As we neared Antioch, the exploration party was formed. We numbered thirteen.
I would go as the captain's representative. Jean-Luc had to stay with the ship---there was no question of that; he feared losing all authority if he were to leave, and I was the only one he trusted to provide him with an accurate report of what we would find.
Besides me, there was a science team of three, and an armed military squad of six. A woman named Deanna Troi was chosen to be the representative for the downsiders, and Vance Rackham was selected to represent the upper decks after Keven Madigan backed out, claiming illness; Madigan's real illness was fear. The ship's crew would have no representative---they didn't need one, nor did they care.
Last, Father O'Heron was to go as the Church's representative. I didn't know her well, but I had spoken to her on occasion, and had heard some of her sermons. I admired her. She was intelligent, and she was sincere. And she was a believer.
The bishop, I was certain, did not believe. But the three priests did, and none more than Father O'Heron. The strange thing, though, was that she was not a fanatic. I didn't understand her.551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd7IL9NIIkp
I understand hypocrites, like the bishop, and I understand fanatics, or at least I can more easily predict their behavior, which is much the same thing, as far I am concerned. But I admit I did not know what to make of true believers like Father O'Heron. Her belief, her faith, was both profound and real. Her faith disturbed me.
I wanted to talk with her before we made landfall, so I went to the cathedral. When I entered, the cathedral was huge and empty and silent. The only light came from candles burning in clusters along both aisles flanking the main nave, and there were flickering shadows everywhere. I could barely make out the arched vaulting high above me. At the far end, behind the apse, was the enormous stained-glass window that formed a section of the outer hull. With only the darkness of space behind it, the window was lifeless and indistinct. I had never been able to make out the images in the glass, although I felt sure there was something more than abstraction in it.551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAXjHCM8wzw
I'd never spent much time in the cathedral. I had attended a few sermons, services on holy days as required, the occasional wedding, funeral Masses, but at those times all I did was sit on a pew and struggle to stay awake. I registered little of my surroundings, and never paid them much attention. But that day, with the cathedral so empty, I was curious.
I walked slowly along the right aisle. The vaulting, while still quite high, was lower than that looming above the central section of the cathedral. There was a series of stained-glass windows, each of them illuminated by some diffuse source embedded in the interior walls behind them. Between the windows were tiny alcoves; in each alcove was a kneeling pad and a cluster of candles. The candles, few of which were alight, were in small colored-glass containers, the flames glowing softly within them. The mood created was a strange combination of serenity and disquiet.
I stopped and looked up at one astonishing stained-glass window. It depicted an enormous two-headed monster ripping itself out of the belly of a man, one of the heads in the process of devouring a child with its massive jaws and teeth. I was amazed at how detailed and gruesome it was. The monster's body was that of a muscular scaled reptile with short, thick legs, taloned feet, and a long and powerful tail. The two heads had doglike features and blazing red eyes. Although the monster was ripping its way out of the man, it was more than twice the man's size. The one head held the child in its teeth, and the other stared out and down---with the bright red eyes glowering at me, it looked disturbingly alive.
I was still staring at the images, trying to make sense of them, when a voice broke my concentration.
"Horrifying, isn't it?"
Startled, I turned to see Father O'Heron standing at one end of the pews. She was looking at me, then turned to gaze up at the stained-glass window.
She wasn't what I would call a beautiful woman, but I would use the word "handsome." Nearly as tall as I, with dark ash-brown hair that hung halfway down her back, she was wearing a black cassock with white collar, and her hands were hidden within the dark folds of the material.
"Yes," I said. "What is it supposed to represent?"
Which do you prefer? The official Church version? Or my own?"
"Hmmm....Let's have both."
She smiled then, a smile that cut my breath short for a moment, and nodded. "All right." She walked toward me and stood at my side, and we both looked up at the window.
"If you were to ask the bishop," she began, "or the other priests, they would tell you that the two-headed monster represents Satan, the Fallen Angel, cast out of Heaven for defying God. Satan, the manifestation of Evil, will do anything to work his way into the souls and hearts of men and women, only to destroy them from within, as represented by this picture, for no other reason than because we're God's children, and this is Satan's way of seeking his revenge upon God."
"And if I were to ask you?"
She shrugged. "It's heresy, maybe, but I do not believe in Satan as a real being, an external force or manifestation." She held her hand out towards the images above us. "That monster is coming from within. I believe that creature is nothing more than the dark and terrible aspect of our own souls." She paused, gazing steadily at the stained glass. "We all have the potential to be good, to do good, and that potential is nearly limitless." She smiled gently. "That potential is seldom fulfilled, but most of us do well enough." Then the smile was gone. "We also have a similar potential for evil, to deliberately do harm to ourselves and others. If we give in to that aspect of our souls, if we let evil rule our minds and our hearts it will not only destroy us, as it 's doing here, it'll destroy the innocents around us as well---the child being devoured by the creature's second head."551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1Oli7HuyNa
"You believe that potential is in all of us?" I asked.
"For both good and evil, yes."
"Even in you?"
She nodded. "Yes, even in me. I am no less human than you are."
We were silent for a while, and I continued to gaze at the stained glass. Father O'Heron's interpretation of the images resonated far more with me than did the Church's. Eventually I turned to face her.
"We'll be making landfall together," I said.
"Yes, and I'm looking forward to it. So many years....." Her gaze became unfocused....or focused upon something distant and unseen. "Open skies, a visible horizon in the distance, the sun or moons or clouds hanging above, maybe a wind blowing through the trees. Free-flowing water, rain pouring from the sky, the black night shattered by electrical discharges----I miss all that."
"You can experience rain or snow right here on the ship," I told her. "In the gardens, in the ag fields."
She shook her head. "It's not the same thing."
"No," I agreed.
"Of course, the last time we made landfall was something of a debacle. I never did completely understand what went wrong, though regrettably the bishop had something to do with it."
I was surprised she was so forthcoming about the role her superior played in that fiasco.
"The language difficulties were part of the problem," she continued. "So strange. We spoke the same language as those people, that was clear, and yet our individual versions of it had diverged so greatly over time that often it was like two different languages." She paused, lost in her thoughts. "As I said, the bishop must bear some of the responsibility for the trouble." She paused again, and I wondered if she now regretted admitting her fields about the bishop. But she continued. "He doesn't seem to understand that you cannot force belief. You cannot create faith in others through force of will."
"We're not likely to have a repeat of what happened there," I said. "Not this time, anyway."
"No. From what I understand, it isn't likely that we'll find anyone, is it?"
"I suppose not. No one alive."
"That's too bad."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "We're too isolated. For a few years at a time, it may be harmless. But we need contact with other people----people who do not live on the Enterprise, people with different ways of life, different ideas, different ways of looking at the world."
"Different beliefs?"
"Yes, that too. But we don't have contact with other people. We go far too many years without seeing anyone other than ourselves. In fact, I do not think it's a good thing that we spend our entire lives on this ship."
"Why not?" I was amazed at how open she was with me, and I wanted to encourage her to keep talking.
"We stagnate, and we have no history."
"We create our own history."
"But we don't, actually. Most people know little or nothing about what happened on this ship before they were born. And what little they know has no context."
She may be right, I thought. It was something I would have to think about.
"We might find people down there," I said to her, trying for optimism. "To give us context."
But she just sighed. She put out her hand and I grasped it in mine.
"It's been good talking to you, Pavel. I'm looking forward to making landfall with you, whatever we find." With that she realized my hand, turned, and walked away, quickly becoming lost in the shadows.
She smelled of honey and cinnamon.551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWc8xjzjGHh
