt been an interplanetary war yet, but perhaps the time was ripe. Certainly the Harmonists wantedÑand had every right to haveÑtheir own founderÕs body. Just last week that con- vert Martell, the one who had come to Venus to plant a Vorster cell and ended up in the Harmonist camp, had been here to see the vault, Weiner thought, and had tentatively sketched out a plan for taking possession. Martell and his boss Mondschein would explode when they found out that the relic of Lazarus was being shipped to Santa Fe. It would have to be handled delicately. WeinerÕs mind whirred and clicked like a computer, or pre- senting and rejecting alternate possibilities, opening and dosing one circuit after another. It was not seniority alone that kept the Martian in power. He was agile. He had gained considerably in --------------------------------------- 170 170 To Open the Sky craftiness since the night when, a drunken young yokel, he ran amok in New York. Three hours and a great many thousand dollarsÕ worth of in- terplanetary calls later, Weiner had his solution worked out sat- isfactorily. The vault was Martian governmental property, as an artifact. Therefore Mars had an important voice in its disposal. However, the Martian government recognized the unique symbolic value of this discovery, and thus proposed to consult with religious authorities of the other worlds. A committee would be formed: three Harmonists, three Vorsters, and three Martians of WeinerÕs selection. Presumably the Harmonists and Vorsters would look out only for their own cultÕs welfare, and the Martians on the committee would maintain an imperturbable neutrality assur- ing an impartial judgment. Of course. The committee would meet to deliberate on the fate of the vault. The Harmonists, naturally, would claim it for themselves. The Vorsters, having made public their offer to employ all their superscience to bring Lazarus back to life, would ask to be given a chance to do so. The Martians would weigh all the possibili- ties. Then, Weiner thought, would come the vote. One of the Mar- tians would vote with the HarmonistsÑfor appearanceÕs sake. The other two would come out in favor of letting the Vorsters work on the sleeper, under rigorous supervision to prevent any hanky-panky. The five-to-four vote would give the vault to Vorst. Mondschein would yelp, of course. But the terms of the agree- ment would allow a couple of Harmonist representatives to get inside the secret labs at Santa Fe for a little while, and that would soothe them somewhat. There would be a little grumbling, but if Kirby kept his word, Lazarus would be revived and turned over to his partisans, and how could the Harmonists possibly object to that? --------------------------------------- 171 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 171171 Weiner smiled. There was no problem so knotty that it couldnÕt be untied. Given a little thought, that is. He felt pleased with himself. If he had been forty years younger, he might have gone out for a roistering celebration. But not now. --------------------------------------- 172 172 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 173 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 173173 five ÒDonÕt go,Ó Martell said. ÒSuspicious?Ó Christopher Mondschein asked. ÒItÕs a chance to see their setup. I havenÕt been in Santa Fe since I was a boy. Why shouldnÕt I go?Ó ÒThereÕs no telling what might happen to you there. TheyÕd love to get their hands on you. YouÕre the kingpin of the whole Venusian movement.Ó ÒAnd theyÕll lase me to ashes with three planets watching, eh? Be realistic, Nicholas. When the Pope visits Mecca, they take good care of him. IÕm in no danger in Santa Fe.Ó ÒWhat about the espers? TheyÕll scan you.Ó ÒIÕll have Neerol with me as a mindshield,Ó Mondschein said. ÒThey wonÕt get a thing. IÕll stack him up Ñagainst any esper they have. Besides, I have nothing to hide from Noel Vorst. You of all people ought to realize that. We took you in, even though you were loaded with Vorster spy-commands. It was in our in- terest to tell Vorst how far we had gone.Ó Martell took a different approach. ÒBy going to Santa Fe youÕre putting the blessing of our order on this alleged Lazarus.Ó ÒNow you sound like Brother Emory! Are you telling me itÕs a phony?Ó ÒIÕm telling you that we ought to treat it as one. It contradicts our own legend of Lazarus. It may be a Vorster plant calculated to throw us into confusion. What do we do when they hand us a walking, talking Lazarus and let us try to reshape our entire or- der around him?Ó ÒItÕs a touchy matter, Nicholas. WeÕve built our faith on the existence of a holy martyr. Now, if heÕs suddenly unmartyredÑÓ ÒExactly. ItÕll crush us.Ó ÒI doubt thatÓ Mondschein said. The old Harmonist touched his gills lightly, nervously. ÒYou arenÕt looking far enough ahead, --------------------------------------- 174 174 To Open the Sky Nicholas. The Vorsters have outmaneuvered us so far, I admit. TheyÕve gained possession of this Lazarus, and theyÕre about to give him back to us. Very embarrassing, but what can we do? However, the next moves are ours. If he dies, we simply revise our writings a bit. If he lives and tries to meddle, we reveal that heÕs some sort of simulacrum cooked up by the Vorsters to do mischief, and destroy him. Score a point for usÑour original story stands and we reveal the Vorsters as sinister schemers.Ó ÒAnd if heÕs really Lazarus?Ó Martell asked. Mondschein giowered. ÒThen we have a prophet on our hands, Brother Nicholas. ItÕs a risk we take. IÕm going to Santa Fe.Ó --------------------------------------- 175 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 175175 six On Earth, the Noel Vorst Center throbbed with more-than- usual activity as preparations continued for the arrival of the cargo from Mars. An entire block of the laboratory grounds had been set aside for the resuscitation of Lazarus. For the first time since the founding of the Center video cameras would be al- lowed to show the worlds a little of its inner workings. The place would be full of strangersÑeven a delegation of Harmonists. To old-line Vorsters like Reynolds Kirby, that was almost unthink- able. Furtiveness had become a matter of course for him. The command, though, had come from Vorst himself, and no one could quarrel with the Founder. ÒI believe that itÕs time to lift the lid a little,Ó Vorst had said. Kirby was doing some lid-lifting of his own as the great day drew near. He was troubled by certain blanks in his own memory, and by virtue of his rank as second-in-command he went search- ing through the Vorster archives to fill them in. The trouble was, Kirby could not remember much about David LazarusÕs pre- martyrdom career, and he felt that it was important to know something more than the official story. Who was Lazarus, any- way? How had he entered the Vorster pictureÑand how had he left it? Kirby himself had enrolled in 2077, kneeling before the Blue Fire of a cobalt reactor in New York. As a new convert, he had not been concerned with the politics of the hierarchy, but simply with the values the cult had to offer: stability, the hope of long life, the dream of reaching the stars by harnessing the abilities of espers. Kirby was willing to see mankind explore the other solar systems, but he did not make that accomplishment the cen- tral yearning of his life. Nor did the chance of immortalityÑthe chief bait for millions of Vorster convertsÑseem all that deli- cious to him. What drew him to the movement, at the age of forty, was merely --------------------------------------- 176 176 To Open the Sky the discipline that it offered. His pleasant life lacked structure, and the world about him was such chaos that he fled from it into one synthetic paradise after another. Along came Vorst offering a sleek new belief that snared Kirby totally. For the first few months he was content to be a worshiper. Soon he was an aco- lyte. And then, his natural organizational abilities demonstrat- ing themselves, he found himself moving rapidly upward in the movement from post to post until by the time he was eighty he was VorstÕs fight hand, and very much concerned with his own personal survival. According to the official story, the martyrdom of David Lazarus had taken place in 2090. Kirby had been a Vorster for thirteen years then, and was a District Supervisor in charge of thousands of Brothers. So far as he could remember, he had never even heard of Lazarus as of 2090. A few years later the Harmonists, the heretical movement had begun gaining strength, decking themselves in green robes and scoffing at the craftily secular power orientation of the Vorsters. They claimed to be followers of the martyred Lazarus, but even then, Kirby thought they hadnÕt talked much about Lazarus. Only afterward, as Harmonist power mounted and they stole Venus from Vorst, did they push the Lazarus mythos particularly hard. Why is it, Kirby wondered, that I who was a contemporary of Lazarus should never have heard his name? He walked toward the archives building. It was a milk-white geodesic dome, sheeted with some toothy fabric that gave it a sharkskin surface texture. Kirby passed through a tiled tunnel, identified himself to the robot guardians, moved toward and past a sphincter-door, and found himself in the olive-green room where the records were kept lie activated a query-stud and demanded knowledge. Lazarus, David. Drums whirled in the depths of the earth. Memory films came --------------------------------------- 177 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 177177 around, offered themselves to the kiss of the scanner, and sent images floating upward to the waiting Kirby. Glowing yellow print appeared on the reader-Screen. A potted biography, scanty and inadequate: Born 13 March 2051 Education Primary Secondary Chicago, A.B. Harvard Ô72, Ph.D. (Anthropology) Harvard Õ75. Physical Description (1/1/88) 6 ft. 3 ins., 179 pounds, dark eyes and hair, no dis. scars. Affiliation Joined Cambridge chapel 4/11/71. Acolyte status conferred 7/17/73. É There followed a. list of the successive stages by which Lazarus had risen through the hierarchy, culminating with the simple entry, Death 2/9/90. That was all. It was a lean, spare record, not a word of elabo- ration, no appended commendations such as Kirby knew fes- tooned his own record, no documentation of LazarusÕs disagree- ment with Vorst. Nothing. It was the sort of record, Kirby thought uncomfortably, that anyone could have tapped out in five min- utes and inserted in the archives É yesterday. He prodded the memory banks, hoping to fish up some added detail about the arch-heretic. He found nothing. It was not really valid cause for suspicion; Lazarus had been dead for a long time, and probably the record-keeping had been sketchier in those early days. But it was upsetting, all the same. Kirby made his way out of the building. Acolytes stared at him as though Vorst himself had gone striding by. No doubt some of them felt the temptation to drop to their knees before him. I/ they only knew, Kirby thought darkly, how ignorant I am. After seventy-five years with Vorst. If they only knew. --------------------------------------- 178 178 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 179 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 179179 seven The glass vault of David Lazarus, transported intact at consid- erable expense from Mars, rested in the center of the operating room, under the watchful eyes of the video cameras mounted in the walls and ceiling. A carefully planted forest of equipment surrounded the vault: polygraphs, compressors, centrifuges, surgistats, scanners, enzyme calibrators, laser scalpels, retrac- tors, impacters, thorax rods, cerebral tacks, a heart-and-lung bypass, kidney surrogates, mortmains, biopticons, elsevirs, a Helium II pressure generator, and a monstrous, glowering cry- ostat. The display was impressive, and it was meant to be. Vorster science was on display here, and every awesome-looking super- fluity in the place had its part in the orchestration of the effects. Vorst himself was not present. That too, was part of the or- chestration. He and Kirby were watching the event from VorstÕs office. The highest-ranking member of the Brotherhood present was plump, cheerful Capodimonte, a District Supervisor. Beside him stood Christopher Mondschein of the Harmonists. Mondschein and Capodimonte had known each other briefly during MondscheinÕs short, spectacularly unsuccessful career as a Santa Fe acolyte in 2095. Now, though, the Harmonist was a terrifying figure, his changed body concealed by a breathing- suit but still nightmarish and grotesque. A native-born Venu- sian, looking even more bizarre, clung to Mondschein like a skin graft. The visiting Harmonists seemed tense and grim. The tele- vision commentator said, ÒItÕs already been determined that the atmosphere of the vault is a mixture of inert gases, mainly ar- gon. Lazarus himself is in a nutrient bath. Espers have detected signs of life. The tumblers of the vault lock were opened yester- day in the presence of the delegation of Venusian Harmonists. Now the inerts are being piped out, and soon the sensitive in- struments of the surgeons will reach the sleeping man and be- gin the infinitely complex process of restoring the life-impulses.