Chapter Twenty-Two: The Word of Marcelle

They had to be sure. Marcelle was not willing to just accept that truth in front of them. They researched as much as they could but nowhere was there any proof that Spetimus and Warren were two different people. There was more and more evidence as they went on. They soon had enough evidence to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt what the truth was.
"You do know what this could mean, right?" Marcelle asked Jonathan.
"No, what?"
"Look at it this way - what if Septimus Jones was the anti-Christ? He came to rule the world after judgement day." Marcelle had a farawat look in her eyes.
"More of the book of Revelations?"
"Not really - more like an interpretaion of it." Marcelle sat quiet for a minute. "He came early to destroy faith in God. He managed to do it on Earth by turning religion into something that was seen as desctructive, and he's doing it post-humously in the colonies by making all the people worship the Mind instead of the one true God."
Jonathan pondered this for a moment. "Why set up the colonies at all? Why let anybody live, why not just destroy Earth?"
"He needed subjects to serve him. When judgement day comes, those without faith - any faith, not just one of the old organised religions - will be left to the eternal plains."
"You're not making sense, Marcelle."
"Religion, what is it? It's an attempt to understand the transcendental, which is by definition beyond understanding." Marcelle was speaking at an excited pace. it was as if she was beginning to understand everything all at once.
"So you're saying all the old religions were wrong?" Jonathan asked, trying to make sense of her.
"No, I'm saying they were all right. At least, all the major ones. Some of the cults were not centred at worshiping God, but rather the person who started the cult."
"So Septimus Warren Jones was all about debasing God's worshipers and stealing their souls?" Jonathan was flying through unknown territory. All of his experience with Religion was thorugh the realists or his grade-school history lessons. On Earth, it was a thing of the past.
"Basically, yes. I'd say that his plan is working rather well, too. There are so few believers now. Maybe the Realists are the only ones."
Jonathan and Marcelle gathered the data and took it back to the president. They presented him with the information they had, and marcelle explained her religious theory to him.
The President sat and pondered for a moment. "The people of Earth would never like it if this sort of thing came to earth. We can't have a theological battle going on here - we can't have any sort of battle at all. The people of earth don't want to worship anymore." He sighed, and leaned over his desk, staring directly at Marcelle. "Although, I do understand your plight. You obviously have great conviction, and I know that I could never keep you here. Your story tells me that if I don't let you go, you're going to try and steal a ship. So that's why I'm going to give you one ship - on one condition."
"What's that, sir?" Marcelle asked.
"You give me your word right here and now that you won't bring this conflict to Earth. If you are victorious, you won't impose your beliefs on us and if you fail, you won't come crawling to us for help. Earth wants to stay along for now. It's been a thousand years, and trust me, I don't want any followers of Septimus Jones here, but I can't have a radical religious group here either. If you win - and please, beat out those planet destroying bastards - come back to us and start talking. But do not under any circumstances come here expecting to convert a world to your cause. We may not fight anymore, but that doesn't mean we forgot how."
"I understand sir." Marcelle said.
"You can take the latest light-speed ship." He slid an envelope across the desk. "Directions and access codes. No liquid air, either, so you should have less trouble getting in and out of it. Military model. Don't know what the deisgners were expecting us to fight, but I guess it's appropriate now that you have."
"I'm going with her." Jonathan said.
"I thought you might say that, Jonathan. May I say it's a damn shame to see you go. I know that you're tied up in this one neck-high though. The best of luck to you both - I hope you can both find your place in the convoluted society you so eloquently described to me."
The President stood up and shook their hands one last time, he even said thank you directly to Norman. He then left them in the office with nothing except an envelope.
Jonathan and Marcelle left the parliment buildings and walked back to the Royal Hotel. They retreived the gear they had from the suite and got a cab to the spaceport. Jonathan tipped the mean heavily; he most likely would not be needing the cash he had on Earth for much longer. An eager boy of around eight saw Jonathan in the spaceport and asked for an autograph. Jonathan could not refuse, but as soon as he signed it, he kept on moving.
It was his home, his mind kept telling him. Had he expected to stay? Did he have to go? It was his home. Jonathan knew what it was that was driving his forward. It was the woman beside he. He felt an indescribable need to stand with her in her ordeal. He wanted to be there with her for her victories and her defeats. He wanted to be with her. Jonathan was giving up his world, his entire life, to go on a mission with a woman he had only know for a few weeks. The mission was futile, quite possibly suicidal and yet he went willingly. What did he stand to earn by staying on Earth anyway? Fame, a fourtune? What good were these things without love? They were a false reality meant to fufil his myth of necessity. They would make him feel as if his life had meaning when it did not. Staying with Marcelle, Jonathan realised, would give his life true meaning. It would more real than anything he could ever do while staying on Earth. That was why he kept on walking. That is why he went with Marcelle.
She took his hand and whispered "Thank you."

The ship was sitting in a secure hanger. Jonathan presented the papers to a guard outside, who promptly let them into the hanger. It was a sleek ship, wide and low. It look tough with it's sharp angles.
Marcelle walked up to it and touched the cold metal of teh hull. She ran a hand along the ship and turned towards the gaurd. "Does it have a name?" She asked.
The gaurd shrugged. "I honestly don't know."
Marcelle looked at the wonder of engineering and said "we're going to call it the Angel of Redemption."
"Who am I to argue with that?"
The ship was not large, it had four seats in the cockpit and a small galley and bunk room. The engines were in the sides and bottom of the vessel. She was built for efficiency. Jonathan sat down at the command consol and looked over the controls. They were not much different than those of the Starfish or Fatboy. The Angel of Redemption had a few extra control pads however. They were for the weapons.
"We can spread the word with this ship, and defend ourselves as we do it."
Marcelle sat beside Jonathan and looked at him. "I am truely thankful that you decided to come with me."
Jonathan just looked at her. He wanted to say everything he felt, but he could not. Not then. it wasn't the right time. "We should get going. It will take time to get back to Norton."