nun—”
“What’s—”
“A woman who devotes her life to God and never marries. The Little Flower always tried to do the right thing, the thing that would most help others. She wrote a book about her life. I want to quote you two things in it, and I want you to think about both of them.”
Father Emil didn’t look at her. With his knees drawn up to his chest like that and his scraggly beard, he looked like a child grown horribly old before growing up. She turned her head to stare at the blue curtain.
He said, “The first thing the Little Flower said was, ‘I tried very hard to never make excuses.’” He paused briefly, then continued. “The second is longer. It’s a prayer that goes like this: ‘My Lord and my God, I have realized that whoever undertakes anything for the sake of earthly things or to earn the praise of others deceives himself. Today one thing pleases the world, tomorrow another … but You are unchangeable for all eternity.’ Do you understand, Amanda?”
“No.”
“It means that today people want you to do one thing, tomorrow another thing, but that you should always do the right thing no matter who pressures you, without making any excuses. The right thing is eternal. It’s always right.”
Facts , Amanda thought. He meant “stick to facts.” Father Emil was talking about what Daddy called “scientific integrity.”
“I understand.”
“Good, Then I’m going to ask you again. Remember that what is fashionable or widely believed today doesn’t matter. The eternities matter, like kindness and helping people—the Little Flower devoted her life to helping people—and doing our small bit to stop evil in the world. Since all that is true, will you help stop the war by making this broadcast saying that government agents kidnapped your father?”
“No, Father Emil. I can’t.”
He said nothing. His lips moved in prayer. Then he drew aside the curtain and climbed down from her bunk.
Amanda waited for what would happen next. Nothing did. She heard no sounds. Finally, frightened, she peeked around the curtain. The common room was empty, and the door to the galley closed. So they were all in there, discussing her. Or else on the bridge, or in the storerooms.
She lay back and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she would be back home. She would be back in her own bedroom, waking up for school. Downstairs Sudie would be racketing around with the holotoons on, and her father would be in the kitchen cooking bacon and grumbling. Her bedroom would smell of bacon, and trees from the open window, and the sharp new smell of her book bag on the floor. She would get up and go to the bathroom and then go downstairs, and Carol would smile good morning, and Sudie would stick out her tongue at her, and Daddy—
She imagined it all, eyes closed, until she fell asleep.
* * *
When she woke, it was ship’s night and all the lights were dimmed. Amanda looked at her watch: 0300 hours. She’d slept so much of the day that she woke up in the middle of the night.
No—something had awakened her. Sounds. Someone was in the common room. Someone pulled aside the curtain to her bunk. Salah, with something in his hand.
Amanda screamed. Frantically she scrabbled to the far side of the bunk. Salah cursed and reached for her. She kicked at his hand, and now she could see what was in it: a patch. He was trying to drug her.
“No! No!” She went on screaming, knowing it was hopeless. Her kick hadn’t deterred him at all. He was too big and too strong and he’d said to the others, “She must just disappear … the life of one child does not outweigh the lives of the thousands…” But they had all yelled at him! Father Emil and Captain Lewis and Lucy, they’d all yelled at him and so Amanda had thought she was safe—“No! Get away!”
He grabbed her arm with one huge hand and effortlessly pulled her toward him. She hit him in the face, which seemed to have no effect at all. He was
“What’s—”
“A woman who devotes her life to God and never marries. The Little Flower always tried to do the right thing, the thing that would most help others. She wrote a book about her life. I want to quote you two things in it, and I want you to think about both of them.”
Father Emil didn’t look at her. With his knees drawn up to his chest like that and his scraggly beard, he looked like a child grown horribly old before growing up. She turned her head to stare at the blue curtain.
He said, “The first thing the Little Flower said was, ‘I tried very hard to never make excuses.’” He paused briefly, then continued. “The second is longer. It’s a prayer that goes like this: ‘My Lord and my God, I have realized that whoever undertakes anything for the sake of earthly things or to earn the praise of others deceives himself. Today one thing pleases the world, tomorrow another … but You are unchangeable for all eternity.’ Do you understand, Amanda?”
“No.”
“It means that today people want you to do one thing, tomorrow another thing, but that you should always do the right thing no matter who pressures you, without making any excuses. The right thing is eternal. It’s always right.”
Facts , Amanda thought. He meant “stick to facts.” Father Emil was talking about what Daddy called “scientific integrity.”
“I understand.”
“Good, Then I’m going to ask you again. Remember that what is fashionable or widely believed today doesn’t matter. The eternities matter, like kindness and helping people—the Little Flower devoted her life to helping people—and doing our small bit to stop evil in the world. Since all that is true, will you help stop the war by making this broadcast saying that government agents kidnapped your father?”
“No, Father Emil. I can’t.”
He said nothing. His lips moved in prayer. Then he drew aside the curtain and climbed down from her bunk.
Amanda waited for what would happen next. Nothing did. She heard no sounds. Finally, frightened, she peeked around the curtain. The common room was empty, and the door to the galley closed. So they were all in there, discussing her. Or else on the bridge, or in the storerooms.
She lay back and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she would be back home. She would be back in her own bedroom, waking up for school. Downstairs Sudie would be racketing around with the holotoons on, and her father would be in the kitchen cooking bacon and grumbling. Her bedroom would smell of bacon, and trees from the open window, and the sharp new smell of her book bag on the floor. She would get up and go to the bathroom and then go downstairs, and Carol would smile good morning, and Sudie would stick out her tongue at her, and Daddy—
She imagined it all, eyes closed, until she fell asleep.
* * *
When she woke, it was ship’s night and all the lights were dimmed. Amanda looked at her watch: 0300 hours. She’d slept so much of the day that she woke up in the middle of the night.
No—something had awakened her. Sounds. Someone was in the common room. Someone pulled aside the curtain to her bunk. Salah, with something in his hand.
Amanda screamed. Frantically she scrabbled to the far side of the bunk. Salah cursed and reached for her. She kicked at his hand, and now she could see what was in it: a patch. He was trying to drug her.
“No! No!” She went on screaming, knowing it was hopeless. Her kick hadn’t deterred him at all. He was too big and too strong and he’d said to the others, “She must just disappear … the life of one child does not outweigh the lives of the thousands…” But they had all yelled at him! Father Emil and Captain Lewis and Lucy, they’d all yelled at him and so Amanda had thought she was safe—“No! Get away!”
He grabbed her arm with one huge hand and effortlessly pulled her toward him. She hit him in the face, which seemed to have no effect at all. He was
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