Dennis Schmidt - Wayfarer 4 - The Wanderer

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WANDERER

Dennis Schmidt

This book is dedicated to my children

An Ace Science Fiction Book/published by arrangement with

the author

PRINTING HISTORY

Ace Science Fiction edition/November 1985

Cover art by Carl Lundgren

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.

For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.

ISBN: 0-441-87160-7

Ace Science Fiction Books are published by

The Berkley Publishing Group,

200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Prologue

The mountains rose on every side, dark and lonely in the night. A steady wind blew from the west,

shredding the few clouds that clung to the sky and flinging them east-ward. Aside from the numbing light

of the stars, the night sky was empty.

They sat in a circle, in the center of a plain, in the middle of the mountains. They were nine in number,

clad in black, their long gray hair whipping in the wind. Full robes draped and obscured their figures, and

deep cowls hid their faces from sight. They sat cross-legged, the skirts of their robes fanning out to cover

the ground. There was nothing to indicate who or what manner of creature they might be.

For many minutes, the only thing that could be heard was the moaning of the wind as it swept across

the plain and swirled around their circle. Then, as though born of the wind itself, a slightly different sound

began to separate itself from the background. It started as the merest whisper. Gradually it grew in

intensity, one moment sinking back into the wind, the next rising triumphantly above it. As it rose higher

and higher, a light grew on the horizon to the east. Slowly, a moon pushed up between two peaks.

Almost immediately it was followed by two more in quick succession. After a short pause, a fourth joined

the other three and together they began their march across the sky.

Now the sound was louder and more intense than the wind. Its cadence was wild and irregular, yet

seemed to hint at an internal logic that transcended any ordinary concept of order. When softer, it had

seemed to come from the very ground itself. Now, as it grew in strength, it could clearly be traced to the

circle of figures.

The light of all four moons was surprisingly bright, and revealed something new about the figures.

Deep within the cowls were human faces. They were of various forms, but all had the same severe frown

of concentration, and the same hard, bright eyes that stared out at things that were not visible. The lips

moved slightly, forming the words of the chant that rose to intertwine with the moaning of the wind and

swirl off toward the moons slowly climbing in the eastern sky.

The words of the chant were almost recognizable, yet somehow they resisted understanding, twisting

from the mind's grasp at the last moment. Higher and higher rose the droning sound until it dominated the

night, pulling the wind with it, forcing the clouds to flee, pushing the moons up, up, ever up. The plain, the

mountains, and eventually the world began to move around their circle as though around an axis. They

were the center.

As the first of the four moons reached the highest point in the heavens, the wordless, flowing chant

stopped suddenly and the world was silent in surprise and anticipation. One of the dark figures spoke in a

husky whisper that rang out against the mountain peaks. "See! See! It lies there in space, so serene, so

beautiful. What shall we call it? What shall its name be?"

"Death," another answered in a dry, rasping voice. "Life," suggested a second.

"Beginning," came a third answer.

"End," was the fourth.

"Kensho," said a fifth, firmly, commandingly.

Nine heads nodded in agreement. "Yes, Yes. Kensho. For it shall be Death and Life. It shall be

Beginning and End. It shall be Kensho. And it shall be Satori."

From the depths of one of the hoods came a cry of pain and horror. "Ahhhhhh! Madness! See how

they kill each other!"

"Yesss," came the group's reply. "The Mushin strike, the mind killers, the leeches, the eaters of

emotions."

"I am annoyed," one said, a whining complaint in the night.

"Mushin make annoyance into anger," came the muttered answer.

"I am angry," another continued, his voice hard and brittle.

"Mushin make anger into fury," the response hissed. "I am furious," shouted a third, the very air

quivering. "Mushin make fury into rage."

"I rage, I rage!" shrieked a fourth, his cry splitting the night and causing tiny creatures to huddle in

terror in their burrows.

"Now Mushin strike," the chant calmly continued. "Now the killers push the tottering mind over the

brink to fall in endless insanity. And now they feed!"

A hideous silence followed, one heavy with dread and death. It was finally broken by a lonely wail.

"Dead! Dead, all dead! Bodies everywhere! Twisted, bloody, eyes gouged out, throats torn out. Dead."

"Some live. A few. Those who control the emotions. Those who can still the mind. Nakamura

knows. He will save them."

