‘So that’s it?’
‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘What worries me most is the captain. I had to tell him some of it. I should have lied, of course, but had little time to think up a lie and. . .’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t need to worry about our precious captain. If he’s questioned, he’ll swear he knows nothing of you. He’s not looking for trouble. He’s got this End of Nothing monopoly all tied up and doesn’t want to lose it. It’s a gold mine for him. He hauls a load of pilgrims out, dumps them off, packs in the ones he hauled on the previous trip and takes them back to Gutshot.’
‘They all come form Gutshot? I never heard of any pilgrims there.’
‘Probably none from Gutshot, which is just the port of entry to End Of Nothing. They come from all over this sector of the galaxy, flying in from everywhere, gathering and waiting for the ship to End of Nothing. Then our captain herds them aboard and flies them out to Project Pope.’
‘You’re not a pilgrim?’
‘Do I look like one?’
‘No, you don’t. How about the loan of that bottle for a moment?’
She handed him the bottle.
‘I don’t know the entire story,’ she said. ‘I’m going out to have a look at it. It should provide material for several articles. Perhaps even a book.’
‘But you must have some idea, which is more than I have.’
‘Just the basic rumor. Just the tangled stories that one hears. Actually rumor may be all, but I think not. There must be something out there, with all this pilgrim traffic. I tried first to track down where the pilgrims were coming from, but that proved a dead end. There is no concentration of them. A few come from one planet, a few from still another, one or two from yet a third. All of them non-human – maybe specific kinds of aliens, although of that I’m not sure. Apparently all members of obscure cults or sects. Maybe each sect has a different faith – if you can call what they have a faith – but all of them are somehow tied in with this Pope project. That doesn’t necessarily mean they know anything about it. It may just be something on which they can base a shaky faith. Creatures of all kinds reaching for a faith, willing to grab at almost anything just so it’s mysterious or spectacular, preferably both. The thing that bothers me, the thing that sends me out, is that the whole business has a human ring to it. The site of Project Pope, as I understand it, is called Vatican-17 and-‘
‘Hold up a minute,’ said Tennyson. ‘That does have a human ring. There was a Vatican on Earth…’
‘There still is,’ she said. ‘The center of the Roman Catholic faith, which still exists on Earth and on several other human planets, is still headed by a pope and is still as strong as ever, perhaps stronger, its people still as devout as ever. But I doubt that this Vatican-17 has anything to do with the one on Old Earth. It sounds like some sort of take-off. For one thing, there are robots-‘
‘What would robots have to do with an Old Earth religion?’
‘I don’t know and I don’t think it is an Earth religion. Someone, perhaps the robots, borrowed the terminology…’
‘But robots?’
‘I know. I know. That’s what I’m trying to find out.’
‘And End of Nothing?’
‘End of Nothing,’ she said, ‘is out on the Rim. Among the Rim stars, of which there are not many. A lot of space. Not much of anything else. At the very edge of intergalactic space. So far as the planet is concerned, I know nothing except that it is Earthlike. No trouble for humans to live there. This ship, I am told, gets there in a standard month or less. How many times the speed of light that is, I have no idea. The old crate is equipped with an inertial drive, which one would not suspect in such a wreck. No great danger involved. It mostly crosses empty space. The ship makes six round trips a year, which spells out to an awful lot of pilgrims hauled.
The captain is an enigma. He probably could have command of one of the proudest interstellar liners; he has the required status. But here he is, running pilgrims he despises.’
‘But making a barrel of money. Told me five more years and he can retire to a planet named Apple Blossom.’
‘Yes, he told me that, too. Apparently he tells everyone. I don’t know how much to believe.’
‘Perhaps all of it,’ said Tennyson. ‘Men do strange things to cash in on their dreams.’
‘Jason,’ said Jill, ‘I like you. Do you know why I like you?’
‘My honesty and trustworthiness,’ he said. ‘My humanity, my compassion, my integrity…’
‘No, none of those. I like you because you can look at me without flinching. You don’t pull away. People, to start with, always pull away and flinch. I have come to terms with it myself; I wish other people would.’
‘I scarcely notice,’ he said.
‘You’re a cheerful liar. You do notice it. No one could help but notice it.’
‘The shock, what initial shock there is,’ he said, ‘comes from the fact that otherwise you are so beautiful. Without the cheek, your features are classic. One side of your face arrestingly appealing, the other side marred.’
‘You can even talk about it,’ she said, ‘and make it sound all right. No pity for me. Not even sympathy. As if it were quite normal. And that helps a lot. To be accepted as I am. I tried so hard. I went to so many different clinics. I was examined by so many people. And always the same verdict. Capillary hemangioma. Nothing to be done. One specialist-can you imagine it?-suggested I wear a mask, a half-mask covering the bad side my face. He assured me that one could be molded and fitted -‘
‘If it’s a mask you are looking for,’ he said, ‘you have the best one that there is – your self-acceptance.’
‘You really think so, Doctor?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘The bottle, please,’ she said. ‘Let us drink to that.’
They drank to it, solemnly, in turn.
‘One question,’ he said. ‘Not to change the subject, but a practical question. Once we get to End of Nothing, what kind of accommodations will we find? What kind of place to stay?’
‘I have reservations,’ she said, ‘at a place called Human House. I don’t know a thing about it except that it’s expensive – if that’s any criterion.’
‘When we arrive, may I take you to dinner that first evening? To take the taste of this ship out of our mouths.’
‘Why, thank you, sir,’ she said. ‘That is thoughtful of you.’
Four
They sat in the control room, sprawled out in the chairs.
‘Don’t make the mistake,’ the captain warned them, ‘of thinking of the robots of Project Pope as happy little servitors. They are high-powered electronic contraptions. Some people think they have managed to construct organic brains for themselves, but this I somehow doubt. Such a thought stems from the prejudicial viewpoint of a biological being. There is no reason to believe, once you think of it realistically, that a technological thinking and reasoning apparatus, given the present state of the art, need be one whit inferior to a human brain, or, actually, any kind of brain. These robots, for centuries, have been continually upgrading their capabilities, improving themselves in many different ways, as a human mechanic will keep on dinging up an engine to make it run better.’
‘How well are you acquainted with them?’ Tennyson asked.
‘Normal contacts only,’ the captain replied. ‘The necessary contacts for the conduct of my business. I have no friends among them, if that is what you’re asking.’
‘I’m sorry if I seemed to question you,’ said Tennyson. ‘I was simply curious. It seems I’m being plopped down into a situation I know nothing about. I’d like to find out as much as I can.’
‘I have been told,’ said Jill, ‘that the robots have humans working for them.’
‘I don’t know if the humans are working for them,’ the captain told her. ‘Maybe they are working together. There are humans, a rather large corps of them. But my contacts never have been with the humans. I see only the robots and then only when they want to see me. Project Pope is a big operation. No one outside Vatican really seems to know what is going on. One story has it that the robots are trying to build an infallible pope – an electronic pope, a computer pope. There appears to be an idea that the project is an outgrowth of Christianity, an Old Earth religion.’
‘We know what Christianity is,’ Jill said. ‘There still are a lot of Christians, perhaps more than ever before. True, Christianity no longer looms as important as it did before we began going into space. This, however, is a relative thing. The religion is still as important as ever, but its seeming importance has been diluted by the many other faiths that exist in the galaxy. Isn’t it strange that faith is so universal? Even the ugliest aliens appear to have a faith to cling to.’