Ó --------------------------------------- 180 180 To Open the Sky Vorst laughed. Kirby said, ÒIsnÕt that whatÕll happen?Ó ÒMore or less. Exept the manÕs as alive as heÕll ever be, right now. All they need to do is open the vault and yank him out.Ó ÒThat wouldnÕt be very dramatic.Ó ÒProbably not,Ó the Founder agreed. Vorst folded his hands across his belly, feeling the artificials throbbing mildly inside. The commentator reeled off acres of descriptive prose. The spi- dery array of instruments surrounding the vault was in motion now, arms and tendrils waving like the limbs of some being of many bodies. Vorst kept his eyes on the altered face of Christo- pher Mondschein. He hadnÕt really believed that Mondschein would return to Santa Fe. An admirable person, the old man thought. He had borne adversity well, considering how he had been bamboozled into his lifeÕs career almost sixty years ago. ÒThe vaultÕs open,Ó Kirby said. ÒSo I observe. Now watch the mummy of King Tut rise and walk.Ó ÒYouÕre very lighthearted about this, Noel.Ó ÒMmmm,Ó the Founder said. A smile ffickered on his thin lips for a moment He made minute adjustments to his hormone flow. On the screen the vault opening was almost completely obscured by the instruments that had dived into the chamber to embrace the sleeper. Suddenly there was faint motion in the vault Lazarus stirred! The martyr returned! ÒTime for my grand entrance,Ó Vorst murmured. All was arranged. A glistening tunnel transported him swiftly to the operating room. Kirby did not follow. The FounderÕs chair rolled serenely into the room just as the figure of David Lazarus groped its way out of sixty years of sleep and rose to a sitting position. A quivering hand pointed. A rusty voice strained for coher- ence. --------------------------------------- 181 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 181181 ÒV-V-Vorst!Ó Lazarus gasped. The Founder smiled benevolently, lifted his fleshless arm in greeting and blessing. Delicately, an unseen hand slipped a con- trol rod and the Blue Fire flickered along the walls of the room to provide the proper theatrical touch. Christopher Mondschein, his altered face impassive behind his breathing-mask, clenched his fists angrily as the glow enveloped him. Vorst said, ÒAnd there is light, before and beyond our vision, for which we give thanks. ÒAnd there is heat, for which we are humble. ÒAnd there is power, for which we count ourselves blessedÉ. ÒWelcome to life, David Lazarus. In the strength of the spec- trum, the quantum, and the holy angstrom, peace, and forgive those who did evil to you!Ó Lazarus stood. His hands found and grasped the rim of his vault. Inconceivable emotions distorted his face. He muttered, ÒIÑIÕve slept.Ó ÒSixty years, David. And those who rebuked me and followed you have grown strong. See? See the green robes? Venus is yours. You head a mighty army. Go to them, David. Give them counsel. I restore you to them. You are my gift to your followers. And he that was dead came forthÉloose him, and let him go.Ó Lazarns did not reply. Mondschein stood agape, leaning heavily on the Venusian at his side. Kirby, watching the screen, felt a tingle of awe that washed away his skepticism for the moment. Even the chatter of the television commentator was stilled by the miracle. The glow of the Blue Fire engulfed all, rising higher and higher, like the flames of the Twilight reaching toward Valhalla. And in the midst of it all stood Noel Vorst, the Founder, the First Immor- tal, serene and radiant, his ancient body erect, his eyes gleaming, his hands outstretched to the man who had been dead. All that was missing was the chorus of ten thousand, singing the Hymn of the Wavelengths while a cosmic organ throbbed a paean of joy. --------------------------------------- 182 182 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 183 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 183183 eight And Lazarus lived, and walked among his people again, hold- ing converse with them. And Lazarus was greatly surprised. He had sleptÑfor a moment, for the twinkling of an eye. Now sinister blue figures surrounded himÑ Venusians, hooded like demons against the poisonous air of EarthÑand hailed him as their prophet. All about rose VorstÕs metropolis, dazzling buildings that testified to the present might of the Brotherhood of the Immanent Radiance. The chubby VenusianÑMondschein, was it?Ñpressed a book into LazarusÕs hands. ÒThe Book of Lazarus,Ó he said. ÒThe ac- count of your life and work.Ó ÒAnd death?Ó ÒYes, your death.Ó ÒYouÕll need a new edition now,Ó Lazarus said. He smiled, but he was alone in his mirth. He felt strong. How had muscles failed to degenerate in his long sleep? How was it that he could rise and go among men, and make vocal cords obey him, and his body withstand the strain of life? He was alone with his followers. In a few days they would take him back to Venus with them, where he would have to live in a self-contained environment. Vorst had offered to transform him into a Venusian, but Lazarus, stunned that such things were pos- sible at all, was not sure that he cared to become a gilled crea- ture. He needed time to ponder all this. The world he had so unexpectedly re-entered was very different from the one he had left. Sixty-odd years. Vorst had taken over the whole planet now, it seemed. That was the direction he had been heading in back in the Eighties, when Lazarus had begun to disagree with him. Vorst had begun with a religio-scientific movement when Lazarus had --------------------------------------- 184 184 To Open the Sky joined it. Hocus-pocus with cobalt reactors, a litany of spectrum and electron, plenty of larded-on spiritualism, but at the bottom a bluntly materialistic creed whose chief come-on was the prom- ise of long (or eternal) life. Lazarus had gone for that. But soon, feeling his strength, Vorst had begun to slide men into parlia- ments, take over banks, utilities, hospitals, insurance compa- nies. Lazarus had opposed all that. Vorst had been accessible then, and Lazarus remembered arguing with him against this devia- tion into finance and power politics. And Vorst had said, ÒThe plan calls for it.Ó ÒItÕs a perversion of our religious motives.Ó ÒItÕll get us where we want to go.Ó Lazarus had disagreed. Quietly, gathering a few supporters, he had established a rival group, while still nominally retaining his loyalty to Vorst. His apprenticeship with Vorst made him an expert on founding a faith. He proclaimed the reign of eternal harmony, gave his people green robes, symbols, reformist fer- vor, prayers, a developing liturgy. He could not say that his move- ment had become particularly powerful beside the Vorst ma- chine, but at least it was a leading heresy, attracting hundreds of new followers each month. Lazarus had been looking toward a missionary movement, knowing that his ideas had a better chance of taking root on Venus and perhaps Mars than VorstÕs. And on a day in 2090 men in blue robes came to him and took him away, blanking out his guard of espers and stealing him as easily as though he had been a lump of lead. After that he knew no more, until his awakening in Santa Fe. They told him that the year was 2152 and that Venus was in the hands of his people. Mondschein said, Òwill you let yourself be changed?Ó ÒIÕm not sure yet. IÕm considering it.Ó ÒItÕll be difficult for you to function on Venus unless you let them adapt you.Ó ÒPerhaps I could stay on Earth,Ó Lazarus suggested. --------------------------------------- 185 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 185185 ÒImpossible. You have no power base here. VorstÕs generosity will stretch only so far. He wonÕt let you remain here after the excitement of your return dies down.Ó ÒYouÕre right.Ó Lazarus sighed. ÒIÕll let myself be changed, then. IÕll come to Venus and see what youÕve accomplished.Ó ÒYouÕll be pleasantly surprised,Ó Mondschein promised. Lazarus had already been sufficiently surprised for one incar- nation. They left him, and he studied the scriptures of his faith, fascinated by the martyrÕs role they had written for him. A book of Harmonist history told Lazarus his own value: where the BrotherhoodÕs religious emotions crystallized around the remote, forbidding figure of Vorst, the Harmonists could safely revere their gentle martyr. How awkward it must be for them that IÕm back, Lazarus thought. Vorst did not come to him while he rested in the BrotherhoodÕs hospital. A man named Kirby came, though, frosty-faced with age and said he was the Hemispheric Coordinator and VorstÕs closest collaborator. ÒI joined the Brotherhood before your disappearance,Ó Kirby said. ÒDid you ever hear of me?Ó ÒI donÕt believe so.Ó ÒI was only an underling,Ó Kirby said. ÒI suppose you wouldnÕt have had reason to hear of me. But I hoped your memory would be clear, if we ever had met. IÕve got all these intervening years to cope with, but you can look back across a clean slate.Ó ÒMy memoryÕs fine,Ó Lazarus said evenly. ÒIÕve got no recol- lection of you.Ó ÒNor I of you.Ó The resuscitated man shrugged. ÒI worked beside Vorst. I had disputes with him. That much is beyond question. Eventually I split with him. I founded the Harmonists. Then IÑdisappeared. And here I am. Do you have trouble be- lieving in me?Ó ÒPerhaps IÕve been tampered with,Ó Kirby said. ÒI wish I re- --------------------------------------- 186 186 To Open the Sky membered you.Ó Lazarus lay back. He stared at the green, rubbery walls. The instruments monitoring his life-processes whirred and t clicked. There was an acrid odor in the air: asepsis at work. Kirby looked unreal. Lazarus wondered what sort of maze of pumps and trestles held him together beneath his thick, warm blue robe. Kirby said, ÒYou understand that you canÕt remain on Earth, donÕt you?Ó ÒOf course.Ó ÒLife will be uncomfortable for you on Venus unless youÕre changed. WeÕll do it for you. Your own men can supervise the operation. IÕve talked to Mondschein about it. Are you interested?Ó ÒYes,Ó Lazarus said. ÒChange me.Ó They came the next day to turn him into a Venusian. He re- sented the public nature of the operation, but it was idle to pre- tend that his life was his own any more, anyway. It would take several weeks, they said, to effect the transformation. Once it had taken months to do it. They would equip him with gills, fit him out to breathe the poisonous muck that was the atmosphere of Venus, and turn him loose. Lazarus submitted. They carved him, and put him back together again, and readied him for ship- ment. Vorst came to him, feathery-voiced and shrunken, but still a commanding figure, and said, ÒYou must realize I had no part in your kidnapping. It was totally unauthorizedÑthe work of zeal- ots.Ó ÒOf course.Ó ÒI appreciate diversity of opinion. My way is not necessarily the only right way. IÕve felt the lack of a dialogue with Venus for many years. Once youÕre installedÑthere, I trust youÕll be will- ing to communicate with me.