Now a chant rose, soft at first, slowly gaining force until it filled the world with its power. "Moons,

moons, shining down on waters, waters moving slowly, moons moving slowly, yet being still. Still the

waters, still the moons. Movement, strife, all longing is but a reflection, passing to stillness when the mind

is calmed."

The chant ran out into the night, Roning along, smoothing the world. A calm settled over and around

the circle. The nine figures were still.

As the second moon reached the height of the sky one of them spoke. "A man comes. And then

another. They bring a way."

"Not a weapon, but a Way," the others answered. "Jerome, to save us from the Mushin."

"Edwyr, to save us from ourselves."

"Way-Farer. He who treads the Way that all may walk it."

"There is Judgment. Those who change survive. The race changes. The race survives."

"Kensho is true to its name. Mushin become Mind Brothers. The ends almost meet, the circle is

almost full."

Now the third moon rose to its apex in the night sky. In one mighty cry the circle shouted, "They

come! They come!"

The chant ran around the circle again. "With might beyond compare, they come."

"With space-spanning ships, they come."

"With mind twisting machines, they come."

"One comes to Kensho, one goes from Kensho."

"The balance is kept."

"The one who comes, stays, un-whole."

"The one who goes, returns, whole."

"The balance is kept."

"They go." The final words were whispered in tense unison.

For the fourth time, a watchful silence fell over the circle of forms. Though none looked up into the

sky, all were watching and waiting for the fourth moon to reach the point already reached by the three

others. When it climbed to that place, a great sigh went up from the nine. The sigh changed into a moan

that the wind took up and whipped against the mountains until the very air vibrated with it and the ground

of the plain trembled and shook.

"Again they come. Many more."

"Yes, yes, they come again."

"Who will stay and who will go?"

"Who will keep the balance?"

"Who will close the circle?"

Eight hooded heads turned to the form at the eastern point of the circle. The cowl dipped slightly and

a voice issued forth from its depths. "The past is easily traveled. One road leads back from here. The rest

have withered through lack of use. What was is determined by what is. What is contains what must be.

This way of seeing can tell no more."

The heads turned then to the figure at the western point. The cowl bowed in acknowledgment and

sorrow. "The future is not as open and clear as the past. It is infinite and multitudinous. From this instant

the paths of possibility flare off in all directions.

"Once we looked and paid a heavy price. We saw many ends. And some beginnings. Now that

which is most probable will be shared. And that which is hoped for as well. Open and receive, for the

fourth moon is high and soon will be setting."

The circle breathed deep and drew gently into a stillness that seemed to stop the very flow of time

and being. Nothing moved. The wind halted and hung suspended in the frozen moons light.

Then it was over. The stars went once more on their way, the fourth moon began to set, the wind

scurried on eastward in its journey as if to make up for lost time. One of the figures sighed and

murmured, "I have seen an end."

"Yes," came the reply, "an end."

"And yet, it was a beginning."

"Yes, a beginning."

"That which has been is always becoming that which will be."

"Through the narrow instant of now the infinite future becomes the singular past. All ends are

beginnings, all beginnings ends."

"The moons are setting as soon as they rise."

"The fate of Kensho has risen."

"Now it is setting."

"To rise again?"

"To close the circle?"

A pause followed, one filled almost to bursting with conjecture and wondering. Then with one voice,

the nine cried out, "They come, they come, they come!"

Hours later, when the last of the four moons had set, the plain was empty except for the hiss and

swirl of the wind. The mountains looked down on darkness. Nothing looked back.

Chapter I

The two men seated across the table from each other were a study in contrasts. One was dark of

skin, hair, and eye. The other was fair, blond, with eyes of a blue so pale they almost appeared white.

The dark one wore a midnight-hued robe, its folds hiding his shape in shadow. His garb was a sign of the

high office he held within the Power. It bore no badge or insignia, yet all knew it declared him a Cardinal

and one of the Adepts in the faith.

The pale man was dressed in the uniform of a Fleet Admiral of the Home Guard, a simple affair of

light blue cut to conform to the figure. The color was in honor of Earth, the incredible water planet that

even now looked blue and lovely as it hung in space.

Admiral Knecht watched the man in black with neutral but careful eyes. Cardinal Unduri, he thought,

was just possibly the most intelligent, most devious, most dangerous man ever to serve the Power.

