I found Bishop Worf in his private offices above the cathedral. The doors were open and I passed through several rooms until I reached the last, which had a full-wall viewing port. He stood at the duranium window, gazing up and out at the alien ship.
"Come in, Pavel."
I was already inside the room, but I was so sick at heart, and at the same time so enraged, that I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I was shaking inside, and I wanted to launch myself at that huge figure and beat him to death. My artificial hands and arms, which just hours earlier had saved my life, could easily have ended his. A huge desk stood between us, and I gripped the dark wood to keep my hands and arms from shaking away from me.
"It was you," I finally managed to say.
He didn't turn to look at me, but he slowly nodded. "She wasn't supposed to be there." His voice was hoarse and cracked. "No one should have been there. Only you. Only----you." I could see him swallow, his throat moving with difficulty. "Now I am truly damned!"
"Do you expect me to feel pity for you?" I shouted at him. I was afraid of losing all control. "Because you killed her instead of me?"
The bishop just shook his head. He finally turned to face me, and I nearly attacked him. I'm still not sure what stopped me. She did, probably. I imagined that I heard her voice saying, No, Pavel. Please. That's not the answer. It won't change anything. I didn't care if it didn't change anything. But I didn't attack. Instead, I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't have to look at that inhuman monster.
I stood there with eyes closed, my eyes on his desk, and listened to the rush of blood in my head. Suddenly I couldn't believe I was there, that Father O'Heron was dead, that the bishop had killed her and had just admitted it to me. Because I wasn't sure I could stand it if it was true.
I opened my eyes and looked at him.
"It was from the alien ship,' I finally said. "That device you took from it."
He looked surprised. "How did you know about that?"
"What the hell does it matter how I know?" I showed at him.
He sighed, staring at me. "I didn't know what I was going to do with it," he said, "but I thought it would be useful. I didn't intend this. But then the idea came to me. An inspiration."
"Why?" I asked.
"I told you before. You are responsible for this. We're doomed. Those----creatures, those alien beings, whatever they are, eventually they're going to come after us. They're going to kill us, they're going to torture and slaughter us, and you are responsible."
Suddenly I was so exhausted I could hardly move. I didn't even have the energy to hate anymore. I dropped into a chair, laid my head back, and closed my eyes again. The bishop began to murmur to himself. He stopped for a moment; when he resumed speaking his voice was louder and more distinct, and he seemed to be quoting.
"But unto Leviathan thou gavest the seventh part, namely the moist; and hast kept him to be devoured of whom thou wilt, and when."
I opened my eyes and looked at him. He stood gazing with despair or fear or awe, or all three, at the dark and unmoving alien starship. He did not turn away from the ship, and he said no more.
"Is that from the Bible?" I asked.
He didn't move or speak for several moments; then he turned to me and said, "Peripherally. It's from 2 Esdras, which is part of the Apocrypha."
"Which is.....?"
"A group of religious writings that are considered important, yet not an official part of either the Old Testament or the New. The issues surrounding the Apocrypha---which writings are part of it, and which aren't, their relative importance, and so on----are complex, and were debated for centuries. Our own Church recognizes many books of the Apocrypha as deuterocanonical---they belong to a second level of the canon, although that's not too say that they are of less importance than those books that are in the Old and New Testaments. Oddly enough, though, 2 Esdras is not one of them. In a way, it floats around in its own canonical Limbo." He smiled to himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, I don't intend to bore you. And it doesn't really matter." He sighed. "That verse has been going through my thoughts for days now."612Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWkvsfKQtaW
"You see the alien ship as Leviathan?"
The bishop nodded. "The moist referenced the oceans of Earth, or at least that was the original interpretation. But the world view, or universe view, was much more limited then. Imagine deep space as the moist. The oceans of the universe." He paused. "I can imagine the second part of the verse as maybe once mistranscribed, or misunderstood---maybe even out of fear. Change it ever so slightly, just a couple of words, and it becomes something very different." He closed his eyes, and quoted the changed verse. "But unto Leviathan thou gavest the seventh part, namely the moist; and hast kept him to devour whom thou wilt, and when." He paused again. "Now we have something that appears to describe our alien ship quite well."