Ó Lazarus said, ÒI wonÕt close my mind against you, Vorst. YouÕve given me life. IÕll listen to what you have to say. ThereÕs no rea- son why we canÕt cooperate, so long as we respect each otherÕs --------------------------------------- 187 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 187187 sphere of interests.Ó ÒExactly! Our goal is the same, after all. We can join forces.Ó ÒWarily,Ó Lazarus said. ÒWarily, yes. But wholeheartedly.Ó Vorst smiled and departed. The surgeons completed their work. Lazarus, now alien to Earth, journeyed to Venus with Mondschein and the rest of the Harmonist retinue. It was in the nature of a triumphant home- coming, if one can be said to come home to a place where one has never been before. Green-robed brethren with bluish-purple skins greeted him. Lazarus saw the Harmonist shrines, the holy ikons of his order. They had carried the spiritualistic element further than he had ever visualized, practically deifying him, but Lazarus did not in- tend to correct that. He knew how precarious his position was. There were men of entrenched power in his organization who secretly might not welcome a prophetÕs return, and who might give him a second martyrdom if he challenged their vested in- terests. Lazarus moved warily. ÒWe have made great progress with the espers,Ó Mondschein told him. ÒWeÕre considerably ahead of VorstÕs work in that line, so far as we know.Ó ÒDo you have telekinesis yet?Ó ÒFor twenty years WeÕre building the power steadily. Another generationÑÓ ÒIÕd like a demonstration.Ó ÒWe have one planned,Ó Mondschein said. They showed him what they could do. To reach into a block of wood and set its molecules dancing in flameÑto move a boul- der through the skyÑto whisk themselves from place to placeÑ yes, it was impressive, it defied comprehension. It certainly must be beyond the abilities of the Brotherhood on Earth. The Venusian espers cavorted for Lazarus, hour after hour. Mondschein, sedate and complacent, gleamed with satisfaction, spoke of thresholds, levitation, telekinetic impetus, fulcrums of --------------------------------------- 188 188 To Open the Sky unity, and other matters that left Lazarus baffled but encour- aged. He who had returned pointed to the gray band of clouds that hid the heavens. ÒHow soon?Ó Lazarus asked. ÒWeÕre not ready for interstellar transport yet,Ó Mondschein replied. ÒNot even interplanetary, though in theory one shouldnÕt be any harder than the other. WeÕre working on it. Give us time. WeÕll succeed.Ó ÒCan we do it without VorstÕs help?Ó Lazarus asked. MondscheinÕs complacence was punctured. ÒWhat kind of help can he give us? IÕve told you, weÕre a generation ahead of his espers.Ó ÒAnd will espers be enough? Perhaps he can supply what weÕre missing. A joint ventureÑHarmonists and Vorsters collaborat- ingÑdonÕt you think the possibilities are worth exploring, Brother Christopher?Ó Mondschein smiled blandly. ÒWhy, yes, yes, of course. Cer- tainly theyÕre worth exploring. ItÕs an approach we hadnÕt con- sidered. I admit, but you give us a fresh insight into our prob- lems. IÕd like to discuss the matter with you further, after youÕve had a chance to settle down here.Ó Lazarus accepted MondscheinÕs flow of words graciously. He had not, though, been away so long that he had forgotten how to read the meanings behind the meanings. He knew when he was being humored. --------------------------------------- 189 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 189189 nine At Santa Fe, with the unaccustomed invasion of Harmonists at its end, things returned to normal. Lazarus was come forth and loose upon the worlds, and the television men had retreated, and work went on. The tests, the experiments, the probing of the mysteries of life and mindÑthe ceaseless tasks of the Vorster inner movement. Kirby said, ÒWas there ever really a David Lazarus, Noel?Ó Vorst glowered up at him out of a thermoplastic cocoon. Hardly had the surgeons finished with Lazarus than they had gone to work on the Founder, who was suffering from an aneurysm in a twice-reconstituted blood vessel. Sensors had nailed the spot, subcutaneous scoops had exposed it, microtapes had been slammed into place, a network of thread and looping polymers replacing the dangerous bubble. Vorst was no stranger to such surgery. He said, ÒYou saw Lazarus with your own eyes, Kirby.Ó ÒI saw something come out of that vault and stand up and talk rationally. I had conversations with it. I watched it get turned into a Venusian. That doesnÕt mean it was real. You could build a Lazarus, couldnÕt you, Noel?Ó ÒIf I wanted to. But why would I want to?Ó ÒThatÕs obvious. To get control of the Harmonists.Ó ÒIf I had designs against the Harmonists,Ó Vorst explained pa- tiently, ÒI would have blotted them out fifty years ago, before they took Venus. TheyÕre all right. That young man, MondscheinÑheÕs developed nicely.Ó ÒHe isnÕt young, Noel. HeÕs at least eighty.Ó ÒA child.Ó ÒWill you tell me whether Lazarus is genuine?Ó VorstÕs eyes fluttered in irritation. ÒHeÕs genuine, Kirby. Satis- fied?Ó ÒWho put him in that vault?Ó --------------------------------------- 190 190 To Open the Sky ÒHis own followers, I suppose.Ó ÒWho then forgot all about it?Ó ÒWell, perhaps my men did it. Without authorization. Without telling me. It happened a long time ago.Ó VorstÕs hands moved in quick, agitated gestures. ÒHow can I remember everything? He was found. We brought him back to life. I gave him to them. YouÕre annoying me, Kirby.Ó Kirby realized that he was treading a field salted with mines. He had pushed Vorst as far as Vorst could be pushed, and any- thing further would be disastrous. Kirby had seen other men presume too deeply on their closeness to Vorst, and he had seen that closeness imperceptibly withdrawn. ÒIÕm sorry,Ó Kirby said. VorstÕs displeasure vanished. ÒYou overrate my deviousness, Kirby. Stop worrying about LazarusÕs past. Simply consider the future. IÕve given him to the Harmonists. HeÕll be valuable to them, whether they think so now or not. TheyÕre indebted to me. IÕve planted a good, heavy obligation on them. DonÕt you think thatÕs useful? They owe me something now. When the right time comes, IÕll cash that in.Ó Kirby remained mute. He sensed that somehow Vorst had al- tered the balance of power between the two cults, that the Harmonists, who had been on a rising curve ever since gaining possession of Venus and its rich lode of capers, had been brought to heel. But he did not know how it had been accomplished, and he did not care to try again to learn. Vorst was using his communicator. He looked up at Kirby. ÒTheyÕve got another burnoutÓ he said. ÒI want to be there. Come with me, yes?Ó ÒOf course,Ó Kirby said. He accompanied the Founder through the maze of tubes. They emerged in the burnout ward. An esper lay dying, a boy this time, perhaps Hawaiian, his body jerking as though he were skewered on cords. --------------------------------------- 191 Lazarus Come Forth 2152 191191 Vorst said, ÒA pity youÕve got no esping, Kirby. YouÕd see a glimpse of tomorrow.Ó ÒIÕm too old to regret it now,Ó Kirby said. Vorst rolled forward and gestured to a waiting caper. The link was made. Kirby watched. What was Vorst experiencing now? The FounderÕs lips were moving, almost writhing in a kind of sneer, pulling back from the gums with each twitch of the esperÕs body. The boy was shuttling along the time-track, so they said. To Kirby that meant nothing. And Vorst, somehow, was shuttling with him, seeing a clouded view of the world on the other side of the wall of time. NowÑnowÑbackÑforthÑ For a moment it seemed to Kirby that he, too, had joined the linkup and was riding the time-track as the esperÕs other pas- senger. Was that the chaos of yesterday? And the golden glow of tomorrow? NowÑnowÑdamn you, you old schemer, what have you done to me?ÑLazarus, rising above all else, Lazarus who wasnÕt even real, only some android stew cooked up in an un- derground laboratory at VorstÕs command, a useful puppet, Kirby thought, Lazarus had grasped tomorrow and was stealing itÑ The contact broke. The esper was dead. ÒWeÕve wasted another one,Ó Vorst muttered. The Founder looked at Kirby. ÒAre you sick?Ó he asked. ÒNo. Tired.Ó ÒGet some rest. Six history spools and climb into a relaxer tank. We can ease up now. Lazarus is off our hands.Ó Kirby nodded. Someone drew a sheet over the dead esperÕs body. In an hour the boyÕs neurons would be in refrigeration somewhere in an adjoining building. Slowly, walking as if eight centuries and not just one weighed upon him, Kirby followed Vorst from the room. Night had fallen, and the stars over New Mexico had their peculiar hard brightness, and Venus, low against the mountainous horizon, was the brightest of all. They had their Lazarus, up there. They had lost a martyr and had --------------------------------------- 192 192 To Open the Sky gained a prophet. And, Kirby was beginning to realize, the whole tribe of heretics had been swept neatly into VorstÕs pocket. The old man was damnable. Kirby huddled down into his robe and kept pace, with an effort, as Vorst wheeled himself toward his office. His head ached from that brief, unfathomable contact with the esper. But in ten minutes it was better. He thought of going to a chapel to pray. But what was the use? Why kneel before the Blue Fire? He need only go to Vorst for a blessingÑVorst, his mentor for almost eight decades. Vorst, who could make him feel still like a child, Vorst, who had brought Lazarus forth from the dead. --------------------------------------- 193 193 Five To Open the Sky 2164 one The surgical amphitheater was a chilly horseshoe lit by a pale violet glow. At the north end, windows on the level of the second gallery admitted frosty New Mexico sun-light. From where he sat, overlooking the operating table, Noel Vorst could see the bluish mountains in the middle distance beyond the confines of the research center. The mountains did not interest him. Nei- ther did what was taking place on the operating table. But he kept his lack of interest to himself. Vorst had not needed to attend the operation in person, of course. He knew already that a successful outcome was improb- able, and so did everyone else. But the Founder was 144 years old, and thought it useful to appear in public as often as his strength could sustain the effort, it did not do to have people think he had lapsed into senility. Down below, the surgeons were clustered about a bare brain. Vorst had watched them lift the dome of a skull and thrust their scalpels of light deep into the wrinkled gray mass. There were ten billion neurons in that block of tissue, and an infinity of ax- onal terminals and dendritic receptors. The surgeons hoped to rearrange the synaptic nets of that brain, altering the protein- molecular switchgear to render the patient more useful to VorstÕs plan. Folly, the old man thought. He hid his pessimism and sat qui- etly, listening to the pulsing of the blood in his own glossy artifi- --------------------------------------- 194 194 To Open the Sky cial arteries. What they were doing down there was remarkable, of course. Summoning all the resources of modem microsurgery, the lead- ing men of the Noel Vorst Center for the Biological Sciences were altering the protein-protein molecular recognition patterns within a human brain. Twist the circuits about a bit: change the transsynaptic structures to build a better link between pre- and postsynaptic membranes; shunt individual synaptic inputs from one dendritic tree to another; in short, reprogram the brain to make it capable of doing what Noel Vorst wanted it to be capable of doing. Which was to serve as the propulsive force needed to hurl a team of explorers across the gulf of light-years to another star. It was an extraordinary project. For some fifty years the sur- geons here at VorstÕs Santa Fe research center had prepared for it by meddling with the brains of cats and monkeys and dolphins. Now they had at last begun operating on human subjects. The patient on the table was a middle-grade esper, a precog with poor timebinding ability; his life expectancy was on the order of six months, and then a burnout could be anticipated. The precog knew all about that, which was why he had volunteered to be the subject. The most skilful surgeons in the world were at work on him. There were only two things wrong with the project, Vorst knew: It was not likely to succeed. And it was not at all necessary in the first place. You did not tell a group of dedicated men, however that their lifeÕs work was pointless. Besides, there was always the faint hope that they might artificially create a pusherÑa telekineticÑdown there. So Vorst dutifully attended the operation. The men on the amphitheater floor knew that the FounderÕs numinous presence was with them. Though they did not look up toward the gallery where Vorst sat, they knew the withered but still vigorous old man was smiling benignly down on them, cushioned against the --------------------------------------- 195 To Open the Sky 2164 195195 pull of Earth by the webfoam cradle that sheltered his ancient limbs. The lenses of his eyes were synthetic. The coils of his intes- tines had been fashioned from laboratory polymers. The stoutly pumping heart came from an organ bank. Little remained of the original Noel Vorst but the brain itself, which was intact though awash with the anticoagulants that preserved it from disabling strokes. ÒAre you comfortable, sir?