The Parafaith War (42 page)

the sister behind the counter. “Too tart. Sister.” “No Ecofreak there,” laughed the older man from the

back door. “They love fruity tarts, the fruitier the better.” Trystin laughed, trying to enjoy the bad pun. “I prefer

my confectioneries sweeter, not sickeningly sweet, but honestly sweet.”

“Spoken like a true returned, but how long will he be true?” The sister glanced at the older man. “Get the man his sweets, sweet.” “You, too? All you men like your sweets.” Trystin grinned as the sister turned to him.

“Brother Hyriss, please come forward,” requested the instructor identified only as Brother Suledin.

“You are from Nephi, and you are on Orum, somewhere in Wystuh.”

Trystin stepped into the space in front of the chairs, not knowing what scene might unfold.

“Brother Hyriss, I understand you come from Nephi. Is that not rather familiar to the Ecofreak systems?”

“I am from Nephi, Brother,” acknowledged Trystin with a smile he hoped was open, “and blessed that the Lord and the Prophet have chosen to serve as our shield.”

“To be so familiar with the abominations of the Lord must trouble you.”

“The Lord has shielded us from untoward familiarity, as you have indeed recognized.”

“I would say that familiarity might become you. Brother Hyriss,” said Brother Suledin smoothly.

Trystin managed to continue smiling as he replied, “The Lord knows what is, and when one insists on such familiarity, then the beholder may harbor even greater familiarity.”

Suledin nodded and turned away from Trystin. “Sister Susanna? You have just arrived in Midinha, and your clothes are wrinkled.” Sister Susanna took Trystin’s place. Trystin’s hand moved as if to begin to wipe his forehead.

“Brother Hyriss, did I upset you? Are you too warm? Perhaps there is indeed some familiarity with abominations.”

Trystin forced another smile. Did Brother Suledin have eyes in the back of his head? “I am from Nephi, and Nephi is cooler than Wystuh, much cooler. Perhaps you could come to visit sometime.”

Without pausing, his point made. Brother Suledin turned back to Sister Angelica. “Sister, are you headed for a nunnery?” Trystin held in a wince at the insult. Sister Susanna turned and fixed her eyes directly on Suledin. “Brother, your concern is most welcome, and seemly, and even brotherly, and I will commend your concerns to my husband.” She offered a radiant smile. “Debrief,” said Brother Suledin. All that meant was that he could be objective, Trystin reflected. They still had to stay in character, politely smiling.

“Overt aggression is not expressed, and, if expressed, not allowed to persist. All insults are veiled, as in the reference to abominations with Brother Hyriss-except that insults to third parties not present, such as Ecofreaks or abominations, are allowed, often with puns or other tasteless allusions. This is a highly repressed and stylized culture. Every action is observed and tallied against a social norm. You are never in a position when someone is not observing you. You are expected to respond, as would any innocent being, but you must respond in the same style, with veiled allusions.

“Tolerance within the norms is high, but once anyone exceeds those norms, they effectively vanish. Remember one other thing we’ve been drilling into you. The Revenants seldom lie. They may avoid disclosing or revealing something, but if something is said, you can usually bank on it being true. That’s why they punish those who exceed the norms so stringently. Now, they don’t call it punishment. In polite terms, they go on a mission for the Prophet, which can be anything from asteroid mining with inadequate equipment to being dumped on a barely habitable planet undergoing final planoforming. No one is exempt, and that is why the system works.” He paused. “Debrief ended.”

Silence hung over the classroom for a moment. “Good day to you all. Brothers and Sisters.” “Good day. Brother Suledin.”

Trystin did not try to wipe his damp forehead again, at least not inside or in the shade.

As Trystin stepped out of the front foyer of the Cloisters, Brother Khalid smiled.

“Brother Khalid.”

“Brother Hyriss. The time has arrived for your call to greater service.”

“It will take a minute to pack.” Certainly not much more, reflected Trystin. “I will wait.”

