The mountain they lived in was perfect: a honeycomb of old mine workings converted into a sealed, self-contained environment, hidden from the outside world. In the upper tunnels were the sleeping quarters --tiny cells burrowed out of the rock--while farther below the larger chambers and galleries housed workshops, the generator plant, and areas adapted for eating, study, and meditation. Natural springs deep underground had been tapped for fresh water. They had electric power. At the lowest level, several hundred feet down, a vast cavern held a reservoir of oil which fed the boilers, producing steam to power the generators.
From outside the sound of the gong was a faint rhythmic murmur,
hardly more than a vibration in the ocher flanks dotted with scrub and rocks encircling the bare granite peak of Mount Grafton.
The tables buzzed with the news of yet another successful mission. Mara listened to the excited chatter but didn't take part. Such frivolous behavior was degrading and unseemly. How could one attain Optimum Orbital Trajectory without discipline and absolute self-control? This was vain, idle, not the "right stuff" at all.
Devadatta, sitting opposite, said, "I wish it had been me. What about you, Mara?"
"To wish for anything is to have egoism," answered Mara shortly. "You obviously haven't ironed that bug out of your system."
"I know the law as well as you do," Devadatta protested, though he was slightly shamefaced. "But my wish is to serve the Faith to the best of my ability. Nothing wrong in that." He looked along the table, seeking support.
Most of the others were unsure and unwilling to commit themselves, mainly because Mara had achieved Special Category Selection and Devadatta hadn't. This gave the small thin-faced youth with the bulbous eyes behind the wire-frame spectacles the stamp of seniority.
"Perhaps Mara is afraid to serve," said Virudhaka, a young man with red hair who was noted for being argumentative. "Fear is an unironed bug as well as egoism."
Mara was unruffled. "Why mention fear? Because you haven't conquered it yourself, Virudhaka?"
"What if I haven't? At least I'm prepared to admit it."
"Do you want to overcome it?"
"Sure--don't we all?"
"How will you know when you have?"
Virudhaka was confused. He blinked slowly and frowned. "Well, I-- I'll just know, I guess."
"You mean an inner voice will tell you," Mara said, staring at him, unsmiling. "One day an inner voice will say, 'No more fear,' and that'll be that."
Virudhaka gave an uneasy half-shrug.
"That isn't the way it happens," Mara told him. His piping treble voice might have been comic had not his manner been so severe, uncompromising, deadly certain. "You will still experience fear, you will
still suffer, but such things no longer matter. Emotion has been put in its rightful place, the servant of the self rather than its master."
"But how do you
Heads on either side of the table craned forward, shaven knobs of bone anxious to hear the answer from an adept who had achieved selection, which was the first important step toward the goal of briefing.
"You don't and you never do. Every day the battle is fought anew. The struggle is endless."
Virudhaka was heard to remark skeptically, "That's easy to say. Such talk is cheap, and it still doesn't answer the question."
"Yes, you're right," Mara agreed, surprising them all. "Talk is cheap."
He removed the long steel pin that secured his robe and pushed it with a slow, steady pressure through his right cheek until the steel point appeared through his left cheek. After a moment he slid the pin out and fastened his robe with it. On his cheeks were tiny bloodless punctures.
Devadatta had turned pale. Virudhaka too was silent, unable to drag his eyes away. There the discussion ended.
As they were filing out of the chamber one of the base controllers touched Mara's sleeve and indicated that he should stand aside. Mara waited, spindly arms folded inside his black robe. With clinical detachment he knew he was to be punished for breaking the rule of self-aggrandizement. He had yielded to petty temptation. Such empty posturing should be beneath him. He might even lose status.
Mara followed the base controller down a winding flight of steps cut into the rock and they emerged into the original main tunnel of the mine. This led from what had been the entrance--now blocked off-- into the heart of the mountain. The tunnel was high and wide with smooth walls and lit by globes in wire cages. The air was cool and fresh, wafted against their faces by hidden fans.
Down more steps, the tunnel narrower this time, into the lower depths where Mara had never been before. This was "access restricted" to all adepts.
