Charles Sheffield - Aftermath

The car was slowing. Celine had felt her ears pop twice, more evidence that they were riding deeper and deeper below ground. The seat was as comfortable as ever, but any fear of nodding off was long gone. The Eye of God. The group had been known as the Legion of Argos long before its charismatic leader rose to notoriety. The Schiaparelli had already boosted away from Earth orbit by the time of the trial, but beamed radio reports provided coverage. The “Eye of God” — Celine would surely remember the woman’s name if she were less tired — had demanded absolute obedience from disciples and followers. As evidence of commitment to the causes of the Legion, she had directed a group of recruits to kill the four judges who had ruled against her in a property dispute. They had done that — and much more.

Celine felt her stomach tighten. Eli must be a minor player in the organization. But he, or one of the armed women sitting at the rear of the car, could have been in that group of blood-besotted recruits. And the Mars crew were defilers of Heaven. Better hope that obedience to the orders of the leader remained absolute. The Eye of God wanted the crew to arrive in good condition.

The holy work of cleansing. As the car stopped and Celine descended, she stared again at the emblem on Eli’s tunic. The scarlet talon grasping the blue-green globe of Earth. It made sense now, but only as a symbol of insanity.

How many people were in the Legion of Argos? Was the group big enough to be a national threat? One thing was sure, Eli was not about to tell her.

They were descending again, this time in a regular elevator. Celine could not be sure that it needed microchips for its operation, although almost every device made in the past thirty years had chips in it somewhere. Suppose they were a thousand feet down. Then the natural shielding of Earth’s crust should damp below danger level any electromagnetic pulse from Supernova Alpha.

Wilmer would be able to tell her in a moment at what depth that was true, but now the elevator door had opened. Eli was urging them forward, remaining inside himself.

No guns, no threats? It seemed that way. Celine walked from the elevator into a pleasantly furnished executive office. Half a dozen padded chairs were grouped around a glass-topped coffee table. On the table sat a painted samovar and a tray of cups. At the other side of the room a longer table formed a T-shape with a big desk at one end of it. The oddity was that Celine could see no telcoms, no displays, and no terminals.

And no guards. Only one other person was present, sitting in a chair by the coffee table. She smiled warmly and beckoned the new arrivals to come forward and join her.

“I know you are terribly tired,” she said. “It won’t make you feel any better, but let me tell you that at the moment I myself am hardly able to stay awake. I wanted to spend just a few minutes with you, before we all collapse into bed. Please sit down.”

She was a big woman, full-figured, probably close to six feet when she was standing up. Her hair was long and auburn, piled up onto the top of her head, and she had a pale, unblemished complexion and clear skin. Her eyes were bright gray, with a touch of golden brown at the center of the irises. At the moment the skin beneath them was dark-smudged with weariness. Her age might be anything from forty upward. The voice was warm and musical, with careful diction and soft vowels. Celine tried to analyze the accent, and decided that the speaker was native-born American, probably from somewhere like Tennessee. Her manner was utterly unlike Eli’s wooden personality.

“I was told that you were with the Mars expedition.” The woman made a quick survey of the four arrivals, and by some instinct spoke directly to Celine. “I find that totally fascinating. I have just awakened from judicial sleep. But before I was placed there, six years ago, I recall that there were to be seven crew members. Did the plans for the expedition change?”

She showed no hint of shame at admitting to a crime bad enough to justify her commitment to a syncope facility.

“There were seven of us.” Celine sat down, and Reza, Wilmer, and Jenny followed her lead. “All the way to Mars, and on Mars. We had a problem on our final descent to Earth, because all the people on the space stations are dead and the ground support network is not working. The rest of our crew died attempting atmospheric reentry.”

“That is truly terrible.” The woman had turned her head, and Celine could see two angry red stigmata on her pale neck. “You have my sympathy. But we do not know the ways of God. Comfort yourselves, if you can, with the thought that no one dies without a purpose.”

“It’s hard to think that way at the moment.”

“Impossible, I should think. But give yourselves time. And if there is anything that I can do to ease your grief, please let me know.” The woman leaned forward and extended her hand. “I am Pearl Lazenby. Welcome to the Legion of Argos.”

Pearl Lazenby. Celine knew she would have recalled the name once she was less exhausted. More difficult was the match of the apparently charming woman in front of them with the reputation of the Eye of God. That analysis would have to be postponed until she could think more clearly.

“I’m Celine Tanaka.” She gestured to the others in turn. “Reza Armani, Jenny Kopal, Wilmer Oldfield. I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but the man who brought us here — Eli — was not pleasant at all when he heard we were the Mars crew. He accused us of defiling Heaven.”

Pearl Lazenby had been repeating their names under her breath. Now she nodded. “I’m afraid that he was right. All space beyond Earth is God’s domain.” Her smile took the edge off her remark. “But I’m sure you did not initiate the Mars program, or sell it to a credulous world, or provide any part of its funding. You are merely the brave souls who believed the publicity and volunteered to fly the ship. Eli is wrong if he criticized you. You are to be pitied, not censured, and forgiven rather than punished. Behave acceptably, and you will be treated well here. I guarantee it.”

Wilmer leaned forward. “Eli said that you knew about Supernova Alpha before it happened. That you’ve been preparing for its effects for twenty years. Is that true?”

Pearl Lazenby was filling a cup from the tall painted samovar. At Wilmer’s question she passed the tea to Celine and leaned back.

“That is a very complex question. If I say I knew in 2006 that a specific star would turn supernova in the year 2026, that would not be correct. However, I was certain that some great catastrophe would take place over the whole world in that particular year — this year — and I saw many of the consequences.”

“You mean you foresaw consequences.”

“No, Dr. — Oldfield, was it? I said that your question was complex, and it is.” Pearl Lazenby sat, a little painted cup steady in her hand. She became perfectly still. Her eyes widened, although she was looking at no one. “When I was eighteen years old — nearly twenty-eight years ago, I was hardly more than a child — I began to see. I witnessed events that had never happened. It might be broad daylight, and I would watch a fire at midnight, a woman with smoldering clothes carrying two infants from a burning building. It might be evening, and I would witness a redheaded man’s fevered death by the light of dawn. I dared not drive, because when I saw I could observe nothing else around me.

“You might think that my visions would have drawn wide attention, but they did not. The year that my seeing began was 1998. The world then was full of millennial prophets and vast prophecies, and what I saw was nothing compared with other warnings: Judgment Day,