The torches did wonders for the town square of Lufmot. Normally it was a small, mostly dull, and often dead, little town nestled in the foothills of Zeat. It barely boasted a population of ten thousand yet, from what Lang had always told Jack, this city, the nearest to the ZeTan Estates, was actually the third largest in the region. That was until you got down onto the coastal of plains of the lower province. That was an area that most Zeats did not really call their own. The population down there was mostly of Calden stock. The Empire had decreed long ago that the mountain people in the north and their city dwelling cousins in the south were all the same. The people of the region thought differently on the matter.

There were actually a lot of Caldens and Zeats at the Lufmot festival. Jack sat back on the group’s wagon and carefully observed the interactions. They competed against each other in contests but, the friction between the two groups seemed confined to a friendly sort of rivalry. It was comparable to the differences between fans of the Detroit Pistons and LA Lakers back home. With the exception of one or two isolated, and drunken fights, everyone was rather friendly towards the other. It was a party after all and a rather large one at that.

The Barok was the next season. Jack was well aware that this planet had only a minor axial tilt and it took quite a bit of questions aimed at Lang before he finally understood their seasons. He talked the data over with Harry and finally they realize that these "seasonal" changes had nothing to do with the tilt of the planet. Instead, the seasons here were marked by the positions of Proxima Centauri relative to it‘s companion star, Alpha.

At the moment, Moe, or Krev as the Zeat's called their home world, was on the far side of their sun, Alpha Centauri. Its binary partner, Proxima would be out of sight for the next six local months, half the local year. This was closer to four months by Earths calendar. Since this planet lacked a natural satellite of it's own they really had no equivalent of months. The Imperial Calendar was divided into four phases that were based on Proxima Centauri and it’s position in the sky. It was more than just a way of marking time too. It did have effects on the weather of this planet.

Those meteorological effects were actually fairly mild. At least Jack hoped they were at any rate. The data that came from the OK satellite predicted that there were no significant changes between what Lang had called seasons. That was good news and Jack was praying the satellite was correct. The four seasons were really periods and the actual seasons were three. Barok was the transitional time but unlike on Earth where you had Fall and Spring here it was just considered the same.

Lang had said that they normally received far more rain and other precipitation during Barok. The other two seasons were Hamas and Ahrdrem. The current season that was now ending was Hamas. After another round of twenty questions with Lang it started to look like Hamas was the equivalent to their summer. That was not good. Jack thought about how cold it had been during this Moe "summer." If that was the hot season he really had no want to see what the winter was going to be like.

At the moment, that was in the future and they would cross that bridge when they came to it. Jack was feeling his age, his job, and his lack of sleep in general. He was also becoming aware of what everyone else already knew. He was turning into a real grouch. Jack needed some rest and relaxation. Everyone else got time off but him. To Jack, a commander was always that, no matter what the schedule said. This included sleep times, off times, and even festival times. Jack might not be able to quit his job but, he could ease off a bit so when Lang brought up the festival Jack quickly took him up on it.

Everyone else came as well. As soon as they arrived, Jack ditched them. That was all except for Finny of course. While everyone else wandered off into the crowd she just sat behind Jack in the shadows. That was a fitting place for her to be since half the time that is exactly what Jack thought she was. He had a plan though. Tonight he was going to cast some light on this shadow.

Dee had left with everyone else but, she had not stayed gone for long. She came back to the wagon and plopped right down next to Jack on the tailgate, "You just going to sit here like a bump on a log?"
"Yes mother," replied Jack.

Dee ground her teeth for a second and then, "I'm sorry Jack. I don't mean to needle you all the time. I just can't help it."

Suddenly his eyes were looking her over very carefully. Despite the fact that Jack had actually seen her naked she still became self-conscious about it. Dee crossed her arms, "What are you looking at Jack?"

"Ah, you actually," she was wearing native garb. It was the basic shirt and pull over dress that most of the alien women wore. Despite it being plain, and practical, it somehow managed to radiate a certain beauty. In fact, it did so far more than pants, or a jumpsuit, ever would, "I just never seen you in a dress before today. Even back home before we left."

Her hair had grown down past her shoulders once again. Tonight it was pulled up in a bun. It was far from perfect. She had frizzled hair sticking out in every direction but, somehow, it fit her, "I was just thinking it looks good on you. You're very pretty you know."

Dee snickered at his compliment, "Why Jack, I would almost think that you were trying to get laid or something."

The band in the nearby park began playing once more. Even though there were no recognizable instruments being used they still made sounds that were familiar. The stringed instrument in particular had a certain twang to it that sounded pretty much like a banjo. The musician looked more like he was playing a cello but that was not the sound it was making.

Jack pointed to the crowd as people began to dance, "How do you like the music?"

