Read The Voices of Heaven for Free Online Page A

reasons I'd had to give up my career flying a spotter ship, tagging high-value asteroids for the big smelters in the Belt. I wasn't even supposed to go on any long interplanetary trips, because the doctors didn't want me to get too far from the big medical facilities on the Earth or the Moon.
    She probably would have said more, but she stopped, wincing. There was a commotion from the table with the drunken lovers, only they weren't alone anymore. A man in a clerical collar was shouting at them.
    "They got caught," Rannulf said from behind us. He was grinning as he sat down. "I know the preacher; he's a Nation, name is Bryce Challenor. And that's his wife drinking with the other guy."
    "Oh," said Alma. It explained the shouting. If they were Carrie Nation Baptists that meant they were supposed to be dead set against drinking, among other things.
    I didn't want to talk about other people's domestic disturbances, annoying though the noise they were making was. I said to Rannulf, "We've just been having a little talk about you. Alma wants me to talk you out of going to Pava."
    He was pleased about that, I could see. "It's the right thing for me to do," he said, with just enough of a wistful catch in his voice to get his point across.
    "Bullshit," said Alma. "The right thing for you to do is to stay here and work. There's nothing on that dumb planet but bugs and earthquakes."
    He gave her a forgiving look. "Earthquakes, yes," he admitted. "But the autochtons aren't 'bugs,' dear." (I registered the "dear," as I was meant to do.) "They're highly intelligent even if they don't look a bit like human beings. And if Captain Tscharka is willing to fight so hard to keep the colony going, I think people of goodwill should give him all the help they can. Pava is a goodplace to spend your life."
    "The quitters don't think so," Alma said. She was referring to the rejects, the ones who had given up and come back in Corsair .
    Rannulf shrugged. "They just weren't motivated. I am. Pava's going to be a holy place."
    "Ah," I said, the pieces fitting into place. "I didn't know you were still a Millenarist." I knew he had been once—because that was where he and Alma had first got together.
    He turned the forgiving look on me, this time adding a few other ingredients like pity and noble resolve. "It's not just a religious matter, is it? It's for the glory of the human race in general."
    Alma didn't say "bullshit" again this time, although it seemed to me that it was definitely the right word. She said, "There's no life for you on Pava, Rannulf!"
    "How can you say that? It's a pity Pava is so far away, of course, but it's got a nice climate, it's got good air, it's got plenty of raw materials—"
    "And it's got the earthquakes and the bugs."
    He turned the forgiving look back on her and began to explain what he'd learned—what we'd all have learned, if we ever bothered to watch the documentaries—about Pava. Alma was frowning as she listened, but she was listening, though I saw her cover a small yawn.
    The yawn gave me the chance I was looking for. "Honey," I said, interrupting Rannulf's catalogue of the virtues of Pava, "it's getting kind of late for you, isn't it? Why don't I take you home?"
    She shook her head. "I'm worried about Rannulf."
    "But," I said reasonably, "there's nothing to worry about, is there? It's his life, and it's going to be a great adventure. Matter of fact," I said, turning to Rannulf and not being entirely truthful, "I almost envy you. If I just had the chance—"
    I didn't finish that particular lie, wherever it was going to go, because the trouble at the other table suddenly got a lot louder. The irate husband had begun to smash glasses, his wife screaming and trying to stop him. He was shouting, "Drink and drugs, the devil's work. Brothers, sisters, listen! I beg you to leave this place of vice for the sake of your immortal souls!"
    Most of the room was laughing, but then I got personally involved. The waitress was