The Unincorporated Woman (24 page)

The rabbi’s composure changed dramatically.

“Why, yes … I mean no, I don’t … usually, but how did you know?”

“I make it a point to at least try to understand the customs of those I meet before I meet them. It’s not rocket science, I assure you.”

The rabbi puzzled over the phrase.

“Or,” she said, seeing her metaphor was off by a number of centuries, “whatever vocation represents an extremely complicated discipline to learn.”

“Ah,” he said, face beaming, “brisket.”

Sandra laughed out loud.

“For the life of me, I just can’t make a decent brisket. I need to marry someone who can cook, otherwise what little there is of me will be a whole lot less.”

He smiled disarmingly.

“The simple truth is, Madam President, we Jews prefer to keep the pleasure of touch exclusively within the marital realm. I realize it’s old-fashioned, but then again, so much of what we do is, and I can’t help but believe it’s been a factor in our having survived for as long as we have.”

“Old-fashioned is all right by me, Rabbi.”

His eyes lit up. “I do shake hands, you should know. I realize most won’t understand our simple ways, and the last thing I want to do is to give what few of us are around a bad reputation. But I do appreciate your sentiment.”

She smiled politely at the strange man and offered him a seat. She then sat down opposite him.

“Do you know why you were brought here, Rabbi? Why we went to all the trouble to send a much-needed frigate to pick you up even in time of war?”

Rabbi pulled methodically on his beard. “It could be that it has something to do with my settlement?”

“What settlement, Rabbi?” Sandra laughed. “They’ve all run off!”

Rabbi nodded gamely. “Good point.”

“You didn’t order this Diaspora, did you?”

He regarded her cautiously. “Well, you could say that I did and I didn’t.”

“Love it. But what would
you
say, Rabbi?”

“You see, Madam President? You already know me too well. Tell you what: I’ll let you decide. It all started out with my talking to a crowd that had gathered outside my home right after the Alhambra massacre. Turned out I was the only rabbi of note left on our little rock. Which, if you knew me, just goes to show how very desperate they all were. Anyways, the people needed comforting and I comforted.”

“It’s quite a stretch from ‘comforted’ to hundreds of millions fleeing.”

“I was simply trying to tell them that it wasn’t only necessary for us to go, it was imperative, that indeed such an act would be sanctioned by God … not that he talks to me personally—” He looked up to the ceiling. “—though I wouldn’t complain if you’d send me an occasional sign every now and then.”

He then drew his eyes back to the President. “Anyways, we were in danger of being overrun—that much was clear. I would’ve talked about Muhammad fleeing Mecca for Medina if I thought it would’ve done any good. What I didn’t realize was that one of my students, who was obviously better with surreptitious recording than he is with learning tractates of Talmud, recorded my words, then conveniently spliced them into a more universal message. He then sent that recording to a non-Jewish friend in another community that he was worried wouldn’t leave. But you know how the Neuro is—information disseminates faster than air out of a lock. The altered message spread from one community to another, and it seemed that in two days, all of the Belt had heard of it. Soon I was getting calls from everywhere. They all wanted my advice, my permission, my blessings even! Most were so scared, Madam President. What could I do? I gave them advice and permission and, yes, even my blessings. Now here I am, wondering if I’m to be arrested.”

“Arrested?” sputtered Sandra. “Why in space would anyone do that?”

“Well, for starters, I usurped the authority of the Alliance. Last I heard, unknown rabbis from little-known settlements were not allowed to order mass evacuations.”

“Well, it’s a good thing someone did! I’m pretty sure the only thing the Cabinet is annoyed about is that they didn’t think of it first. But that too is a good thing.”

“How, exactly?”

“Rabbi, we could have screamed from the mountaintops to evacuate, and my feeling is that most would have refused. Remember, most of those people were born and raised in those orbital slots—yourself included, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re not.”

“Some have never even left their orbits.”

“Two for two,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“So then I ask you, Rabbi, who are we to tell them what to do and where to go, even if we have their best interests in mind?”

“Just another bunch of bureaucrats to work around.”

