Eros Descending: Book 3 of Tales of the Velvet Comet (8 page)

“The end doesn't justify the means.”

“I'm getting tired of arguing this with you, Simon. Pure I went and pure I returned—and what I learned while I was there will make my job much easier.”

“God's work doesn't include visiting a brothel,” said Simon.

“No. But mine does, and ultimately I am a servant of the Lord.”

“Then you should have
acted
!” said Simon passionately. “Jesus threw the money-lenders out of the Temple. You refused even to enter the casino.”

“I'm not Jesus,” replied Gold. “I'm simply a man, doing the best I can. They have three hundred security guards up there. How many people do you think I could have thrown out of the casino before they stopped me?”

“You should have done
something
to show your disapproval!”

“What would
you
have done?” asked Gold.

“I wouldn't have gone there in the first place.”

“Do you two go on like this every day?” asked Christina, who had been a silent but interested spectator.

“Please don't interfere, sister,” said Simon.

“Every day and every night,” answered Gold with a rueful smile. “We have a basic disagreement. I want to be the best man I can be. Your brother wants me to be perfect.”

“The Word of God isn't subject to interpretation,” said Simon. “It's right there in the Bible in black and white. It may be a harsh and demanding Word, but it's God's Word nonetheless.” He looked directly into his father's eyes. “And the moment you start modifying it, or changing it out of expediency, then you have perverted what you stand for and made it meaningless.”

“I can hardly argue with that,” agreed Gold. “It's the basis of my faith.”

“Then why did you act contrary to it?” persisted Simon.

“Because I'm not perfect,” said Gold. “Because I can fight Evil much more effectively once I know the shape and face of it. And because if I didn't fight it in
my
way, sooner or later you would fight it in
yours
, and it's my duty as a father and a Christian to spare you the pain.”

“There's no pain involved in serving the Lord.”

“If that were so, there would be no
Velvet Comet
or Vainmill Syndicate, and no one would ever ignore the cries of the sick and the hungry,” said Gold.

“The path of righteousness is many things, but it is never easy.”

“All the more reason not to knowingly stray from it,” said Simon.

“Enough,” said Gold, and something in the tone of his voice seemed to startle his son.

“As you wish,” said Simon. He paused. “Will Mother need any help setting the table?”

“She's got some,” said Christina.

Jeremy entered the room just then. “Grandmother says that we're almost ready,” he announced. “Hello, Uncle Simon.”

“Hello, nephew,” said Simon. “Did you enjoy the zoo?”

The boy nodded his head. “We're going to the aquarium tomorrow,” he said happily.

“Have you ever been to one before?” asked Simon, feeling slightly awkward, as he always did when addressing children.

The boy shook his head.

“Neither have I. Let me know if you enjoy it.”

“I will,” promised Jeremy. “And the day after, we're going to the video studio, and I'll see Grandfather give his speech.”

“His sermon,” Simon corrected him.

Jeremy began rattling off his agenda for the coming week, and a moment later Corinne reentered the room. “Jeremy, I thought I told you to bring everyone back with you.” She flashed a smile to her son. “Good evening, Simon.”

Simon stared at her for a moment.

“What happened to your hair?” he demanded at last.

“I styled it for her,” said Christina.

“Harlots style their hair,” said Simon. “Married women don't.”

“
This
married woman does,” Corinne replied.

“
My
hair is styled, too,” added Christina. “Are you calling
me
a harlot?”

“You're wearing makeup, too, aren't you?” said Simon, ignoring his sister's comments.

“Yes, I am,” his mother replied.

“Leave her alone,” said Christina hotly.

“Decent women don't paint their faces,” said Simon.

“When I'm in the sanctity of my own home, I'll wear what I like,” said Corinne. “And before you start quoting what the Bible says about painted women, maybe you'd better reread what it says about addressing your parents with respect.”

“I'm fully aware of what the Bible says on
both
subjects,” replied Simon. “Evidently you are not.”

“That's enough, Simon,” said Gold ominously.

“But
you
above all people should have forbidden this!” complained Simon.

