Chapter 4. Window Shopping

The members of the Star Cult tended to be friendly to strangers...up to a point. They would happily engage people in conversation, talk about their beliefs, and invite others to activities. But there was an unspoken line that they did not cross. Only those in the cult were included in certain activities or could get close to certain information that wasn't widely promulgated or proselytized.

Before the accident, they tended to live in proximity of one another. That was both by happenstance and design. As more members joined the Circle's Edge, there were fewer cabins available, except for those considered to be in "the worst section" which was mostly arbitrary, since the ship was generally symmetrical in all directions, give or take a feature or two. The "bottom" was considered the "lower class" merely because of its orientation. The cultists were glad to gather together and happily gobbled up that space. That area had already been called Section C, but people began to refer to it as "C-Section" both as the "Cult Section" and as a rather inaccurate analogy to a Cesarean Section, since nothing was being removed or birthed and it did not cut into "the heart of the ship" as some claimed, either metaphorically or literally. Nevertheless, the name stuck.

For a long time, few had much of a desire to visit that area. But there was no rule against it. However, non-believers in the bottom sections of the ship would find themselves surprisingly unwelcome by these normally affable people. Doors would be shut and conversations would cease as the outsiders approached. Service and maintenance people still would go there to do their jobs, but they would not linger.

After the accident, the Star Cult members became the majority of those remaining on the ship. And while they could have gone anywhere, they chose to remain in C-Section. With so fewer security personnel to enforce the old rules of the ship, the cult members quietly spread the word that non-believers were no longer allowed free access in C-Section without appropriate permission and escort.

No one seemed to mind nor care.

They did not explicitly guard their corridors and decks, but even given their large membership number, it was easy to tell someone who didn't belong.

Also, as one might expect, their proselytizing greatly increased after the accident. This was a great "end of the world" scenario, loaded with analogies about stars, creation, destruction, and how individuals can come out ahead. It was difficult to tell those who were on the edge, about to be pulled into the cult (again, the analogies to gravity and stars, but this time used by both sides). Those on the edge didn't tend to talk about their new friends, the conversations they had, or their new outlook. Often the only clues were nothing more than just an obscure reference or two. The numbers of the Children of the Expanding Light was growing, and with the new bodies, they were also able to add a few more skills to their ranks.

No one had ever mentioned any specific punishment for violating the interdict against non-believers in C-Section. The general consensus was that violators would simply be escorted out of C-Section. Yet whenever this was discussed, inevitably, someone would add, "Yeah, through an airlock."

This was one of the reasons why Jenkins was rather anxious and agitated as he wandered the decks of C-Section closest to the ship's outer hull.

Jenkins had spent the last couple hours wandering around C-Section. And while the cult members were certainly xenophobic, Jenkins had two things working in his favor. First, he had spent a considerable amount of time around and among cult members. So he was familiar with their little greetings and the way they interacted with each other. And many of them had seen him around at various times. Given that there were a thousand members, many would recall having seen his face and vaguely remember that it was in C-Section with other members on a few occasions, so he was probably OK. With the exception of a small number of its members, Jenkins considered almost everything about the cult to be pure rubbish and was in no danger of joining their ranks.

The other factor in his favor was that Jenkins was almost always socially awkward. He would talk to himself, usually about some system on the ship or something he was working on, or boast of his accomplishments and had little care or even awareness of interests of others. So it was perfectly normal for him to be wandering around, stopping, changing directions, looking at a readout on a wall panel or his palmscreen, arguing with himself, avoiding making eye contact with anyone who walked by, and generally doing the things that would, in most situations, attract a lot of negative attention. Perfectly normal for him.

And that was exactly what he was doing, whether intentional or not. Few people bothered him, and the few that approached him were greeted with an appropriate phrase like "may the stellar wind embrace you" or "I feel your pull, brother". While he couldn't bring himself to say such things without a grimace, no one paid him any attention at that. He was thin and twitchy, always adjusting how he stood or sat, shifting his weight, looking all around when talking to someone. He was an outcast, but he knew the right shibboleths, so he must be their outcast.

The escape pod situation was dire and he knew it, even if he wasn't admitting it. Other than the pod that he helped destroy, The Last Hope was the most functional escape pod. But it would only hold three people. And without a replacement beryllium conduit for the power system, it wasn't going anywhere. At best, it could be launched, orbit the white hole for a day or two longer than the Circle's Edge, and then plummet into the anomaly.

If the cult had transport ships or some way to get off the ship, then there was still hope. For the both of them. And while Kless was an ass, he could get things done, make sure that agreements were kept. But he had to know if it was a bluff. He had to know if the cult had escape pods, functional ones. Hell, he would be happy knowing if they had just a single pod.