Everyone knew his story, and he himself relished reminding them of it. Unlike most of those in the

Hierarchy, Unduri had not been born into the upper classes on Earth. Instead, he had come from the

lowest of slums, the vast, sprawling shantytown that lined both sides of the turgid, foul Congo River.

Abandoned by his own parents at an early age, he had fought his way out of the slums and into a minor

post in a local chapel of the Power. From that moment on, his rise had been swift, brutal, and nothing

short of incredible. His appointment as representative of the Power on this mission was a clear indication

of the importance attached to it by the Hierarchy.

As my appointment as military head shows how important we think it is, he reminded himself. The

whole thing was incredible. He had viewed the tapes himself, many times, and still they made no sense.

He had even gained illicit access to the full report of the mind probe the Hierarchy had conducted of

Bishop Thwait. The full report, not merely the "official" summary the Power had submitted to the

Investigating Commission. He shuddered inwardly. They had put one of their own on their damn

machines and torn his mind into tiny pieces, searching, searching for the key to what had taken place

aboard that scout ship. The results were astounding mainly because they literally made no sense. The

whole thing was inexplicable.

No sense, no sense. The phrase echoed in his mind. The ship's tapes made no sense. The memories

in Thwait's mind made no sense.

And yet it had happened. The condition of the scout, the crew, and the Bishop all gave grim evidence

to that fact. The interior of the ship was blasted and half destroyed. It had barely managed to limp home

on its auxiliary systems. But, astonishingly enough, there was no indication of any external damage!

Whatever had taken place had not been the result of an attack from the outside followed by a boarding.

Which brought up the condition of the crew. More than half had been killed or wounded during the

fratricidal conflict that had raged between Admiral Thomas Yamada's men and those who served the

Power. Or so it seemed. But such a thing had never happened in the history of the Power or of the Fleet.

What in the name of Kuvaz could have caused such a thing? It just didn't make sense. Falling on each

other in the face of the enemy? Not one of those questioned could give a satisfactory answer as to what

had happened or why they had acted as they did. Several had died under the interrogation, so there was

no question of their having held back information.

And then there was the condition of the Bishop himself. The drooling, moaning, crying, terrified shell

of Andrew Thwait. What could have plunged a man as tough as Thwait into raving insanity? What kind of

enemy had that scout ship faced?

Which brought him to the strangest part of all. From what he'd seen on the ship's tapes, the enemy

was totally unarmed; the planet was inhabited by a culture which was at best a Class Three.

A planet with no weapons, and a girl. The girl Thwait and Yamada had kidnapped to help with the

preparation of the spy and for the purpose of "questioning" under the Bishop's machines.

The "spy" had been one Dunn Jameson, an Acolyte Third, Drive Engineer, who had been wiped for

heresy against the Power. There had been no details as to the nature of his heresy or about the man

himself. These had been erased from the computer's memory when the man's mind had been wiped.

After being put on the Power's machines, a person simply ceased existing for all intents and purposes.

The Power generally reprogrammed the wiped individual to serve some limited and expendable purpose.

In this case he had been turned into a spy. The girl's memories had been used to help program the spy, to

give him background on the planet. His mission had been simple: Gather information on the state of

military preparedness, and find and kill a person known as the Way-Farer, who was apparently the

planet's leader. As interesting as the situation was, Knecht could see no way in which it could have

caused the mission's failure. From what the files indicated, the spy had done his job and then had been

detonated as usual. No, he thought, Dunn Jameson was an irrelevant factor.

But the girl, the one lone girl. He had watched the tapes of her, the few they had, several times. He

had viewed her as she was brought aboard the scout, unconscious and totally vulnerable. He had seen

her under the machines. Watched while she had killed four men with her bare hands. Gazed in

amazement as she ran through the battling ship, laser rifle spitting death everywhere she went, until finally

she reached the communications room and blasted it into molten metal. And then, as an incredible finale,

he had seen her disappear into thin air!

What in the name of Kuvaz were they getting them-selves into? He looked across the table at the

Cardinal. Would he be as much an enemy as the planet toward which they were heading? Would the

same thing that had happened to Thwait and Yamada, whatever that was, happen between him and

Unduri?

The Admiral cleared his throat slightly and spoke, his voice unusually soft and gentle for a military

man. "I, uh, suppose you've familiarized yourself with all the data on the previous mission, your

Worship?"

