Aboriginal Science Fiction, Issues 57–58 — page 46: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Granum Frumenti By Joe Mayhew Art by Cortney Skinner Hamilton, Bermuda, saw the sky outside the shuttle turn from deep-space black to blue. Soon, the clouds rising toward them broke, and it seemed to Gene as though they were flying over Earth again. It took almost an act of faith to believe that was Ursula’s sun shining down through the breaks in the clouds, not his own. He felt the doubt grow in him — not about where he was, but about where he was going. That sun, shining down into Pela’s blue sky, was a star he had seen as a boy playing with a telescope in the friendly Ontario night. He knew it, but it did not con- nect him with the universe he knew. A cold, nightless ocean of profound darkness lay between his God’s cre- ation and this place. His Faith affirmed that the heav- ens united all creation, but his understanding balked. Ursula’s calm was probably no more solid than those opaque clouds around the shuttle. Gene wanted to do something to help her, but he was baffled. Until he agreed to perform her wedding, he had thought he knew nearly everything that mattered about her. After all, hadn’t he known her for thirty years? Her name had been romanized on her University of Waterloo ID as “Yeracl Pelandimitsarmyh,” but when she came to his office at St. Jerome’s College for reli- gious instruction, she had introduced herself as “Ursula.” He had baptized her with that name, but now he wondered if it were only some sort of mask she had put on to live, as much as she could, as a Terran among Terrans. Ursula had never gotten around to telling him much of her life on Pela; she had shied away as if it were a repulsive subject. Then too, he had always been the one to do the talking. Right at that moment, he really regretted that. Just before they had switched from the Pelan star- ship onto the shuttle, Ursula had said, “Part of me would like to go on being Ursula forever: a big part. As each year goes by, it becomes harder to let go of the life I have found here. I haven’t thought of myself as Yeracl for a long time — at least not willingly. Perhaps that was a sin against my own nature: hiding in alienness.” She was the first alien he had met. The xenophobic riots in the United States had made the Yanks wary of all unnecessary conflict with the Pelen. But in pre-war Canada, the Pelen still had been allowed to live at lib- erty. That rainy night in September when she had appeared at his door, the news had been full of angry Canadian faces and pain. While there had been pain in Ursula’s face, there had been no anger. She had come to receive Christ. TX Most Rev. Eugene Hespeler, CR, Bishop of Congregation of the Resurrection had insisted he get the consent of the Archdiocese, which, in turn, had sought instructions from the Vatican. To everyone’s surprise, the decision was prompt. That was Tim was no precedent. The Superior of the 46 Aboriginal Science Fiction — Summer 1998 because it did not come from any of the expected Congregations or Offices. For, as soon has he had heard of Ursula’s desire to be baptized, the Pope had replied personally, “The call to grace is universal.” But, was it? When Gene had been posted to Kentucky as chap- lain to the Canadian prisoners of war, Ursula had vol- unteered to accompany him as Red Cross observer. Each time he had given last rites before a lethal injec- tion (and there had been so many of them), Ursula had been there, listening and understanding. In those days, she was the only one he could stand around him after an execution. She seemed to have the same stoic acquaintance with the face of death as he felt, perhaps also the same sad longing. It was wrong to hate one’s nature, but her company made him feel as though there was a way to find grace through it. How old was she? He wondered at her extensive grasp of politics and history. It would have taken sev- eral lifetimes for him to catch up with her knowledge of the hard sciences, and yet she seemed rather a slow learner. Slow but steady. After thirty years, her Christian faith was still rather unsophisticated. But yet, he knew it was terribly important to her. It was for that reason that he had agreed to come here to perform her wedding — that and the opportu- nity to perhaps make a few converts. Now, he was beginning to understand that he was seeking some fixed point outside his nature against which he might be able to measure himself. She had told him that her clan would select the one to whom she would be wed. However, when it came to the question of raising her children as Christians, Ursula had assured him, “Father Gene, they will be exactly as Christian as I am. In time, my whole clan will share my Catholic Faith.” As the shuttle descended, the land below began to look less familiar, although it still didn’t seem alien, merely foreign. Ursula pointed down to a graceful concatenation of buildings in a park. “That’s Dimitsarmyh, my clan’s home.” “Do they all live there?” “No. Only the few who are chosen to serve our home actually live there. For the most part we awaken here and only return when it is time to be wed.” The shuttle floated down to land beside a nest of Pelan fliers. Ursula’s clan-sister Repchal came back to speak to Gene for the second time. “Most Reverend Eugene Hespeler, it would be better for you to say good- by to Yeracl here on the shuttle. It really would be eas- ier for both of you. Please, Yeracl, insist that he return to the starship now.” But Ursula did not flinch. “Repchal, Bishop Copyright © 1998 by Joe Mayhew Gomichbooks com