Chapter 12 - The Fallen Deacon

St. Stephen’s Cathedral

Horizon District, Novaterra, Union of Federated Systems

Monday, 17 September 3488

            “Oremus…”

            Javyar heard the priest appraise the small congregation and start muttering some closing prayer or another, yet he kept his eyes solidly on the young Dorylaetian man to the priest’s right. This man, dressed in the vestments which marked his lesser degree of holy orders, stood with eyes fixed firmly on the rear of the church, resting specifically on Theck, the large man looking nearly comical knelt behind the last pew. Even on his knees Theck towered over everything around him, which at that early hour and in that empty church was nothing save the much smaller Father Thomas knelt in the next pew. The Jesuit had his head craned down, muttering some prayer or other to himself. Back at the front, the priest who was celebrating the Mass stood, indicating for the congregation to follow suit.

            Even from his vigil at the back of the church leaning near the door, Javyar could see the apprehension playing itself through the deacon’s eyes. Javyar knew little about the intricacies of the Catholic rituals but had spent enough time with the crew of the Nicodemus to know that this deacon had stumbled over several parts of his responsibilities, including a rather stuttered homily, undoubtedly the sudden identification of Theck enough to put him over the edge. Javyar had been against the man’s coming along, but as usual nobody seemed to care enough to listen to him.

            The celebrating priest continued. “Gracious God, as we journey through this life, help us to keep our sights on the great treasures you have in store for us in the next life. Inspire us to share the riches of this life with the less fortunate so as to enable us to obtain the inheritance you have for your sons and daughters who rely on you for all that is of value, through Christ our Lord.” Came the next part in Galactic Standard, met with a resounding “Amen” from the crowd.

            The Dorylaetian deacon, Lor Nevas, offered another cautious look across the church, this time catching Javyar’s watchful gaze. The man shuddered as the priest spoke again. “Dominus vobiscum.”

            The congregation responded: “Et cum spiritu tuo.”

            “Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus, Pater, et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus.” This part Javyar knew to be the final blessing, the priest raising his hands and tracing a cross.  

            “Amen.” Everyone crossed themselves, Javyar standing just as still has he had been. He could see Nevas’ eyes shift towards the door to the sacristy to his left. The deacon was getting ready to bolt as soon as the Mass finished.  

            There was a pregnant pause, as no one spoke. Father Thomas raised a curious eye to the sanctuary, where the celebrating priest was giving Nevas a stern look. The deacon seemed to realize that he was on the hook for the next part and stammered: “Ite missa est.”

            “Deo gratias.”

            That ended it. While the celebrating priest began to make his careful way across the sanctuary, Nevas practically hurried along the man’s heels for the door to the sacristy. As the crowd began to move towards the exit, Javyar bounced off of the wall and immediately made for the side aisle of the church. Theck caught sight of this, saying nothing but turning a suspicious eye on Javyar.

            “Our friend is making a run for it,” Javyar said to the un-asked question.  

            “You should wait,” Theck said flatly, but Javyar was much too focused to listen as he continued his way. Seeing the deacon vanish into the sacristy, Javyar accelerated his pace.

            He made it nearly the entire way towards the front of the church, before a Human woman dressed in the black garb of a religious sister stepped out of what seemed like nowhere, placing a hand in his way. The woman was short, bent over with age and creased with the decades of life now passed, but still with a fire in her eyes, “Where are you trying to go?” She demanded, an edge to her voice. From her accent, it was clear she was from the Aldebaran-side of the Union.

            “I need to see the priest,” Javyar lied, still focused on that sacristy door. He had no time for this little old nun, as he imagined how far the deacon could have gotten by this point. Nevertheless, the woman held firm.

            “What for?” She asked, again. Now finally looking at her, Javyar could see from the suspicion in her eyes that she knew he wasn’t here for spiritual advice.

            Javyar grinned as innocently as possible, trying to keep the frustration bubbling under the surface as muted as possible. “Father and I have…professional business together.”

            The nun’s features only hardened, and she actively stepped into his path. “And what sort of business is that?” Javyar was about to open his mouth and give another noncommittal answer when a familiar voice answered.

            “Sister Hildegard, he’s with us.”

            The nun’s severe gaze snapped up on whatever co-conspirator she had expected to be with Javyar, but her gaze instantly melted into one much more pleasant. She lowered her hand away from Javyar’s chest. “Oh,” She said, sweetly to the newcomer. “Father Thomas, it’s been so long! how great it is to see you again! And…Theck, was it?”

