“The True Worders?” Aaron frowned. “I heard about that-a bad business, no doubt about that. But those men were coming here to attack us; they were offered a chance to turn back, and a lot of them took it-and those who did weren't hurt. Seems to me that when someone's attacked he has a right to defend himself. And the Heaveners didn't take away the True Worder homeland; all they did was sign a treaty to defend it against the Chosen of the Holy Ghost, or any of the other troublemakers up that way.” He paused, drank more of his ale, then looked at John. “You said North Dan,” he said. “Were some of your folks in that army? Most of North Dan's True Worder land now."
“I was in that army,” John admitted. “I was wounded."
“And they brought you here to patch you up? Now, you see what I mean? That was just plain neighborly-good Samaritans, these New Heaveners. The Samaritans hated the Jews, you know, but in the parable a Samaritan helped a Jew-you can't judge everyone just by where they come from. Did you ever think that maybe the New Heaveners were outcasts from Earth, same as our ancestors were? Maybe they came to Godsworld looking for the true path, hoping we could show it to them. Fine welcome your people gave them! I don't know if that's the truth, but it could be. I'll judge them by what they do, not by what our ancestors told us about Earth."
The possibility that the Heaveners did not represent Earth as a whole had not occurred to John, but he refused to be thrown off by it. “Look at what they're doing, though,” he said. “They've turned this town into a fleshpot. Look at these cushions, these colors! It's disgraceful-decadent!"
Aaron waved that away. “Horsemold,” he said. “What's so decadent about a few cushions? You know, life is hard here on Godsworld, because God didn't intend people to live here-He meant for Man to live forever in the Garden, back on Earth. The Bible says so. Man was thrown out of the Garden, and eventually he came here, and we've done the best we can with a hard lot-but the way we live now, our ancestors who first came here would call hard poverty, Mr. Meek. I've seen old pictures, from right after the Crossing-the Reverend Fuller, who became Adam Full-of-Grace, kept what they called an album, and there's a fellow out our way still has it. Back then, before there were so many people and before the ship fittings got so spread out or lost, folks lived better than the people here in the Citadel, the ones you call decadent, live now-and a hundred times better than most of the poor villagers out there."
John was becoming confused, frustrated, and angry by this young man's easy countering of his every point. “They were still weak then!” he almost shouted. “They had just come from Earth, and the stink of decadence was still on them! God made life here hard to purify men, to work that softness out of them, and that's what it's done; and you want to let these Earthers let it all back in, make us weak again!” He was leaning toward Aaron, frowning ferociously.
“Mr. Meek,” Aaron said, “I don't want to argue with you; you take it how you will. I'm just saying that I don't have any quarrel with the Heaveners."
“And I'm saying that as a good Christian, you should! We need to defend ourselves!"
“I don't feel, Mr. Meek, that I need any defending against the Heaveners. If they do me wrong, or if I see them do wrong to another, then I reckon I'll reconsider, but I don't see that they've harmed anybody that didn't attack them without reason. Nobody's forced me to trade with them. And as for comfort making them weak-how weak can they be if they wiped out an army in fifteen minutes?"
“They did that with hellfire!"
“No, sir, they did it with a weapon that was designed and built by men-just men, not demons."
“Men too weak to fight for themselves, though-they need machines to do it."
Aaron finished his ale. “Mr. Meek-Before-Christ, I enjoyed meeting you,” he said as he stood up, “but I think I had best move along now. Have a good day, sir, and God bless you.” He nodded politely and walked away.
John watched him go, seething with suppressed anger. His first attempt at recruiting had been a dismal failure; the boy had had a smart answer for everything. Still, he was just one man; the Citadel was filled with others, and John was sure that he would find plenty who would rally to his cause. He glanced around the room.
Most of those present had heard a little of the argument, and were now steadily ignoring him, while two seats away Miriam was grinning at him in triumph. She leaned over and whispered, “All you're going to do is get them mad enough to hang you-so you just keep it up, Captain John!"
She sat back, smirking.
Chapter Twelve
“Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom there is no help."-Psalms 146:3
Even after a week and a half of intensive efforts John could see no sign at all that he had angered the Heavener authorities with his harangues. Unfortunately, there was also no sign at all that he had won a single convert, or even planted any seeds of doubt that might later bloom. The people of the Citadel, either native or visitor, simply refused to worry about any dire purpose that might lie behind the generosity and good will of the New Heaveners. The only actual result that John could detect was that after a week or so a few people were beginning to refer to them openly as “the Earthers".
He knew when to cut his losses; besides, just because he saw no evidence, that didn't mean the Earthers weren't mad at him. On the eleventh day, the fifteenth of September, he bought a ticket on the airship and headed for Little St. Peter.
He had not given up, however. The people of the Citadel had been too thoroughly corrupted to be saved, true, but the rest of the protectorate might not be so far gone; he admitted to himself that most of the client populations were probably as deluded as the people he had spoken to in the Citadel, but there were probably still some men who held to the true ways, and at the very least he could hope to organize some sort of resistance somewhere, even if only mercenaries from outlying areas. Open warfare was not possible, but quick raids and harassment could be effective. If he made life sufficiently difficult for the protectorate's client states, no more would join and some might drop out. The spread of the Heavener contamination would be stopped and the evil contained, even if not destroyed. The Heaveners could not expand peacefully if no one was willing to sign up, and if they switched tactics and tried to expand by force their evil intent would be out in the open, and John could exploit that, perhaps even foment the popular rebellion he had expected initially.
With that all thought out he boarded the airship in a mood of guarded optimism, ignoring Miriam, who was still following him.
She was not willing to be ignored, however, and shortly after the airship took off she demanded, “Fleeing for your life, Captain?” She spoke loudly enough that two of the five other passengers glanced in her direction.
“No,” John replied calmly. “Just looking for more promising ground to seed."
“I hope you find some, Mr. Meek/Mercy-I'm still looking forward to seeing the Heaveners finish you off."
“If you want me dead so much, Ms. Humble, why don't you kill me yourself? You tried once, but since then you've passed up a dozen opportunities. Try it again and let's get it over with-I'm tired of seeing you following me around."
“Oh, no; I want no blood on my hands. When I tried to stab you I was still mad with grief-and besides, I thought I was defending myself, I thought you planned to rape me; I didn't know you were queer. Vengeance is the Lord's, and He'll take vengeance upon you when He's ready-but I want the pleasure of seeing it happen, as a comfort for my own suffering."
“You don't seem to remember the fifth chapter of Matthew's gospel,” John said. “Taking joy in another's suffering is not Christian. I have no further quarrel with you; leave me alone and I'll trouble you no more. Let what is past be past."