Ó the pale young acolyte at his side asked. ÒPerfectly. Are you?Ó The acolyte smiled at VorstÕs little joke. He was only twenty years old, and full of pride because it was his turn to accompany the Founder on his daily round. Vorst liked young people about him. They were tremendously in awe of him, naturally, but they managed to be warm and respectful without canonizing him. Within his body there throbbed the contributions of many a young Vorster volunteer: a film of lung tissue from one, a retina from another, kidneys from a pair of twins. He was a patch-work man, who carded the flesh of his movement about with him. The surgeons were bending low over the exposed brain down there. Vorst could not see what they were doing. A pickup em- bedded in a surgical instrument relayed the scene to a lambent screen on the level of the viewing gallery, but even the enlarged image did not tell Vorst much. Baffled and bored, he retained his look of lively interest all the same. Quietly he pushed a communicator stud on his armrest and said, ÒIs Coordinator Kirby going to get here soon?Ó ÒHeÕs talking to Venus, sir.Ó ÒWhoÕs ho speaking to? Lazarus or Mondschein?Ó ÒMondschein, sir. IÕll tell him to come to you as soon as heÕs off.Ó Vorst smiled. Protocol suggested that such high-level negotia- tions be carried on at the administrative level, between the ex- --------------------------------------- 196 196 To Open the Sky ecutives and not between the prophets. So the second-in-com- mands were speaking: Hemispheric Coordinator Reynolds Kirby on behalf of the Vorsters of Earth, and Christopher Mondschein for the Harmonists who ran Venus. But in time it would be nec- essary to close the deal with a conference between those most closely in tune with the Eternal Oneness, and that would be the task of Vorst and Lazarus. Éto close the dealÉ A tremor pulled VorstÕs right hand into a sudden claw. The acolyte swung around attentively, ready to jab buttons until he had restored the FounderÕs metabolic equilibrium. Grimly Vorst compelled the hand to relax. ÒIÕm all right,Ó he insisted. Éto open the skyÉ They were so close to the end now that it had all begun to seem like a dream. A century of scheming, playing chess with unborn antagonists, rearing a fantastic edifice of theocracy on a single slender, arrogant hopeÑWas it madness, Vorst wondered, to wish to reshape the pattern of history? Was it monstrous, he asked himself, to succeed? On the oper- ating table, the patientÕs leg came swimming up out of a sea of swathing and kicked fitfully and convulsively at the air. The anesthetistÕs fingers played over his console, and the esper who was standing by for such an emergency went into silent action. There was a flurry of activity about the table. In that moment a tall, weathered-looking old man entered the gallery and presented himself to Vorst. ÒHowÕs the operation going?Ó Reynolds Kirby asked. ÒThe patient just died,Ó said Vorst. ÒThings seemed to be go- ing so well, too.Ó --------------------------------------- 197 To Open the Sky 2164 197197 two Kirby had not expected much from the operation. He had dis- cussed it fully with Vorst the day before; though he was no sci- entist himself, the Coordinator tried to keep abreast of the work being done at the research center. His own sphere of responsi- bility was administrative; it was KirbyÕs job to oversee the far- flung secular activities of the religious cult that virtually ruled the planet. It was almost ninety years since Kirby himself had been converted, and had watched the cult grow mighty. Political power, though it was useful to wield, was not sup- posed to be the BrotherhoodÕs goal. The essence of the move- ment was its scientific program, centering on the facilities at Santa Fe. Here, over the decades, an unsurpassable factory of miracles had been constructed, lubricated by the cash contribu- tions of billions of tithing Vorsters on every continent. And the miracles had been forthcoming. The regeneration processes now insured a predictable life span of three or four centuries for the newborn, perhaps more, for no one could be certain that im- mortality had been achieved until a few millennia of testing had elapsed. The Brotherhood could offer a reasonable facsimile of life eternal, at any rate, and that was a sufficient redemption of the promissory note on which the whole movement had been founded a hundred years before. The other goal, thoughÑthe starsÑhad given the Brotherhood a harder pursuit. Man was locked into his solar system by the limiting velocity of light. Chemical-fueled rockets and even ion- drive ships simply took too long to get about. Mars and Venus were within easy reach, but the cheerless outer planets were not, and the round trip to the nearest star would take a few de- cades by current technology, nine years even at the very best. So man had transformed Mars into a habitable world, and he had transformed himself into something capable of inhabiting Ve- nus. He mined the moons of Jupiter and Saturn, paid occasional --------------------------------------- 198 198 To Open the Sky visits to Pluto, and sent robots down to examine Mercury and the gas giants. And looked hopelessly to the stars. The laws of relativity governed the motions of real bodies through real space, but they did not necessarily apply to the events of the paranormal world. To Noel Vorst, it had seemed that the only route to the stars was the extrasensory one. So he had gathered espers of all varieties at Santa Fe, and for genera- tions now had carried on breeding programs and genetic ma- nipulations. The Brotherhood had spawned an interesting vari- ety of espers, but none with the talent of transporting physical bodies through space. While on Venus the telekinetic mutation had happened spontaneously, an ironic byproduct of the adapta- tion of human life to that world. Venus was beyond direct Vorster control. The Harmonists of Venus had the pushers that Vorst needed to reach into the gal- axy. They showed little interest, though, in collaborating with the Vorsters on an expedition. For weeks now Reynolds Kirby had been negotiating with his opposite number on Venus, at- tempting to bring about an agreement. Meanwhile the surgeons at Santa Fe had never given up their dream of creating pushers out of Earthmen, thus making the cooperation of the unpredictable Venusians unnecessary. The synaptic-rearrangement project, flowering at last, had come to the stage where a human subject would go under the beam. ÒIt wonÕt work,Ó Vorst had said to Kirby. ÒTheyÕre still fifty years away from anything.Ó ÒI donÕt understand it, Noel. The Venusians have the gene for telekinesis, donÕt they? Why canÕt we just duplicate it? Consider- ing all weÕve done with the nucleic acidsÑÓ Vorst smiled. ÒThereÕs no Ôgene for telekinesis,Õ as such, you know. ItÕs part of a constellation of genetic patterns. WeÕve been trying consciously to duplicate it for thirty years, and we arenÕt even close. WeÕve also been trying a random approach, since thatÕs how the Venusians got the ability. No luck there, either. --------------------------------------- 199 To Open the Sky 2164 199199 And then thereÕs this synapse business: alter the brain itself, not the genes. That may get us somewhere, eventually. But I canÕt wait another fifty years.Ó ÒYouÕll live that long, certainly.Ó ÒYes,Ó Vorst agreed, Òbut I still canÕt wait any longer. The Venusians have the men we need. ItÕs time to win them to our purposes.Ó Patienty Kirby had wooed the heretics. There were signs of progress in the negotiations now. In view of the failure of the operation, the need for an agreement with Venus was more ur- gent. ÒCome with me,Ó Vorst said, as the dead patient was wheeled away. ÒTheyÕre testing that gargoyle today, and I want to watch.Ó Kirby followed the Founder out of the amphitheater. Acolytes were close by in case of trouble. Vorst, these days, rarely tried to walk any more, and rolled along in his cradling net of webfoam. Kirby still preferred to use his feet, though he was nearly as an- cient as Vorst. The sight of the two of them promenading through the plazas of the research center always stirred attention. ÒYou arenÕt disturbed over the failure just now?Ó Kirby asked. ÒWhy should I be? I told you it was too soon for success.Ó ÒWhat about this gargoyle? Any hope?Ó ÒOur hope,Ó Vorst said quietly, Òis Venus. They already have the pushers.Ó ÒThen why keep trying to develop them here?Ó ÒMomentum. The Brotherhood hasnÕt slowed down in a hun- dred years. IÕm not closing any avenues now. Not even the hope- less ones. ItÕs all a matter of momentum.Ó Kirby shrugged. For all the power he held in the organiza- tionÑand his powers were immenseÑhe had never felt that he held any real initiative. The plans of the movement were gener- ated, as they had been from the first, by Noel Vorst. He and only he knew what game he was playing. And if Vorst died this after- noon, with the game unfinished? What would happen to the --------------------------------------- 200 200 To Open the Sky movement then? Run on its own momentum? To what end, Kirby wondered. They entered a squat, glittering little building of irradiated green foamglass. An awed hush preceded them: Vorst was com- ing! Men in blue robes came out to greet the Founder. They led him to the room in the rear where the gargoyle was kept. Kirby kept pace, ignoring the acolytes who were ready to catch him if he stumbled. The gargoyle was sitting enmeshed in lacy restraining ribbons. He was not a pretty sight. Thirteen years old, three feet tall, gro- tesquely deformed, deaf, crippled, his corneas clouded, his skin pebbled and granulated. A mutant, though not one produced by any laboratory; this was HurlerÕs Syndrome, a natural and con- genital error of metabolism, first identified scientifically two and a half centuries before. The unlucky parents had brought the hapless monster to a chapel of the Brotherhood in Stockholm, hoping that by bathing him in the Blue Fire of the cobalt reactor his defects would be cured. The defects had not been cured, but an esper at the chapel had detected latent talents in the gar- goyle, and so be was here to be probed and tested. Kirby felt a shiver of revulsion. ÒWhat causes such a thing?Ó he asked the medic at his elbow. ÒAbnormal genes. They produce metabolic error that results in an accumulation of mucopolysaccharides in the tissues of the body.Ó Kirby nodded solemnly. ÒAnd is there supposed to be a direct link with esping?Õ ÒOnly coincidental,Ó said the medic. Vorst had moved up to study the creature at close range. The FounderÕs eye-shutters clicked as he peered forward. The gar- goyle was humped and folded, virtually unable to move its limbs. The milky eyes held a look of pure misery. To the euthanasia heap with this one, Kirby thought. Yet Vorst hoped that such a monster would take him to the stars! --------------------------------------- 201 To Open the Sky 2164 201201 ÒBegin the examination,Ó Vorst murmured. A pair of espers came forward, general-purpose types: a slick young woman with frizzy hair, and a plump, sad-faced man. Kirby, whose own esping facilities were deficient to the point of nonex- istence, watched in silence as the wordless examination com- menced. What were they doing? What shafts were they aiming at the huddled creature before them? Kirby did not know, and he took comfort in the fact that Vorst probably did not know him- self. The Founder wasnÕt much of an esper, either. Ten minutes passed. Then the girl looked up and said, ÒLow- order pyrotic, mainly.