Donald Moffitt - Genesis 01

severely beaten up in a street fight. Broken ribs, contusions, head injuries. A Nar medical warden happened to be at the Quarter clinic when he was brought in. The victim himself covered it up—claimed he’d been in an accident. But the injuries weren’t consistent with his story. The warden didn’t pursue the matter, but you can be sure that he’s wondering about it.”
    Bram recognized the speaker as Gorch, the man who had been accused of being a secret Schismatist at that first meeting behind the drink shop. But Gorch didn’t sound like a cupboard Schismatist anymore, now that brute reality had overtaken his foggy notions. He sounded like a badly rattled man.
    “And that warehouse explosion two days ago,” Gorch went on. “Luckily no one was hurt. But you won’t find a person in the Quarter who believes it was caused by a gas leak, and the Nar aren’t stupid, either. It’s time for every faction among us to band together and put a stop to this nonsense. Penser’s group is only a small minority. We can’t allow it to compromise the party any longer.”
    Scattered boos and catcalls greeted his words. Jupe, the bald-headed moderator, stepped in smoothly. “I’m sure we all appreciate your concern, gene brother. Now, if there is anyone else who wishes to speak—”
    “I’m not finished yet!” Gorch protested. “What we all want to know is, what is Penser up to?”
    More boos and catcalls were heard, this time coming with greater purpose from the people Pite had planted in strategic places throughout the audience.
    Bram sat at the rear of the hall, with a goon on either side of him. The meeting place behind the drink shop was swollen with people this time. When he first had been here, there might have been fifty men and women in the rows of seats. Now there were ten times as many, not counting the tough-looking men in short-sleeved monos who stood with folded arms at the back of the hall.
    Bram had been summoned to the meeting on short notice. He had just finished a frugal supper of soyrice and greens and was putting away his bowl, when somebody began rattling his door impatiently. He had opened it to find one of Pite’s bravos standing there: Spak, the fellow with the dented head.
    “Pite wants you at the Ascendist hall right away.”
    “Ascendist hall? I thought all Ascendists are supposed to be deviationists and traitors these days.”
    “There’s a meeting,” Spak said without humor. “We’re going to take it over. Pite wants the seats filled with our people. We need a strong show of support.”
    “All right. I’ll be along as soon as—”
    “Now,” Spak said.
    He waited, silent and huge, while Bram got his overgarment, then fell in behind him. Outside, a small alcohol-propelled vehicle was waiting. Bram got in the back. Three other people were inside: a man from Kerthin’s discussion group and two others he didn’t recognize. When they got to the meeting hall, the burly Ascendist door guard opened his mouth as if to say something, but Spak gave him a menacing look and swept past him with his little flock.
    Now the place was crammed. Word had gotten out that this was to be an important meeting, and even the idly curious had crowded in. Penser’s supporters were scattered through the seats in little self-reinforcing groups. Bram remembered what Kerthin had said about determined minorities.
    “We have a resolution before us,” Jupe said, pounding for order with his cube of wood, “and we’ve had a discussion. Before I call for a vote, we’re going to hear from the party secretary.”
    The resolution called for a reprimand of Penser and the disbanding of his special goon squads, on pain of a request to the Nar for the deportation of Penser and his Juxtian associates. There was a bribe in it too, though, of minor party sinecures for those involved if they pledged to behave. The motion and seconding had almost been drowned out but had gone through.
    The party secretary came forward. He was a grave, dignified man with flat cheeks and a pointed black beard. His face was mottled with emotion, but he held himself in check as he spoke.
    “We all of us here believe in the principles of human ascendancy. We must not forget that basic fact during the vote to come. The human race is small, but its destiny is large. We may reasonably disagree among ourselves on the means of achieving that destiny. But we must disagree without rancor. We must never forget that we are all gene brothers and