The dark man nodded. "Of course, Admiral, of course." For a few moments, the Cardinal let his gaze

rest on the face of the man on the other side of the table. Then he smiled slightly, his eyes glittering coldly

in the bluish light that bathed the small room. "I rather imagine we are thinking quite similar thoughts,

Admiral. Yes, quite similar." His voice was deep and smooth, soft and totally devoid of emotion.

"Thoughts about Thwait and Yamada, about what happened to them above this planet that the girl called

Kensho.

"I wonder, Admiral, do you know what that name means, that Kensho? I found it curious that it was

nowhere in the report. Apparently, no one found it interesting enough to ask. And that in itself is

interesting, no?

"Well, Admiral, my own curiosity compelled me to find out whether it does, indeed, mean anything.

And not surprisingly, it does. Most of these Pilgrimage planets are named after the leader of the mission,

or perhaps after the group that composed the mission. Quarnon, for example, was so named after the

Admiral of the flagship that escorted the Pilgrimage and helped get it established. He died in the process,

the victim of a particularly nasty life form the colonists found themselves confronted with. Asaheim, on the

other hand, was named after the rather bizarre group that founded it, a group which claimed direct

descent from the ancient Norse gods. Strange conceit for a group of mixed northern African stock,

wouldn't you say?

"But Kensho? What, in the world, kind of name is that? A true mystery, until I remembered that

Nakamura, their leader, was of Japanese descent and a High Master of the Universal Way of Zen, a

minor sect of some fifteen million or so people that regrettably had to be wiped out during the

Readjustment.

"Japanese, then, was the clue. Kensho, it seems, was one of the stages of what these primitives called

Enlightenment or Satori. It appears—"

"Let's stop the sparring, Unduri," the Admiral interrupted, his voice flat and hard. "Yes, we're both

thinking the same thoughts. One of the most disturbing is that I don't think I can trust you and you feel the

same about me."

"Ah, Admiral, I admire the directness of your approach. Yes, indeed I do. So military, so forceful.

And what you say is true, so true. For, you see, I am aware that you are a member of, as you people put

it, the Committee."

The pale man tried hard not to show his surprise. So the bastard knows! But that means the

Hierarchy knows! He checked his mind before it went any further in such speculation. There would be

time for that later. Right now he had to deal with the man across the table from him.

Before he could reply, however, Unduri lifted his hand to halt him. "Please, Admiral, do not utter a

word, either of denial or admission. It is unnecessary, really, and matters not a bit under current

circumstances. Let it just stand as concrete evidence of the fact that I fully realize there can be no real

trust between the two of us.

"Be that as it may, we find ourselves here together on this flagship, leading a fleet of some seven

ships, all destined to envelope and conquer or destroy one tiny planet with a primitive Class Three culture

of unknown, but presumably quite dangerous, character. I am here, quite simply, because I am the very

best the Power has to offer. And I am sure you are here for similar reasons. Together, we must face this

enemy and defeat them.

"I say together because neither of us can do it alone. Now I am quite sure you are intelligent and

subtle enough to know precisely what I mean by that, Admiral. And that you are capable of

understanding how completely to our mutual benefit it is to cooperate. Not trust each other, by Kuvaz,

not for a second. But to cooperate despite our mutual suspicion. To do anything less, I fear, would make

us vulnerable to the very fate which befell poor Thomas and Andrew. A fate I, for one, do not wish in the

slightest to share."

Unduri watched as the Admiral sat back, stroking his chin in a contemplative motion so typical of the

man. I know you, Knecht, know you almost as well as you know yourself. Years ago, when the Council

of Adepts had discovered the existence of the Committee, each member of the Council had studied two

members of the Committee in great depth, trying to learn all they could in the event it became necessary

to control or destroy this infantile plot to seize power from the Hierarchy and transfer it to the military.

Unduri had drawn Knecht and one other who had died at Quarnon. He had been as relentless in his

study as he had been in everything he had ever undertaken for the Power.

The odd thing about Knecht, though, was how little there had been to learn. His past had been totally

typical, bland, and rather uninterestingly normal. Unduri had probed and prodded, trying to find strengths,

weaknesses, secret sins, anything at all that would give him a handle on the man, a way to intimidate or

corrupt him. Most frustratingly, there had been nothing. He had no skeletons in any closets; in fact, he

seemed to have no closets! He had no vices and few virtues. Yet somehow he had risen quite high within

the military, was considered a brilliant tactician, a competent officer, and one of the most dangerous

members of the Committee.

