shalt not suffer a witch to live" included in its domain the smuggled mutation. "Witch" equaled "monster." He therefore had scriptural support.
And anyhow he was God's regent on Earth.
Just to be on the safe side he consulted his huge copy of the Bible, rereading Exodus twenty-two, verse seventeen.
Thou shalt not suffer a sorceress to live .
And then for good measure he read the next verse .
Whosoever lieth with a beast shall surely be put to death .
Then he read the notes.
Ancient witchcraft was steeped in crime, immorality and imposture; and it debased the populace by hideous practices and superstitions. It is preceded by provisions against sexual license and followed by condemnation of unnatural vice and idolatry .
Well, that certainly applied here. Hideous practices and superstitions. Things spawned by intercourse with nonhumans on far off foreign planets. They shall not invade this sacred world, he said to himself. I'm sure my colleague the Procurator Maximus will agree.
Suddenly illumination washed over him. We're being invaded! he realized. The thing we've been talking about for two centuries. The Holy Spirit is telling me; it has happened!
Accursed spawn of filth, he thought; rapidly he made his way to his master chamber where the direct—and highly shielded—line to the procurator could be found.
"Is this about the baby?" Bulkowsky said, when contact—in an instant—had been established. "I have retired for the night. It can wait until tomorrow."
"There is an abomination out there," Cardinal Harms said. "Exodus twenty-two, verse seventeen. 'Thou—'"
"Big Noodle won't let it reach Earth. It must have been intercepted at one of the outer rings of Immigration."
"God does not wish monsters on this his primary world. You as a born-again Christian should realize that."
"Certainly I do," Bulkowsky said, with indignation.
"What shall I instruct Big Noodle to do?"
Bulkowsky said, "It's what will Big Noodle instruct us to do, rather. Don't you think?"
"We will have to pray our way through this crisis," Harms said. "Join me now in a prayer. Bow your head."
"My wife is calling me," Bulkowsky said. "We can pray tomorrow. Good-night." He hung up.
Oh God of Israel, Harms prayed, his head bowed. Protect us from procrastination and from the evil that has descended on it. Awaken the Procurator' s soul to the urgency of this our hour of ordeal.
We are being spiritually tested, he prayed. I know that is the case. We must prove our worth by casting out this satanic presence. Make us worthy, Lord; lend us thy sword of might. Give us thy saddle of righteousness to mount the steed of… He could not finish the thought; it was too intense. Hasten to our aid, he finished, and raised his head. A sense of triumph filled him; as if, he thought, we have trapped something to be killed. We have hunted it down. And it will die. Praise be to God!
8
T he high-velocity axial flight made Rybys Rommey deathly ill. United Spaceways had arranged for five adjoining seats for her, so that she could lie outstretched; even so, she was barely able to speak. She lay on her side, a blanket up to her chin.
Somberly, as he gazed down at the woman, Elias Tate said, "The damn legal technicalities. If we hadn't been held up—" He grimaced.
Within Rybys's body the fetus, now six months along, had been silent for a vast amount of time. What if the fetus dies? Herb Asher asked himself. The death of God … but not under circumstances anyone ever anticipated. And no one, except himself, Rybys and Elias Tate would ever know.
Can God die? he wondered. And with him my wife.
The marriage ceremony had been lucid and brief, a transaction by the deepspace authorities, with no religious or moral overtones. Both he and Rybys had been required to undergo extensive physical examinations, and, of course, her pregnancy had been discovered.
"You're the father?" the doctor asked him.
"Yes," Herb Asher said.
The doctor grinned
And anyhow he was God's regent on Earth.
Just to be on the safe side he consulted his huge copy of the Bible, rereading Exodus twenty-two, verse seventeen.
Thou shalt not suffer a sorceress to live .
And then for good measure he read the next verse .
Whosoever lieth with a beast shall surely be put to death .
Then he read the notes.
Ancient witchcraft was steeped in crime, immorality and imposture; and it debased the populace by hideous practices and superstitions. It is preceded by provisions against sexual license and followed by condemnation of unnatural vice and idolatry .
Well, that certainly applied here. Hideous practices and superstitions. Things spawned by intercourse with nonhumans on far off foreign planets. They shall not invade this sacred world, he said to himself. I'm sure my colleague the Procurator Maximus will agree.
Suddenly illumination washed over him. We're being invaded! he realized. The thing we've been talking about for two centuries. The Holy Spirit is telling me; it has happened!
Accursed spawn of filth, he thought; rapidly he made his way to his master chamber where the direct—and highly shielded—line to the procurator could be found.
"Is this about the baby?" Bulkowsky said, when contact—in an instant—had been established. "I have retired for the night. It can wait until tomorrow."
"There is an abomination out there," Cardinal Harms said. "Exodus twenty-two, verse seventeen. 'Thou—'"
"Big Noodle won't let it reach Earth. It must have been intercepted at one of the outer rings of Immigration."
"God does not wish monsters on this his primary world. You as a born-again Christian should realize that."
"Certainly I do," Bulkowsky said, with indignation.
"What shall I instruct Big Noodle to do?"
Bulkowsky said, "It's what will Big Noodle instruct us to do, rather. Don't you think?"
"We will have to pray our way through this crisis," Harms said. "Join me now in a prayer. Bow your head."
"My wife is calling me," Bulkowsky said. "We can pray tomorrow. Good-night." He hung up.
Oh God of Israel, Harms prayed, his head bowed. Protect us from procrastination and from the evil that has descended on it. Awaken the Procurator' s soul to the urgency of this our hour of ordeal.
We are being spiritually tested, he prayed. I know that is the case. We must prove our worth by casting out this satanic presence. Make us worthy, Lord; lend us thy sword of might. Give us thy saddle of righteousness to mount the steed of… He could not finish the thought; it was too intense. Hasten to our aid, he finished, and raised his head. A sense of triumph filled him; as if, he thought, we have trapped something to be killed. We have hunted it down. And it will die. Praise be to God!
8
T he high-velocity axial flight made Rybys Rommey deathly ill. United Spaceways had arranged for five adjoining seats for her, so that she could lie outstretched; even so, she was barely able to speak. She lay on her side, a blanket up to her chin.
Somberly, as he gazed down at the woman, Elias Tate said, "The damn legal technicalities. If we hadn't been held up—" He grimaced.
Within Rybys's body the fetus, now six months along, had been silent for a vast amount of time. What if the fetus dies? Herb Asher asked himself. The death of God … but not under circumstances anyone ever anticipated. And no one, except himself, Rybys and Elias Tate would ever know.
Can God die? he wondered. And with him my wife.
The marriage ceremony had been lucid and brief, a transaction by the deepspace authorities, with no religious or moral overtones. Both he and Rybys had been required to undergo extensive physical examinations, and, of course, her pregnancy had been discovered.
"You're the father?" the doctor asked him.
"Yes," Herb Asher said.
The doctor grinned
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