Donald Westlake - SH3 - Heaven

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HEAVEN

by Donald Westlake

FROM THE BEGINNING of Time, Man has been on the move, ever outward. First he spread over his

own planet, then across the Solar System, then outward to the Galaxies, all of them dotted, speckled,

measled with the colonies of Man.

Then, one day in the year eleven thousand four hundred and six (11,406), an incredible discovery was

made in the Master Imperial Computer back on Earth. Nearly 500 years before, a clerical error had

erased from the computer's memory more than 1000 colonies, all in Sector F.U.B.A.R.3. For half a

millennium, those colonies, young and struggling when last heard from, had had no contact with the rest of

Humanity. The Galactic Patrol Interstellar Ship Hopeful, Captain Gregory Standforth commanding, was

at once dispatched to re-establish contact with the Thousand Lost Colonies and return them to the

bosom of Mankind.

On the command deck of Interstellar Ship Hopeful, Lieutenant Billy Shelby watched the image of Heaven

grow larger on the view screen. "We're coming in," he said. "Pam? All secure?"

Astrogator Pam Stokes, beautiful arid brainy and blind to passion, paused in her contemplation of her

antique slide rule to check the webbing that held her to the pod. "All set."

"What an exciting moment," Billy said. A handsome young idealist, he was the Hopeful's

second-in-command and probably the person aboard who believed most fervently in the ship's mission.

"I wish the captain were up here."

Captain Gregory Standforth himself wandered onto the command deck at that moment, holding a stuffed

bird mounted on a black-plastic-onyx pedestal. "Isn't she a beauty?" he asked and held up this unlovely

creature that in death, as in life, was blessed with a big belly, a pink tuft on top of its orange head and a

lot of bright scarlet feathers on its behind. The captain had bagged it on their last planet fall, Niobe IV,

a.k.a. Casino. "I just finished stuffing her," he explained. Taxidermy was all he cared for in this life, and

only the long, glorious traditions of the Standforth family had forced him into the Galactic Patrol.

Conversely, only those traditions had forced the patrol to accept him.

"Heaven ahead, sir," Billy said. "Secure yourself."

The captain studied his trousers for open zippers. "Secure myself?"

"Take a pod, Captain, sir," Billy explained. "Landing procedure."

"Ah." Settling himself into a pod, the captain slid his bird onto a handy flat surface, thereby inadvertently

pushing a lever. A red light flashed on all the control consoles, and there came a sudden, brief whoosh.

"Oh, dear," the captain said. "Did I do something?"

Billy studied his console. "Well, Captain," he said, "I'm sorry, sir, but you just ejected the laundry,"

A long, long time ago, it had been a church; but now it was a roofless pagan temple, dominated by the

tall, roughhewn wooden statue of a fat god figure with a blurred face. The altar was made of consumer

materials, rusted and ancient and broken: TV sets, washing machines, a truck tire. A religious ceremony

was under way, complete with nearly naked virgin ready for sacrifice, supine on the altar, resigned to her

fate. The worshipers below were dressed in animal skins or rough cloth. Beside the altar stood Achum,

the priest, holding a stone knife high, its point aimed at the virgin's breast. This particular virgin was

Achum's own youngest daughter, Malya, but he would not hesitate in his priestly duty. He intoned:

"O great Juju-Kuxtil. Oh, take, we beseech you, this sacrifice of our youngest, our purest, our finest

daughter. Find this sacrifice worthy of your mighty eyes and defend us from the yellow rain. If this

sacrifice be good in your eyes, give us a sign."

Achum bowed his head in unbroken silence. He prayed, "If she should be spared, who is my own

daughter Malya of only sixteen summers, O great Juju-Kuxtil, give us a sign."

The Hopeful's laundry fell on everybody.

Pandemonium. Achum and Malya and the congregation all struggled and fought their way out from under

the laundry. "Achum!" the worshipers cried. "Achum, what's happening?"

"A sign!" Achum shouted, spitting out socks. "A sign!"

A worshiper with a greasy work glove rakishly atilt across his forehead cried, "Achum! What does it

mean?"

"I'm not sure exactly what it means," Achum answered, looking around at this imitation of a rummage

sale, "but it sure is a sign."

A worshiper pointed upward. "Achum, look! From the sky! Something huge is coming!"

"As I understand it, Ensign Benson, these are a religious people."

Councilman Morton Luthguster, stout and pompous, representative of the Galactic Council on this

journey of discovery and reunion, sat in his stateroom in prelanding conference with Ensign Kybee

Benson, social engineer, the saturnine, impatient man whose job it was to study the lost colonies as they

were found and prepare reports on what they had become in the half millennium of their isolation.

"Well, Councilman," Ensign Benson said, "they were a religious people five hundred years ago. The

colony here was founded by the Sanctarians, a peaceful, pious community determined to get away from

the strife of the modern world. Well, I mean, what was then the modern world. They named their colony

Heaven."

"Charming name," Luthguster said, nodding slowly, creating and destroying any number of chins. "And,

from what you say, a simple, charming people. I look forward to their acquaintance."

"Landing procedure complete," said the loud-speaker system in Billy Shelby's animated voice.

"Ah, good," Luthguster said, heaving himself to his feet. "Come along, Ensign Benson. I wonder if I recall

the Lord's Prayer."

The Hopeful's automatic pilot had set the ship gently down on a wide, barren, rocky plain, similar in

appearance to several unpopulated islands of the coast of Norway. A door in the side of the ship

opened, a ladder protruded itself slowly from within, like a worm from an apple, and once it had pinged

solidly onto the stony scree, Councilman Luthguster emerged and paused at the platform at the ladder's

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Donald Westlake - SH3 - Heaven

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