What he's doing right now is a perfect example of how the man operates, the Cardinal mused. He's

sitting there as if considering what I have said. Yet I would swear there isn't a thought going through his

mind. Somehow, he decided instantly on my offer and now he's just pretending to consider it because he

knows it will look better if he does. I wonder if there really is a man behind those eyes? Could it be

nothing but an animate machine?

The Admiral cleared his throat, dropped his hand back to the top of the table, and said gently, "Yes,

Cardinal, I agree. It would be best if we cooperate completely. I am even prepared to trust you. I will tell

you what you already know, but in greater detail. I am a member of the Committee. That is one of the

reasons I was chosen for this mission. But the strict orders of the Committee are to forget about the

potential conflict between us and the Power and to concentrate on the more immediate danger, that is,

upon this strange planet and its quite evidently dangerous inhabitants.

"And now I will show my trust further by telling you the orders I have received from the High

Command regarding how they wish me to conduct this mission." He paused for a moment as if trying to

remember the exact wording of the orders. Unduri sat, leaning slightly forward in anticipation, surprised

by what the Admiral was doing and not quite sure why he was doing it. "Mind you, Cardinal, these

orders are not the written ones we both have copies of. These are the personal ones given to me directly

and orally by the High Commander herself.

" 'Knecht,' she said, `I'm giving you seven battleships. We had five at Quarnon. The bastards

destroyed two of them. The three left wiped the entire planet from the face of the universe. You'll have

seven. Seven. That's how important I consider this mission. Now, Knecht,' she continued, `you could go

in there shooting. Or you could lay off and play it like Yamada did. I don't like either option. So here's

what I want you to do. Go in shooting, but only at that old flagship they have. Blast one of the moons,

maybe two. Knock out the biggest population center you can find. Let 'em know you mean business.

Land a couple of battalions of Marines and have them kill everything in sight for about fifty miles around

their landing points. Then demand the unconditional surrender of the planet. If at any time you meet

anything resembling significant resistance, destroy the whole place. Make Quarnon look like a charity

ball. Do you understand?' I said, 'Yes, sir.' and left."

"The written orders read rather differently, Admiral."

"They do indeed, Cardinal, they do indeed. They outline standard contact policy. But I tell you this to

show you that I do intend not only to work with you, but to trust you and share all the knowledge I

possess.

"You see, Cardinal, I am fully convinced that this Kensho represents a deadly threat to our mutual

empire. I am further convinced that the planet and every human on it must be either totally subjugated and

enslaved or utterly destroyed. There can be no contact, no diplomatic inter-change, no mutual trade for

mutual benefit, or any of the rest of the verbiage in the standard contact procedures. There can only be

total victory for us, and total defeat for them. They must be smashed.

"I share this with you openly now, Cardinal, because when the moment comes to act, there will no

longer be time to maneuver and negotiate between us. We must strike swiftly and hard, leaving them no

opportunity to react. I will not sit out behind some moon as Yamada did and give them any opportunity

to do to me what they did to him." Knecht stopped speaking for a moment and gazed at Unduri with his

cold stare. "Do you agree, Cardinal? With no reservations, tricks, evasions, second thoughts, or anything

at all, do you agree?"

Unduri settled back into his chair, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "I think we have

more to fear from the Committee than we thought. And I also understand completely now why the High

Command picked you for this mission.

"Yes, yes, I understand a great deal now. A great deal that needed understanding. Admiral, I thank

you for your openness. And I will be as open and as direct myself. My secret orders are quite similar to

your own. Kensho must be subjugated or destroyed. And as far as the Power is concerned, destroyed is

better. It's so much neater, you know.

"Yes, Admiral, I agree. We shall destroy Kensho. One way or another, we shall destroy it. But now

I think we must plan exactly how we intend to go about this task."

For the next two hours, the two men sat in the cold blue light and plotted the death of a world.

Chapter 2

Cardinal Unduri turned off the machine and leaned back into his chair, settling into its comfortable

depths and gently rubbing his forehead and temples. He had been going over the files on the Kensho

affair once more. How many times did that make? he idly wondered. Two hundred?