I sat up, but remained in the chair. Exhaustion still overwhelmed me.
"That implies responsibility on God's part," I said. "That God for some reason now wants Leviathan to devour us. Or is it supposed to be just a metaphor."
"No," the bishop said, his voice quiet but firm. "It's no metaphor. God is responsible. You are responsible. I am responsible, we are all responsible, and He is a jealous and angry God."
"But you don't believe in God."
"Maybe I do now. And wish I didn't." He sounded lost and confused. "What if I've been wrong all these years? If so, then after my life is over, I am truly damned for all eternity."
I felt no sympathy for him whatsoever. "You're useless."
"What do you want from me, Pavel? You want to kill me? Here I am." He held out his arms, as if welcoming me. "I won't resist, I won't fight you. Kill me, Pavel."
I just slowly shook my head.
"What do you want, Pavel? What do you want from me?"
I had no answer for him. I didn't know what I wanted.
"You want confession? I've already confessed. You want me put away in a cell like the one you were locked in all those months? Call the security forces, call your friend, Captain Jean-Luc Picard.
"You want justice?" He laughed. "No, you know better than to expect that, don't you?
"Or do you want contrition? I can't give you that, Pavel. I feel remorse, but not for trying to kill you. Only for killing her by mistake. I should feel remorse for trying to kill you, but I don't. And if I am to have any chance at redemption, I'll need to repent, to..."
"Redemption!" I shouted, rising up out of the chair. I was shaking again. "You're beyond redemption now, you monstrous bastard!"
"No," he said quietly. "No one is beyond redemption."
"You are, Bishop," I said, pointing at him. "And deep down, in your cold and loveless heart, you know that."
"I am not loveless. I loved her, Pavel." He looked at me. "No, not like that," he said. "Not the way you did. I loved her for her righteousness, for the faith she had that I lost so long ago."
"And you killed her."
He buried his face in his hands and began to weep.
I could take no more. If I wasn't going to kill him. I would have to leave. Now I am truly damned, he had said. I finally walked away, hoping with all of my broken and darkened heart that, about this, the bishop was right.
I found Bishop Worf in his private offices above the cathedral. The doors were open and I passed through several rooms until I reached the last, which had a full-wall viewing port. He stood at the duranium window, gazing up and out at the alien ship.
"Come in, Pavel."
I was already inside the room, but I was so sick at heart, and at the same time so enraged, that I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I was shaking inside, and I wanted to launch myself at that huge figure and beat him to death. My artificial hands and arms, which just hours earlier had saved my life, could easily have ended his. A huge desk stood between us, and I gripped the dark wood to keep my hands and arms from shaking away from me.
"It was you," I finally managed to say.
He didn't turn to look at me, but he slowly nodded. "She wasn't supposed to be there." His voice was hoarse and cracked. "No one should have been there. Only you. Only----you." I could see him swallow, his throat moving with difficulty. "Now I am truly damned!"
"Do you expect me to feel pity for you?" I shouted at him. I was afraid of losing all control. "Because you killed her instead of me?"
The bishop just shook his head. He finally turned to face me, and I nearly attacked him. I'm still not sure what stopped me. She did, probably. I imagined that I heard her voice saying, No, Pavel. Please. That's not the answer. It won't change anything. I didn't care if it didn't change anything. But I didn't attack. Instead, I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't have to look at that inhuman monster.
I stood there with eyes closed, my eyes on his desk, and listened to the rush of blood in my head. Suddenly I couldn't believe I was there, that Father O'Heron was dead, that the bishop had killed her and had just admitted it to me. Because I wasn't sure I could stand it if it was true.
I opened my eyes and looked at him.
"It was from the alien ship,' I finally said. "That device you took from it."
He looked surprised. "How did you know about that?"
"What the hell does it matter how I know?" I showed at him.
He sighed, staring at me. "I didn't know what I was going to do with it," he said, "but I thought it would be useful. I didn't intend this. But then the idea came to me. An inspiration."
"Why?" I asked.
"I told you before. You are responsible for this. We're doomed. Those----creatures, those alien beings, whatever they are, eventually they're going to come after us. They're going to kill us, they're going to torture and slaughter us, and you are responsible."