“It's not up to me to forbid it,” said Gold. “Your mother is a free agent. Besides, this is a very little thing, and it makes her happy—or at least it did until a minute ago.”

“There is no such thing as a
little
sin,” said Simon. “Something is either sinful or it's not.”

“But there is such a thing as free will,” said Gold. “And if this is what your mother wishes to do, then I support her right to do it.”

“And you don't disapprove?”

“I preferred it the old way,” said Gold. “So what?”

“If you won't correct your own wife, what gives you the right to try to correct Vainmill?” said Simon.

“Since you insist on speaking about me as if I weren't here, I'll make it easier for you,” said Corinne angrily. She took her grandson's hand. “Come along, Jeremy. You didn't come here to watch your uncle start a family fight.” She turned on her heel and left the room, half-pulling Jeremy behind her.

“I think you owe her an apology,” said Christina.

“I think she owes one to God,” said Simon.

“You're both wrong,” said Gold. He waited until he had their attention. “Your mother owes no one an apology. But you, Simon, have made a very decent woman unhappy. I think it's you who owes God the apology.”

“Do you think God wants her painting her face and wearing her hair like that?” said Simon. “If you truly do, then I'll apologize to all parties involved.”

Gold sighed. “We lead a harsh, spare existence, Simon. I know that your mother likes music, and yet she willingly cut herself off from it when our doctrine was modified. She is a voracious reader, and yet our religion severely limits her choice of reading matter.”

He paused. “Most men of my stature have impressive houses and a multitude of luxuries that go along with them; but because we pass most of our personal income on to the needy, we live in this apartment, we use public transportation, and when something breaks we repair it rather than replace it. Your mother has precious few frivolous pleasures in her life; why not allow her this one?”

“You didn't answer my question,” said Simon.

“Surely you don't equate her hairdo with Vainmill's treatment of aliens or ownership of the
Velvet Comet
?” said Gold.

“You still didn't answer me: Do you think God wants her wearing makeup and styling her hair?”

Gold stared at his son and sighed again. “No,” he admitted at last. “No, I don't.”

“Then I'll make no apology.”

“And you wonder why Bob refuses to join us for dinner!” said Christina.

“The truth makes him uncomfortable,” said Simon.

“
You
make him uncomfortable,” replied Christina. “There's not an ounce of compassion in you.”

“Your husband and I were both raised as Jesus Pures,” said Simon. “The only difference is that I don't make any compromises with my beliefs.”

“Neither does he!” she shot back heatedly.

“Oh, come on,” said Simon. “He eats meat, he sings, he works on the Sabbath, he —”

“That's not fair!” snapped Christina. “You know why he does those things. He's an exobiologist: he spends a considerable amount of his time in the field with aliens. There are some races that can only communicate musically, just as there are some that would be offended if he didn't share their food with them.”

“That's no excuse for behaving contrary to the dictates of his religion.”

“Why, you pompous ass!” she exploded. “You sit around beating your breast about our shabby treatment of aliens, and when somebody actually goes out and tries to do something about it, you climb into you pulpit and condemn him! I don't have to listen to this kind of drivel!”

She walked out of the room.

“Do you plan to drive
me
out of the room, too?” inquired Gold dryly. “Or do you think you might calm down a little?”

“I'm perfectly calm,” answered Simon.

“You seem to be in a minority,” remarked Gold.

“I will ask you again: was anything I said false?”

“No.

“Well, then?”

“Simon, I agree with you that there are no degrees of sin,” began Gold. “One either breaks God's laws or one doesn't. But there
are
degrees of commitment.”

“Commitment?” asked Simon, puzzled.

“Commitment,” repeated Gold. “None of us is perfect. We all break God's laws, even you. But there is a clearly discernible difference between a Fiona Bradley, who has made a clear commitment to perpetuating Vainmill's corporate sins, and your mother and brother-in-law, who are well-intentioned but occasionally slip from Grace.”

“All of them are wrong,” said Simon stubbornly.

“True. But not all of them are evil. Jesus could differentiate between a Magdalene and the Pharisees; I think it's about time you learned to do the same. When your mother wears makeup every day, or Robert eats steak and sings songs when he is not in the company of aliens, that will be ample time to condemn their souls to everlasting perdition.”