Possibly. Perhaps more.

The result, though, was the same as always. Confusion, frustration, and a vague, gnawing fear that he

was missing something of critical importance. Something that could mean the difference between the

success of this mission and a failure that would be even more spectacular than that of Bishop Thwait.

Cardinal Unduri had known Thwait. Known him well. A competent man, if a bit fanatical and overly

impressed with the importance and power of his position. He was bright, but vicious, and sly; so

obviously so that it was impossible for him to catch an enemy off guard. All one had to do was look at

him to know how dangerous he was.

Yet someone, or something, had been vastly more dangerous than Andrew. More dangerous even

than Andrew and an entire scout ship. Could it have been that single girl?

Somehow he doubted it. The girl had obviously been clever, resourceful, tough, and uniquely

resistant to the operation of the machines. But it wasn't possible for one girl to defeat ... or was it?

Damnit! That was the whole problem. He simply didn't have enough data to go on!

What about that spy, the one Thwait had sent down to the planet's surface to kill the Way-Farer?

Dunn Jameson. He cursed the Bishop silently. Too damned efficient. He'd erased all record of Jameson

when he'd wiped the man for his heresy. By the book, of course, but annoying. Unduri would have liked

to know more about this heretic. There was something strange and disturbing about the files on the spy's

mission on Kensho. Odd, unexplained discrepancies existed. And there was no firm evidence that the

attempt to assassinate the Way-Farer had succeeded. Naturally, the implanted bomb had been

exploded, so there was nothing left of the spy, was there? Another unknown. There hadn't been time

enough to follow up and be sure. The end of the mission had come too swiftly, too brutally, too finally.

He sighed deeply. So many loose ends, so many unanswered questions. There was simply no way to

find out precisely what had happened. Perhaps the Kenshites did have some sort of secret weapon. Who

knew?

Even then, he admitted, the physical danger from some secret weapon was not what either he or the

Council really feared. No. It wasn't even the whole planet full of people they were speeding toward. The

physical force one little, primitive planet could exert made little difference to the vast empire of the

Power. Nine planets, billions of people, uncountable wealth. No. It wasn't the physical fact of Kensho

that was so threatening.

It was Nakamura. The damned Admiral who had led that mission so many years ago. Led it to

Kensho before the Power had achieved its ascendancy on Earth and destroyed all those who refused to

accept the holy word of Kuvaz.

Nakamura. A High Master of the Universal Way of Zen. Unduri had indicated to Admiral Knecht

that he could find little out about the Zenists. But that was hardly the case. Unduri tapped the console in

front of him. With a mere touch on certain keys, he could call up page after page of information on the

Zenists. They had been one of the most stubborn and dangerous groups of heretics Kuvaz had been

faced with. It had taken years to root them all out and destroy them. Until they had been utterly

annihilated, the Power had been insecure.

Oh, there had been other heretics, to be sure. Those who believed that science should be free to

explore the universe on its own had rebelled again and again. But they had hardly been dangerous. Their

message was too esoteric for the masses and they themselves had seldom been numerous or well

organized. All the Power had had to do was catch a few ringleaders, put them under the machines, wipe

their minds, and mold new creatures as they would.

But the Zenists, ah, they were a different matter. They believed in things that the Power simply could

not allow. Their view of reality left no room for the monopolization of power and knowledge by a single

authority. They refused to even recognize authority, claiming that each man must achieve his goal on his

own. And worst of all, they claimed that that goal, they called it Buddhahood, could be sought only within

the individual because it was already there. The Zenists actually believed that each human being was

already perfect and that all he or she had to do was to realize that perfection to achieve it!

Unduri shook his head in angry wonder. Such rubbish! Man was inherently evil, imperfect, weak. It

took a strong, central, unquestioned authority to keep him civilized. Without authority, men turned into

ravening wolves —raping, pillaging, destroying. Look what they had done on Earth! They had not only

destroyed each other again and again throughout history, but had very nearly destroyed their entire

planet. Only now, more than a thousand years after the holocausts of the twentieth century, was the

planet beginning to blossom again. Trees, yes, trees were growing once more! At times, the sky was

almost blue. And here and there, the waters were actually clear. That was what the Power had

accomplished! That was what authority had achieved!