            Javyar turned just in time to see both his priest and Theck come to a stop beside them. Thomas grinned at the nun. “Sister, it’s very good to see you, too.”

            Theck too nodded. “Greetings, Sister.”

            “You should have told me you were coming,” Hildegard said, her entire demeanor suddenly transformed from the intensity she had turned on Javyar to that of a housewife with unexpected company. “I’m sure Father Wallace would have been glad to have you concelebrate with him.”

            “Regretfully, we showed up a bit late,” Thomas replied. “We had our own Mass back on the ship, and it may have gone a bit longer than planned.” He grimaced. “I may have gotten a bit overzealous with today’s homily. Saint Robert Bellarmine’s feast, and all…”

            The nun smiled. “And Saint Hildegard of Bingen.” She said, with a wink.

            “Indeed!” Thomas exclaimed. “And how could I forget; happy feast day, Sister!” 

            “Thank you,” She said, clearly taking pleasure in the acknowledgement. Hildegard then turned her look back on Javyar, any jollity vanishing instantly. “You said this one is with you?” Theck grunted something vaguely aggressive.

            “Yes!” Thomas replied. “This is Javyar; he’s a member of our crew.”

            “Is he?” Hildegard asked. Javyar grinned a wolfish grin, the nun’s features again hardening, yet now punctuated by the realization that she wouldn’t be able to outright throw him out of the church. “And he said you have some business with Father?”

            “Lor Nevas, actually. The deacon from today’s Mass.” Thomas clarified. “There’s a matter which our crew is looking into, and Deacon Lor may be able to help us.”

            Hildegard nodded. “Very well. Follow me, he should be in Father’s office.”

            The group made their way across the church, past the wide-open door to the sacristy. The light was still on, where the priest who had been celebrating the Mass, Father Wallace, stood with his back to them, still working to take off his vestments. On the chair at the opposite side of the room were a set of already-discarded green vestments. From the ball in which they lie, it was clear their wearer had been quick to dispose of them. The sister may have assumed Nevas was in the office, but Javyar’s instincts were suggesting otherwise. He kept an eye on other rooms and places that may have been disturbed by a hasty exit, but nothing jumped out at him.  

            “Deacon Lor is a good kid. A bit eccentric, maybe, and he needs some time to become more comfortable with the Roman Missal, but all of the parishioners seem to enjoy him.” Hildegard said, unprompted.

            “Eccentric how?” Thomas asked.

            “He’s young,” Hildegard replied, matter-of-factly. “I’m sure you could tell from his homily, but he has a way of conjuring stories and lessons from music and holo-vids and…” The nun chuckled. “Whatever else the young kids are into these days.”

            Thomas nodded “Right, the ‘spiritual themes found in the new Rings of Nevarr album’ he mentioned.”

“Father Wallace says that it’s popular with the younger crowd but…” She shrugged. “I guess I never pictured St. Paul preaching in such a way.”

            Thomas’ face took on a thoughtful expression. “St. Paul did quote the literature of the Greek peoples he visited,” He pointed out. “I suppose you could say they were the holo-vids of his day.”

            “Perhaps,” Hildegard replied, noncommittedly.

            “I thought that part of the homily was the most interesting part of the whole thing, for me,” Javyar commented. He didn’t mean that – he hadn’t even been paying attention to the homily – but that got the attention of Hildegard’s side-eye.

            “Not a Catholic, I take it?” The nun asked, guardedly.

            Javyar proudly shook his head. “Religion’s not really of interest to me. The circles I move in are of a more…worldly variant.”

            “That’s a way to put it,” Theck added, gruffly.

            Hildegard offered a look at Thomas. “It sounds like you have your work cut out for you with this one, Father.”

            “We’re getting there,” Thomas replied.

Javyar laughed. “If four months of listening to this group argue and bicker about the most inane intricacies of philosophy and morality haven’t shifted me, then I don’t think there’s any hope.” He replied. “I’ve seen enough religious hypocrites to last a lifetime.”

            Hildegard suddenly set Javyar with a curious look. “Do you mean hypocrites, or those with the desire to improve, fall short, yet attempt to keep pushing?”

            Javyar shrugged. “Is there a difference?”

