They took a ferry, not unlike the ship which brought Fortis to Johnston Island, out to deeper waters. There was anchored a very substantial ship, three slender hulls closed like pontoons, but much larger. There were three decks stacked, each smaller than the one below it. The bottom was enclosed, sitting very near water level, the second with a full circle balcony, and on the third a small cabin sat in the middle of several pieces of equipment. The sails were extensive, and complicated beyond anything Fortis had ever seen. There was a boarding deck on the stern, almost like a floating wharf low to the sea.
Aside from the twin bodyguards, George had his wife. She was a shy woman, but obviously fully in charge of whatever it was she decided was her duty. Fortis had noticed women dressed somewhat as echoes of their men, but the subtle clues of rank and status were hardly so uniform. There were women who wore garments reflecting official positions in the Sheik’s service, and a handful among the faculty at the academy, none of whom taught religion. Most women worked a bit in the thriving barter markets which seemed to meet just about anywhere. Nothing Fortis saw or heard indicated oppression; it seemed women were disinterested in doing work commonly done by men.
George introduced his wife as Lisa, and she bowed to Fortis. Thereafter, she was less obtrusive than the twins.
They were given a suite on the middle deck, cozy rooms equipped with the hammocks Fortis loved. There were other passengers, but Fortis hardly saw them at first. George brought out his rolled up sheet computer, and showed Fortis the map of their planned itinerary. North and west to Nadul Island (George mentioned the clan was from Asian nations on Terra), west farther to a huge, almost continent sized Hollister Land, and on and on. Mostly larger islands, a couple of clans sharing a small continent here and there, zig-zagging up to the first of three continents which included the equatorial desert belt. This larger ship was able to travel a good bit faster, both because of design and more efficient use of wind power, but also because winds were stronger in the main and more predictable as they went farther north.
On this retrograde spinning world, where the feeble light of Dalorius rose in the west and faded into the east, so the prevailing winds were also easterly. Thus, their journey would generally circle Misty with the winds, mostly heading west. They hoped to see all 38 clans within two years of travel.
Fortis was reminded the topography varied little on Misty. Rather shallow oceans, where keels were almost useless, but without storms it hardly mattered. Instead, they might drop what George called “underwater sails” — thin, curved plank panels to catch strong currents when they were favorable, and serving as brakes when it was necessary to slow the ship. The waves never seemed more than a half-meter, and rarely that. The islands and continents were relatively flat, with hills seldom rising more than five meters. The few which did were barren above that elevation. Forests always at the lowest elevations, it was grassland everywhere else. Changing latitude would bring a faint difference in temperatures, but otherwise affected only the relative distribution of deciduous and needle-bearing trees, the latter fading in numbers and in size as they came closer to the equator.
Fortis and George often stepped out on the boarding deck, where the noise of the sails and wind in general was much reduced. There was a stairway running from the back corner of the second deck down to one side of the platform. They would bring folding chairs and large mugs of tea. The ship was very stable, with only a rare tiny sprays splashing them.
“Tell me about body armor,” Fortis asked. “I haven’t seen any.”
“Because you don’t recognize it,” George grinned. “The same variable stiffness we apply to fabrics and skins for other purposes can be enhanced for body armor. To make it truly wearable and effective, it requires a very expensive process so it remains moderately stiff, but hardens instantly on impact. Generally, only sheiks can afford it, and very little can be made, so there’s always a dire shortage compared to requests. Johnston’s bodyguard wore vests of it, as do all such troops. Rangers can get it issued for special operations.” He hooked a thumb back toward the ship, “The boys have vests with small sections of it.”
“You don’t wear any.” Fortis never saw such on George.
George sipped his tea, silent for just a moment. “I could.” More thoughtful silence. “I’m altogether certain God would rather I didn’t.”
“A preference for the armor of God, mentioned in the Book?”
“Exactly,” George smiled. “Your teachers did a good job.”
“I had no trouble absorbing the symbolism, but everything I thought I knew already turned out to be pretty silly. I made my own copy of the Book, though,” holding up his spooler.
“You can’t afford to get wrapped up in cerebral questions. The language of Heaven is parabolic, the logic is symbolic, the narrative is not explanatory, but mostly indicative.” George leaned back and closed his eyes.
“And the divine economy is a gift economy; sacrifice is the currency.” Fortis stared down into the sea.
George rolled his head to one side and opened his eyes, looking at Fortis. “We sincerely wish we could make that work here in the real world. What we do have emulates it as much as possible. We don’t have anything which serves as money, so we have had to be very careful about enforcing the barter provisions. Even in a world where most economic activity is food or resource extraction, it would be all too easy for someone to amass wealth and power. The Council tends to be rather brutal about that, since it is the primary route to destruction.”
“So you believe there is a cabal which seeks ways around that.”
George sat up, leaning forward, elbows on knees. “Naturally, though it includes other things.” Staring out to sea, “They talk about centralization and democracy.”
“On most every world out there in the galaxy,” Fortis said, sweeping his hand skyward, “you would think there was something sacred about giving every breathing a soul a direct or indirect voice in government. Yet it seems to lead consistently to cycles of war and oppression.”
“Is that taught in your former university, or is that one of your brilliant intuitions?” George smiled slyly.
“They don’t teach it, but just about anyone with a hint of independent thinking can see it.” Fortis grinned a bit. “I got in trouble for daring to say it, once. Then a short time later was told in private I was right, but not to say it. Something about professional doctrine.”
“Good. To question is the answer.” George set his empty mug in the rest made for it on the side of the chair. “To question all human declarations is the ultimate answer to living among humans,” he expanded.
After a few moments, he continued. “We believe God’s Book assumes mankind living in the tribal setting. In a pluralistic society attempting to operate by democratic assumptions, we say government is the monopoly on the use of force. If your government doesn’t have a monopoly, then it’s not the real government, or at least not the only one. Authority is, fundamentally, a threat of force. That it may be no one has any interest in defying it is not the point. Reducing the necessity of even referring to that threat is as good as it gets, because any system which fails to account for the Fall is broken from the start.”
Fortis was all seriousness. “Had not God Himself invaded my soul, I would still be choking on that concept.”
George nodded sagely. “You and all the rest of the humanity. The paradox of the Fall is no one believes they are fallen until they find the remedy. None of us pretends to know how that invasion from God comes about, because the only consistent factor is His personal whim. We can predict most people come to it by embracing the demands of God’s Laws, the inherent call for repentance. But that assumes a mostly mundane form of logic. With those already mystical, it is utterly random.”
“As is fitting for what mysticism represents.” Fortis agreed with a smile.
“Indeed, the readiness to receive truth on an entirely different basis from mere human reasoning. True mystics come to faith more readily than anyone else.”
After a few minutes of silence, Fortis remarked, “I was completely surprised how that part of me already knew what I was being taught. It was as if my intellect was simply recognizing something already there, buried beneath the surface. Not every detail, but the general shape of the ideas. I started with a very amorphous view of God maybe as a person, and ended up with a very strong image, rather like a galactic sheik.”
“Truth makes its own path,” George agreed.
A crewman leaned over the railing above and invited them to dinner.
