“Another North is loose in the capital?” Hiram Randall remarked. “Good heavens, I believe they’ve discovered space travel!” He adopted an expression of mock terror that was ridiculous enough to earn a round of mild laughter from the group.
Sikander acknowledged the barb with a good-natured smile, although he never liked being the target of someone else’s gibe. “As it turns out, we have discovered medicine, too,” he said. “Amarleen is studying at Carlyle. I for one am very proud of her; they only accept eighty students a year, or so I’m told.”
“They must—” Randall started to say, but the soft tone of a chime sounding from the mansion above interrupted him. That was probably for the best, since Sikander did not intend to let another wisecrack directed at him or his family pass by.
“It seems dinner is served,” Captain Markham observed. “Might I suggest that we make our way inside?”
Hector’s officers and their dates joined the throng heading inside. Dinner was a vast buffet, but Sikander took care to partake lightly. Lara had made it clear that she expected to dance at the Governor’s Ball, and he’d learned early on that stuffing himself to the gills was not the best way to prepare himself for a long night of dancing. He collected the makings for a steak salad while Lara helped herself to a mix of lighter pastas, and they rejoined Hector’s officers at a round table in the corner of the banquet room.
Hiram Randall watched Sikander eat with a bemused expression. “I thought New Sikhs were vegetarians,” he observed. “You do know you’re eating steak, I hope?”
“Indeed I do, and it’s delicious,” Sikander replied between forkfuls. “I am not a vegetarian. Only deri-amritdhari refrain from eating meat.”
“So you are a sahajdhari, then?” Lara asked. She, like her friend Amarleen, was pursuing a doctorate, but hers was in international relations. Sikander had been quite pleased to discover that Lara had studied Kashmiri culture and social norms as part of her postgraduate work; most other Aquilans were not as well versed in the traditions of his homeworld.
He nodded for the benefit of the others. “Indeed I am. That means I have accepted the tenets of my faith, but have not yet committed myself to being fully observant.”
“That seems like a convenient place to be,” Peter Chatburn said. In Sikander’s first four weeks aboard Hector, Chatburn had struck Sikander as a rather unforgiving and results-oriented executive officer. That was part of the job, of course, but Sikander found him difficult to like, despite the shared bond of aristocratic rank. “All of the benefits of salvation, and none of the silly restrictions.”
“There is a little more to it than that,” Sikander said. “Even as sahajdhari, we practice meditation, engage in charitable work, and study the gurus’ teachings. And eventually I’ll be expected to undergo amrit deri-sanskar—baptism—and begin living in a strictly observant manner.”
“It all seems like a tremendous waste of energy,” said Randall. “If there’s a divine spirit out there in the universe, I doubt whether it cares if you eat meat or not, as long as you get the other parts straight.”
“I take it you are not religious, Mr. Randall?” Lara asked.
“Good God, I hope not,” Randall said with a laugh. That did not particularly surprise Sikander; something like seventy-five percent or more of Aquilans did not claim any religious affiliation, and were proud agnostics or atheists. “I have no use for magical men in the sky telling me how to live, thank you.”
“And yet you swore by His name just then,” Sikander pointed out. Soft laughter followed around the table. “Perhaps you are more religious than you think, Mr. Randall.”
Randall shot Sikander a hard look, but joined the laughter after a moment. “The one thing I suppose He’s good for, then,” he said. “Humankind has outgrown the need for such fables.”
“Fairy tales to your thinking, perhaps,” Sikander said. “The search for truth and meaning to countless other people, including millions of Aquilans. What is so contemptible about that?”
Randall gathered himself for another retort, but a glance from Captain Markham stilled his words. An awkward silence fell over the table for a moment; the captain cleared her throat. “I believe the palace staff would like us to finish up so they can clear the dance floor,” she said. “I think I’m ready for another drink, myself.”
By ones and twos, the table broke up. Lara excused herself to head for the restroom; Sikander waited by the hallway, and did his best not to glare in the general direction of Randall or Chatburn as they wandered off. The infuriating thing was that New Sikhism was actually very open to scientific inquiry and was hardly the blanket of oppressive ignorance that people like Randall railed against. Kashmir lagged behind the great powers of human space because of poverty and long isolation, not its dominant faith. And even if that weren’t true, Sikander had never understood how any decent human being could take pride in holding the sincere beliefs of others in contempt.
“Thank you, Mr. North.” Sikander looked up, and found Magdalena Juarez nearby. She was apparently waiting for her date as well.
“You’re welcome, but for what?” Sikander replied.
“Standing your ground against Hiram. I’ve heard that tirade more times than I care to relate. For someone who claims to be the embodiment of reason and scientific inquiry, he can be a close-minded bigot toward people of faith.”
“Mr. Randall is not the first person who has shared those views with me.” Sikander offered a small shrug. “You need not concern yourself with my sensibilities.”
“Oh, I am not annoyed on your account,” the chief engineer answered. “I’m a Nicosian Catholic. My whole family is. I’m afraid I don’t know much about New Sikhism, but I suspect it deserves more respect than Hiram Randall cares to show it.”
Sikander nodded. The Papacy had left Old Terra centuries ago, driven into exile by the rise of the Caliphate. Rome was no more, but her children roamed the stars, and the Nicosians were the most numerous and unified of the Christian denominations. “In that case, I am happy to have been of service, Ms. Juarez,” he told her.
“Magdalena, please, or Magda for short.” The engineer raised a finger for emphasis. “Never, under any circumstances, Mags or Maddie or Maggie.”
“So noted. Sikander, then, although my friends call me Sikay—just like the letters C-K.”
“Sikay, then,” Magda said. She shook his hand, and a wicked gleam came to her eye. “Now, more importantly: Did I hear correctly that you keep a boat on Brigadoon Bay? And that you go fishing most weekends?”
“My reputation precedes me, apparently,” Sikander said. “I take it you are an angler, too?”
“New Seville is nine-tenths water. I learned how to troll for glow-tuna before I could ride a bicycle.”
Sikander grinned. “I have no idea what a glow-tuna is, but I’d be delighted to take you fishing on Brigadoon Bay, Magda. When we get back to the ship, let’s look over our duty schedules and pick a day.”
At nine o’clock precisely, an orchestra took its place in the mansion’s ballroom and struck up the music. The banquet room, as well as the surrounding veranda, soon filled with elegant couples gliding gracefully across the floor. Sikander thoroughly enjoyed the next couple of hours; Lara Dunstan was a delight in his arms, as delicate as a wisp of cloud, her eyes filled with a mischievous light that promised a very fine conclusion to the evening when they finally decided to quit the party. From time to time they parted briefly to entertain other partners, since Lara simply couldn’t decline all the requests she received for a single dance, but she quickly returned to him after each instance. When they grew tired, they strolled outside to admire the evening or refresh themselves with drink.