            “Isn’t there?” The nun’s questioning tone wandered off, as they came to a halt outside a closed door. The placard – an old-style, metallic placard inscribed with a name instead of some holographic one – read “Father Kurt Wallace”. Hildegard lifted a fist and knocked gently on the door. “Deacon Nevas,” She called. When no response immediately came, she knocked again. “Deacon, I have visitors here to see you.” The sound of several things being knocked off a desk echoed out from the office, and Hildegard knocked a third time. “Is everything okay in there?”

            “F…fine!” Squawked the nervous voice of Lor Nevas inside. “Who…who are the visitors?” Another sound, this one a creaking, came next.

            “Father Thomas Wexler. He’s a priest who’s a good friend of Father Torth and Father Wallace.” Hildegard replied.

            “G…good friend?” The kid asked, a nebulous detachment in his voice. The creaking sound came again, and Javyar struggled to identify it.

            “That’s right,” The nun replied, frowning. “He’s a Jesuit, who stops by to visit us sometimes.”

            “Jesuit, oh…” Came the vague response. It was clear Nevas was stalling for time, but Javyar still hadn’t figured out his plan. The deacon was stuck in a locked room, the only exit presumably the door they were all now in front of. “Of…of course.” The creaking sound repeated. “What’s…what’s he here for?”

            The nun replied with something, but Javyar didn’t hear it. He was instead focused on identifying the source of the noise, and what form of escape it may entail. At that same moment, Javyar’s eyes centered on a stained-glass window at the end of the hallway, and it suddenly made sense. Lor Nevas was trying to pry open the window.

            “Deacon Nevas, if you just open the door, I’m sure Father Thomas can explain himself…” The nun was cut off when Javyar suddenly bolted for the first darkened, open door.

            “He’s trying to make a run for it,” Javyar called back, for his companion’s sake. “Out the window.”

            Hildegard looked utterly confused. “Why would he…”

Father Thomas tried the door, but it was locked. “Javyar!” He called. “Please be gentle with him!”  

            “It’ll be fine,” Javyar called back, not even bothering to turn around. This kid had it coming, and now he was trying to run. Javyar couldn’t wait to get his claws on him.

            Before Thomas or Theck could say or do anything further to stop him, he had run into the next open room, a small conference room, and started unlatching the window. It took some effort on account of how old the make was – nearly a century at least – and heard a familiar creaking noise as the window slowly gave way. He was out onto the back scaffolding at the same time he saw Nevas begin climbing down to the street level, long cassock making his haste difficult. By the time he caught sight of Javyar coming for him, the Parfful was already most of the way over.

            Eyes lighting up in fear when he saw Javyar, Nevas leapt the remainder of the way to the street, the unathletic man stumbling over his cassock as he struggled to find his balance. That offered even more precious seconds for Javyar to gain ground on him. Javyar took the opportunity to pounce down on where the deacon was, the man just barely moving out of the way for when Javyar landed on all fours. The action was enough to keep him off balance, however, and Javyar was easily able to get back on two feet, reach out, and grab the scruff of the Nevas’ cassock. Tugging roughly, Javyar shoved his mark up against the wall of an adjoining building.

            “Not so good at escaping from pursuit as you are partying at clubs, are you?” Javyar hissed, darkly. The fear in the Dorylaetian’s amber eyes turned to outright terror as recognition came to him.

            “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Nevas insisted unconvincingly.

            Javyar shook him, the deacon recoiling with fear. “Lying’s a sin now, isn’t it? So is breaking your vow of chastity.”

            “I didn’t break it!” Nevas stammered insistingly, his sudden boldness perhaps shocking himself, as he quickly lowered his tone, shrinking in Javyar’s grasp. “I…I…I…didn’t mean to…I mean…I didn’t…” Suddenly realizing that it may have been better to stay silent, he clammed up.

            “Going quiet on me?” Javyar hissed, bringing his face close to Nevas. Removing one hand from the deacon’s collar, he gently relocated it to his hip, where the butt of his pistol was concealed. “Maybe we’ll try something a little different…”

            “That’s enough!” Grunted the unexpected voice of Theck, just a few meters away. Javyar quickly turned to see that the man had somehow appeared in the periphery, his two large hands white-knuckled into fists. Anger and frustration burned in his eyes. “We talked about this; no physical coercion.”

            Javyar again shook Nevas, staring icily into the Dorylaetian’s terrified eyes. “After what he’s done? He’s lucky I don’t gut him on the spot.” Nevas let out a low, pathetic whine.

