if she doesn’t tell anyone, the Grant woman will read that she’s uneasy, that she’s hiding something, that she’s lying, and will get it out of her. Have you ever known a Sensitive, Emil?”
“No.”
“I have. Go wake up Amanda, Emil, and get to work. Be persuasive. Be very persuasive.”
Lucy said, “Wait … even if Emil does persuade Amanda, and she makes the broadcast, and then later Marbet Grant finds out Emil pressured Amanda … that’s just as bad for us!”
“No,” Captain Lewis said. “If she publicly recants her statement, she’s just going to look like a confused kid. It’s if she goes on stalwartly refusing to make one at all that she becomes a heroine insisting on ‘truth.’”
“Which is what she is doing,” Father Emil said. “She is an idealist, unwilling to lie. We should not consider that a sin.”
“Oh, fuck sin,” Lucy said. “This is practical politics, Emil, not airy-merry abstract religion. She’s got to make that broadcast, almost as soon as we wake her up. And she’s got to genuinely believe she’s doing it voluntarily.”
“And if—”
Another voice cut in, a very deep voice Amanda had not heard before. The third man. He had a thick accent. “If she does not, she is a grave liability to the movement. No one knows we have her. She must just disappear.”
The other three started talking at once. The man with the deep voice silenced them all. “You are all dilettantes. The life of one child does not outweigh the lives of the thousands of children who will die if Stefanak is not stopped. Do not be so sentimental.”
No one spoke until Captain Lewis said, “Salah—” at the same time that Father Emil said, “I will not allow that to happen.”
“Nor I,” said Captain Lewis. “We are not barbarians, Salah. It’s the other side that are barbarians. Remember that!”
Salah said nothing.
Amanda lay rigid, waiting. After a long pause she heard Father Emil get up and leave the area. She knew it was Father Emil because she could hear the faint mutter as he prayed.
FIVE
EN ROUTE TO MARS
T he curtain was pulled back. Amanda, pretending to be asleep, felt the wake-up patch laid on her neck and pretended to wake up. Father Emil stood beside her bunk. “Amanda…”
She nodded, too scared to say anything.
He looked at her hopelessly, a badly dressed little man with a scraggly beard and wrinkle-rimmed eyes. Then he climbed into the bunk, careful not to touch her, and sat with his back against the bulkhead and his knees pulled up to his chest. Amanda did the same and so they sat side by side, facing the heavy curtain, like bookends with nothing between them. And everything. Father Emil’s lips moved soundlessly, and Amanda knew that once again he was praying.
“Amanda,” he finally said, “I’m going to ask you once more. I don’t want to hound you, or scare you, so this will be the last time you’ll hear all this.” After a moment he added, “From me, anyway.”
She said nothing. Her hands were clasped together tightly. Father Emil was quiet so long she thought maybe he wasn’t going to talk to her after all, only to God, but then he began and what he said was a surprise.
“The mission where I work is about saving souls. Getting the wretched to leave their sad and sinful lives and turn back to God. The mission is called the St. Theresa the Little Flower Mission after a saint, a holy woman, named Therese of Lisieux and nicknamed ‘The Little Flower.’ She wasn’t really a woman, she was a little girl. Like you.” He stopped.
“Oh,” said Amanda, because she had to say something. Although she couldn’t see what this Little Flower had to do with anything. And anyway Amanda wasn’t a “little girl.” She was fourteen.
“The little Flower’s mother died when she was very young, like your mother. When the Little Flower was still a girl, just a few years older than you, her father was taken away, too. At age fifteen she became a
“No.”
“I have. Go wake up Amanda, Emil, and get to work. Be persuasive. Be very persuasive.”
Lucy said, “Wait … even if Emil does persuade Amanda, and she makes the broadcast, and then later Marbet Grant finds out Emil pressured Amanda … that’s just as bad for us!”
“No,” Captain Lewis said. “If she publicly recants her statement, she’s just going to look like a confused kid. It’s if she goes on stalwartly refusing to make one at all that she becomes a heroine insisting on ‘truth.’”
“Which is what she is doing,” Father Emil said. “She is an idealist, unwilling to lie. We should not consider that a sin.”
“Oh, fuck sin,” Lucy said. “This is practical politics, Emil, not airy-merry abstract religion. She’s got to make that broadcast, almost as soon as we wake her up. And she’s got to genuinely believe she’s doing it voluntarily.”
“And if—”
Another voice cut in, a very deep voice Amanda had not heard before. The third man. He had a thick accent. “If she does not, she is a grave liability to the movement. No one knows we have her. She must just disappear.”
The other three started talking at once. The man with the deep voice silenced them all. “You are all dilettantes. The life of one child does not outweigh the lives of the thousands of children who will die if Stefanak is not stopped. Do not be so sentimental.”
No one spoke until Captain Lewis said, “Salah—” at the same time that Father Emil said, “I will not allow that to happen.”
“Nor I,” said Captain Lewis. “We are not barbarians, Salah. It’s the other side that are barbarians. Remember that!”
Salah said nothing.
Amanda lay rigid, waiting. After a long pause she heard Father Emil get up and leave the area. She knew it was Father Emil because she could hear the faint mutter as he prayed.
FIVE
EN ROUTE TO MARS
T he curtain was pulled back. Amanda, pretending to be asleep, felt the wake-up patch laid on her neck and pretended to wake up. Father Emil stood beside her bunk. “Amanda…”
She nodded, too scared to say anything.
He looked at her hopelessly, a badly dressed little man with a scraggly beard and wrinkle-rimmed eyes. Then he climbed into the bunk, careful not to touch her, and sat with his back against the bulkhead and his knees pulled up to his chest. Amanda did the same and so they sat side by side, facing the heavy curtain, like bookends with nothing between them. And everything. Father Emil’s lips moved soundlessly, and Amanda knew that once again he was praying.
“Amanda,” he finally said, “I’m going to ask you once more. I don’t want to hound you, or scare you, so this will be the last time you’ll hear all this.” After a moment he added, “From me, anyway.”
She said nothing. Her hands were clasped together tightly. Father Emil was quiet so long she thought maybe he wasn’t going to talk to her after all, only to God, but then he began and what he said was a surprise.
“The mission where I work is about saving souls. Getting the wretched to leave their sad and sinful lives and turn back to God. The mission is called the St. Theresa the Little Flower Mission after a saint, a holy woman, named Therese of Lisieux and nicknamed ‘The Little Flower.’ She wasn’t really a woman, she was a little girl. Like you.” He stopped.
“Oh,” said Amanda, because she had to say something. Although she couldn’t see what this Little Flower had to do with anything. And anyway Amanda wasn’t a “little girl.” She was fourteen.
“The little Flower’s mother died when she was very young, like your mother. When the Little Flower was still a girl, just a few years older than you, her father was taken away, too. At age fifteen she became a
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