The pods could be moved from their normal storage location and attached to airlocks or vents, allowing them to be staged from all over the ship, rather than just emergency exits. However, there were only so many shuttles, pods, and similar small craft on the ship, and not that many locations to attach them to the ship. There simply were not that many places to hide them. It would be sufficient to throw up a curtain and tell the cult members "don't look here, it's a star-secret that only a Giant or smaller can know" and no one would look behind it. But Jenkins would certainly look.

The escape pod that Jenkins found had not been hidden or disguised. It was connected through a standard ship-to-ship airlock. The access door was shut, but not sealed.

"No cultist is looking to leave the ship..." he muttered to himself, "no need to hide anything."

After looking up and down the corridor and seeing no one, he entered the escape pod.

The lighting inside was dim with a reddish tint, and even though it was sharing its atmosphere with the Circle's Edge, it had a musty smell. The pod was bigger than The Last Hope, yet the darkness and stale air gave a claustrophobic feel to it.

Jenkins leaned over the command panel and hit a few buttons, some of the red lights on the panel changed to yellow and a few screens came to life. He flipped through a few status screens, then looked at some system diagnostics on a panel on a side wall at the engineer's station situated behind the right front seat.

"Oooooooh...." he said, lost in thought. "That's no good." Then tapped a few buttons. "That's worse." A few more taps. "Ah," he said satisfied, then glanced back over to the front consoles and noticed that none of the yellow indicators had turned green. He sighed thoughtfully, then took a slow breath.

He stopped and sniffed the air, once, twice, three times quickly, then started looking around frantically. He leaped back to the front panel and quickly hit a few buttons and the screens went dark and the systems went back into standby mode.

"Shit..." He was looking around and sniffing. "I don't think anything caught. This is no good."

"You are caught, my friend. And yes, this is no good. For you," said a rough voice from behind him. Jenkins turned around and saw a man with the stature of a short, stocky, and hairy, imp. He looked straight at the technical sergeant with not a bit of mirth, mischievous or otherwise, about him. It wasn't an angry voice, just one with a very unsubtle threat of violence about it, that said, "Step away from the controls and exit the pod. I would like to hurt you, but will refrain from doing so if you do exactly as I say."

Jenkins was of average height, so had maybe 6 inches on the newcomer, but he was an engineer, not a fighter. The other man looked like one compact mass of muscle waiting for an excuse to exert itself in whatever violent way it could find. Jenkins nervously held up his hands and carefully walked towards the exit of the pod. The man backed up, through the exit, as Jenkins walked towards him.

"Don't even think about shutting the pod door on me," the man said as he backed out of the pod and stepped back into the ship. Jenkins followed him.

The imp was joined by another cult member, this one tall and wide. The linebacker said to the imp in a voice muffled by his own mass, "I reported this. Someone will be along in a moment." Once Jenkins was clear of the door, the tall one closed it.

Jenkins stood there, awkwardly, looking from one to the other. A few times it looked as if he was going to say something, but he never seemed to find any words. The other two just stared at him, saying nothing, showing no emotion.

After a few painfully slow minutes, another figure appeared, as tall as the linebacker but thinner. He wore a dark brown robe and a his face was hidden behind a hood. Around his neck, outside of his hood, he wore a sash, only slightly lighter than his robe, with some symbols on it. He was fairly high ranking: a brown dwarf, an acolyte. "Brothers, may the stellar wind embrace you," he said to the two guards, and they grunted something unintelligible in unison in response. "What is going on?" he asked in a slow, measured cadence.

The short one replied, "Brother X'til, we saw this one enter the escape pod. I convinced him to leave it, without violence I might add, and Brother Y't'nli called you."

"I see. Your non-violence is appreciated...in this instance. As is your willingness to seek assistance from this humble servant." It was completely unclear if his comment was meant as a compliment or an insult. Brother Y't'nli showed no reaction either way. The acolyte continued, "This is most unprecedented. I think the leader should be informed. Bring him."

Both of the guards seemed to be taken aback for a moment before grabbing an arm of Jenkins in an iron grip and leading him on. It wasn't every day they had the opportunity to bask in the presence of their leader.

They did not go far, a few corridors at the most, before stopping at a door. X'til went in and told them to wait. Neither of them had changed the grip they held on his arm by a micropascal. After another few minutes of waiting the door opened and X'til's voice from inside said, "Enter." The three of them walked in the cabin.

Jenkins was a little surprised to see the leader, dressed in his full regalia. The leader was a fairly fit man in his 50s, with graying hair, slightly taller than the sergeant. He wore robes whose colors seemed to shift as he moved, and a tall collar in the back. Most of the cult members wore the same clothing as everyone else on the ship. A number of the monks wore robes, with a color scheme tied to their rank. The leader's was the only unique uniform among the lot, which seemed appropriate given his position.

