Read Online The Gripping Hand by Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle - Free Book Online
Authors: Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle
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where they had stopped was clearly marked, and so were some of their snow-shoe tracks.
"Must have been a lot of wind through here," Boynton muttered.
Renner frowned. Boynton was right. There was very little snow caught in the trees here. In the woods near the lake where they'd landed, there had been a lot more. Here there was less in the trees, more on the ground. Mmm?
"Right down there," James Scott said. "Here, I'll take it a moment." The plane banked and turned in a tight spiral so that Renner could see down to the scene of his triumph.
Boynton was on the high side of the plane. He craned up and looked off to the left. "What the hell . . . ?"
"What?" Renner demanded. He craned past Boynton.
"Tracks?"
South of the forest the snow looked chewed. Snowmobile tires, men's footprints, the blurred circle where a helicopter must have come down and taken off. A hell of a lot of activity. Renner said, "Okay, take us—"
Darwin Scott drove his elbow into Renner's stomach. Renner gasped, and a sickly sweet smell filled his lungs. He sat back with a sappy grin on his face. "Peace . . . Sam," he said.
"What the hell?" Boynton demanded.
"Gentile friend, you have seen nothing," Darwin Scott said.
"Gentile. Church business?"
"He is not a gentile," James Scott said. "Lapsed, but he was born to the Church."
"I must think on this," Darwin said.
A part of Renner's mind told him that Boynton was acting strangely, and so were the Scotts, but he didn't really care. When the plane banked slightly so that his head rolled, he saw that Darwin was holding a pistol. Renner giggled.
"Use the spray," James Scott said. "I have the controls."
"Hey, I don't want to be no giggling idiot," Boynton said. "Look, if this is Church business—hell, give me the skin and my share of the gear, and it's quits for me. I'll say we got a ghost, and the dude wanted to hunt some more, so we split up. You took the dude off to a place you didn't want me to know about. After that it's up to you."
"It would even be true," Darwin Scott said. "We must think on this."
"While you're thinking, where the hell are we going?" Boynton demanded.
"Outside Zion there is a small lake," Darwin Scott said. "Land on that."
5: The True Church
Come, come, ye Saints, no toil or labor fear;
but with joy wend your way;
Though hard to you this journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day.
Tis far better for us to strive,
Our useless cares from us to drive;
Do this, and joy your hearts will swell—
All is well, all is well!
—Hymns of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints
A tiny red light danced in Ruth Cohen's eyes, then the massive door opened before she could touch the bell. The butler was dressed in a traditional manner. Ruth hadn't seen anyone in that costume except in Government House and tri-vee shows. "Welcome, Commander. His Excellency has been expecting you."
Ruth glanced down at her best civilian dress and grinned wryly.
The butler took her overcoat and handed it to another servant. "His Excellency is in the library," he said, and ushered her down the hall.
Bury was in his travel chair, not at the desk but at an elaborately inlaid game table. "You will forgive me if I do not stand? Thank you. Would you care for a drink? We have an excellent Madeira. Not from Earth, I fear, but from Santiago, which many say is not greatly inferior."
"I would really prefer coffee."
Bury smiled. "Turkish or filtre? . . . Filtre. Cynthia, the Kona, I believe. And my usual. Thank you." Bury indicated a chair. "Please be seated, Commander. Thank you."
Ruth smiled. "Your hospitality is a bit overwhelming."
Bury's expression didn't change. "Thank you, but I am certain that a vice
"Must have been a lot of wind through here," Boynton muttered.
Renner frowned. Boynton was right. There was very little snow caught in the trees here. In the woods near the lake where they'd landed, there had been a lot more. Here there was less in the trees, more on the ground. Mmm?
"Right down there," James Scott said. "Here, I'll take it a moment." The plane banked and turned in a tight spiral so that Renner could see down to the scene of his triumph.
Boynton was on the high side of the plane. He craned up and looked off to the left. "What the hell . . . ?"
"What?" Renner demanded. He craned past Boynton.
"Tracks?"
South of the forest the snow looked chewed. Snowmobile tires, men's footprints, the blurred circle where a helicopter must have come down and taken off. A hell of a lot of activity. Renner said, "Okay, take us—"
Darwin Scott drove his elbow into Renner's stomach. Renner gasped, and a sickly sweet smell filled his lungs. He sat back with a sappy grin on his face. "Peace . . . Sam," he said.
"What the hell?" Boynton demanded.
"Gentile friend, you have seen nothing," Darwin Scott said.
"Gentile. Church business?"
"He is not a gentile," James Scott said. "Lapsed, but he was born to the Church."
"I must think on this," Darwin said.
A part of Renner's mind told him that Boynton was acting strangely, and so were the Scotts, but he didn't really care. When the plane banked slightly so that his head rolled, he saw that Darwin was holding a pistol. Renner giggled.
"Use the spray," James Scott said. "I have the controls."
"Hey, I don't want to be no giggling idiot," Boynton said. "Look, if this is Church business—hell, give me the skin and my share of the gear, and it's quits for me. I'll say we got a ghost, and the dude wanted to hunt some more, so we split up. You took the dude off to a place you didn't want me to know about. After that it's up to you."
"It would even be true," Darwin Scott said. "We must think on this."
"While you're thinking, where the hell are we going?" Boynton demanded.
"Outside Zion there is a small lake," Darwin Scott said. "Land on that."
5: The True Church
Come, come, ye Saints, no toil or labor fear;
but with joy wend your way;
Though hard to you this journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day.
Tis far better for us to strive,
Our useless cares from us to drive;
Do this, and joy your hearts will swell—
All is well, all is well!
—Hymns of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints
A tiny red light danced in Ruth Cohen's eyes, then the massive door opened before she could touch the bell. The butler was dressed in a traditional manner. Ruth hadn't seen anyone in that costume except in Government House and tri-vee shows. "Welcome, Commander. His Excellency has been expecting you."
Ruth glanced down at her best civilian dress and grinned wryly.
The butler took her overcoat and handed it to another servant. "His Excellency is in the library," he said, and ushered her down the hall.
Bury was in his travel chair, not at the desk but at an elaborately inlaid game table. "You will forgive me if I do not stand? Thank you. Would you care for a drink? We have an excellent Madeira. Not from Earth, I fear, but from Santiago, which many say is not greatly inferior."
"I would really prefer coffee."
Bury smiled. "Turkish or filtre? . . . Filtre. Cynthia, the Kona, I believe. And my usual. Thank you." Bury indicated a chair. "Please be seated, Commander. Thank you."
Ruth smiled. "Your hospitality is a bit overwhelming."
Bury's expression didn't change. "Thank you, but I am certain that a vice
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