“Exactly. But
you’re
not the government. You are, or rather were, by your own admission, one of the few full-fledged and learned religious leaders left in a predominately religious enclave—if something encompassing billions of kilometers could even be deemed as such. So when
you
said, ‘go,’ it gave most of the settlements the justification they needed to do just that.”

“Some leader,” Rabbi bemoaned. “The only reason I’m here today talking with you is because I wasn’t important or knowledgeable enough to go to Alhambra.”

Sandra leaned over and fixed her gaze on Rabbi.

“You may find this odd, but humor me. Mind if I tell you a story?”

“Why not? It’s the Jewish way.”

“It’s about an abandoned baby left for dead. As luck would have it, the kid was found and soon thereafter adopted by a very wealthy family. Well, this kid, different looking, different everything, was considered by many to be a veritable idiot due to a severe speech impediment. Years later, he proved his naysayers right when, in a fit of anger, he killed a perfect stranger. Mind you, he killed the guy in an act of defending someone else, but still, he didn’t have to kill the guy.”

Rabbi nodded.

“So there he is, running from the law, scared out of his wits, and alone with no more chance of surviving in his environment than a spacer without his suit does in his.”

“This story,” Rabbi said, eyes focused intently, “sounds awfully familiar.”

“‘Who am I,’” quoted Sandra from the ancient biblical text, “‘that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?’”

Rabbi jerked back slightly in his chair.

“I … I am not that man.”

“Yet history seems to have placed you in a very similar situation.”

Rabbi remained silent, pulling rhythmically at his beard. When he finally looked up his blue eyes sparkled with appreciation.

“You know,” Rabbi said with a deprecating grin, “it’s not every day that so ‘learned’ a
rav
gets schooled by someone with the last name of O’Toole.”

Sandra laughed.

“But,” he acknowledged, “I accept your supposition. For too long I’ve been pushed along by forces that seemed to be overwhelming me, never once stopping to consider that perhaps I may have had a hand in shaping them.” He paused and gently stroked his beard. “Thank you, Madam President, for teaching this humble Jew such an intrinsically Jewish idea.”

Sandra tipped her head respectfully. “Well, Rabbi, I’d quote from my teacher, but I don’t really have one.” She gave him a considered look and decided on the spot that it wouldn’t be wise to lie to the man. Rabbi, like so very many of those around her, was too smart by half. “I’ll admit that belief … or rather faith, does not come easy to me. I suppose I’m a realist, but trust me on this, I’m more open to the idea now than I ever was before.”

“In that case, Madam President,” offered Rabbi, planting both hands firmly on his knees, “if we survive this war, I’d be honored if you’d consider studying some Talmud with me. I think you might really enjoy it.”

“You know, that’s actually something I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve heard so many references to the Talmud but never actually bothered to look at one.”

“Them,”
Rabbi corrected. “Every Jewish legal, ethical, and philosophical teaching dating back to the revelation at Mount Sinai. Six books in sixty-three volumes … in seven and half years.”

“Pardon?”

He gave her a one-sided grin. “That’s how long it took me to read ’em all, studying one page a day … usually in the morning before work.”

“Might have to reconsider, then. Not sure I have that kind of time.”

“Who does?” asked Rabbi, palms out. “Don’t worry. We’ll just do a page to give you some flavor.”

“In that case, it’s a deal.”

“Good!” he said, getting to his feet, assuming the meeting had come to an end.

“And now,” she said in words that sounded much softer than the intensity radiating from her eyes, “I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

Rabbi stood rigid, an animal caught in the headlights.

“Of course,” he said more cautiously.

Sandra beckoned him to sit once more. He did, but in a more prescribed manner.

“I’d …
we’d
like you to take charge of Diaspora.”

Rabbi gazed at Sandra, his blue eyes piercing into her accusingly. In the unease of his movements, Sandra observed a clash of contained emotions. When he finally chose to speak, his voice was low, but not robbed of any of its steel. “So that’s what this is all about.”

Sandra nodded, eyes fixed.