There were some formal exchanges of gestures and greetings among the different members, then the leader asked for a report.

After Teshbin, for that was the imp's name, gave his report, Y't'nli chimed in and said, "and for his actions, he must die!"

Teshbin said, "His blood will atone for his blasphemies!"

Jenkins finally found his voice. "No! Wait! Let me speak!" He felt a blow to his gut and crumbled to the ground.

"You speak when spoken to. Only then," said Teshbin. Clearly his promise of violence had not been a bluff.

Through a haze of pain and disorientation, Jenkins heard the leader calmly say, "Of course he must die, and his blood must be spilled. But...I would hear what he has to say first. Your name, tell us your name and then speak your peace. But measure carefully your words, for they may be your last." And turning to Teshbin, he said quietly, "we will hear him out and take no actions against him until we are satisfied we have heard enough."

Jenkins rose, holding an arm around his gut which had a dull ache. He nodded, and then made a gesture to the leader that he had been taught was a sign of respect, appropriate for non-initiates to use. "Jenkins. Technical sergeant Jenkins...your holiness."

"The Reverend Lon would be an appropriate form of address."

"Thank you sir, Reverend. I won't deny that I was in the pod, but I could not help but notice two things. One, it's in excellent condition. Better than any other I've seen on this ship. Two, it's currently in an inoperative state. Probably a short somewhere. If someone tried to use it for real, for more than a few minutes, the wires would probably catch fire, and from there it just gets worse. The damage is hard to find, and I'd say that there's probably only one person on this ship would could fix it and make it serviceable again: me. Regardless of your plans, having a pod that doesn't work would seem to limit your options, reverend."

"And you say you can fix it?" asked the leader.

"Of course. I'd need to get some tools, but it wouldn't take me very long. Just a matter of tracing some routes," stated Jenkins.

The other three then chimed in with opinions, which mostly amounted to the need for his cruel and painful death. X'til seemed to be on the fence, and possibly more influential. Jenkins just waited, as, for all he knew, it could be some sort of test.

Interrupting the bickering was an all-ship announcement over the P.A. system. It began, "All is well. There is no need to panic." Jenkins recognized the voice: Kless. This was his 10 minute warning.

"Reverend," Jenkins began, ignoring what the announcement was saying, "if I am to be given a chance to right things, I need to leave immediately. I must get my tools and .. I don't like the sound of that announcement, so I'd rather not delay. It's in my interest to get that pod working too."

The leader was smiling a little, amused at some unspoken joke perhaps. "Very well. We never know which direction the stars send us. Get your tools and return. Remember, the Children now represent the majority of the people aboard this ship, not just in C-Section, so you will not be able to get away with anything without us knowing. That is all. Blessings and solar winds to you, for your outstanding work Brothers Teshbin and Y't'nli. That is all. Brother X'til, I have other matters I wish to discuss with you."

And with that, Jenkins was escorted out of C-Section. Teshbin made it a point to note every airlock they passed.

"Brothers, I think your 'talents' are wasted here," came a stern but familiar voice.

The three stopped and saw a group of brown robed acolytes approaching them. Most were fairly large men, whose markings indicated various rankings ranging from upper levels of 'giant' to lower levels of 'dwarf'. The one in front ranked above the rest.

"Sister Kendau, may the tides tow thee where thou wilt," Teshbin said.

"I go where my path leads me. As you should yours," she replied. "Right now, the time is ripe to grow our membership. I fear the environment is not safe for me, but think you two would be well suited for the job. You can pick which group to proselytize first. The Neutron Star would be impressed with you, personally, if you could gather 50 or 100 more into our fold. I think I would be able to escort this one to his destination without a problem, be it the lab or the airlock," she said mirthlessly.

The tone of Kendau's voice sent a chill down his Jenkins' spine, even though he would be safer from encountering random 'accidents'.

Teshbin looked at Kendau and the group behind her for a moment, then looked menacingly at Jenkins. "Come on," he said over his shoulder to the group traveling with Kendau. "We'll go to Bay 1 first and then Bay 2. Do you approve of that agenda, Brother Y't'nli?"

Y't'nli nodded and smiled. The others walked past Kendau and joined the two Brothers.

"Drop him off at his lab, not just Section B. The Neutron Star wants him to arrive home in one piece. Although he's not against him being a bit more star-fearing," Teshbin said to Kendau, motioning with his head towards the nearest airlock.

"Oh, Brother Teshbin, you truly are gifted," she said. With a shove, Sister Kendau told Jenkins to get moving and the two groups split off.