Coyote Horizon (19 page)

After a while, Rice stood up from his seat in the choir. Cosenza watched as he snuffed out the altar candles and collected the offering plates, then he followed the pastor as he stepped behind the chancel and went to the sacristy. There were a couple of chairs in the small antechamber; Rice gestured to them, then went about putting away the plates and hanging up his shawl.

“So . . . where should I begin?” Rice asked as he sat down across from Cosenza.

“At the beginning.”

“That would only make sense, I suppose.” Rice sighed. “You know, of course, that our first missionaries came here a little less than three Coyote years ago . . . eight by the Gregorian calendar . . . right after the starbridge was opened. Since then, our people have dispersed throughout the colonies. We now have smaller missions in Clarksburg, Leeport, Defiance, New Brighton . . .”

“I’m aware of all that.” Cosenza was trying not to lose patience, but it seemed as if Rice was stalling. “Tell me about the
hjadd
. What do they have to do with . . . ?”

“I’m getting there.” Rice held up a hand. “At first, we were welcomed . . . or at least I was, when I arrived to take over this ministry. My predecessor, who’d established this mission before deciding to return to Earth, left me with a congregation of nearly a hundred. Most were recent immigrants, but we also had a few who were second- or third-generation descendants of the original colonists. Not all that many, relatively speaking, but they were open to our message all the same. And then . . .”

He paused. “Well, I’m sure you know about that, too. The
hjadd
arrived, and that changed everything.”

“I think you overstate the situation,” Cosenza said. “Not everything changed.”

“On Earth, perhaps not . . . but no one back home has seen an alien, have they? Not in the flesh, at least.” Rice shook his head. “It’s different here. Most people here haven’t laid eyes on them, either . . . they’re quite reclusive . . . nevertheless, their presence is as obvious as the embassy they’ve built.”

He nodded in the general direction of the university. “It’s not far from here, if you’d like to see it. Just on the other side of the campus. Amazing how quickly it went up . . . only a couple of days.” A shallow grin. “In fact, you could almost call it a miracle . . . but then again, isn’t it true that only God can perform miracles?”

Cosenza’s mouth tightened at the remark; coming from a clergyman, it was dangerously close to apostasy. Yet he couldn’t deny the fact that the unexpected return of a long-lost European spacecraft bearing a representative of an extraterrestrial race had thrown the Dominionists into an ecumenical crisis. The Church of the Holy Dominion was founded on the belief that, since no intelligent races had been found beyond Earth, God had created Man in His own image, and therefore it was incumbent upon humankind to spread itself throughout the galaxy in order to fulfill His plan. Knowledge of the existence of alien civilizations—not just the
hjadd
, but apparently many others as well—was a refutation of this fundamental principle.

“We’ve had . . . some loss of support back home, too.” Cosenza picked his words carefully. “But the Council of Elders has studied the matter and come to the conclusion that, since the
hjadd
are clearly not human, they cannot have been created by the Almighty.” He smiled. “Come now, Grey. You know this already. When the first colonists discovered a native species . . . sandthieves, I believe they’re called . . . ?”

“
Chirreep
. ‘Sandthieves’ is the old word for them. We don’t use it anymore.” Rice shook his head. “That’s different. The
chirreep
are hominids, little more than simians. Even the most advanced tribes are barely capable of using tools. The
hjadd
are different.”

“Certainly they’re different. That’s why they’re the exception.” The deacon confidently raised a finger. “Have they heard the word of the Lord? No? Then they’re not part of His plan, any more than . . .”

“But that’s just it. They . . .” Rice stopped. “Look, I’m getting ahead of myself, and I’m afraid you won’t understand me unless I take this one step at a time. If I may . . .”

“Of course. Sorry.” Cosenza was feeling his stomach begin to growl. It had been many hours since he’d had breakfast in New Brighton, and he’d been expecting to be off to lunch by then. But Rice was determined to explain himself, and as a senior clergyman, Cosenza was obliged to hear him out. “Please continue.”

“Thank you.” Rice clasped his hands together in his lap. “I tried to make that argument in my sermons, but it didn’t help. We started to lose parishioners . . . only one or two at first, but then I began to notice, every Orifiel, the pews were gradually becoming more empty with each passing week. I’d run into my former parishioners on the street and ask why they were no longer attending services, and they’d all tell me the same thing . . . it was no longer possible for them to have faith in a religion based upon a belief that they knew to be untrue.”

