"We know know that," snapped the Grand Inquisitor, ending the explanation. that," snapped the Grand Inquisitor, ending the explanation.

"Very strange," said Bishop Erdle, the Holy Office's expert on resurrection technique. "To my knowledge there has never been an instance where the body was left so intact where we could not find remnant of the cruciform in the corpse. Governor Palo is correct, of course. Even the slightest bit of cruciform is all that is necessary for the Sacrament of Resurrection."

The Grand Inquisitor stopped to inspect a body that had been thrown against an iron railing hard enough to impale it at a dozen points. "It looks as if the Shrike was after the cruciforme. It tore every shred of them out of the bodies."

"Not possible," said Bishop Erdle. "Simply not possible. There are over five hundred meters of microfiber in the cellular node extensions of..."

"Not possible," agreed the Grand Inquisitor. "But when we ship these bodies back, I'll wager that none are recoverable. The Shrike may have torn their hearts and lungs and throats out, but it was after their cruciforms."

Security Commander Browning came around the corner with five troopers in black armor. "Your Excellency," he said on the tactical channel only the Grand Inquisitor could hear. "The worst is a block over...this way."

The entourage followed the man in black armor, but slowly, reluctantly.

THEY CATALOGUED 362 BODIES. MANY WERE IN THE streets, but the majority were in buildings in the city or inside the sheds, hangars, and s.p.a.cecraft at the new s.p.a.ceport on the edge of Arafat-kaffiyeh. Holos were taken and the Holy Office forensic teams took over, recording each site before taking the bodies back to the Pax base morgue outside of St. Malachy. It was determined that all of the bodies were offworlders-i.e., there were no local Palestinians or native Martians among them.

The s.p.a.ceport intrigued the Pax Fleet experts the most.

"Eight dropships serving the field itself," said Major Piet. "That's a serious number. St. Malachy's s.p.a.ceport uses only two." He glanced up at the purple Martian sky. "a.s.suming that the ships they were shuttling to and from had their own drop-ships-at least two each, if they were freighters-then we're talking about serious logistics here."

The Grand Inquisitor looked at Mars's archbishop, but Robeson merely held his hands up. "We knew nothing of these operations," said the little man. "As I explained before, it was an Opus Dei Opus Dei project." project."

"Well," said the Grand Inquisitor, "as far as we can tell, all of the Opus Dei Opus Dei personnel are dead...truly, irrecoverably dead...so now it's a responsibility of the Holy Office. You don't have any idea what they built this port for? Heavy metals, perhaps? Some sort of mineral mining operation?" personnel are dead...truly, irrecoverably dead...so now it's a responsibility of the Holy Office. You don't have any idea what they built this port for? Heavy metals, perhaps? Some sort of mineral mining operation?"

Governor Palo shook her head. "This world has been mined for over a thousand years. There are no heavy metals left worth shipping. No minerals worth a local salvage operation's time, much less Opus Dei Opus Dei's."

Major Piet slipped his visor up and rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Something "Something was being shipped in quant.i.ty here, Your Excellencies. Eight dropships...a sophisticated grid system...automated security." was being shipped in quant.i.ty here, Your Excellencies. Eight dropships...a sophisticated grid system...automated security."

"If the Shrike...or whatever it was...had not destroyed the computers and record systems..." began Commander Browning.

Major Piet shook his head. "It wasn't the Shrike. The computers had already been destroyed by shaped charges and tailored DNA viruses." He looked around the empty administrative building. Red sand had already found its way in through portals and seams. "It's my guess that these people destroyed their own records before the Shrike arrived. I think they were on the verge of clearing out. That's why the dropships were all in pre-launch mode...their onboard computers set to go."

Father Farrell nodded. "But all we have are the orbital coordinates. No records of who or what they were going to rendezvous with there."

Major Piet looked out the window at the dust storm blowing there. "There are twenty groundcar buses in that lot," he murmured as if speaking to himself. "Each one can transport up to eighty people. A bit of logistical overkill if the Opus Dei Opus Dei contingent here amounted to just the three hundred sixty-some people whose bodies we've found." contingent here amounted to just the three hundred sixty-some people whose bodies we've found."

Governor Palo frowned and crossed her arms. "We don't know how many Opus Dei Opus Dei personnel were here, Major. As you pointed out, the records were destroyed. Perhaps there were thousands..." personnel were here, Major. As you pointed out, the records were destroyed. Perhaps there were thousands..."