Dee listened, bounced her head in rhythm and then started humming along with a silly grin on her face. "Well considering that we haven't heard any real music in so long? I'd say it sounds... Uh.” She was being diplomatic, “kind of hick if you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I guess that guy on the strings up there does sound an awful lot like that banjo player in Deliverance. I'd hate to come all the way to another star to hear some aliens go 'squeal like a pig!' Wouldn't you?"

Dee shook her head, "You lost me Jack. What the hell does squeal like a pig mean?"

Out in the crowd Jack spotted a familiar face go by. He called out and Joey came running. Jack looked around for anybody else in their group but no one was to be seen, "Everybody ditch you?"

"Yeah," Joey looked quite alone at the moment. "Sort of, I guess."

Tugging on Finny's sleeve Jack then pointed to Joey, "Finny, I want you to go with him. I want you two to dance and have a good time. Talk to him, show him around, you two do whatever you want."

She was reluctant and Joey was embarrassed. Finny had a very awful look on her face. Jack had given up on figuring out that much about her. Right now he really didn't care and didn't even feel like a heel. Finny, if only reluctantly, got down and stood next to Joey. She was definitely pouting. It did not work this time.

She asked Jack, "I talk him?"

"You talk him."

As the two walked off into the crowd Jack could hear the girl, "Why you look me all time? That you in bushes at lake. I see that day. Why you..."

Dee chuckled, "How could you do that to that poor boy?"

There was no answer. Jack stretched his arm across her shoulder. He tilted her chin upwards with a finger. Jack wasted no time engaging in a kiss. When he stopped he leaned slightly forward and whispered in her ear, "When we get back to Earth Miss Brewer."

Dee's eyes were closed, "Yes."

"I'm going to take you into my bedroom. I'm going to throw you down on the bed."

"I'm listening."

"I'm going to tie you to the bed rails."

"And... "

Jack smiled, "and I'm going to make you watch every movie ever made for the last twenty years."

Dee's eyes opened. She slapped him on the arm and then slid under it, "You are awful."

The music came to a stop and the crowd cheered. Pete stood far from the festivities. He kept his back to the wall of a building and was content with his distance. He looked at every face that walked by. He watched every movement made by every person that got anywhere near him. If he looked alert the truth of it was he was just doing it out of habit. Pete was deep in thought.

The dreams still haunted him every night. He saw Julia in that slave house in Ninvey. He heard her cry out for him. He saw the blame in her eyes. It had been his fault. He felt that. He thought that. He could not help but think it!

"Pete," came a soft voice from the nearby shadows. Pam stepped up next to him in the light. "You all right?"

Out of the entire group. Pete was the only one still wearing his flight suit. In a few days he would leave it behind and maybe even forever. Lang had gotten him an honorary commission as an Ussar. A rank that Pete thought looked similar to that of a Captain. He even had a set of orders, a train ticket east, a weapon, and a uniform. When he got there he was supposed to go to Joe ZeTan. As Pete understood it, he would be something like a staff man. It was good enough. Pete was not going to fight these people’s wars for them. His purpose was more singular of mind and personal.

"Nobody bothering you are they?" Pete asked with a professional voice.

Pam walked up to him. She had a hard time looking him in the eye. No matter how hard she tried Pam could not force her head to look upwards, "No, the guys are being just guys. You know how that goes. Everybody is really kind of friendly."

Pete shook his head, "Well that's good. Having a good time?" His voice was flat.

"I guess so," Pam bit her lip for moment. "Pete... I... I just want to say, that... you know… I'm sorry about the way I treated you the last month or so. It was uncalled for and you are a really sweet guy.” Her voice became rushed, “Julia is lucky to have you. Good bye."

He grabbed her arm, "Whoa, wait a minute. You're just going to walk off like that?"

She was still looking down, "I said it now. I'm sorry and I mean it."

Pete bent over slightly and tried looking at her face. Pam kept turning away from him. He pulled her towards the light. She was crying. "I know you didn't mean anything by it Pam. I hated not really being able to talk to you like we used to. You are a real good friend and I know how you feel."

Her foot pounded on the rickety boards of the sidewalk. Pam pouted, "No you don't!"

Pete backed off as her tears swelled. There was nothing for him to say. He just leaned back against the wall and waited. After several large tears fell from her cheeks "Damn it Pete Winston! I don't know how to tell you this, so I just will. I feel like a total heel because Julia is my best friend and right now she could be dead somewhere, or being raped by some bastard every night. That doesn't change the truth though Pete. Julia doesn't love you. She never did. Couldn't you see that? She was looking for a husband, and a father, and if you hadn't come along, somebody else would have."

There was still no response from Pete. He just watched her cry. Pam went on. She had wanted to say this for so long. She had wanted to say it and even more now. She had just been too afraid. Now it was coming out in a river of emotions, "Pete! I don't want you to go! I want you to stay here. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. I'm not just saying this because... because... I mean I want Julia to come back. I want you to be happy, but I..."

