Kaspar's Box

"How I would like it to be so! But, no, the voices have instructed that we carry only one, the one who fits the situation of sacrifice. Leave her to me."

Joshua rubbed his eyes and got as awake as he could, then stood up. "As you wish, sir."

Macouri went to the door, his eyes glowing with the vision of the fanatic. "This is Destiny. My family, now me. This is the climax to my life and the reason all of us have been born. I feel ashamed to have doubted it, but I shall never doubt again!"

In another part of the ship, a far different scene was taking place.

"You should be asleep," Maslovic told Randi Queson.

"Yeah, I should, but, the fact is, I did more of that than anything else. I'm now beginning to feel some energy come back into me. Hope will do that. I looked at myself in the face, though. I was never much of a beauty and it's been a long time since I was a child, but I truly look ancient."

"It will pass, or much of it will. You just need to get some weight back on and get a solid reconstruction medical program going. The same with the others."

"Lucky-that's Cross, the other woman like me-she might actually come out of this ahead. She weighed over a hundred and sixty kilos at standard one gravity, which is why she spent so much time in low gravity situations. Now-well, she was always tall, but she's as skinny as me. I know she never gave a damn about her own looks, but I suspect that if she doesn't thoroughly relapse she's going to look radically different and that'll change some of her future life." She paused. "Um, we have

a future life, I assume?"

"Hard to say. Your ship never made it back, either. Just like the others."

She nodded. "I heard someone say that. Hell, maybe we won't be able to go back. We may wind up enlisting or whatever it is you do to join the services."

"Nobody joins the services anymore," Maslovic told her. "You are born into it, period. We have changed just enough from you that it's no longer possible-or necessary."

Someone else entered the wardroom and they turned. It was Jerry Nagel, looking over the spartan machinery for a snack.

"You get pretty much what it decides, rather than you," Maslovic called to him. "This is the navy, after all."

Nagel took what he fervently hoped was some coffee and a rectangular bar of the nearly tasteless vitamin cakes that were kind of standard fare here and came over to them. "Hello," he said, more to Queson than to Maslovic. "I'm surprised you can still get coffee."

"Synthetic, like everything else," the sergeant responded. "But it's traditional. There is always coffee in all wardrooms."

"After God knows how long eating leaves and tasteless fruit and berries and drinking mostly water, I can tell you that even this

helps."

Queson turned the conversation towards the practical. "So what are you going to do now?"

"You've been asleep the better part of several days, and under the medical computer's treatment. During that time, we've taken a closer look at the problem of Balshazzar."

"Give me a few of those stones and we can talk," she told him, "but that's about it. They taught me a lot. It was going back and forth with them that kept us close to sane, or at least gave us hope. They were a huge Christian religious commune of some kind and they somehow managed to keep their own values. I was raised Catholic, but the nuns never taught anything like that."

"Being a secular Jew I had a bit less taste for the theology," Nagel told him, "but they never pushed it. Some of them were pretty damned smart, too, in a lot of areas. Their guru or whatever was a missionary and a former astrophysicist if you can believe it. Some had military backgrounds. Maybe from the old days before you had a more closed society. All I know is that one of them who called himself Cromwell had done something really nasty in his past and had turned to religion as, I guess, some kind of penance. But you could tell just talking to him that he wasn't as changed as he liked to think himself. The old whoever he was wasn't far below the surface. It was still conversation, though, not mind reading, even if we were using funny little stones across a distance of almost a half-million kilometers."

"They at least said it was a peaceful world there. That several intelligent species of vastly different biologies and cultures managed to get along or at least tolerate each other without going into battle. That's something," Queson noted.