Ó ÒHe can push molecules about?Ó Vorst said. ÒThen heÕs got a shred of telekinesis.Ó ÒOnly a shred,Ó the second esper said. ÒNothing that others donÕt have. Also low-order communication abilities. He sits there telling us to kill him.Ó ÒIÕd recommend dissection,Ó said the girl. ÒThe subject wouldnÕt mind.Ó Kirby shuddered. These two bland espers had peered within the mind of that crippled thing, and that in itself should have been enough to shrivel their souls. To see, for an empathic mo- ment, what it was like to be a thirteen-year-old human gargoyle, to look out upon the world through those clouded eyesÑ! But they were all business, these two. They had merged minds with monstrosities before. Vorst waved his hand. ÒKeep him for further study. Maybe he can be guided toward usefulness. If heÕs really a pyrotic, take the usual precautions.Ó The Founder whirled his chair around and started to leave the ward. At that same moment an acolyte came hurrying in, bear- ing a message. He froze at the unexpected sight of Vorst wheel- ing toward a collision with him. Vorst smiled paternally and guided himself around the boy, who went limp with relief. The acolyte said, ÒMessage for you, Coordinator Kirby.Ó --------------------------------------- 202 202 To Open the Sky Kirby took it and jammed his thumb against the seal. The en- velope popped open. The message was from Mondschein. ÒLazarus is ready to talk to Vorst,Ó it said. --------------------------------------- 203 To Open the Sky 2164 203203 three Vorst said, ÒI was insane, you know. For something like ten years. Later I discovered what the trouble was. I was suffering from time-float.Ó The pallid esper girlÕs eyes were very round as she gazed at him. They were alone in the FounderÕs personal quarters. She was thin, loose-limbed, thirty years old. Strands of black hair dangled like painted straw down the sides of her face. Her name was Delphine, and in all the months that she had served VorstÕs needs she had never become accustomed to his frankness. She had little chance to; when she left his office after each session, other espers erased her recollections of the visit. She said, ÒShall I turn myself on?Ó ÒNot yet, Delphine. Do you ever think of yourself as insane? In the difficult moments, the moments when you start ranging along the time-line and donÕt think youÕll ever get back to now?Ó ÒItÕs pretty scary sometimes.Ó ÒBut you get back. ThatÕs the miraculous thing. You know how many floaters IÕve seen burn out?Ó Vorst asked. ÒHundreds. IÕd have burned out myself, except that IÕm a lousy precog. Back then, though, I kept breaking loose, drifting along the time-line. I saw the whole Brotherhood spread out before me. Call it a vi- sion, call it a dream. I saw it, Delphine. Blurred around the edges.Ó ÒJust as you told it in your book?Ó ÒMore or less,Ó said the Founder. ÒThe years between 2055 and 2063Ñthose were the years I had the visions worst. When I was thirty-five, it started. I was just an ordinary technician, a nobody, and then I got what could be called divine inspiration, except all it was was a peek at my own future. I thought I was going crazy. Later I understood.Ó The esper was silent. Vorst shuttered his eyes. The memories glowed in him: after years of internal chaos and collapse he had come from the crucible of madness purified, aware of his pur- --------------------------------------- 204 204 To Open the Sky pose. He saw how he could reshape the world. More than that, he saw how he had reshaped the world. After that it was just a matter of making the beginning, of founding the first chapels, dreaming up the rituals of the cult, surrounding himself with the scientific talent necessary to realize his goals. Was there a touch of paranoia in his purpose, a bit of Hitler, a tinge of Napo- leon, a tincture of Genghis Khan? Perhaps. Vorst complacently viewed himself as a fanatic and even as a megalomaniac. But a cool, rational megalomanic, and a successful one. He had been willing to stop at nothing to gain his ends, and he was just enough of a precog to know that he was going to gain them. He said, ÒItÕs a big responsibility, setting out to transform the world. A man has to be a little daft to attempt it or even to think he can attempt it. But it helps to know what the outcome must be. One doesnÕt feel so idiotic, knowing that heÕs simply acting out the inevitable.Ó ÒIt takes the challenge out of life,Ó said the esper. ÒAh, Delphine, you touch the gaping wound! But youÕd know, of course. How dreary it is to be playing out your own script, aware of whatÕs ahead. At least IÕve had the mercy of uncertainty in the small things. I canÕt see very much myself, so I have to hitchhike with floaters like you, and the visions arenÕt clear. But you see clearly, donÕt you, Delphine? YouÕve been along your own world-line. Have you seen your own burnout yet, Delphine?Ó The esperÕs cheeks colored. She looked at the floor and did not answer. ÒIÕm sorry, Delphine,Ó Vorst said. ÒI had no right to ask that. I retract it. Turn on for me, Deiphine. Do your trick. Take me along. IÕve said too much today.Ó Shyly, the girl composed herself for her great effort. She had more control than most of her kind, Vorst knew. Whereas most of the precogs eventually slipped their moorings, Deiphine had clung to her powers and her life and had reached what was, for her kind of esper, a ripe old age. She would burn out, too, one --------------------------------------- 205 To Open the Sky 2164 205205 day, when she over-reached herself. But up to now she had been invaluable to Vorst, his crystal ball, the most helpful of all the floaters who had aided him in plotting his course. And if she could hold out just a while longer, until he saw his route past the final obstacles, the long journey would end and they both could rest. She released her grip on the present and moved into that realm where all moments are now. Vorst watched and waited and felt the girl taking him along as she began her time-shuttling. He could not initiate the journey himself, but he could follow. Mists enfolded him, and he swung dizzily along the line of time, as he had done so often before. He saw himself, here and here and here, and saw others, shadow- figures, dream-figures, lurking behind the curtains of time. Lazarus? Yes, Lazarus was there. Kirby, too. Mondschein. All of them, the pawns in the game. Vorst saw the glow of otherness and looked out upon a landscape that was neither Earth nor Mars nor Venus. He trembled. He looked up at a tree eight hundred feet high, with a corona of azure leaves against a foggy sky. Then he was ripped away, and hurled into the stinking confusion of a rain-spattered city street, and stood before one of his early chap- els. The building was on fire in the rain, and the smell of scorched wet wood assailed his nostrils. And then, smiling into the stunned, parched face of Reynolds Kirby. And thenÑ The sense of motion left him. He slipped back into his own matrix of time, making the adrenal adjustments that compen- sated for his exertions. The floater lay slumped in her chair, sweat-flecked, dazed. Vorst summoned an acolyte. ÒTake her to her ward,Ó he said. ÒHave them work on her until she comes back to her strength.Ó The acolyte nodded and lifted the girl. Vorst sat motionless until they were gone. He was satisfied with the session. It had confirmed his own intuitive ideas of his immediate direction, and that was always comforting. --------------------------------------- 206 206 To Open the Sky ÒSend me Capodimonte,Ó Vorst said into the communicator. The chubby blue-robed figure entered a few minutes later. When Vorst was in Santa Fe, one did not waste time in getting to his quarters after a summons. Capodimonte was the District Supervisor for the Santa Fe region, and was customarily in charge here except when such figures as Vorst or Kirby were in resi- dence. Capodimonte was stolid, loyal, useful. Vorst trusted him for delicate assignments. They exchanged quick, casual bene- dictions now. Then Vorst said, ÒCapo, how long would it take you to pick the personnel for an interstellar expedition?Ó ÒInterÑÓ ÒSay, for departure later this year. Run the specs off at Archives and get together a few possible teams.Ó Capodimonte had recovered his aplomb. ÒWhat size teams?Ó All sizes. From two persons to about a dozen. Start with an Adam-and-Eve pair, and work up to, say, six couples. Matched for health, adaptability, compatibility, skills, and fertility.Ó ÒEspers?Ó ÒWith caution. You can throw in a couple of empaths, a couple of healers. Stay away from the exotics, though. And remember that these people are supposed to be pioneers. TheyÕve got to be flexible. We can do without geniuses on this trip, Capo.Ó ÒYou want me to report to you or to Kirby when IÕve made the lists?Ó ÒTo me, Capo. I donÕt want you to utter a syllable about this to Kirby or anyone else. Just get in there and run off the groups as weÕve already programmed them. IÕm not sure what size expe- dition weÕll be sending, and I want to have a group ready thatÕll be self-sufficient at any levelÑtwo, four, eight, whatever it turns out to be. Take two or three days. When youÕve done that, put hail a dozen of your best men to work on the logistics of the trip. Assume an esper-powered capsule and go over the optimum designs. WeÕve had decades to plan it; we must have a whole --------------------------------------- 207 To Open the Sky 2164 207207 arsenal full of blueprints. Look them over. This is your baby, Capo.Ó ÒSir? One subversive question, please?Ó ÒAsk it.Ó ÒIs this a hypothetical exercise IÕm doing, or is this the real thing?Ó ÒI donÕt know,Ó said Vorst. --------------------------------------- 208 208 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 209 To Open the Sky 2164 209209 four The blue face of a Venusian looked out of the screen, alien and forbidding, but its owner had been born an Earthman, and the terrestrial heritage betrayed itself in the shape of the skull, the set of the lips, the thrust of the chin. The face was that of David Lazarus, founder and resurrected head of the cult of Tran- scendent Harmony. Vorst had conferred often with Lazarus in the twelve years since the arch-heresiarchÕs resurrection. And always the two prophets had allowed themselves the luxury of full visual contact. It was monumentally expensive to bounce not only voices but images down the chain of relay stations that led from Venus to Earth, but expense meant little to these men, Vorst insisted. He liked to see LazarusÕs transformed face as they spoke. It gave him something to focus on during the long, dull time-lags in their conversations. Even at the speed of light it took a while for a message to get from planet to planet. Even a simple exchange of views required more than an hour. Comfortable in his nest of webfoam, Vorst said, ÒI think itÕs time to unite our movements, David. We complement one an- other. ThereÕs nothing to gain from further division.Ó ÒThere might be something to lose by union,Ó said Lazarus. ÒWeÕre the younger branch. If you reabsorbed us, weÕd be swal- lowed up in your hierarchy.Ó ÒNot so. I guarantee you that your Harmonists will remain fully autonomous. More than that, IÕll guarantee you a dominant role in policy setting.Ó ÒWhat kind of guarantee can you offer?Ó ÒLet that pass a moment,Ó Vorst said. ÒIÕve got an interstellar team ready to go. TheyÕll be fully equipped in a matter of months. I mean fully equipped. TheyÕll be able to cope with anything they meet. But they have to have a way of getting out of the solar system. Give us a push, David. YouÕve got the personnel now. WeÕve monitored your experiments.