He pulled her close and rested his arms around her firmly. Pam just kept crying. The hardest part to get out was still ahead. She had to say it though. If she didn't now she never would, "Pete, I'm in love with you. I don't how it happened or where it happened. I just know that it did. I want to be with you."

Pete hesitated. He held his hand out and stared at it as if it were an object he had yet to figure out how to use. Finally, he reached up and touched her hair. He stroked it gently and pulled her completely into his embrace. Pete closed his eyes and squeezed firmly. Pam continued to cry, "I feel so guilty. This entire thing with Julia was my fault and now I want you to hold me and… It just makes me feel so guilty."

For some reason Pete knew what to do. Whether it was the right thing was not as clear. It felt like the right thing for the moment and that would have to be good enough. For so long now, Pete had been awash in a sea of emotions. He knew what the future had to bring but the only way to survive was to not think about it, to live each moment for itself.

Pam had now buried her face in the palms of her hands. Her stream of tears had turned into a river of sobs. No matter what the case, Pete cared for her. Exactly how he cared and in what amount was not completely clear. He just knew he couldn't leave her like this.

"Come on Pam. Let's go for a walk. I think we both need a little time away from the crowd."

They walked for several minutes towards the outskirts of town. It grew dark the further away they got. Pam leaned against his side. She put both arms around his waist. Pete held her under his arm. They turned the corner of the last building and walked off into a field. Pete stopped her in the near total darkness of a grove of fruit trees. Pam let her arms fall to her side. She stood there numb, her eyes closed, her tears trailing off to a trickle. She felt his hands pull the end of her skirt higher and higher until she felt his firm grasp on the bare skin of her legs.

"What are we doing here?" She asked.

Pete's hands ran over her legs, past her thighs, pulling her dress with it. Pam raised her arms over her head. Her eyes were still closed, "Pete are you sure we should be doing this?"

"What do you feel like doing," he asked softly?

"I think that..."

"What do you feel?"

The dress cleared her arms. Her hair pulled free as the clothes flew toward the ground. His arms slid around her. His warm moist lips suckled and pulled at the base of her neck. Pam’s eyes remained shut. Her arms were still waving over her head. "Pete?"

"Hush." And she did.

The door even jingled when it opened. Red followed Gary into the only store in town that appeared to be open. Red chuckled at hearing the bell. This could have been any country store back home. What was inside was even more curious. Why anyone would want to buy such garbage was beyond Red. He kind of thought that, Lava Lamps, and fake Doggy Doo would have looked right at home on the shelves of this store.

Red nudged Gary. Despite speaking in English to keep the conversation private, Red still kept his voice down, like the storekeeper was actually going to understand what he was saying. "Man oh man, why did you want to come in this place? It looks odd as hell."

"That's exactly why," replied Gary, "It looks out of place."

"What! What!" said the storekeeper. "I don't know what you said. I know the tone you said it in. You no like, get out!"

Gary put on a smile, "oh I was really curious. As you might have guessed, my friend and I are from out of town. We were just wondering what manner of goods you sold here?”

The man played with his glasses and looked the two strangers over. "Artifacts. You buy, you stay. You chit chat, get out!"

Red pulled on Gary's sleeve, "Hey come on we're missing the dancing. I don't know about you but some of the ladies looked like they had to dance with whoever asked 'em. You get to be an old codger like me and you don't take that stuff for granted."

"In a second," Gary switched back to Zeat, "What kind of artifacts? Like the one on the sign out front."

The man lowered his glasses, "You know sign out front do you?"

"What are you two talking about?" asked Red. His grasp of the native tongue was still very basic. He was picking up less than every third word.

In response to the man's question Gary tapped his fingers on the table that the storekeeper was sitting at. The storekeeper just nodded. "In this store everything is for sale. The merchandise is all that I have."

"Just simple information?"

The man gestured to himself, "What do I look like to you, a prophet? I run a store. You buy, you stay. You jabber your gums, get out!"

Gary thanked the man. He and Red walked to the door. As the doorbell jingled, and Gary was almost out, the storekeeper said, "For the right price even information is for sale.” Gary shut the door.

Red was already waiting for him on the crowded festive street. "What the hell was that all about? That guys more of a crazy old coot than I am."

"Research really," said Gary. "Think about it Red. What is the one thing you haven't seen since we've been here?"

Red had a long list, "Girls in bikini's, air conditioning, a good fast food restaurant..."

"How about a church. For that matter, any kind of place of worship."

That set off a light in Reds eyes, "You know I hadn't thought about it but you're right. You know I haven't even heard Lang mention nothing bout that."

"I'm just curious Red. It's a marvelous opportunity to see how a culture develops lacking an organized religion."

While that sounded good it didn't interest Red that much. "You know I wish Vitosk were here right now. He'd get a kick out of that. What do you suppose he's doing right now?"