Commander Browning stepped into the circle of VIPs. "Begging your pardon, Governor, but the barracks within the field perimeter here could house about four hundred people. I think that the Major may be right...all of the Opus Dei Opus Dei personnel may be accounted for in the bodies we've found." personnel may be accounted for in the bodies we've found."

"You can't be sure of that, Commander," said Governor Palo, her voice sounding displeased.

"No, ma'am."

She gestured toward the dust storm that had all but obscured the parked buses. "And we have evidence that they needed transport for many more people."

"Perhaps they were an advance contingent," said Commander Browning. "Preparing the way for a much larger population."

"Then why destroy the records and limited AIs?" said Major Piet. "Why does it look like they were preparing to move out for good?"

The Grand Inquisitor stepped into the circle and held up one black-gloved hand. "We'll end the speculation for now. The Holy Office will begin taking depositions and carrying out interrogations tomorrow. Governor, may we use your office at the palace?"

"Of course, Your Excellency." Palo lowered her face, either to show deference or to hide her eyes, or both.

"Very good," said the Grand Inquisitor. "Commander, Major, call the skimmers. We'll leave the forensic teams and the morgue workers out here." Cardinal Mustafa peered out at the worsening storm. Its howl could be heard through the ten layers of window plastic now. "What's the local word for this dust storm?"

"Simoom," said Governor Palo. "The storms used to cover the entire world. They're growing in intensity every Martian year." said Governor Palo. "The storms used to cover the entire world. They're growing in intensity every Martian year."

"The locals say that it's the old Martian G.o.ds," whispered Archbishop Robeson. "They're reclaiming their own."

LESS THAN FOURTEEN LIGHT-YEARS OUT FROM OLD Earth System, above the world called Vitus-Gray-Balia.n.u.s B, a starship that had once been named Raphael Raphael but which now held no name, finished its braking run into geosynchronous...o...b..t. The four living things on board floated in zero-g, their gazes fixed on the image of the desert world on the plotboard. but which now held no name, finished its braking run into geosynchronous...o...b..t. The four living things on board floated in zero-g, their gazes fixed on the image of the desert world on the plotboard.

"How reliable is our reading on pertubations in the farcaster field these days?" said the female called Scylla.

"More reliable than most other clues," said her seeming twin, Rhadamanth Nemes. "We'll check it out."

"Shall we start with one of the Pax bases?" said the male named Gyges.

"The largest," said Nemes.

"That would be Pax Base Bombasino," said Briareus, checking the code on the plotboard. "Northern hemisphere. Along the central ca.n.a.l route. Population of..."

"It doesn't matter what the population is," interrupted Rhadamanth Nemes. "It just matters whether the child Aenea and the android and that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Endymion have come that way."

"Dropship's prepped," said Scylla.

They screeched into atmosphere, extended wings just as they crossed the terminator, used the Vatican diskey code via transponder to clear the way for their landing, and set down amid Scorpions, troopship skimmers, and armored EM Vs. A fl.u.s.tered lieutenant greeted them and escorted them to the Base Commander's office.

"You say that you're members of the n.o.ble Guard?" said Commander Solznykov, studying their faces and the readout on the diskey interphase at the same time.

"We have said it," Rhadamanth Nemes replied tonelessly. "Our papers, order chips, and diskey have said it. How many repet.i.tions do you require, Commander?"

Solznykov's face and neck reddened above the high collar of his tunic. He looked down at the interphase holo instead of replying. Technically, these n.o.ble Guard officers-members of one of the Pope's exotic new units-could pull rank on him. Technically, they could have him shot or excommunicated, since their ranks of Cohort Leaders in the n.o.ble Guard combined the powers of both Pax Fleet and the Vatican. Technically-according to the wording and priority encryption of the diskey-they could pull rank on a planetary governor or dictate Church policy to a world's presiding archbishop. Technically, Solznykov wished these pale freaks had never shown up on his backwater world.

The Commander forced a smile. "Our forces here are at your disposal. What can I do for you?"

The thin, pale woman named Nemes held a holocard over the Commander's desk and activated it. Suddenly the life-size heads of three people floated in the s.p.a.ce between them-or, rather, two people, since the third face was obviously that of a blue-skinned android.

"I didn't think that there were any androids left in the Pax," said Solznykov.

"Have you had reports of any of these three in your territory, Commander?" said Nemes, ignoring his question. "It is probable they would have been reported along the major river which runs from your north pole to the equator."

"It's actually a ca.n.a.l..." began Solznykov and stopped. None of the four looked as if they had any interest in small talk or extraneous information. He called his aide, Colonel Vinara, into the office.