“And if you don't stop Mother now, then the day will come when she paints her face every morning.”

“I sincerely doubt it,” said Gold. “And if she does, then she will have made her choice and will have to suffer the consequences.”

“Sin isn't quantitative or qualitative,” protested Simon. “It either exists or it doesn't—and if it does, then it must be condemned.” He began pacing back and forth. “I'm only quoting
you
, Father. This is what you've taught me all my life. This has been at the heart of every sermon you've ever given!”

“I know,” said Gold.

“Then why are we having this disagreement?”

“Because God only created one perfect man, and I have a certain amount of compassion for those imperfect creatures that I happen to love.”

“You love Robert?” said Simon sardonically. “Next you'll be telling me you love Fiona Bradley.”

“No, I don't love Robert,” said Gold. “I hardly know him. But I love Christina, and he makes her happy. And I love Jeremy, and he helped to make Jeremy.”

Simon shook his head. “By the same token, you have to love Robert's mother and father, since they created him. Or, to take a more interesting hypothesis, what if Robert has a mistress? If she makes him happy, then he in turn will be better disposed to make Jeremy happy. Should you love his mistress?”

“Of course not. Each of us has to draw the line somewhere. I've drawn mine.”

“And I mine,” said Simon stubbornly.

Gold shook his head. “You've drawn a tight little circle that only has room for one person in it: Simon Gold. And I have a feeling you'll be harder on him than on anyone else when he finally falls from Grace.”

“He doesn't have to fall,” replied Simon. “
You
didn't.”

“I do every day,” said Gold. “The only difference between me and Fiona Bradley is that I regret it.”

“There's another: you succeed in overcoming your weaknesses.”

“Not always,” said Gold wryly. “In the heat of the moment I even made a bet on the horserace.”

“So you told me,” said Simon. “I think that supports my argument about the
Velvet Comet
. If even Thomas Gold could fall prey to its siren song, then no moral man should ever set foot aboard it.”

“Perhaps you're right,” said Gold after some consideration.

“We'll discuss it further after dinner.” He got to his feet. “In the meantime, I think it's time you made peace with your mother and sister. I'm getting hungry.”

“All right,” said Simon. He paused. “I really didn't mean to make her angry, you know.”

“I know,” said Gold. He put his arm around his son's shoulders and had begun walking to the dining room when the house computer announced that there was someone without the lock combination at the front door. He began retracing his steps, only to find that Christina had gotten there ahead of him.

“Who is it?” asked Gold after a moment, when nobody had entered the apartment.

Christina turned to him with a puzzled expression.

“She wouldn't leave her name. She just placed this in my hand and told me to make sure you got it.” She held up a small, flat package.

Gold walked over and took the package from her, examining it for writing or coding and finding none.

“What do you suppose it is?” she asked, curious.

“Unless I miss my guess, it's the reason twenty-seven Jesus Pures were incarcerated on Delvania,” answered Gold.

Her face reflected her interest. “Really?”

“I can't imagine what else it could be,” replied Gold. “You're sure she didn't say anything else?”

“Nothing.”

“Did she look familiar?”

“No.”

Simon returned from the dining room. “What's going on?” he asked. His gaze fell on the package. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Probably,” said Gold.

“Who delivered it?” continued Simon.

“I don't know. She didn't leave her name, and Christina didn't recognize her.”

“What's in it?” asked Christina. “What's all this about twenty-seven Jesus Pures being incarcerated?”

“The
Velvet Comet
has a training school on Delvania,” began Gold.

“A training school?” repeated Christina disbelievingly.

Gold nodded. “And in this school, along with all the men and women, they have six Andricans.” He paused. “Somebody—probably a Jesus Pure, though we don't know that for sure—found a way to tap into their computer on Delvania, and lifted copies of their work contracts, as well as some footage of the more exotic training sessions they've been forced to undergo.

Vainmill responded by arresting the entire Jesus Pure colony on the planet, though they released them a few hours later.”