Dragons and Stars, Chapter 15: Suffering through Church

The three made their way into the airlock. At the back of it, two elevator doors stood open. They squeezed in the left one and Neal pressed the 76 on the elevator list. The doors closed and the elevator whooshed upwards.

As it slowed to a stop Hanna’s boots broke free and she drifted upwards. “Oy gevalt!” she said. She pushed off the elevator’s plushly pillowed ceiling, and once back on the floor turned up her magboots. They clumped out into a hallway and circled around the elevator shaft until they came to Aunt Dottie’s door.

Neal knocked, and after a long minute, Aunt Dottie opened the door. She was tall, in strange high heels with pointy toes. A long brown leather coat draped down past her knees as a sort of dress. The collars on her red Z patterned shirt stuck up as high as her eyes around the back and sides of her head. Her hair was piled impossibly high and waxy. She peered through her collar at them and smiled crisply. “Come in, come in.”

They walked into the luxuriously appointed apartment. Two magnificent flowers grew in corner pots, and warm spotlights shone on various genuine wood furnitures.

“I was just getting ready to go to an evening church service,” said Aunt Dottie. “Are you ready?”

“Oh, er, okay, sure,” said Neal. He didn’t care much for Aunt Dottie’s church, but what can you do. She scrunched a tall narrow helmet inside her collar and over her hair. “Let’s go!” she said in the radio.

They bundled out into the hallway again, down the elevator and out the front door. Low on the horizon, Neal could see a large red dot he knew to be Mars. The stars overhead were dimmer than on Eros because the city all around him was brightly lit in the swift evening. Ceres rotated completely every nine hours, compared to Eros’ 5 hours 15 minutes.

As they grabbed handles on the passing catchwire, darkness settled over the city like a bird alighting. The lights of the building glowed in every direction. Neal had seen Ceres City from station before at night. It glowed like a jewel on the surface of the great asteroid. The stars grew brighter as the asteroid turned its shoulder to the ever-shining sun.

Neal looked back and grinned at Hanna. She smiled back, enjoying the ride through the big city. “Oh, it’s so beautiful!” exclaimed Mrs. Silver over the radio. “Praise Jesus!”

In front Aunt Dottie turned her head back and stared curiously at Mrs. Silver.

They arrived at a tall square structure with a tall sharp tower on one corner. Neal always thought the building was strange in the city of cylinders and spheres, but being a yokal from the outskirts he didn’t say anything. They went through the airlock into the church, and Aunt Dottie immediately removed her helmet, patting her hair. A large smile came across her face and she immediately began greeting others by shaking only one hand with the people who came to meet them (how rude, Neal thought) who had similar large smiles pasted on their faces.

“God bless you,” she said to one middle-aged man, holding his hand a little longer than the rest. “And how is your oh-so-dear mother doing these days?”

“Oh,” he rumbled, “Praise the Lord, she’s doing better. The medicine is very expensive but it looks like she will not lose her hair after all.”

Neal clumped away and sat down as the music began to start. He pulled off his helmet and put it under his seat and strapped himself in to keep from drifting. The music was slow, sonorous, and Neal felt he was singing at a funeral. He sang along with the lyrics transmitted in his Book. The words were interesting enough, although he didn’t understand them all. “…A bulwark never failing…” But he got the idea. Jesus was strong and important. If only they didn’t grind through the words so slowly.

The music minister up front was waving his hands authoritatively and energetically to the mumbling gathering.

“All right,” he said, “Now let’s have one for the younger people present.” He pressed a button and a faster-tempoed song played from the sound boards. “Praise the Star Maker, He’s my life maker, glory be to Jupiter’s king, from the stars our praises ring…”

Neal felt a shift beside him. To his embarrassment, Mrs. Silver had raised both her hands into the air and was swaying from side to side. Everyone around them was staring down at their books and mumbling. Then to his horror, she said to him, “Excuse me, Neal.”

She scooted past him into the aisle and began dancing gracefully in circles. People looked up from their Books in shock, staring, and murmuring to each other as the music blasted on. Not for the first time that day, Neal wanted to crawl under a chair.

Hanna elbowed him. “I think she’s full of chutzpah,” she said. The song shifted. “This is the air I breathe,” the song leader sang. “Your holy presence, living in me.”

Mrs. Silver lay down on her face in aisle with her hands forward. Neal covered his eyes.

* * *

On the way home after the service, Aunt Dottie was rather silent. “Thank you for taking us to your lovely church,” said Mrs. Silver.

Aunt Dottie turned her head back and lifted the corners of her mouth. “Oh, you are welcome,” she said. “Did you grow up with Jews?”

“Well, no,” said Mrs. Silver. “I wish I did. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” said Aunt Dottie, “I thought perhaps you were about to get out your tambourine for a minute.”

“Why, what a lovely idea!” said Mrs. Silver. “Do you have a tambourine?” Aunt Dottie stayed silent.

Hanna shot a fuming look at Neal. He scrunched a grimace back at her and waved his free hand helplessly.

When they reached Aunt Dottie’s apartment, a ragged looking astronaut was squatting by the door. As they came up to it, he stood suddenly and came to them. His face was gaunt and hollow under his dirty and scratched helmet, and a ragged beard grew around his mouth. His eyes were small and black like a squirrel’s.

“Please,” he said. “Credits for a homeless man. My air generator needs a repair or I’ll run out of air.” Aunt Dottie briskly walked past him and pressed a code on the door compad.
“Please,” he said, turning to them. “I might die. Can you at least let me sleep in the hallway outside your door for the night? I’m looking for a freighter to work on. Just down on my luck.”

“Please,” said Aunt Dottie. “Move away from here or I’ll contact Ceres Security.” Hanna looked at Neal and he nodded, fishing the ten-credit coin from his pocket and handing it quietly to the man before they followed Aunt Dottie into the airlock.

At her house, they waited around the elegantly carved wooden table as Aunt Dottie radioed for dinner. “Those pests!” she said, indignantly. “Just because they were irresponsible, they think they can mooch off everyone else. You work hard, you get ahead. And most of the time their stories are tall tales anyway. Take a lesson, kids,” she said to them.

A knock came at the door, and a service robot walked in on spider legs, holding a steaming box. It set it down on the floor and scurried out.

The intercom buzzed just then and Uncle John’s voice came in. “Dottie?” he said. “It’s me, John– and a friend.”

“Oh, do come in,” she said sweetly. “Dinner just arrived and there should be plenty.”

A minute later Uncle John knocked and came in. Grummel was with him.

“Where’s your dad?” asked Neal. Grummel looked around the posh apartment, and then nodded his head toward Mrs. Silver.

“‘E thought ‘eed be more comfor’ble on the ship this eve’ing,” he said. He leaned forward, pushing his mic off to whisper in Neal’s ear. “He were frightened o’ making a mistake.” Neal looked over at Mrs. Silver and nodded. He probably was right on that one. If he didn’t break some imported vase, he’d probably at least blurt out something embarrassing. That was MacHardy–blunt spoken at times, but always earnest.

They sat down to eat and Aunt Dotte pulled smaller boxes out of the crate the robot had brought and set one before each of them. “One of my favorite dishes!” she said, as Neal opened his and looked at a pasty pat’e. “Rillons, ‘blanc de l’ouest’ pigs!”

“Oh!” said Neal. “Aunt Dottie, Hanna can’t eat this.”

“Oh, why not?” she asked.

“She’s Jewish,” said Neal.