            “Guilty or not, he’s still a consecrated man of God. You’re going to let him go and not lay another finger on him, or I’m going to do to you what you do to him.”

            An ironic smile came to Javyar’s face as he took in Theck’s words. “How very Christian of you,” He sneered. Admitting that while seeing Theck lose his self-control would be an entertaining thing to witness, he didn’t fancy himself the target of the Human weapon’s rage, Javyar did acquiesce and let go of the kid. Nevas immediately fell to the ground, arms immediately coming between him and Javyar in a poor display of defense.

            “Get up,” Javyar ordered. “Apparently, I’m not allowed to touch you anymore, but if you don’t move, you’ll have to deal with my companion.” Nevas took one look at Theck, and his blue skin blanched. Theck stepped closer to him, extending a single hand down to help the kid up. Warily Nevas took it, and Theck gently lifted him to his feet. Javyar scoffed at how ridiculous the scene looked. All of that raw muscle and power, and Theck seemed more interested in playing the stern bodyguard and acting soft.

            As Theck helped the still-shaking Nevas back in the direction of the church, Javyar fell into step beside them, turning a curious eye up at his enemy. “You managed to get down here very quickly,” He said. “I didn’t even hear you walk up.”

            Theck didn’t respond immediately, his lips compressing. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

            “Someone as big as you as silent as a mouse?” A wry exhale escaped from Javyar’s mouth. “It must have been some good practice.” He caught the slight tightening at the corners of the man’s face.

            “It’s none of your business.” Theck shot back, evenly.

            Javyar studied the man a moment longer, then opted for a different strategy. “You’re Rigby’s lapdog, through and through.” Theck’s only reaction was a further tightening of his facial features. “Don’t ignore me, you know it’s true,” Javyar continued. “I know the rest of them are all willing participants in all of this, but I think you’re different. I’ve seen the amount of raw power you keep bottled up.”  

            “You know nothing about me,” Theck grunted back.

            “There’s not a whole lot to know about you besides that,” Javyar persisted. “Everyone else has a personality. Where’s yours?” Theck’s face was impenetrable, but Javyar’s point had been made. There was a long pause.

            “I’m here to make sure you don’t get out of hand. I’m not here to make friends.” Theck replied, finally.

            “Fine,” Javyar relented. “Have things your way.”

            When they returned to the church, a concerned Hildegard was there to meet them. From the look on her face – cautions, yet aggrieved, and silent as she watched the pitiful state of Lor Nevas – Javyar guessed that Thomas had told her some about their suspicions concerning the deacon. She indicated a room on the opposite side of the hallway, a small lounge. Two couches and four comfortable-looking armchairs sat in a large half-ring around one wall, the brackets of a holodisplay currently turned off were mounted against the same wall. At that point the room was only occupied by a single person, that being Thomas. The Jesuit was patiently thumbing away at his Rosary when they entered, slowly lifting his head. A grimace came to his face when he saw the state of Nevas.

            “Deacon Nevas, I’m terribly sorry about this,” He said. The Dorylaetian walked to one of the open chairs and sat, defeated.

            “Javyar unable to keep his hands to himself, as usual.” Theck offered, as explanation.

            Javyar hissed. “I don’t know what you would rather I do. He was trying to run.” Javyar took one of the armchairs, Theck taking up most of a couch.

            “Deacon Nevas,” Thomas began again, calmly. “I assure you, we’re only here to speak with you.”

            “I know why you’re here,” Nevas muttered, his voice distant and his eyes downcast. His eyes came up to meet Thomas. “You’re from the chancery, aren’t you? Archbishop Kagyla sent you, didn’t he?”

            Thomas shook his head. “I’ve never met Archbishop Kagyla,” He admitted. “I’m from Rome, I work for Cardinal Bihar.”

            Nevas’ shoulders dropped. “I must be really cooked then, if they sent someone from Rome to investigate me.”

            Javyar found a half-grin on his face in spite of himself. This fool thought all of this was about his indiscretions. Partly true, of course, but not in the way he thought. “We aren’t here on any inquisitorial inquiry from your superiors, as much as I’d like to see you thrown out of the airlock for all of the trouble you’ve caused.” Theck shot a dangerous look at him.

            “What I think my colleague means is that we know about Stardust, but we aren’t here primarily about that.” Thomas was quick to attach to Javyar’s statement.

