Children of the Old Star (8 page)

The second time Clyde's faith in the Navy had been hurt had to do with his good friend, John Wong. Clyde knew that Lieutenant Wong was the son of an admiral, but never thought much of it. Clyde, like John, was a lieutenant. Unlike John, Clyde had more years of service. He also knew that Lieutenant Wong had never particularly distinguished himself in the line of duty. Thus, it was clear to Clyde that he would be promoted well ahead of his friend. Instead, John's mother called in some favors. Within four years, John Wong was captain of his own ship while Clyde still served as a lieutenant. That was when Clyde decided he would resign his commission and return home to Sufiro.

On Sufiro, Clyde's faith took a third blow. His childhood friend, Rocky Hill, was lieutenant governor of the continent of Tejo. Rocky was looking for a leader of a new Tejo military. His choice was Clyde McClintlock. It was then that Clyde, who had never risen beyond the rank of lieutenant, who had never particularly distinguished himself in the line of duty, suddenly found himself leading the army of an entire continent. Quite frankly, Clyde didn't feel that he deserved the honor.

Clyde's faith was utterly demolished when he led a military coup and took over the Tejan continent. To do that went against everything he had been taught. It went against every instinct, except for one. That instinct was the basic morality his parents had raised him with.

In essence, when Clyde arrived in Roanoke, a freed political prisoner, he had come full circle. He was a reborn man, looking for something, anything actually, to believe in.

The people of Roanoke believed in a religion that Clyde knew only slightly. Rather than believing that the carpenter of Nazareth, called Jesus, was a mere prophet, these people believed he was, in fact, the Messiah. What made them different from the Christians Clyde had known on Earth was their devotion to their faith.

Clyde McClintlock found the religion and the faith of these people attractive. The structure of the faith was casual. There were few rituals. They had a strong sense of discipline and they spoke to God all the time, whenever they wanted.

There was only one problem Clyde saw with the faith of the people of Roanoke. They claimed that God spoke to them. In the weeks that Clyde had been in Roanoke, learning the ways of the people, learning to pray, never once had God seemed to speak to him. The way these people felt about God was more akin to the way he felt about the Cluster than anything else was.

Clyde McClintlock had written down the impressions he had received from the Cluster. Those impressions had given him a moral certainty like none that he had ever felt in his life. The Cluster had put images directly in his mind. What he saw from the Cluster was far more real to Clyde than what he felt from the God of Roanoke.

On the day of his rescue from prison, Suki Firebrandt had asked whether or not the Cluster had communicated with Clyde. This shook him. “You see,” she had said, “the Cluster seems to have communicated with John Mark.” Clyde thought back to the conversation with Fire.

"It what?” asked Clyde, almost falling out of the austere, wooden chair in the little inn.

"Mark says he saw what amounted to visions.” Fire leaned across the table. Her brown eyes glistened with moisture, but she kept the rest of her face rock steady. “I have to know, Clyde, did the Cluster communicate with you as well?"

Clyde told about his visions. He told Suki how they had led him to the decision to lead the military coup against the leaders of Tejo. “The experience was almost, religious,” said Clyde, a gleam in his blue eyes.

Fire put her head down. Manuel Raton reached out a rough hand and took hers. “You see,” said Manuel softly. “Mark has been kicked out of the Gaean Navy because he suggested they try communicating with the Cluster rather than destroy it."

Clyde's cynicism about the Gaean Navy ran so deep by that point that the news did not surprise him in the least. Still, the fact that he was not the only one who had seen the visions reassured him. For the first time since he had led the military coup, Clyde began to feel at peace.

"I just had to know,” said Fire looking up at last, “whether or not the communication was real. I had to know that if Mark had been kicked out of the fleet, it was not for something imaginary."

"Not only was it real,” said Clyde, “it was something noble."

For the first time in her life, Fire saw why her father had believed so strongly in the McClintlock family. “Thank you,” she said. She and Manuel stood. Clyde stood as well. All three embraced.

"What is Mark going to do now?” Clyde asked.

"I think he's going to try to find the Cluster,” said Fire. “He wants to talk to it."

"If anyone can succeed,” said Clyde. “It's Mark Ellis."

