Engineman - Eric Brown [45]
"Max Klien," the grey-haired E-man said, offering his hand. Ella shook it. "This is Emilio Rodriguez-" He gestured to the Disciple on Ella's right, a short, balding man in his fifties - not an ex-Engineman - who smiled briefly while ladling rice onto his plate. "And Dave Jerassi..." The Disciple on Ella's left was in his forties, blonde and well-muscled, whose good looks were marred by the expression in his eyes of incommunicable loss. He nodded, smiling nervously.
"Dave and I pushed nearly twenty years for the Shappiro Line," Max said. "We were at college together in Berlin before that. Emilio is a native of the Reach, and a good Disciple."
Rodriguez laughed. "Converts are often the most devout followers in any religion, Ms Fernandez. I might not have pushed, but in my dreams... You know what I mean?"
Ella smiled. "Enginemen have experienced the ultimate. Because we haven't, we need a greater faith." She thought of Eddie and felt a sudden emptiness within her. "In my dreams, too," she said.
She scooped rice and fried eggs onto her plate, then poured herself a mug of steaming coffee. She was aware of the three men exchanging glances as she bent to her food. She felt as though she was being considered, assessed, that any slip she might make would reveal her as a spy.
They ate in silence for two minutes, then Ella said, "I hope you don't think that I'm anything other than a Disciple, gentlemen?"
Rodriguez and Jerassi shifted uncomfortably, glanced at Klien. Max drew something from the chest pocket of his shirt, passed it across to Ella. It was her identity card. "You seem to be who you claim," he said.
"Thanks." Ella took the card. "I was never in any doubt."
Rodriguez stopped eating. "If you'd been through what we've been through over the past few weeks, Ms Fernandez-"
Max silenced him with a glance. "If you don't mind my asking, Ella, why did you become a Disciple? Isn't every day that a non-spacer civilian converts." He poured himself a coffee, watching her.
She shrugged. How could she tell them the truth without giving away the fact of her privileged past?
"When I was living in Paris seven, eight years ago I met this guy, an Engineman - Eddie Schwartz. He pushed for the Chantilly Line. Ever heard of him?" She glanced around the table. They shook their heads. "He was a lot older than me, but we got on well. I guess we both needed someone. He was a Disciple, of course, and in the early days he attended the services a lot."
Max said, "But only in the early days?"
Ella stared at a forkful of rice, smeared with egg yolk. "Later, he claimed he didn't need the Church. So he stopped going."
"There comes a time when all the ritual is no longer a replacement for what we've lost, just a painful, nagging reminder." Max smiled at her, then asked gently, as if he knew, "What happened to him, Ella?"
She looked up from her food. "A couple of days ago... he just left in his flier and drove straight smack bang into the fucking interface at Orly. There was nothing I could do."
"He's in a better place now, Ella," Max murmured.
"Yeah," Ella wanted to say, "but look where I am." Instead she shrugged. "Like I was saying, I started going to services with him, and they kind of made sense... Perhaps I needed something to believe in at that time. They had counsellors, welfare workers."
Jerassi looked up. "Paris, you say? The converted smallship, Montparnasse?"
Ella stared at him, to show that she knew what he was doing. "Yeah, the one on the Rue Renoir - all night services, all day counselling sessions. Guy called D'Alamassi runs it. You been there?"
Jerassi smiled. "About twelve years ago, when it was just starting up. D'Alamassi was in charge then, too."
Ella pushed her empty plate away, feeling as though she'd scored a point.
Max rocked his chair back so that it rested against the wall. He regarded Ella. "So, Eddie unites with the ultimate and you decide to come to the Reach. But why here? Hadn't you heard the rumours about the Organisation persecuting E-men and Disciples?"
She shook