Ó --------------------------------------- 210 210 To Open the Sky Lazarus nodded, his gill-bunches quivering. ÒI wonÕt deny what weÕve done. We can push a thousand tons from here to Pluto. We can keep the same mass going right to infinity.Ó ÒHow long to get to Pluto?Ó ÒFast. I wonÕt tell you exactly how fast. But letÕs just say the stars are in reach. Have been for the past eight or ten months. We could get a ship there inÑoh, letÕs call it a year. Of course, weÕd have no way of maintaining contact. We can push, but we canÕt talk across a dozen light-years. Can you?Ó ÒNo,Ó said Vorst. ÒThe expedition would be out of contact the moment it got past radio range. It would have to send back a conventional relay ship to announce its safe arrival. We wouldnÕt know for decades. But we have to try. Give us your men, David.Ó ÒYou realize it would burn out dozens of our most promising youngsters?Ó ÒI realize. Give us your men, anyway. We understand tech- niques for repairing burnouts. Let them push the ship to the stars, and when they drop in their tracks, weÕll try to fix them up again. ThatÕs what Santa Fe is for.Ó ÒFirst drive them to exhaustion, then patch them together?Ó Lazarus asked. ÒThatÕs ruthless. Are the stars that important? IÕd rather see these boys develop their powers here on Venus and remain intact.Ó ÒWe need them.Ó ÒSo do we?Õ Vorst made use of the interval to flood his body with stimu- lants. He was tingling, palpitating with vigor by the time his re- ply was due. He said, ÒDavid, I own you. I made you and I want you. I put you to sleep in 2090 when you were nothing, an up- start, and I brought you back to life in 2152 and gave you a world. You owe me everything. Now IÕm calling in that obligation. IÕve been waiting a hundred years to reach this position. You people finally have the espers who can send my people to the stars. Whatever the personal cost at your end, I want you to send them.Ó --------------------------------------- 211 To Open the Sky 2164 211211 The strain of that speech left Vorst dizzy with fatigue. But he had time to recover. Time to think, to wait for the reply. He had made his gamble, and now it was up to Lazarus. Vorst did not have many cards left to play. The blue-faced figure in the screen was motionless; VorstÕs words had not even reached Venus yet. LazarusÕs reply was a long time in coming. He said, ÒI didnÕt think youÕd be so blunt, Vorst. Why should I be grateful to you for reviving me, when you jammed me into that hole in the first place? Oh, I know. Because my movement was insignificant when you took me away from it and a major force when you brought me back. Do you take credit for that too?Ó A pause. ÒNever mind. I donÕt want to give you my espers. Breed your own, if you want to get to the stars.Ó ÒYouÕre talking foolishness. You want the stars, too, David. But you donÕt have the technical facilities, up there in the backwoods, to equip an expedition. I do. LetÕs join forces. ItÕs what you your- self want to do, no matter how tough you talk now. Let me tell you whatÕs holding you back from agreeing to join me, David. YouÕre afraid of what your own people will do to you when they find out youÕve agreed to cooperate. TheyÕll say youÕve sold out to the Vorsters. YouÕre frozen in a position you donÕt believe, just because you donÕt have real independence. Assert yourself, David. Use your powers. I put that planet into your hands. Now I want you to repay me.Ó ÒHow can I go to Mondschein and Martell and the others and tell them that IÕve meekly agreed to submit to you?Ó Lazarus asked. ÒTheyÕre restless enough at having had a resurrected martyr slapped down on top of them. There are times when I expect them to martyr me again, and this time for good. I need a bargaining point.Ó Vorst smiled. Victory was in his grasp now. He said, ÒTell them, David. that I offer you supreme authority over both worlds. Tell them that the Brotherhood not only will welcome the Harmonists --------------------------------------- 212 212 To Open the Sky back, but that youÕll be made the sole head of both branches of the faith.Ó ÒBoth?Ó ÒBoth.Ó ÒAnd what becomes of you?Ó Vorst told him. And once the words were past his lips, the Founder sank back, limp with relief, knowing that he had made the final move in a game a century old, and that it had all come out in the right way. --------------------------------------- 213 To Open the Sky 2164 213213 five Reynolds Kirby was with his therapist when the summons came to go to Vorst. The Hemispheric Coordinator lay in a nutrient bath, an adapted Nothing Chamber whose purpose was not oblivion but revivification. If Kirby had chosen to escape into temporary nothingness, he could have sealed himself off from the universe and entered complete suspension. He had long since outgrown the need for such amusements, though. Now he was content to loll in the nutrient bath, restoring the vital substances after a fatiguing day, while an esper therapist combed the snags from his soul. Ordinarily, Kirby did not tolerate interruptions of such ses- sions. At his age he needed all the peace he could get. He had been born too early to share the quasi-immortality of the younger generations; his body could not snap back to vitality the way a twenty-second-century manÕs body could, for he had not had the benefit of a century of Vorster research when he was born. There was one exception to KirbyÕs rule, however: a summons from Vorst took precedence over everything, even a session of needed therapy. The therapist knew it. Deftly he brought the session to a pre- mature close and fortified Kirby for his return to the tensions of the world. In less than half an hour the Coordinator was on his way to the white dome-roofed building where Vorst made his headquarters. Vorst looked shaky. Kirby had never seen the Founder look so drained of strength. The vault of VorstÕs forehead was like the roof of a skull, and the dark eyes blazed with a peculiarly dis- comfiting intensity. A low pumping sound was evident in the room: VorstÕs machinery, feeding strength to the ancient body. Kirby took the seat toward which Vorst beckoned him. Strong fingers in the upholstery grasped him and began to knead the --------------------------------------- 214 214 To Open the Sky tension out of him. Vorst said, ÒIÕll be calling a council meeting in a little while to ratify the steps IÕve just taken. But before the entire group gath- ers. I want to discuss things with you, run them through once or twice.Ó KirbyÕs expression was guarded. After decades with Vorst, he could supply an instant translation: IÕve done something authori- tarian, Vorst was saying, and IÕm going to call in everybody to rubber-stamp an okay on it, but first IÕm going to force a rubber- stamping out of you. Kirby was prepared to acquiesce in what- ever Vorst had done. He was not a weak man by nature, but one did not dispute the doings of Vorst. The last one who had seri- ously attempted to try was Lazarus, who had slept in a box on Mars for sixty years as a result. Into KirbyÕs wary silence Vorst murmured, ÒIÕve talked to Lazarus and closed the deal. HeÕs agreed to supply us with push- ers, as many as we need. ItÕs possible weÕll have an interstellar expedition on its way by the end of the year.Ó ÒI feel a little numb at that, Noel.Ó ÒAnticlimactic, isnÕt it? For a hundred years you move an inch at a time toward that goal, and suddenly you find yourself star- ing at the finish line, and the thrill of pursuit becomes the bore- dom of accomplishment.Ó ÒWe havenÕt landed that expedition on another solar system yet,Ó Kirby reminded the Founder quietly. ÒWe will We will. ThatÕs beyond doubt. WeÕre at the finish line now. CapodimonteÕs already running personnel checks for the expedition. WeÕll be outfitting the capsule soon. LazarusÕs bunch will cooperate, and off weÕll go. That much is certain.Ó ÒHow did you get him to agree, Noel?Ó ÒBy showing him how it will be after the expedition has set out. Tell me, have you given much thought to the goals of the Brotherhood once weÕve sent that first expedition?Ó Kirby hesitated. ÒWellÑsending more expeditions, I guess. And --------------------------------------- 215 To Open the Sky 2164 215215 consolidating our position. Continuing the medical research. Carrying on with all our current work.Ó ÒExactly. A long smooth slide toward utopia. No longer an up- hill climb. ThatÕs why I wonÕt stay around to run things any longer.Ó ÒWhat?Ó ÒIÕm going on the expedition,Ó Vorst said. If Vorst had ripped off one of his limbs and clubbed him to the floor with it, Kirby would not have been more amazed. The FounderÕs words hit him with an almost physical jolt, making him recoil. Kirby seized the arms of his chair, and in response the chair seized him, cradling him gently until his spasm of shock abated. ÒYouÕre going?Ó Kirby blurted. ÒNo. No. ItÕs beyond belief, Noel. ItÕs madness.Ó ÒMy mindÕs made up. My work on Earth is done. IÕve guided the Brotherhood for a century, and thatÕs long enough. IÕve seen it take control of Earth, and by proxy I have Venus, too, and I have the cooperation if not exactly the support of the Martians. IÕve done all IÕve intended to do here. With the departure of the first interstellar expedition, I will have fulfilled what IÕll be so gaudy as to call my mission on Earth. ItÕs time to be moving along. IÕll try another solar system.Ó ÒWe wonÕt let you go,Ó Kirby said, astounded by his own words. ÒYou canÕt go! At your ageÑto get aboard a capsule bound forÑ Ó ÒIf I donÕt go,Ó said Vorst, Òthere will be no capsule bound for anywhere.Ó ÒDonÕt talk that way, Noel. You sound like a spoiled child threat- ening to call the party off if we donÕt play the game your way. There are others bound up in the Brotherhood, too.Ó To KirbyÕs surprise, Vorst looked merely amused at the harsh accusation. ÒI think youÕre misinterpreting my words,Ó he said. ÒI donÕt mean to say that unless I go along, IÕll halt the expedi- --------------------------------------- 216 216 To Open the Sky tion. I mean that the use of LazarusÕs espers is contingent on my leaving. If IÕm not aboard that capsule, he wonÕt lend his push- ers.Ó For the second time in ten Mondschein Kirby was rocked by amazement. This time there was pain, too, for he was aware that there had been a betrayal. ÒIs that the deal you made, Noel?Ó ÒIt was a fair price to pay. A shift of power is long overdue. I step out of the picture; Lazarus becomes supreme head of the movement; you can be his vicar on Earth. We get the espers. We open the sky. It works well for everybody concerned.Ó ÒNo, Noel.Ó ÒIÕm weary of being here. I want to leave. Lazarus wants me to leave, too. IÕm too big, I overtop the entire movement. ItÕs time for mortals to move in. You and Lazarus can divide the author- ity. HeÕll have the spiritual supremacy, but youÕll run Earth. The two of you will work out some kind of communicant relation between the Harmonists and the Brotherhood. It wonÕt be too hard; the rituals are similar enough. Ten years and any linger- ing bitterness will be gone. And IÕll be a dozen light-years away, safely out of your path, unable to meddle, living in retirement. Out to pasture on World XI of System Y. Yes?Ó ÒI donÕt believe any of this, Noel. That youÕd abdicate after a century, go swooshing off to nowhere with a bunch of pioneers, live in a log cabin on an unknown planet at the age of nearly a hundred and fifty, drop the reinsÑÓ ÒStart believing it,Ó said Vorst. For the first time in the conver- sation the old whiplash tone returned to his voice. ÒIÕm going. ItÕs decided. In a sense, I have gone.Ó ÒWhat does that mean?Ó ÒYou know IÕm a very low-order floater. That I plan things by hitchhiking with precogs.Ó ÒYesÓ ÒIÕve seen the outcome. I know how it was, and so I know how --------------------------------------- 217 To Open the Sky 2164 217217 itÕs going to be. I leave. IÕve followed the plan this farÑfollowed and led, all in one, heels over head through time. Everything IÕve done IÕve had a hint of beforehand. From founding the Broth- erhood right to this moment. So itÕs settled. I go.Ó Kirby closed his eyes. He struggled for balance. Vorst said, ÒLook back on the path IÕve traveled. Was there a false step anywhere? The Brotherhood prospered. It took Earth. When we were strong enough to afford a schism, I encouraged the Harmonist heresy.