“They’ve all lost faith in God?” Cosenza raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“No, no.” Rice shook his head. “They still believe in the Lord. It’s our interpretation of Him that they no longer accept. The very presence of the
hjadd
was evidence of . . .”

He let out his breath as an expansive sigh. “Forgive me, Deacon, but I began to play down certain aspects of our faith. Instead of insisting that Man is alone in the universe, I emphasized that we are the Lord’s chosen people and, as such, it is our duty to populate the galaxy. My sermon . . .”

“Yes, I’ve read it. A satisfactory interpretation of the Church’s reformed doctrine. And you say you still continued to lose attendance?” Rice nodded. “But, of course, the Church has a social role as well. Have you tried . . . ?”

“Family nights. Charity drives. Bingo games. Pork roasts.” The minister shrugged. “We do all these things, with what few resources we still have, and sometimes they’re successful. About a dozen or so showed up for Easter dinner a couple of weeks ago. But none of this has brought in new members, or at least not permanently.” Rice hesitated. “I should add that I use the word ‘we’ only because I’m so used to saying so. Truth is, I’m now on my own. My associate minister resigned four weeks ago. He renounced Dominionism, has converted to the Presbyterian faith, and now belongs to that church.”

Cosenza glared at him. “You didn’t tell the elders this in your communiqué.”

“I prayed that he’d change his mind before you arrived, but I assumed it was the Lord’s will that I carry on alone. Now”—Rice looked down at the floor—“I’m not even sure of that anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Despite his rising anger, Cosenza reached out to grasp the minister’s hand. “Grey, there are worse things than losing one’s congregation. If you still have your faith . . .”

“Deacon, please . . .” Rice raised his eyes. “It’s not that simple. Something else has happened.” Before Cosenza could ask, he went on. “A few days before I sent word to the elders, I had a visitor . . . a young man whom I’d never seen before. He wouldn’t tell me who he was but allowed that, until recently, he’d been living in New Brighton, where he’d worked in some official capacity.”

“That’s rather secretive, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it is. In fact, I had the impression that he was in trouble with the law. A woman about his own age was with him, but she was reluctant to set foot in the church, so I let her remain outside while he and I went in to speak.”

“If he was a criminal, you should have . . .”

“Notified a proctor, yes, I know. But what he had to tell me was so incredible that I decided to give him sanctuary.” Rice paused. “He told me that he’d met a
hjadd
, and that it . . . heshe, rather . . . had given him a device of some sort that was, in essence, a recording of their spiritual doctrine.”

For an instant, Cosenza felt as if his heart had stopped. “Dear God, man,” he whispered, staring at the young pastor in astonishment. “Did he let you see it?”

Rice shook his head. “I asked, but he refused. Said that he left it elsewhere, in a place where he knew it would be safe until he returned for it. He didn’t say as much, but I think he was reluctant to show it to anyone of any established religion, lest it be confiscated and destroyed.”

“But . . . I don’t understand. Why would . . . ?”

“My visitor told me a little of what he’d learned from his . . . well, examination . . . of this object, and it contradicted everything we believe to be true.” Cosenza opened his mouth to speak, but Rice quickly went on. “Not just Dominionism . . . virtually every major religion as well. Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hindu . . .”

“Heresy.”

“That was what I thought, too. And I told him so.” Rice shook his head. “In hindsight, I know now that doing so was a mistake. He became upset, told me that he’d come seeking spiritual guidance, not recrimination. Then he and his companion left. When I realized that I’d said the wrong thing, I went out to search for them. But apparently they’ve left town, and I haven’t seen them since.”

Cosenza’s hands were shaking. He clasped them together in his lap to keep them still. “Perhaps it’s a hoax,” he said quietly. “Or maybe he was delusional . . .”

“That possibility occurred to me, too. But I had to find out for myself.” Abruptly, Rice stood up from his chair and, head lowered, began to pace the small room. “What I did next may have been . . . well, questionable . . . yet it was the only recourse I felt was open to me.”