“I can barely handle my own yeshiva, Madam President. How can you expect me to take charge of hundreds of millions of people—all of whom are fleeing the Belt?”

“Not just take charge, Rabbi. Settle them as well.”

He shook his head and sighed. “Even better.”

Resigned, he looked up to the ceiling once again. “What have I ever done to you? Wait … don’t answer that.” Then to Sandra with a wan smile, he added, “I suppose that compared to some, it’s not the greatest burden in the solar system.”

“We all have our crosses—” Sandra put her fingers to her mouth. “Sorry, Rabbi.”

“I accept.”

“The apology or the job?”

“Yes.” He held out his hand. Startled, Sandra paused a moment but then took it firmly into hers.

*   *   *

After Rabbi left, Sandra resumed her position behind the desk. She then pulled a DijAssist from the desk and ordered it to display the list. Floating before her in three-dimensional glory were the head shots, names, ages, locations, and marital status of the fifty most influential persons in the Alliance. The full list numbered in the thousands, but by default she only ever displayed the top fifty. Her name, she noticed, still didn’t rate. She’d given Sebastian very stringent parameters as to what constituted “influential” and felt she could rely on him not to butter her up. After careful consideration, she moved Rabbi up from forty-seven to fifteen. She could always argue about it later. It was her prerogative to override her own parameters, especially if she knew something no one else did. And with Rabbi, she mused, boy were they all going to be surprised.

She looked at her spot. Still well down from the top, but she wasn’t overly concerned. She’d never been in this arena and was still feeling her way around. In many respects, it would be similar to taking over a large company and redirecting its energies, something she’d done before and with relative ease. But she also knew that this was not the same. It was far more dangerous because there was more at stake. If she did manage to get her name to the top of that list, she knew there’d be no going back; there’d be no going anywhere—she’d have to stay to the end.

Via Cereana, AWS
Warprize II

Tawfik Hamdi, chief engineer of the
Warprize II,
flagship of the Alliance fleet, was late for his staff meeting. As repayment to Brother Sampson, he’d been giving a sermon to assault miners of the Christian faith. The brother had given a brilliant sermon a few days earlier, in which he compared the Prophet’s journey from Mecca to Medina to that of the Belters fleeing to the outer planets. Both Muhammad and the Belters, the brother had said, left for fear of being murdered for their beliefs. In fact, recalled Tawfik, the brother had even suggested Diaspora be called Hijra in honor the Prophet. Tawfik, though, had demurred, saying at the time that, “as Allah has chosen Rabbi to lead the Belters to safety and the Blessed One to lead the faithful into battle, it would be best to leave the name as it is.” Brother Sampson had agreed. So when Tawfik had the chance to return the courtesy shown him, he studied and found a parable in the New Testament to share at the Christian service. But the discussion had gone on longer than expected. It turned out that the Christian holy book, unlike that of the Jews and Muslims, was not definitive, which made interpretation as much a matter of what translation you were using as well as what verse you were referring to.

Tawfik was hurrying back to the engineering section when he heard his name being called. He swung around and saw a young woman whose beauty, in his estimation, could not possibly be contained by the drab, gray jumpsuit and boots that had become standard military fare. She was short and rather thin, with slender wrists and a nicely accentuated bust. Her straight black hair was pulled back to reveal a smooth, dark face exuding good cheer and intelligence. Though her deep brown eyes nicely complemented the mélange of hair and skin, they did not get lost there. Instead, he noted, there was a quality of depth to them that drew him in. She was, according to her insignia, an ensign in the communications section of the ship, and though she seemed awfully familiar, for the life of him, he couldn’t place her.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?” she said coyly, coming up and then slapping the side of his arm in a manner that signified amusement rather than anger. That didn’t stop it from stinging. He gently rubbed his arm while simultaneously looking at where she’d hit him and where she was standing. He actually wasn’t sure what was more upsetting: being hit by a lower-ranking officer or having a senior moment well before the age of 120.

She pouted. “After all those times I followed you home from the madrassa.” With that last word, the voice was suddenly recognizable and the years fell away from her face.

Tawfik stood staring at his childhood friend, mouth agape.