On that particular Sunday, Clyde was sitting in the tiny white, wooden church in Roanoke. Reverend Burroughs was preaching from the Revised Dead Sea Version of the Old Testament book of Ezekiel. He spoke dramatically, gesturing wildly with his hands. Clyde was not too fond of the Old Testament. In it, God seemed far too vengeful; more someone to be feared rather than loved and confided in. However, something in the words the Reverend read caught Clyde's attention.

"This is the vision that Ezekiel saw: There came the likeness of a chariot with wheel inside wheel and the wheels did not turn as they approached. When the being rose, the wheels rose like a bird with two wings.” As Burroughs read, his voice rose to a crescendo. Clyde listened to the description of the vision and his mind's eye worked on wheels inside wheels that did not turn. He imagined spheres hanging close together. The Reverend continued to speak about how the wheels were attached to each other and something about faces.

The preacher's voice dropped to a near reverential whisper. “And wheel joined to wheel when they moved. And their appearance and their working were as if it were a wheel in the middle of a wheel. As for the likeness of the living creatures, their appearance was like burning coals of fire and like the appearance of lamps.” This caused Clyde to sit upright, listening intently, now. He thought about the silver orbs of the Cluster, brightly reflecting the light of Sufiro's sun as it had orbited the planet.

"Now there was over their heads an expanse, like an awesome gleam of crystal and a voice came from above the expanse...” Clyde wiped sweat from his brow. The spheres spoke to Ezekiel.

Ezekiel was speaking of a vision of God. Clyde retrieved the notepaper with a sketch of the Cluster. Next to the sketch, he drew wheels within wheels. To Clyde McClintlock, it was clear that Ezekiel had described the Cluster in beautiful, poetic language.

Images of the Cluster visiting Earth in ancient times came to Clyde's mind. Many of Earth's religions were based on various portions of the Old Testament. Could it be that everyone had it wrong? Clyde began writing feverishly on his pad of paper. What if the Cluster was not really an alien intelligence? What if it was the one great Intelligence? Clyde stopped for a moment, afraid of where his thoughts were leading. However, the conclusions he was reaching were inevitable to him. Quite simply, Clyde McClintlock began to see the Cluster as God incarnate.

Not only that, but the Cluster had spoken to him. That made Clyde, the prophet of the Cluster, just as Ezekiel was the prophet of God. Clyde put his trembling hand to his mouth. The Cluster had also spoken to John Mark Ellis. Ellis, like many prophets, had been persecuted for trying to spread the word.

Sitting there in the church, Clyde's hands shook violently. He felt like throwing up. No matter what, he needed air. He stood, and nearly tripping over the feet of one of his fellow parishioners, he stumbled out of the church and into the open air.

Clyde McClintlock stood outside, blinking at Sufiro's blue-green sky. He was both exhilarated and terrified. He was not sure what to do. Feeling his knees go weak, he simply dropped to a crouch on the cool stone steps in front of the church. Half an hour later, Reverend Burroughs appeared at the door to greet the parishioners as they prepared to leave the building.

"I've had people fall asleep on my sermons,” said the minister with a gleam in his eye. “But I've never had any run out in a cold sweat, before."

"I'm sorry.” Clyde unfolded aching limbs and looked around a little nervously. “I'm afraid I got a good close-up look at God Himself.” He stopped himself from saying more as the first of the people began to pour out of the tiny white church building. The former colonel slumped into the shadows as people shook hands with the minister. He stood there, a cool breeze playing across his face, trying to figure out what to do. He looked to the sky and realized that the first thing he should do was find John Mark Ellis. Ellis would have a good idea of what to do.

Clyde ducked around behind the church and made his way back to the tiny house the people of Roanoke loaned him. Green shrubbery and a beautifully manicured lawn surrounded the house. In many ways, it was the nicest house Clyde had ever lived in.

Stepping inside, he dialed up a shipping schedule on the computer terminal. There would be a ship going from Roanoke to the minor continent of Little Sonora in a couple of days. From Little Sonora, he could catch a ship to Earth.

Using the Gaean Navy Veteran's index, it took no time to find out that Ellis lived on Nantucket Island. Clyde's jaw hung open as he read that. For Ellis to be able to afford even a shack on the island would have to make him rich beyond belief. What was he doing as a commander of a destroyer?