Ó ÒYou encouragedÑÓ ÒI chose Lazarus for what he had to do and filled him full of ideas. He was just an insignificant acolyte, clay in my hands. ThatÕs why you never knew him in the early days. But he was there. I took him. I molded him. I got his movement going in opposition to ours.Ó ÒWhy, Noel?Ó ÒIt didnÕt pay to be monolithic. I was hedging my bets. The Brotherhood was designed to win Earth, and it did, but the same principles didnÕtÑcouldnÕtÑappeal to Venus, So I started a sec- ond cult. I tailored that one for Venus and gave them Lazarus. Later I gave them Mondschein, too. Do you remember that, in 2095? He was only a greedy little acolyte, but I saw the strength in him, and I nudged him around until he found himself a changed one on Venus. I built that entire organization.Ó ÒAnd you knew that theyÕd come up with pushers?Ó Kirby asked incredulously. ÒI didnÕt know. I hoped. All I knew was that setting up the Harmonists was a good idea, because I saw that it had been a good idea. Follow? For the same reason I took Lazarus away and hid him in a crypt for sixty years. I didnÕt know why at the time. But I knew it might be useful to keep the Harmonist martyr in my pocket for a while, as a card to play in the future. I played that card twelve years ago, and since then the Harmonists have been mine. Today I played my last card: myself. I have to leave. --------------------------------------- 218 218 To Open the Sky My work is done, anyway. IÕm bored with running out the skein. IÕve juggled everything for a hundred years, setting up my own opposition, creating conflicts designed to lead to an ultimate syn- thesis, and that synthesis is here, and IÕm leaving.Ó After a long silence Kirby said, ÒYou humiliate me, Noel, by asking me to ratify a decision thatÕs already as immutable as the tides and the sunrise.Ó ÒYouÕre free to oppose it at the council meeting.Ó ÒBut youÕll go, anyway?Ó ÒYes. IÕd like your support, though. It wonÕt matter to the even- tual outcome, but IÕd still rather have you on my side than not IÕd like to think that you of all people understand what IÕve been doing all these years. Do you believe thereÕs any reason for me to stay on Earth any longer?Ó ÒWe need you, Noel. ThatÕs the only reason.Ó ÒNow youÕre the one whoÕs being childish. You donÕt need me. The plan is fulfilled. ItÕs time to clear out and turn the job over to others. YouÕre too dependent on me, Ron. You canÕt get used to the idea that IÕm not going to be pulling the strings forever.Ó ÒPerhaps thatÕs it,Ó admitted Kirby. ÒBut whose fault is that? YouÕve surrounded yourself with yes-men. YouÕve made yourself indispensable. Here you sit at the heart of the movement like a sacred fire, and none of us can get close enough to be singed. Now youÕre taking the fire away.Ó ÒTransferring it,Ó said Vorst. ÒHere, IÕve got a job for you. The members of the council will be arriving in six hours. IÕm going to make my announcement, and I suppose itÕll shake everybody else the way it shook you. Go off by yourself for the next six hours and think about all IÕve just said. Reconcile yourself to it. More, donÕt just accept it, but approve of it. At the meeting stand up and explain not simply why itÕs all right if I go, but why itÕs necessary and vital to the future of the Brotherhood that I go.Ó ÒYou meanÑÓ ÒDonÕt say anything now. YouÕre still hostile. You wonÕt be af- --------------------------------------- 219 To Open the Sky 2164 219219 ter youÕve examined the dynamics of it. Keep your mouth closed till then.Ó Kirby smiled. ÒYouÕre still pulling strings, arenÕt you?Ó ÒItÕs an old habit by now. But this is the last one IÕll ever pull. And I promise you, your mind will change. YouÕll see my point of view in an hour or two. By nightfall youÕll be willing to stuff me in that capsule yourself. I know you will. I know you.Ó --------------------------------------- 220 220 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 221 To Open the Sky 2164 221221 six In a leafy glade on Venus, the pushers were at their sport. An avenue of vast trees unrolled toward the pearly horizon. Their jagged leaves met overhead to form a thick canopy. Be- low, on the muddy, fungus-dotted ground, a dozen Venusian boys with bluish skins and green robes exercised their abilities. At a distance several larger figures watched them. David Lazarus stood in the center of the group. About him were the Harmonist leaders: Christopher Mondschein, Nicholas Martell, Claude Emory. Lazarus had been through a great deal at the hands of these men. To them, he had been only a name in a martyrology, a re- vered and unreal figure by whose absent power they governed a creed. They had had to adjust to his return, and it had not been easy. There had been a time when Lazarus thought they would put him to death. That time was past now, and they abided by his wishes. But because he had slept so long, he was at once younger and older than his lieutenants, and sometimes that interfered with the exercising of his full authority. He said, ÒItÕs settled. Vorst will leave and the schism will end. IÕll work something out with Kirby.Ó ÒItÕs a trap,Ó said Emory gloomily. ÒKeep away from it, David. Vorst canÕt be trusted.Ó ÒVorst brought me back to life.Ó ÒVorst put you in that crypt in the first place,Ó Emory insisted. ÒYou said so yourself.Ó ÒWe canÕt be sure of that,Ó Lazarus replied, though it was true that Vorst himself had admitted the act to him in a their last con- versation. ÒWeÕre only guessing. ThereÕs no evidence thatÑÓ Mondschein broke in, ÒWe donÕt have any reason to trust Vorst, Claude. But if heÕs really and verifiably aboard that capsule, what do we have to lose by pushing him to Betelgeuse or Procyon? WeÕre rid of him, and weÕll be dealing with Kirby. KirbyÕs a rea- --------------------------------------- 222 222 To Open the Sky sonable man. None of that damnable superdeviousness about him.Ó ÒItÕs too pat,Ó Emory insisted. ÒWhy should a man with VorstÕs power just step down voluntarily?Ó ÒPerhaps heÕs bored,Ó said Lazarus. ÒThereÕs something about absolute power that canÕt be understood except by someone who holds it. ItÕs dull. You can enjoy moving and shaking the world for twenty years, thirty, fiftyÑbut VorstÕs been on top for a hun- dred. He wants to move along. I say take the offer. WeÕre well rid of him, and we can handle Kirby. Besides, heÕs got a good point: neither his side nor ours can get to the stars without the help of the other. IÕm for it. ItÕs worth the try.Ó Nicholas Martell gestured toward the pushers. ÒWeÕll lose some of them, donÕt forget. You canÕt push a capsule to the stars with- out overloading the pushers.Ó ÒVorst has offered rehabilitation services,Ó said Lazarus. ÒOne other point,Ó Mondschein remarked. ÒUnder the new agreement, weÕd have access to Vorster hospitals ourselves. Just as a purely selfish matter, IÕd like that. I think the time has come to turn away from haughtiness and give in to Vorst. HeÕs willing to cheek out. All right. Let him go, and look for our own advan- tage with Kirby.Ó Lazarus smiled. He had not hoped to win MondscheinÕs sup- port that easily. But Mondschein was old, past ninety, and he was hungry for the care that Vorster medics could give him, care that was not to be had on rugged Venus. Monschein had seen the Santa Fe hospitals himself when he was a young man, and he knew what miracles they could perform. It was not a terribly worthy motive, thought Lazarus. But it was a human motive, at least, and Mondschein was human behind his gills and blued skin. So are we all, Lazarus realized. Though they arenÕt. He looked toward the pushers. They were fifth- and sixth-gen- eration Venusians. The seed of Earth was in them, but they were far removed from the original stock. The genetic manipulations --------------------------------------- 223 To Open the Sky 2164 223223 that had first adapted mankind for life on Venus bred true; these boys were something other than human by this time. They were intent on their games. It was little effort for them to transport objects great distances now. They could send each other around Venus virtually instantaneously, or hurl a boulder to Earth in an hour or two. What they could not do was transport themselves, for they needed a fulcrum to do their pushing with. But that was minor. They could not flit from place to place on the strength of their own powers, but they could thrust each other about. Lazarus watched them: appearing, disappearing, lifting, throw- ing. Only children, not yet in full command of their powers. What strengths would be theirs when they were fully mature, he won- dered? And how many would die to send mankind beyond his present boundaries? A saw-winged bird, faintly luminous in the midday dusk, shot diagonally across the sky just above the treetop canopy. One of the young pushers looked up, grinned, caught the bird and sent it whirling half a mile through the clouds. A squawk of rage, distant but audible, filtered back. Lazarus said, ÒThe deal is closed. We help Vorst, and Vorst goes. Done?Ó ÒDone,Ó said Mondschein quickly. ÒDone,Ó Martell murmured, scuffing at the grayish moss that festooned the ground. ÒClaude?Ó Lazarus asked. Emory scowled. He peered at a long-limbed boy, returning from a jaunt to some other continent, who materialized no more than six yards away. EmoryÕs narrow-featured face looked dark with tension. ÒDone,Ó he said. --------------------------------------- 224 224 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 225 To Open the Sky 2164 225225 seven The capsule was an obelisk of beryllium steel, fifty feet high, an uncertain ark to send across the sea of stars. It contained living quarters for eleven, a computer of uncomfortably awe- inspiring abilities, and a subminiaturized treasury of all that was worth salvaging from two billion years of life on Earth. ÒPrepare the capsule,Ó Vorst had instructed Brother Capodimonte, Òas though the sun were going nova next month and we had to save what was important.Ó As a former anthropologist, Capodimonte had his own ideas about the contents of such an ark, but he kept them separate from his concept of what Vorst required. Quietly, a subcommit- tee of Brothers had planned the interstellar expedition on a some- day-far-away basis decades ago, and had replanned it several times, so that Capodimonte had the benefit of the thinking of other men. That was a comfort to him. There were troublesome elements of mystery about the project. He did not, for example, know the nature of the world to which the pioneers were bound. No one did. There was no telling, at this distance, whether it really could harbor Terran-style life. Astronomers had found hundreds of planets scattered through other systems. Some could dimly be picked up by telescopic sen- sors; others could only be inferred from computations of dis- turbed stellar orbits. But the planets were there. Would they welcome Earthmen? Only one planet out of nine in EarthÕs own system was natu- rally habitableÑnot a cheering prognosis for other systems. It had taken two generations of hard work to Terrafonn Mars; the eleven pioneers would hardly be able to do that It had taken the highest genetic skills to convert men into Venusians; that, too, would be beyond the range of the voyagers. They would have to find a suitable world, or fail. Espers in the Santa Fe retinue said that suitable worlds ex- --------------------------------------- 226 226 To Open the Sky isted. They had peered into the heavens, reached forth their Mondschein, made contact with tangible and habitable planets out there. Illusion? Deception? Capodimonte was in no position to determine that Reynolds Kirby, troubled by the project from first to last, said to Capodimonte, ÒIs it true that they donÕt even know what star theyÕll be aiming for?Ó ÒThatÕs true. TheyÕve detected some kind of emanations com- ing from somewhere. DonÕt ask me how. The way this thing is planned, our espers will supply the guidance and their pushers will supply the propulsion. We find, they heave.Ó ÒA voyage to anywhere?