Most human beings were like children. They had to be watched over and protected, not only from

the hazards of life, but from the hazards of each other and of themselves. Too much freedom, too much

knowledge was dangerous, even deadly. History had proven that again and again, ad nauseam.

Authority, absolute, unquestioned authority was the only way to protect mankind from itself. And that

was precisely what the Power, so aptly named by the holy Kuvaz, provided. And had provided for

almost a thousand years.

But what did the damnable Zenists think of authority? One of their own stories told it all. He leaned

forward and touched the keys of the console, calling it up from the computer's memory. His eyes ran

quickly over the lines. There was no real need to read it. He knew it by heart. Two Zen monks were

walking down a dusty road. One asked the other what he would do if the Buddha suddenly appeared in

front of them. The other replied that he would instantly prostrate himself and worship the Enlightened

One, hoping to be taken on as a disciple. They walked on in silence for a few moments. Finally, the

second monk asked the first what he would do if the Buddha appeared. The first monk replied that he

would spit on him and kick him in the ass.

Or take this example. His fingers flew again and a new story replaced the first. Two monks were

walking down a road and in the distance saw several older monks walking in the same direction, away

from them. Look, the first one cried, there are some Zen masters! The second monk looked for a

moment, then replied, no, those are not Zen masters. How can you tell? demanded the first. The second

shrugged and called out, "Masters! Masters! Wait for us!" Those ahead of them stopped and turned

around. See, the second monk said, I told you they weren't masters.

Unduri slapped the console and the screen went blank. Heresy! Damnable heresy! To spit on and

kick the highest authority! To refuse to accept the authority of acknowledged masters! This was the

nonsense that gave birth to chaos!

How could they claim such idiocy? Because they believed that men were inherently perfect, that all

they had to do was to discover the perfection within them, that knowledge came from within, through the

effort of the individual. And what was the role of the Zen master, or of their own holy literature? Simply

to point the way, to bring the individual to the place where he could make the discovery for himself. The

Zen master struck the pupil with his staff not to beat the truth into him, but to make him see the truth that

was already there. The master, even the Buddha, had nothing to offer that was not already there. The

individual brought everything to the party.

Where, then, was room for authority? Where was room for a force to guide and control the evil in

men? Where was room for the Power and the word of holy Kuvaz?

Yet even that was not the real crux of the matter. At their very core, the Universal Way of Zen and

the word of the holy Kuvaz were utterly antagonistic. The Zenists saw the universe as basically perfect

and man's role as that of finding that perfection by peeling away the appearance of imperfection. The holy

Kuvaz, on the other hand, had realized the ultimate truth that the universe was basically flawed and that

all man could hope to do was salvage what he could from the maw of incipient chaos. It was man's duty

to impose as much perfection as possible on an imperfect world. At their very base, then, the two

philosophies were totally incompatible and mutually contradictory.

But the Zenists had persisted in their mistaken beliefs. And the Power had shown the superiority of its

truth by destroying them, by pulling them up, root and all, and casting them on the fire of utter annihilation

known as the Readjustment. The Power had purified the race of mankind; rid it of fools like Nakamura.

Now the Zenists lived only in the files in the computer. They were no longer even a memory to the

masses of Earth or the other planets of the empire the Power had founded. So what did that have to do

with this miserable little planet called Kensho?

Because Nakamura had escaped! He had left before the Readjustment! Because there were other

Zenists on that Pilgrimage! Because it was horribly possible, even likely, that the ultimate heresy of all still

survived on that accursed planet! Such blasphemy could not be allowed to live on.

Of course, no one knew for sure that the Zenist heresy still existed on Kensho. But some of the things

the girl, Myali, had said, and the mind control she had displayed, indicated the possibility was there. The

computer had given odds in the neighborhood of a thirty-five percent chance. And that was enough for

the Council of Adepts. Kensho had to be destroyed. The danger was simply too great that the evil, if

there, might spread.

He wondered what could possibly bring men to believe in such nonsense. He had seen the vileness of

humanity at first hand in the slums of Africa. At an early age, his own parents had sold him as a slave to

feed themselves and their other children. He had killed his master and his whole family. The tiny fortune

he had stolen had launched him on his career. That career itself had been further proof of the evil that

lurked inside every human being.

