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party was formed. We numbered thirteen.
    I would go as the captain’s representative. Nikos had to stay with the ship—there was no question of that; he feared losing all authority if he were to leave, and I was the only one he trusted to provide him with an accurate report of what we would find.
    Besides me, there was a science team of three, and an armed military squad of six. A woman named Sari Mandapat was chosen to be the representative for the downsiders, and Andrew Thornton was selected to represent the upper levels after Michel Tournier backed out, claiming illness; Tournier’s real illness was fear. The ship’s crew would have no representative—they did not need one, nor did they care.
    Last, Father Veronica was to go as the Church’s representative. I did not know her well, but I had spoken with her on occasion, and had heard some of her sermons. I admired her. She was intelligent, and she was sincere. And she was a believer.
    The bishop, I was certain, did not believe. But the three priests did , and none more than Father Veronica. Thestrange thing, though, was that she was not a fanatic. I didn’t understand her.
    I understand hypocrites, like the bishop, and I understand fanatics, or at least I can more easily predict their behavior, which is much the same thing, as far as I am concerned. But I admit I did not know what to make of true believers like Father Veronica. Her belief, her faith , was both profound and real. Her faith disturbed me.
    I wanted to talk with her before we made landfall, so I went to the cathedral. When I entered, the cathedral was huge and empty and silent. The only light came from candles burning in clusters along both aisles flanking the main nave, and there were flickering shadows everywhere. I could barely make out the arched vaulting high above me. At the far end, behind the apse, was the enormous stained-glass window that formed a section of the outer hull. With only the darkness of space behind it, the window was lifeless and indistinct. I had never been able to make out the images in the glass, although I felt certain there was something more than abstraction in it.
    I’d never spent much time in the cathedral. I had attended a few sermons, services on holy days as required, the occasional wedding, funeral Masses, but at those times all I did was sit on a pew and struggle to stay awake. I registered little of my surroundings, and never paid them much attention. But that day, with the cathedral so empty, I was curious.
    I walked slowly along the right aisle. The vaulting, while still quite high, was lower than that looming above the central section of the cathedral. There was a series of stained-glass windows, each illuminated by some diffuse source embedded in the interior walls behind them. Between the windows were tiny alcoves; in each alcove was a kneeling pad and a cluster of candles. The candles, few of which were alight, were in small colored-glass containers, the flames glowing softly within them. The mood created was a strange combination of serenity and disquiet.
    I stopped and looked up at one astonishing stained-glass window. It depicted an enormous two-headed monsterripping itself out of the belly of a man, one of the heads in the process of devouring a child with its massive jaws and teeth. I was amazed at how detailed and gruesome it was. The monster’s body was that of a muscular scaled reptile with short, thick legs, taloned feet, and a long and powerful tail. The two heads had doglike features and blazing red eyes. Although the monster was ripping its way out of the man, it was more than twice the man’s size. The one head held the child in its teeth, and the other stared out and down—with the bright red eyes glowering at me, it looked disturbingly alive.
    I was still staring at the images, trying to make sense of them, when a voice broke my concentration.
    “Horrifying, isn’t it?”
    Startled, I turned to see Father Veronica standing at the end of