Ó ÒTo anywhere,Ó Capodimonte agreed. ÒThey rip a hole in the sky and shove the capsule through. It doesnÕt travel through nor- mal space, whatever normal space is. It lands on this world that our espers claim to have connected with out there, and they send a message back, telling us where they are. We get the message about a generation from now. But meanwhile weÕll have sent other expeditions. A one-way journey to nowhere. And Vorst is the first to take it.Ó Kirby shook his head. ÒItÕs hard to believe, isnÕt it? But evi- dently itÕs going to be a success.Ó ÒOh?Ó ÒYes. VorstÕs had his floaters out there looking, you see. They tell him that he arrived safely. So heÕs willing to step out into the dark, because he knows in advance that heÕs not running any risks.Ó ÒDo you believe that?Ó asked Capodimonte, shuffling through his inventory sheets. ÒNo.Ó Neither did Brother Capodimonte. But he did net quarrel with the role assigned to him. He had been at the council meeting where Vorst had announced his stunning intention, and he had heard Reynolds Kirby rise and eloquently argue the case for al- --------------------------------------- 227 To 227 Open the Sky 2164227 lowing the Founder to depart. KirbyÕs thesis had been a sound one, within the context of nightmare that this whole project embraced. And so the capsule would leave, powered by the joint efforts of some blue-skinned boys, and guided on a thread through the heavens by the roving Mondschein of Brotherhood capers, and Noel Vorst would never walk the Earth again. Capodimonte checked his lists. Food. Clothing. Books. Tools. Medical equipment Communication devices. Weapons. Power sources. The expedition, Capodimonte thought would be adequately furnished for its adventure. The whole thing might be madness, or it might be the grandest enterprise ever attempted by man; Brother Capodimonte could not tell which. But one thing was certain: the expedition would be adequately furnished. He had seen to that. --------------------------------------- 228 228 To Open the Sky --------------------------------------- 229 229 eight It was the day of departure. Chill winter winds raked New Mexico on this late-December day. The capsule stood in a desert flat a dozen miles from the inner compound of the Santa Fe re- search center. From here to the horizon it was a wilderness of sagebrush and juniper and pi–on pine, and in the distance the bowl of mountains rose. Though he was well insulated, Reynolds Kirby shivered as the wind assailed the plateau. In another few days the year 2165 would be dawning, but Noel Vorst would not be here to welcome it. Kirby was not accustomed to that idea yet. The pushers from Venus had arrived a week ago. There were twenty of them, and since it was inconvenient for them to live in breathing-suits all their time on Earth, the Vorsters had erected a little bit of Venus for them. A domed building not far from the capsule housed them; it was pumped full of the poisonous muck that they were accustomed to breathing. Lazarus and Mondschein had come with them and were under the dome now, getting everything prepared. Mondschein would remain after the event, to undergo an over- hauling in Santa Fe, Lazarus was going back to Venus in a couple of days. But first he and Kirby would face each other across a conference table and hammer out the basic clauses of the new entente. They had met once, twelve years ago, but not for long. Since LazarusÕs arrival on Earth, Kirby had spoken briefly to him and had come away with the feeling that the Harmonist prophet, though strong-willed and purposeful, would not be difficult ulti- mately to reach understandings with. He hoped not. Now, on the wintry plateau, the high leaders of the Brother- hood of the Immanent Radiance were gathering to watch their leader vanish. Kirby, glancing around, saw Capodimonte and Magnus and Ashton and Langholt and all the others, dozens of them, spiraling down the echelons into the middle levels of the --------------------------------------- 230 230 To Open the Sky organization. They were all watching him. They could not watch Vorst, for Vorst was in the capsule already, along with the other members of the expedition. Five men, five women, and Vorst. All of the others under forty, healthy, capable, resilient. And Vorst. The FounderÕs quarters aboard the capsule were comfortable, but it was lunacy to think of that old man plunging into the uni- verse like this. Supervisor Magnus, the European Coordinator, stepped to KirbyÕs side. He was a small, sharp-featured man who, like most of the other leaders of the Brotherhood, had served in its ranks for more than seventy years. ÒHeÕs actually going,Ó Magnus said. ÒSoon. Yes. No doubt of it.Ó ÒDid you speak to him this morning?Ó ÒBriefly,Ó Kirby said. ÒHe seems very calm.Ó ÒHe seemed very calm when he blessed us last night,Ó said Magnus. ÒAlmost joyful.Ó ÒHeÕs putting down a great burden. YouÕd be joyful, too, if you could be translated into the sky and shrug off your responsibili- ties.Ó Magnus said, ÒI wish we could prevent this.Ó Kirby turned and looked bluntly at the little man. ÒThis is a necessary thing,Ó he said. ÒIt must happen, or the movement will founder of its own success.Ó ÒI heard your speech before the council, yes, butÑÓ ÒWeÕve reached the fulfillment level of our first evolutionary stage,Ó said Kirby. ÒNow we need to extend our mythology. Sym- bolically, VorstÕs departure is invaluable to us. He ascends into the sky, leaving us to carry on his work and go on to new pur- poses. If he remained, weÕd begin to mark time. Now we can use his glorious example to inspire us. With Vorst leading the way to the new worlds, we who remain can build on the foundation he bequeaths us.Ó ÒYou sound as though you believed it.Ó --------------------------------------- 231 To Open the Sky 2164 231231 ÒI do,Ó said Kirby. ÒI didnÕt at first. But Vorst was right. He said IÕd understand why he was going, and I came to see it. HeÕs ten times as valuable to the movement doing this as he would be if he remained.Ó Magnus murmured, ÒHe isnÕt content to be Christ and Mohammed. He has to be Moses, too, and also Elijah.Ó ÒI never thought IÕd hear you speak of him so coarsely,Ó said Kirby. ÒI never did either,Ó Magnus replied. ÒDamn it, I donÕt want him to go!Ó Kirby was astonished to see tears glistening in MagnusÕs pale eyes. ÒThatÕs precisely why heÕs leaving,Ó Kirby said, and then both men were silent Capodimonte moved toward them. ÒEverythingÕs ready,Ó he announced. ÒIÕve got the word from Lazarus that the pushers are in series.Ó ÒWhat about our guidance people?Ó Kirby asked. ÒTheyÕve been ready for an hour.Ó Kirby looked toward the gleaming capsule. ÒMight as well get it over with, then.Ó ÒYes,Ó Capodimonte said. ÒMight as well.Ó Lazarus, Kirby knew, was waiting for a signal from him. From now on, all signals would come from him, at least on Earth. But that thought no longer disturbed him. had adjusted to the situation. He was in command. Symbolic regalia cluttered the fieldÑHarmonist ikons, a big cobalt reactor, the paraphernalia of both the cults that now were merging. Kirby gestured to an acolyte, and moderator rods were withdrawn. The reactor surged into life. The Blue Fire danced high above the reactor, and its glow stained the hull of the capsule. Cold light, Cerenkov radiation, the Vorster symbol, sparkled on the plateau, and all through the watching multitude ran the sounds of devotion, the whispered --------------------------------------- 232 232 To Open the Sky litanies, the murmured recapitulatons of the stations of the spec- trum. While the man who had devised those words sat hidden within the walls of that teardrop of steel in the center of the gath- ering. The flare of the Blue Fire was the signal to the Venusians in their nearby dome. Now was their moment to gather their power and hurl the capsule outward, planting manÕs hand on a new world in the stars. ÒWhat are they waiting for?Ó Magnus asked querulously. ÒMaybe it wonÕt happen,Ó said Capodimonte. Kirby said nothing. And then it began to happen. --------------------------------------- 233 To 233 Open the Sky 2164233 nine Kirby had not quite known what to expect. In his fantasies of the scene he had pictured a dozen capering Venusians dancing around the capsule, holding hands, their foreheads bulging with the effort of lifting the vehicle and hurling it out of the world. But the Venusians were nowhere to be seen; they were off in their dome, several hundred yards away, and Kirby suspected that they were neither holding hands nor showing outward signs of strain. In his reveries, too, he had imagined the capsule taking off the way a rocket would, rising a few feet from the ground, wobbling a bit, rising a little more, suddenly soaring up, crossing the sky on a potent trajectory, dwindling, vanishing from sight at last. But that was not the way it was really to be, either. He waited. A long moment passed. He thought of Vorst, making landfall on same other world. An inhabited world, perhaps? What would be VorstÕs impact when he came to that virgin territory? Vorst was an irresistible force, terrifying and unique. Wherever he went, he would transform all that was about him. Kirby felt sorry for the ten hapless pio- neers who would have the benefit of VorstÕs immediate guid- ance. He wondered what kind of colony they would build. Whatever it was, it would succeed. Success was in VorstÕs na- ture. He was hideously old, but he had frightening vitality still locked within him. The Founder seemed to relish the challenge of beginning anew. Kirby wished him well. ÒThere they go,Ó Capodimonte whispered. It was true. The capsule was still on the ground, but now the air about it wavered, as though stirred by heat waves rising from the parched, sandy soil. Then the capsule was gone. That was all. Kirby stared at the empty place where it had been. Vorst had been taken up into the heavens, and a gateway to some- --------------------------------------- 234 234 To Open the Sky where had been opened. ÒThere is a Oneness from which all life stems,Ó someone said gently behind Kirby. ÒThe infinite variety of the universe we owe toÑÓ Another voice said, ÒMan and woman, star and stone, tree and birdÑÓ Another said, ÒIn the strength of the spectrum, the quantum, and the holy angstromÑÓ Kirby did not remain to listen to the familiar prayers, nor did he pray himself. He looked briefly at the bareness in the desert once more, and then upward at the harsh blue sky, already deep- ening toward nightfall. It was done. Vorst was gone, his schem- ing ended so far as Earth was concerned, and now it was the turn of lesser men. The way was open. Humanity could spill out across the heavens. Perhaps. Perhaps. Alone in this great assembly of the faithful, Kirby turned his back on the now sacred spot from which Vorst had made his ascent. Very slowly, a tall figure whose late-afternoon shadow stretched for yards, Kirby walked away from the place where Noel Vorst had been, and toward the place where David Lazarus was waiting to speak with him. --------------------------------------- 235 --------------------------------------- 236 Noel Vorst was a god and technology his religion. EarthÕs wildly overpopulated surface was frenetic, its billions swept away by mass hysteria. Noel Vorst had cobbled together an eclectic religion, borrowing the confessional from Catholicism, absorbing some of the atheism of ur-Buddhism, adding a dose of Hindu reincarnation, and larding everything over with ultramodernistic trappings, nuclear reactors at every altar, and plenty of gabble about the holy electron. But there was also talk of harnessing the minds of espers to power a stardrive, of a communion even of non-esper minds, and Ñ most startling of all, the big sellingÐpoint Ñ personal immortality, not reincarnation, not the hope of Nirvana, but eternal life in the hereÐandÐnow present ßesh. But some held out, believing in the wonder that is man, in his ability to adapt to the miracle of the universe, to become one with it. And some few grew powers forever barred to the Vorsters. No man Þghts as viciously as the man who knows he is right. In To Open The Sky, New York TimesÕ bestÐselling author Robert Silverberg shows us once again that he is a master of the scienceÐÞction genre. We Make BooksÑ Paper Optional