"Their names?" said Solznykov as Vinara stood poised with his comlog ready.

Nemes gave three names that meant nothing to the Commander. "Those aren't local names," he said as Colonel Vinara checked records. "Members of the indigenous culture-it's called the Amoiete Spectrum Helix-tend to acc.u.mulate names the way my hunting dog back on Patawpha collected ticks. You see, they have this triune marriage arrangement where..."

"These are not locals," interrupted Nemes. Her thin lips looked as bloodless as the rest of her pale face above the red uniform collar. "They're offworlders."

"Ahh, well," said Solznykov, relieved that he would not be dealing with these n.o.ble Guard freaks for more than a minute or two more, "then we can't help you. You see, Bombasino's the only working s.p.a.ceport on Vitus-Gray-Balia.n.u.s B now that we closed down the indigenie operation at Keroa Tambat, and except for a few s.p.a.cers who end up in our brig, there's no immigration at all here. The locals are all Spectrum Helix...and, well...they like colors, they surely do, but an android would stand out like a...well, Colonel?"

Colonel Vinara looked up from his database search. "Neither the images nor names match anything in our records except for an all-points bulletin sent through via Pax Fleet about four and a half standard years ago." He looked questioningly at the n.o.ble Guardsmen.

Nemes and her siblings stared back without comment.

Commander Solznykov spread his hands. "I'm sorry. We've been busy for the last local two weeks on a major training exercise I had running here, but if anyone'd come through here who matched these descriptions..."

"Sir," said Colonel Vinara, "there were those four runaway s.p.a.cers."

G.o.ddammit! thought Solznykov. To the n.o.ble Guardsmen he said, "Four Mercantilus s.p.a.cers who jumped ship rather than face charges for use of illegal drugs. As I remember it, they were all men, all in their sixties, and"-he turned significantly to Colonel Vinara, trying to tell him to shut the f.u.c.k up with his gaze and tone-"and we found their bodies in the Big Greasy, didn't we, Colonel?" thought Solznykov. To the n.o.ble Guardsmen he said, "Four Mercantilus s.p.a.cers who jumped ship rather than face charges for use of illegal drugs. As I remember it, they were all men, all in their sixties, and"-he turned significantly to Colonel Vinara, trying to tell him to shut the f.u.c.k up with his gaze and tone-"and we found their bodies in the Big Greasy, didn't we, Colonel?"

"Three bodies, sir," said Colonel Vinara, oblivious to his commander's signals. He was checking the database again. "One of our skimmers went down near Keroa Tambat and Med dispatched...ah...Dr. Abne Molina...to go down-ca.n.a.l with a missionary to care for the injured crew."

"What the h.e.l.l does this have to do with anything, Colonel?" snapped Solznykov. "These officers are searching for a teenager, a man in his thirties, and an android."

"Yes, sir," said Vinara, looking up, startled, from his com log. "But Dr. Molina radioed in that she had treated a sick offworlder in Lock Childe Lamonde. We a.s.sumed that it was the fourth s.p.a.cer..."

Rhadamanth Nemes took a step forward so quickly that Commander Solznykov flinched involuntarily. There was something about the slim woman's movements that was not quite human.

"Where is Lock Childe Lamonde?" demanded Nemes.

"it's just a village along the ca.n.a.l about eighty klicks south of here," said Solznykov. He turned to Colonel Vinara as if all this commotion were his aide's fault. "When are they flying the prisoner back?"

"Tomorrow morning, sir. We have a med-skimmer scheduled to pick up the crew in Keroa Tambat at oh-six-hundred hours and they'll stop in..." The Colonel stopped speaking as the four n.o.ble Guard officers spun on their heels and made for the door.

Nemes paused just long enough to say, "Commander, clear our flight path between here and this Lock Childe Lamonde. We'll be taking the dropship."

"Ah, that's not necessary!" said the Commander, checking the screen on his desk. "This s.p.a.cer is under arrest and will be delivered...hey!"

The four n.o.ble Guard officers had clattered down the steps outside his office and were crossing the tarmac. Solznykov rushed out onto the landing and shouted after them. "Dropships aren't allowed to operate in atmosphere here except to land at Bombasino. Hey! We'll send a skimmer. Hey! This s.p.a.cer's almost certainly not one of your...he's under guard...hey!"

The four did not look back as they reached their ship, ordered an escalator to morph down to them, and disappeared through the dropship hull. Sirens went off across the base and personnel ran for shelter as the heavy dropship lifted on thrusters, shifted to EM, and accelerated south across the port perimeter.

"Jesus f.u.c.king Christ," whispered Commander Solznykov.