Trystin nodded and returned to the three-meter-square bachelor quarters, containing a narrow bed, a chest, and a wardrobe. No wonder most of the returned were in a hurry to get married. Being married-he’d really never thought about it. Who would he marry? The only two women who had come even close to understanding him were his mother and Salya. He frowned-and maybe Ulteena. But who knew if she’d even survived the latest round of troid onslaughts, although, if anyone could, she could. He hoped she had, but when he would ever… if he would ever’…

Forcing his mind back to the mundane matter of packing, he pulled out the fabric traveling bag of the returned and opened it. First came the undergarments from the chest, white and longer than he would have preferred, then the two nightshirts, also white, and the white dress belt with the stylized bronze eagle with the lightning bolt that was the symbol of the returned. From the wardrobe came toiletries, including the antique bladed razor and the tube of white leather polish, and white shirts and the second and third white suit.

He put the white dress boots in the side pocket, along with the thick white socks. At least the everyday boots were black.

Once finished packing, including the Book of Toren that he had read at least twice completely and still didn’t feel he knew well enough, he snapped the bag shut and adjusted the shoulder harness before leaving the empty room.

“You look ready to travel. Brother Hyriss,” observed Khalid.

“As the Lord and the Prophet will.” They walked across the street, past the stosque and into the center of New Harmony toward the school building on the far side.

“Some sweets. Brother Hyriss?” called Sister Andrews through the open door of the confectionery store. “Not today. Sister.” “Nice intonation,” said Khalid. Trystin didn’t fall for it. “Sister Andrews does have a nice voice.”

Khalid nodded. “Many sisters do. Most are truly good people.”

Trystin concealed a frown, but wondered what Khalid’s motives might be. “The Lord inspires them.”

“That he does. Brother Hyriss, and best you not forget that. All in the Lord’s mansions strive to do good, and that is their grace and their failure.”

All? wondered Trystin. Did Khalid really believe that? And if he didn’t, wasn’t he even more hypocritical than most of the Service?

Trystin kept walking, and Khalid offered no other observations. When they reached the school building Khalid led Trystin to the back section. They stopped outside a closed door.

“This is as far as I go. Brother Hyriss. Peace be with you.” “And with you.”

Trystin opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

A white-haired man in the uniform of a senior commander sat behind the desk in the windowless office. His uniform bore no name and no decorations. Idly, Trystin wondered how the commander had reached the office unobserved. “Sit down. Brother Hyriss.”

Trystin sat and set the fabric bag beside the chair, his eyes remaining on the commander.

“Careful, aren’t you? That’s good. You’ll need to be. You’re going to the Jerush system.”

“Orum?” Trystin was tired of the intelligence types telling him he needed to be cautious. They weren’t being asked to stick their necks out.

“As a matter of fact, you’re going to Wystuh itself. After you get your second overlay and your mission profile, of course.”

Trystin contained the wince he felt. More overlays? “You’ll get the full details with the profile. Your mission is simple enough. You’re a Revenant courier pilot of a ship owned by an independent trading firm out of the Hyndji systems-those are the only outsider ships the Revenants allow to enter Revenant systems, and only the outlying systems at that. You’ll bring the courier, carrying legitimate Hyndji microtronics and designs, into Braha. Braha is one of the recently opened outlying systems where security isn’t quite as tight. From there, you’ll travel commercial to Orum, and then to Wystuh itself. Your job is to attack the High Council of Bishops, and to remove, with extreme prejudice, Administrative Fleet Commander and Archbishop Jynckia. Any questions? You don’t have to be in character. Double debrief alpha.” For a moment, Trystin said nothing. He should have seen it from the beginning, especially with the weapons-creation training. Of course he wouldn’t be sent just to gather information. He wanted to pound his head for not seeing the obvious. Except he hadn’t really wanted to see it, had he? “Why?”

“You don’t like the idea of assassination, do you? Almost none of you do.” The commander offered a cold smile. “One afternoon on Mara, on a single afternoon, you slaughtered nearly one hundred revs. You’ve destroyed thousands on system patrols, but an assassination of one man that might shorten the war and save untold thousands … that bothers you.”

“It doesn’t quite seem the same.” Trystin kept his voice level.

“Dead is dead. Brother Hyriss. We’re not ordering you to kill children, or pregnant women. We’re ordering you to remove a military figure during a war. You think that the admirals who order all those revs into battle ought to be exempt from danger?”