He stopped, gazed at the deacon. “I went to see the
hjadd
.”

 

 

 

The door to the alien embassy bore an uncomfortable resemblance to a sphincter, and when it silently swirled shut behind him, Rice had the eerie feeling that he’d entered a womb. The chamber in which he found himself was dark, save for abstract patterns etched into the rock walls that emitted a sanguine glow, and unnaturally warm. Whatever he’d been expecting to find in the
hjadd
habitat, that wasn’t it.

His eyes had barely adjusted to the gloom when a beam of light came down from the concave ceiling, revealing a couchlike recamier in the center of the room. Once again, Rice heard the disembodied voice that had addressed him outside the building.
“Welcome, Reverend. Please make yourself comfortable. One of our people will be with you soon.”

Rice swallowed, even though his throat was dry. The voice spoke perfect Anglo. It lacked a human accent; nevertheless, he’d been surprised to hear his own language. “Thank you,” he said, then he approached the recamier, his footsteps echoing faintly from the stone floor. Another surprise: resting upon a small table beside the couch was a small copper pitcher, with a matching cup next to it. The water in the pitcher was lukewarm, but at least he was able to quench his thirst; he poured some into the cup and, taking a drink, sat down on the couch.

Rice tried to remain calm, yet he was amazed how easy it had been to gain admission to the embassy. It had taken a couple of days for him to get in touch with Carlos Montero, and when the Federation liaison to the
hjadd
finally returned his call, he’d warned Rice not to expect much. “I’ll pass along your request, Reverend,” Carlos had said, “but you should know that a lot of folks have tried to meet them. So far, they’ve only let in two people . . . myself and Morgan Goldstein. With all due respect, I doubt that they’ll want to talk to you.”

So Rice was shocked when, later that same day, the former president called back to inform him that the
hjadd
had agreed to a meeting. Indeed, Carlos seemed surprised; perhaps he’d believed that the aliens had better things to do than have a conversation with a Dominionist minister. Yet he kept his opinion to himself, and instead instructed Rice to go to the north wall of the
hjadd
compound, where the public entrance was located.

“Any time will do,” Carlos added. “Right now, if you’d like. The
hjadd
. . . well, they’re rather quixotic when it comes to schedules. Either they’ll let you in, or they’ll tell you to go away and come back later.”

So Rice had put on his shawl and hurried out of the church, making his way on foot across the university campus until he reached the embassy. It wasn’t until he’d almost reached the stone torus that he realized, in his haste, he’d neglected to bring along his Bible. Not that it mattered much—he knew the Holy Scriptures by heart—but nonetheless, if he was going to discuss religion with the
hjadd
, it might have helped if he’d brought the gospels.

So here he was, sitting in what he took to be a reception room, drinking warm water and wondering how long the aliens would keep him waiting. Not long, as it turned out. He’d barely become accustomed to his surroundings when a new voice spoke to him—
“Good afternoon, Reverend Rice”
—and he looked around to discover a
hjadd
standing behind him.

Startled, Rice almost dropped his cup. The
hjadd
wasn’t wearing an environment suit, but instead was dressed in a togalike outfit made of some iridescent fabric, its folds and bell sleeves embroidered with intricate, almost arabesque designs. He’d seen pictures of the aliens, of course, yet he found himself unprepared for the sight of one up close. Slightly shorter than the average human, heshe looked somewhat like a bipedal tortoise, only lacking a shell. A short, ribbed fin rose from the top of hisher hairless skull, while two slitted eyes protruded above a beaklike snout, its lipless mouth perpetually frozen in a solemn frown.

“Again, good afternoon.”
The
hjadd
raised hisher left hand in a gesture of greeting.
“You are the Reverend Grey Rice, or am I mistaken?”

“Yes . . . yes, I’m Reverend Rice.” He fumbled to put the cup back on the table, then hastily stood up and turned to face the alien. “Sorry, I . . . You just startled me a bit, that’s all.”

The fin rose a little higher as the
hjadd
made a sputtering hiss that Rice hoped was laughter.
“Quite understandable. Our projector”
—hisher six-fingered hand motioned toward the ceiling—
“has a somewhat limited range, I am afraid. We are not always able to appear in exactly the proper place to greet our guests without alarming them.”