"Pardon me, sir?" said Colonel Vinara.

Solznykov gave him a glare that would have melted lead. "Dispatch two combat skimmers immediately.... no, make that three. I want a squad of Marines aboard each skimmer. This is our turf, and I don't want these anemic n.o.ble Guard p.i.s.sants doing so much as littering without our say-so. I want the skimmers there first and that rucking s.p.a.cer taken into custody...our custody...if it means harelipping every Spectrum Helix indigenie between here and Lock Childe Lamonde. Savvy, Colonel?" custody...if it means harelipping every Spectrum Helix indigenie between here and Lock Childe Lamonde. Savvy, Colonel?"

Vinara could only stare at his commander.

"Move!" shouted Commander Solznykov. shouted Commander Solznykov.

Colonel Vinara moved.

10.

-was awake all that long night and the next day, writhing in pain, shuttling to the bathroom while carrying my IV-drip apparatus, trying painfully to urinate, and then checking the absurd filter I had to urinate through for any sign of the kidney stone that was killing me. Sometime in late morning I pa.s.sed the thing.

For a minute I couldn't believe it. The pain had been less for the past half hour or so, just the echo of pain in my back and groin, actually, but as I stared at the tiny, reddish thing in the filter cone-something larger than a grain of sand but much smaller than a pebble-I couldn't believe that it it could have caused such agony for so many hours. could have caused such agony for so many hours.

"Believe it," Aenea said as she sat on the edge of the counter and watched me pull my pajama shirt back in place. "It's often the smallest things in life that cause us the greatest pain."

"Yeah," I said. I knew, vaguely, that Aenea was not there-that I would never have urinated in front of anyone like that, much less in front of this girl. I had been hallucinating her presence ever since the first ultramorph injection.

"Congratulations," said the Aenea hallucination. Her smile seemed real enough-that slightly mischievous, slightly teasing turning up of the right side of her mouth that I'd grown accustomed to-and I could see that she was wearing the green denim slacks and white cotton shirt she often wore when working in the desert heat. But I could also see the sink basin and soft towels through her.

"Thanks," I said and shuffled back to collapse in the bed. I could not believe that the pain would not return. In fact, Dr. Molina had said that there might be several stones.

Aenea was gone when Dem Ria, Dem Loa, and the trooper on guard came into the room.

"Oh, it's wonderful!" said Dem Ria.

"We're so glad," said Dem Loa. "We hoped that you would not have to go to the Pax infirmary for surgery."

"Put your right hand up here," said the trooper. He handcuffed me to the bra.s.s headboard.

"I'm a prisoner?" I said groggily.

"You always have been," grunted the trooper. His dark skin was sweaty under his helmet visor. "The skimmer'll be by tomorrow morning to pick you up. Wouldn't want you missing the ride." He went back out to the shade of the barrel tree out front.

"Ah," said Dem Loa, touching my handcuffed wrist with her cool fingers. "We are sorry, Raul Endymion."

"It's not your fault," I said, feeling so tired and drugged that my tongue did not want to work right. "You've been nothing but kind. So kind." The fading pain kept me from sleeping.

"Father Clifton would like to come in and speak with you. Would that be all right?"

At that moment I would have welcomed spider-rats nibbling on my toes about as much as the idea of chatting with a missionary priest. I said, "Sure. Why not?"

FATHER CLIFTON WAS YOUNGER THAN I, SHORT-but not as short as Dem Ria or Dem Loa or her race-and pudgy, with thinning, sandy hair receding from his friendly, flushed face. I thought that I knew his type. There had been a chaplain in the Home Guard a bit like Father Clifton-earnest, mostly inoffensive, a bit of a momma's boy who may have gone into the priesthood so that he would never have to grow up and become really responsible for himself. It was Grandam who had pointed out to me how the parish priests in the various moor-end villages on Hyperion tended to remain somewhat childlike: treated with deference by their parishioners, fussed over by housekeepers and women of all ages, never in real compet.i.tion with other adult males. I don't think that Grandam was actively anticlerical in spite of her refusal to accept the cross, just amused by this tendency of parish priests in the great and powerful Pax empire.

Father Clifton wanted to discuss theology.

I think that I moaned then, but it must have been taken for a reaction to the kidney stone, for the good priest merely leaned closer, patted my arm, and murmured, "There, there, my son."

Did I mention that he was at least five or six years younger than me?

"Raul...may I call you Raul?"

"Sure, Father." I closed my eyes as if falling asleep.

"What is your opinion of the Church, Raul?"