The commander had a point, but Trystin still asked, “What will the assassination of one admiral do?”

“That’s a matter of strategy.” The commander offered a second cold smile. “However, in general terms, we need to make an example. To show the Revenants that we can strike them anywhere, that their patriarchs aren’t exempt from the consequences of their decisions.”

“There’s no better way to do this? Than someone like . me?”

The white-haired man shook his head. “The social and indoctrination codes are so effective that we couldn’t buy a traitor-not one we could trust-with half a system’s wealth. Besides, that’s not the point. The point is to show that we can neutralize anyone. That takes someone who has a range of talents and also technical skills. Why do you suppose you’ve gotten training in building a crude weapons laser from common electronic parts? You can’t exactly cart weapons through security. Also, very few Revenant women have technical skills.”

“And you don’t have any male agents in place in Wystuh? That’s hard to believe.”

“Oh, we do. But now isn’t the time, and this kind of operation isn’t designed-“

“In other words, you’ve got deep agents placed as serial wives or as returned technicians, and they’re fine for more subtle operations, but you don’t trust them with something like this.”

“It’s not a question of trust. We can’t get them permanently established on Orum,” admitted the commander.

“And I can? That’s hard to believe. Or is it that you can’t turn them into killers?” An edge of anger seeped into ‘ Trystin’s voice, an edge he regretted and tried to damp.

“You’d rather go back to commanding a corvette in Parvati system? We could send you back-right now. Do you want that?”

“No.” That was an absolute death sentence, especially stated the way the commander had. “But why do you have to use a novice agent?”

The commander shrugged. “As you have doubtless been instructed, much of the Revenant culture is nonverbal, and the Revenants have a clear sense of who belongs and who does not. The best way I can explain is that the so-called returned-those military missionaries who have survived-have a certain look, an aura, that seems to have been created by facing death and deep space. The only people we have that match that are Service pilots, and not all of them. You do. Do you have any idea what it takes to find someone who has Revenant-compatible genes, a Revenant appearance, deep-space aura, intelligence, and ability to learn a new culture without fragmenting?”

“That makes more sense. But if there are so few of us, how can we create the impression of being able to strike anywhere?”

“That will be explained more in your profile, but the basic point is that people react to impressions, not numbers of incidents. Do you have any more questions?” The commander’s voice implied that Trystin had already asked too many questions.

“No, ser.” He wasn’t going to get any real answers, and there was no point in asking questions that wouldn’t get answered. He pushed back the seething anger-anger at his own naďveté and at the calculated blackmail used to get him to agree to the mission. The choice was too simple: take the mission and probably die or not take it and certainly die.

“There is one last thing… stay away from the Temples. They have defenses that seem to incinerate all non-Revenants as they pass through the gates. That’s another reason why we can’t put permanent male agents on Orum.”

“Lasers, obviously.” Trystin noted to himself that such information had not been made available in the cultural briefings-another form of lying and deception.

“Of course. It’s not the weaponry, but the recognition patterns. You know the whole ritual for entering the Temple the first time. No one who doesn’t go through it gets in except as cinders. It doesn’t matter which Temple baptized you, but if you’re from another system, you have to present your Temple card. The one you will get looks real, but it won’t work.”

“So why can’t we duplicate the card? A closed algorithmic key?”

“Exactly. We’ve tried. We’ve tried for fifty years.” The commander stood. “Are you ready. Brother Hyriss?”

“As the Lord and His Prophet will.” Trystin picked up his fabric bag.

A crooked smile crossed the commander’s face. A second door opened in the rear of the room, revealing a ramp downward. Trystin followed the commander down the ramp and along the glow-lamp-lit tunnel to an open doorway.

A technician and what appeared to be a large implant-activation machine waited. “In the chair. Brother.”

Trystin forced himself to be calm as he slipped into the chair, waiting as the helmetlike apparatus was adjusted around his head.

“Good … just a tad there …” A faint tingling ran through his implant. “Sensitive … good … better take …” Light flared through Trystin’s skull, so bright his eyes, even in blackness, watered, and he shivered in the chair.