            Nevas was shaking his head. “Euphemia said she would tell Senator Sethell about seeing me at that club; I knew I should have told Father Torth about this sooner. When I hadn’t heard anything, I thought Euphemia decided otherwise.” Javyar squinted in thought at Nevas’ words. Whatever this admission was didn’t seem like an admittance of an illicit relationship at all. From the keen look in Thomas’ eyes, he knew the Jesuit was thinking the same. 

            “So you haven’t been dating Euphemia for the past month or so?” Javyar said, point-blankly.

            For the first time since Javyar had him against the wall, Nevas looked at him, his skin becoming even a paler blue as he realized the implication. He quickly looked to Thomas. “You…you think I was romantically involved with Euphemia?” His mouth made movement, but he seemed unable to conjure sound. Finally, the rest came through. “N-no!” He cried. “She and I have known each other for years…we had a lot of the same mutual friends growing up but…no! It’s not anything like that.”  

            “Wouldn’t be the first time one of your kind was caught in such an arrangement,” Javyar commented, again getting that angry look from Theck.

            “We have two witnesses who say they saw you getting into a row with Euphemia last weekend,” Thomas clarified. “Their guess was that you two were in some sort of romantic dispute.”

            “Absolutely not, not me!” Nevas insisted. His eyes pleaded with Thomas and the other unconvinced faces. “Father, you have to understand. I admit I went to that club, and I admit that Euphemia and I did get into an argument, but that was the most I saw her outside of anything parish-related!”

            “What was the argument about?” Thomas asked.

            Nevas squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. When he reopened them, he seemed steeled to continue. “This parish is my first assignment out of seminary. It’s a long way from Dorylaeis, and I’ve…I’ve felt a bit alone. Back at seminary a couple of us would go out for drinks every now and again, and I wanted something like that. Someone told me that Stardust is popular with the younger crowd, yet is far enough away that I thought nobody would recognize me. I’d never seen Euphemia there until that night; she of course knew who I was, and we got into a huge argument about it, with her insisting that she would tell Father Torth. I pleaded with her not to, but her mind was made up.” Thomas, who had been nodding along thoughtfully, seemed to be considering the tale. Javyar couldn’t help but scoff aloud.

            “You’re seriously believing this? That girl wasn’t exactly supposed to be there herself; I can’t imagine she was bold enough to threaten to rat you out. You could have done the same.” Javyar pointed out.

            “I tried that,” Nevas replied. “She said she didn’t care whether her father knew or not, she wouldn’t change her mind. And if you don’t think she’s bold, then clearly you don’t know Euphemia very well. Besides,” He grimaced. “I can give you the names of a group of people I commonly hang around with at Stardust. They can vouch for my presence there, and what I was up to.”

            “I think that would be a good idea,” Thomas agreed. “Have you spoken with Euphemia since?”

            Nevas shook his head. “No. I haven’t seen her around here in months, and if you aren’t from the archbishop’s office, then they haven’t been notified.” It was a fact he seemed thankful for, until he seemed to pick up on the mood of the room. “Why?” He asked. “What’s going on with Euphemia?”

            Thomas seemed to consider how much he should say, before he spoke. “She’s missing,” He replied. “She’s been missing for nearly a week, now.”

            Nevas’ eyes flashed. “Missing? Oh Lord, what happened?” Javyar watched him carefully. As much as he really wanted this deacon to be involved, there still didn’t seem to be any deception in his expression.

            “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Thomas assured him. “Senator Sethell wants us to find her, and the only lead we have so far is an alleged new boyfriend. Our investigations so far brought us to you.”

            Nevas shook his head quickly. “No, I…I don’t know anything about that!” There was a noticeable stutter in his voice.

            “You expect us to believe that?” Javyar asked. That last part had come in much too quickly. “You were pegged as the last person she saw at Stardust, the place which was one of her main social outlets.”

            “I already told you,” Nevas insisted. “It wasn’t anything like that! It was the first time I saw her there.”

            “Was she there with anyone else?” Thomas asked. “Friends, specifically male friends?”

            Nevas thought a moment. “I couldn’t say. I was so focused on being recognized that I wasn’t paying that much attention to the surroundings. I…” He hesitated suddenly, as if something had just become clear to him.

            “Go on,” Javyar coaxed.

            The kid’s thick brow furrowed. “I…don’t know if this is at all relevant, but there was a strange man who I bumped into on the way out.”

            “Was he a Quorthwar?” Theck asked.

            “He…” Nevas frowned. “Wait, how did you know about the Quorthwar?”