"Unless I miss my guess, Doctor Vitosk has already figured it out. Not much gets past him."

Red shook his head in agreement, "You're right there."

_____________________

Vitosk slammed the book down on the desk. The poor light emanating from the lantern was no substitute for a proper light bulb. Yet his eyes, no matter how hard they hurt, were not the problem. "What is it I'm overlooking here?"

Tea was absent on this world. They did not even have a close substitute. Vitosk had left Earth with a personal supply but drank it long before they reached this system. The Americans, being who they were, only brought coffee. They were a nation of peasants whose great minds even thought as such. Yet somehow, in his communist way of thinking, Vitosk had always admired them for that. If there was anything that the first revolution had failed to do it was destroy the upper class and truly make all equal. Vitosk often thought that it was the source of the Party's eventual downfall. It had been infiltrated by those it was meant to replace and subverted from within.

There was a hot drink that was popular in Daltop. Vitosk had purchased some from a street vendor. It was made from some brewed leaves of a certain type of grass. It tasted worse than American Coffee but, he made do. He still had some left in his pitcher. He finished it off while he got back to his books.

This man, ZeDolas, was far from what Christians on Earth thought of Jesus. He claimed no divine rights. He spoke only of the Zeat people proper. He demanded no worship or tribute yet he was looked on by many modern Zeats in near deity proportions. All of this made Vitosk think back to his wife. While Vitosk had always been a devout agnostic, as he felt all scientists should be, his wife had very strong religious leanings. It had been her influence that had introduced Yurgani to her book of faith, the Koran. Later, that led Vitosk on his search through several other religious texts, one of them being the Bible.

It was all in an attempt to keep up with the constant debates that he and his wife so enjoyed. He thought about this man ZeDolas. The description that the Imperial Historians painted of him sounded more like his wife's description of Jesus. That was primarily being the Moslem, and to a lesser extent the Jewish, views of the man. This is what kept at Vitosk like a hound after his scent. Was there a connection, and if so, how did it play on his theories about this planet?

"Jerry, maybe your explanation would be as good as mine old friend," said Vitosk into the air. Vitosk took out a piece of paper. He needed more material, not on ZeDolas, but on Jesus. With Jerry gone that would now be impossible for some years to come. There was not a bible, or a real devout Christian, for millions of miles. Even if there were it might be useless even then. Vitosk wanted facts and there were only a few he knew well.

There had been a time, while they were living in Moscow, that his wife had introduced him to some Christian Missionaries from the United States. He had just finished reading the bible in its entirety, and was eager to discuss its merits and weaknesses with them. Vitosk was sorely disappointed. It seemed that these two people had a basic lacking for the very book they professed to live by. They could only quote verses while mostly ignoring the chapters they were written in. They nitpicked at it as if talking about a codified rule book. All the while they were missing points that were plain and obvious. Vitosk had walked away from the meeting not only disappointed but with a reinforced belief that religion only served to dumb down the greater part of humanity.

Now Vitosk was not so sure. Not that his original opinion had been invalidated. When they returned home, he was not going straight to the first church and fall to his knees. It was just that Vitosk had to wonder if the people who were most vocal in such groups were just ignorant before they found their faith. If the two missionaries, who were educated, could miss so much, then how much more had been lost over the centuries? If something is taught wrong, and then repeated, it later becomes fact to those who were not around in the beginning. Vitosk had noticed that humans had a bad habit of holding to the first set of "facts" that they are told. Science had that problem as well.

He racked his brain on this. He went over each detail that he knew, and wrote it on the paper. He wrote the possibilities as well. Was this a coincidence, or divine providence, or something else? While Vitosk was sure that he could never definitively prove anything he was certain he could narrow it down to the most likely probability. The evidence had to be here. He thought about what he knew again and applied it to each possibility. Would this help prove that? It was the game he played over and over in his mind.

"Of course!" Shortly after his wife’s death, Vitosk had grabbed onto anything that would remind him of better times. While sitting in a laundry, one day, in Volgagrad he had read a magazine article. It was some Jewish publication that had been left behind. Probably by some little old lady that frequented the laundry. The subject was about a dig on the west bank. An Israeli archeologist had uncovered ancient Roman records that he claimed held the actual birth date of Jesus Christ. He claimed that it was Four March, of Four B.C. At the time Vitosk doubted that his facts could have been so accurate. He had made a less than convincing argument in support of his claims. What if he was right though?

Vitosk shuffled through the mounds of books in the room. He found an Imperial Calendar and Astronomy book. Vitosk opened it and began doing calculations. The sun was shining bright, in his window, before he was finished. After converting the dates to the Gregorian calendar Vitosk suddenly believed that Israeli archeologist. The Date of ZeDolas' birth was the Fourth of March, Four B.C!

"I think coincidences shall be crossed off my list."