Suddenly I was so exhausted I could hardly move. I didn't even have the energy to hate anymore. I dropped into a chair, laid my head back, and closed my eyes again. The bishop began to murmur to himself. He stopped for a moment; when he resumed speaking his voice was louder and more distinct, and he seemed to be quoting.
"But unto Leviathan thou gavest the seventh part, namely the moist; and hast kept him to be devoured of whom thou wilt, and when."
I opened my eyes and looked at him. He stood gazing with despair or fear or awe, or all three, at the dark and unmoving alien starship. He did not turn away from the ship, and he said no more.
"Is that from the Bible?" I asked.
He didn't move or speak for several moments; then he turned to me and said, "Peripherally. It's from 2 Esdras, which is part of the Apocrypha."
"Which is.....?"
"A group of religious writings that are considered important, yet not an official part of either the Old Testament or the New. The issues surrounding the Apocrypha---which writings are part of it, and which aren't, their relative importance, and so on----are complex, and were debated for centuries. Our own Church recognizes many books of the Apocrypha as deuterocanonical---they belong to a second level of the canon, although that's not too say that they are of less importance than those books that are in the ld and New Testaments. Oddly enough, though, 2 Esdras is not one of them. In a way, it floats around in its own canonical Limbo." He smiled to himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, I don't intend to bore you. And it doesn't really matter." He sighed. "That verse has been going through my thoughts for days now."
"You see the alien ship as Leviathan?"
The bishop nodded. "The moist referenced the oceans of Earth, or at least that was the original interpretation. But the world view, or universe view, was much more limited then. Imagine deep space as the moist. The oceans of the universe." He paused. "I can imagine the second part of the verse as maybe once mistranscribed, or misunderstood---maybe even out of fear. Change it ever so slightly, just a couple of words, and it becomes something very different." He closed his eyes, and quoted the changed verse. "But unto Leviathan thou gavest the seventh part, namely the moist; and hast kept him to devour whom thou wilt, and when." He paused again. "Now we have something that appears to describe our alien ship quite well."
I sat up, but remained in the chair. Exhaustion still overwhelmed me.
"That implies responsibility on God's part," I said. "That God for some reason now wants Leviathan to devour us. Or is it supposed to be just a metaphor."
"No," the bishop said, his voice quiet but firm. "It's no metaphor. God is responsible. You are responsible. I am responsible, we are all responsible, and He is a jealous and angry God."
"But you don't believe in God."
"Maybe I do now. And wish I didn't." He sounded lost and confused. "What if I've been wrong all these years? If so, then after my life is over, I am truly damned for all eternity."
I felt no sympathy for him whatsoever. "You're useless."
"What do you want from me, Pavel? You want to kill me? Here I am." He held ou his arms, as if welcoming me. "I won't resist, I won't fight you. Kill me, Pavel."
I just slowly shook my head.
"What do you want, Pavel? What do you want from me?"
I had no answer for him. I didn't know what I wanted.
"You want confession? I've already confessed. You want me put away in a cell like the one you were locked in all those months? Call the security forces, call your friend, Captain Jean-Luc Picard.
"You want justice?" He laughed. "No, you know better than to expect that, don't you?
"Or do you want contrition? I can't give you that, Pavel. I feel remorse, but not for trying to kill you. Only for killing her by mistake. I should feel remorse for trying to kill you, but I don't. And if I am to have any chance at redemption, I'll need to repent, to..."
"Redemption!" I shouted, rising up out of the chair. I was shaking again. "You're beyond redemption now, you monstrous bastard!"
"No," he said quietly. "No one is beyond redemption."
"You are, Bishop," I said, pointing at him. "And deep down, in your cold and loveless heart, you know that."
"I am not loveless. I loved her, Pavel." He looked at me. "No, not like that," he said. "Not the way you did. I loved her for her righteousness, for the faith she had that I lost so long ago."
"And you killed her."
He buried his face in his hands and began to weep.
I could take no more. If I wasn't going to kill him. I would have to leave. Now I am truly damned, he had said. I finally walked away, hoping with all of my broken and darkened heart that, about this, the bishop was right.612Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXMNpdE4KsN