            Javyar snorted. “How do you think we got your name?” He asked.

            Nevas seemed to consider that a moment, before shaking his head. “One of the regulars – a Quorthwar named Maro – did speak to me, but that wasn’t who I was referring to. This man was serious looking. He had a military air about him.”

             “Could you describe him?” Thomas asked.

            “Well, he was Human, medium height, well-built yet older. Short hair, just starting to gray.” Nevas explained.

            Javyar’s eyes narrowed. “Any identifying marks? Scars or tattoos?” He immediately thought of the two physical characteristics possessed by those so-far identified as persons of interest.

            Nevas seemed to chew on that one a bit. “No scars, but he did have some strange tattoos on his arms.”

            The crewmates exchanged looks. “Strange how?” Javyar pressed.

            Nevas shook his head. “I didn’t get a good look at it, but I could have sworn it looked like some sort of squid or octopus.”

            “Or a Borthys Hydra?” Theck added in.

            Nevas gave the man a quizzical look. “What’s that?”

            Javyar turned an eye on Thomas. “That sounds awfully familiar.” It seemed things kept coming back to this Stardust place.

            “Is there anything else you can tell us about this man? Anything at all?” Father Thomas asked.

            Lor Nevas shrugged. “Not really. The man just came barreling past me, didn’t even turn to apologize.” The kid sigh. “Honestly, I just wanted to get out of there as soon as I could, I didn’t catch much else.”  

            “What about Euphemia here at church? Did anything seem off about her?” Thomas asked, moving to a different line of questioning.

            “As I mentioned, Euphemia hasn’t been here in months.” Nevas replied. “Unfortunately, that’s not too uncommon for the younger crowd, myself excluded.”

            “What about her ‘other’ activities in politics?” Theck asked. “What do you know about that?”

            “Not much,” Nevas replied. “I know she had her causes – The Union Pacifist Movement comes to mind – but that’s not really something I know a whole lot about.” Javyar watched the deacon. He had calmed down a lot since their first meeting, and the obvious tells which indicated lying weren’t visible. Reluctantly, he had to grant that what the deacon said was the truth.

            “Is that all you have?” Javyar asked, impatiently.

            “I…I think so,” Nevas replied. He looked at the Parfful, realized that a mistake, and immediately averted his gaze, more out of fear than to try and hide something. “I wish there was something I could give you, but I’ve told you all I know. I didn’t see Euphemia at Stardust except that one time, and I haven’t seen her since.”

            Thomas nodded. “Thank you for your time. Sorry for the disturbance.”

            “Father I…” Nevas began, reluctantly. “About the whole…Stardust thing….” He took a breath. “Where do we stand on that?”

            Thomas folded his hands, leaning in. “I think you’ve about already guessed. While I’m relieved you weren’t involved in a romantic relationship with Euphemia, there’s a whole slew of practical, ethical, and spiritual considerations to account for, and not least of all what this might mean for your ordination.”  

            Nevas shoulders sunk. “So you’re going to speak with Father Torth.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, and his tone was resigned.

            “I’m afraid so,” Thomas agreed. “And the archbishop’s chancery. It’s for them to decide if discipline or sanctions are warranted based on the facts.” Javyar grinned. Church justice wasn’t quite the type he would have favored, but it was better than nothing.

            Nevas’ head fell into his hands. “I’m not cut out for this life.”

            Thomas leaned in, placing a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “None of us are. But it’s not a choice we made, but the path He gave us. You’ve discerned this far, and with His strength you can finish the journey.”

            Javyar rolled his eyes. “Touching, but I think it’s about time we left.” They went to stand, when Nevas spoke again.

            “Father Thomas, would you be able to stay back a moment? I’d like a private word with you.” His voice was still low and markedly dejected, but a certain resolve had entered it.

            “Absolutely,” Thomas replied.

            Javyar placed a hand on the Jesuit’s arm. “Father, I don’t think we have a whole lot of time to waste here.”  

            Thomas waved it away. “This will only take a minute. Try and get in contact with Judith and the rest of the crew and apprise them of the situation.”

            Javyar wanted to protest but shrugged. The Jesuit wouldn’t change his mind and he knew it. “Fine.” He turned to leave the room, catching sight of Father Thomas reaching into a pocket, pulling out a purple stole. “Of course,” Javyar muttered. “He’ll just saw a few nice words, and suddenly everything will be magically better. Typical.”