A knock on the door caused Clyde to jump. He stood, walking across the soft beige carpet, and opened the door. Reverend Burroughs stood, wearing a concerned frown. “Sorry to impose, Colonel McClintlock, but I was worried about you after the service."

Clyde took a deep breath and held his hand open, inviting the Reverend inside. Burroughs stepped in and sat down at a simple square Formica-topped table. Clyde offered the minister a cup of coffee. Burroughs politely declined, but Clyde poured some in a fine porcelain cup and sat down at the table with the minister. “I'm sorry if I gave you a start.” Tentatively, Clyde sipped the dark, thick coffee. “It's just the words you read from the book of Ezekiel.” Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers through gray hair. “It just began to sound like you were describing the Cluster."

"It was a vision,” said Burroughs reassuringly. “It was God's way of showing himself to the prophet, Ezekiel."

"Is it possible that the Cluster is God's way of showing himself to us in this century?” Clyde looked where the cream-colored wall met the gently curving white ceiling. “Perhaps as a prelude to something. Maybe even the Second Coming of Christ."

Burroughs folded his hands, carefully, looking down at the table. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Quite frankly, nothing is beyond possibility.” Clyde brightened somewhat at this, but the Reverend raised his hand in warning. “But visions like Ezekiel's tend not to come to groups of people. They only visit the anointed ones."

"There are so many more people today, though,” said Clyde, slowly. “It seems like God would need to be much more convincing than he ever had to in the past."

"It just doesn't work that way. Look how many times Christ was asked to put on a show to prove himself and didn't. He didn't need to. God doesn't put on demonstrations. He expects you to have faith.” Burroughs chewed his lower lip. “Besides, the Cluster is made of spheres. Ezekiel's vision was wheels and faces and such. Frankly, I don't see the similarity."

Clyde frowned and took another sip of his coffee. “I think it's about time for me to move on,” he said at last.

"As you wish,” said the minister gently. “But you will be in danger if you leave. The people of Tejo and New Granada would arrest you if you went there."

"I'm thinking of going to Earth,” said Clyde.

"Then,” said Burroughs steadily, “may God protect you, for the Earth is a far more dangerous place than either of the two major continents of this planet."

Clyde nodded somberly. The Reverend pulled a small book from his jacket pocket and handed it to the former colonel. “What's this?"

"A gift for you,” said the Reverend. Clyde looked down at the Revised Dead Sea Version of the Bible the Reverend had handed him. “A gift to help you remember His teachings.” The Reverend smiled, stood and shook Clyde's hand, warmly. “God go with you, brother."

"And with you, Reverend,” said Clyde. He stood, holding the book close to his heart, watching the stern, yet vital man depart. Once gone, Clyde sat down, took a sip of coffee and turned to the first chapter of Ezekiel.

Clyde McClintlock found no resistance on the trip to Little Sonora or the subsequent trip to Earth. He was somewhat surprised that he had full access to his bank accounts back at Tejo City. While in Little Sonora, he transferred all his money to accounts on Earth, just to be certain it would be safe. Still, the lack of resistance seemed odd. It was almost as if the people of Sufiro wanted him off their world. It saddened him to leave behind the one place in the galaxy he truly thought of as home for what, he knew, would be the last time.

Arriving on Earth, he found the planet as crowded and polluted as he remembered. Landing at the spaceport in Boston, he immediately caught a commuter hover to Hyannis Port. From there he caught another hover out to Nantucket Island. He regretted going out by hover, though. The turbulence over the water buffeted the frail craft. Several times he was sure it would be pitched into the sea, despite its anti-graviton controls.

At the hover port, Clyde asked the man behind the counter whether he knew where the Ellis home was. “One moment,” said the man. The man touched his forehead activating a chip implant and scanning the records of island housing. After a moment, the man faced Clyde and gave him directions.

Clyde stepped lightly out of the hover port and felt the soft sea breeze tickle his hair as he looked up into a cloudy gray sky. A plastic road wound its way into the Village of Nantucket. Taking a step, Clyde almost fell flat on his face. He had not been to Earth for several years and was not used to the gravity that was lower than Sufiro's. His stomach felt fluttery. Still, with a heart as light as his stomach, he picked up his leather suitcase and walked the two miles into the village.