What could bring men to believe there was good in the human soul? History proved just the

opposite. Violence, horror, depravity had always been the lot of mankind. Life had been nasty, brutish,

and short for the vast majority since the very beginning of time. For that reason, and no other was really

necessary, men throughout history had joined together in setting up an authority to rule over them, to

force them to be good, to force them to enough peace and security that they might live out their lives in

some semblance of safety. Even a despotic authority was better than anarchy. Freedom was anathema to

the race, and could only lead to extinction. Nothing but authority could assure the future and make the

present livable.

Yet the Zenists denied this. Goodness and truth lie within, they claimed. It is every man's duty to find

it within himself and in so doing realize his place in the scheme of things. Only thus can mankind find

peace and come to terms with the universe.

What would they have men do? Give up security for knowledge? Give up full stomachs for wisdom?

Give up a roof and four walls for goodness? How little they under-stood human nature!

And still, he knew, they were a danger, and a very grave one. For there were, even now, many who

would heed their call, many who would leave the comfort of life under the Power and wander in the

wilderness in search of some vague truth, some promise of perfection or unity with the universe. The call

of the Zenists reached deep into the human soul and touched something there, something he simply didn't

understand. For that reason he hated and feared them. And was determined to destroy them. There was

no room in the universe for both the Power and the Zenists. Therefore the blasphemers must be

removed. For the good of mankind. And the greater glory of the Power.

Raising his hands, he made the symbol of the Power. "In the name of Reality, in the name of the

Circle, in the name of the Power, in the name of Humanity," he intoned with ritual solemnity, "so be it and

so it shall be."

Admiral Knecht sat and stared into the empty air of his stark stateroom. He had not told the Cardinal

everything the High Commander had said to him. After her first statements, the ones he had related to

Unduri, she had gone on, her voice softer, lower, and more confidential. "Knecht," she had said, "the

Power is very worried about this Kensho. We don't quite understand why. Despite the failure of the

scout mission, it is plain that the planet is a fairly primitive one. It seems unlikely that they represent a very

large or very real military threat. All this talk of secret weapons is just so much bullshit and subterfuge.

That mission failed from the inside, and the Power knows it."

She had paused for a moment, looking off into the distance. "No, what the Power fears is not

something physical," she continued. "They have a very real physical threat right here at home. Us. They

know it and take the necessary steps to counteract our power. Quite effectively, I might add. So damned

effectively we're helpless to act unless they slip and fall very badly.

"Which must be what makes them fear Kensho. Something about that planet and the people on it

bothers them. A lot. Find out what, Knecht. In any way possible. But find out."

For months now he had been working on it, but was no nearer understanding. Through surreptitious

means, he had tapped into the Cardinal's data banks and had followed every bit of research the man had

done. He now knew as much about Nakamura and the Zenists as Unduri did. None of it made any

sense. He simply could not seethe threat the Council of Adepts saw. Nakamura had been dead for

centuries, and the Zenists extinct for nearly as long. What possible danger could there be in a dead man

and a bunch of dead ideas?

Suppose, just for the sake of argument, that the Universal Way of Zen had survived, intact, on

Kensho after all these centuries. So what? Surely the Power had infinitely more strength than an extinct

religion. It could crush the Zenists, even a whole planetful of them, with ease. Put the whole damn lot

under the machines and zap! no more Zenists. Just a bunch of nice, docile slaves. Perfect for working the

mines on Sardon III.

No, it wasn't just the survival of a tiny, heretical religion that had the Power frightened. It had to be

what that religion represented. He had read the texts in the Cardinal's computer. They seemed utter

foolishness to him. "This is the sound of two hands clapping. What is the sound of one hand clapping?"

"All existences return to the One. Where does the One itself return to?" "The master asked `Does the

dog have the Buddha nature?' The monk replied, `Mu!' " "After you have discovered your true nature,

then you are able to escape from the cycle of life and death. But when you are about to die, how will you

escape?" Nonsense. Sheer, utter trash. What could the Power possibly fear in such drivel?

Yet fear it they did. And greatly. Which meant that perhaps he would have to change his original

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WANDERERDennisSchmidtThisbookisdedicatedtomychildrenAnAceScienceFictionBook/publishedbyarrangementwiththeauthorPRINTINGHISTORYAceScienceFictionedition/November1985Allrightsreserved.Copyright®1985byDennisSchmidtCoverartbyCarlLundgrenThisbookmaynotbereproducedinwholeorinpart,bymimeographoranyothermean...

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