48.
The Abrax remained hidden under the rim of a large impact
crater. The terrain of the moon stretched further into the bowl
of the crater, now illuminated brilliantly by the sun.
Inside the ship, several crewmen stretched the signal
amplifiers to their limits, filtering out every bit of noise,
listening for any messages from the Corona. As of yet, they had
detected none.
The commander was stubborn, and the knowledge that this Council
vessel's latest mission had been the disposal of the Kapp Cube
aroused great interest in him. He had learned of the fate of
the commanders and crews which had died trying to wrest the
weapon from the hands of the Council Of Worlds.
"It is strange that the Corona would come to this planet of all
in the galaxy, directly after sealing the fate of the most
powerful weapon in the known universe."
"Perhaps this is merely a routine mission. If they have indeed
destroyed the cube, and one of our remote sensing drones did
observe it falling into the interior of the giant star, then of
what concern are they to us now?"
The Captain remembered these words of his first officer now, as
he sat motionless in the command chair, watching his
communications officer and an expert in message encryption
busily at work, processing every click, pop, and hiss that
registered on the sensor antenna anchored to the front of the
Bellikan ship.
The Captain turned to his first officer, who was nursing a mug
of brew between his hands.
"We know that the Council had many observation posts on
primitive planets throughout the galaxy."
"Yes, commander. That's why it seems logical to me that they
are here, either to monitor the affairs of this world from
orbit, or possibly to send observers to the surface."
"If that is the case, our entire mission could be in jeopardy."
"Possibly. But would it not be better to wait and see exactly
what their mission is, as to what our next course of action
should be?"
"Of course, that only makes sense. If they find us at work on
the planet, however, and the Corona has left them there,
vulnerable to us, they will have to be killed. It would be easy
to make it seem like an accident. Who would know the
difference?"
"So long as we use the weapons native to this planet."
"Obviously. Continue to monitor all signals. Send a coded
message to the nearest outpost, once the Corona is out of range
of perceiving its passage."
"And the contents of this message?"
"Let sector command know of the presence of the Corona, and
that, at a moment's notice, we might have need of much force."
He stomped from the bridge, his boots clanking against the
metal floor. The first officer watched his departure. Several
seconds later, he began composing a suitable message on the
computer.
49.
Mark finished fastening the last piece of his personal cloaker
to his headband. With all transmitters securely in place, he
donned the headband and switched on the power unit hanging from
his belt.
As he became invisible, he saw the smile appear on John Myer's
face.
"You've come a long way, lad. I wish you could see yerself!"
They both laughed, and Myer soon had a tear in his eye. In
another second, Mark appeared again, his finger poised on the
power switch. He tapped the small microphone which lay
implanted beneath the skin of his neck.
"Testing" he said with just a whisper. Tanaria gave the
thumbs up that all was working properly.
The communicator was of the highest technology available for
general use. Its signal could penetrate over a hundred feet of
solid rock. This ensured that they could communicate when
inside large buildings. Natural diffraction of the signal
enabled communication over hills and through valleys. The
maximum unobstructed range of the system was about fifty miles,
though, due to terrain features, an overall average range of
twenty miles was considered an effective limit.
Mushlik was busily supervising the stowage of the gear into the
zeppelin shaped shuttle, and Myer occasionally climbed inside
and then back out of the cockpit, checking the power indicators
and engine status of his craft.
"So, how long is this one?"
"It's planned to be between six and eight weeks" Mark replied.
Just enough time for us to gather data on the changes taking
place in the Mishrian culture and religion as a result of the
invasion by the Cinrekkians."
"Now yer talking like a true psychologist!"
"How do you mean?"
"Ya' sound like your leader!"
"Remember, we're going to have the biggest game of quarters
we've every played when I get back."
"Yer on, Mark."
John looked proudly at the newest crewmate of the Corona, his
green camouflage uniform expertly finished, his cloaker and
communications gear adjusted and ready for planetfall. Mark was
the newest crewmate to undertake such a mission, having only
been onboard for a little over a month.
"I'll miss you all" Mark said at last, as he and Tanaria stood
shoulder to shoulder. Mushlik jabbered loudly in the
background, as two technicians stowed some sensitive camera gear
into the cargo bay.
"Damnit man! Watch those lenses!" he said once, wiping
perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve cuff. "You need
to pull half that stuff out again!" he said. "Our uniforms can
go on top more easily."
The man and woman helping out with the stowage complied
patiently with his wishes, knowing that if something ended up
getting damaged, they could point to the owner of the equipment
as the one who had dogmatically insisted on the precise
placement of every article in the cargo bay.
At last, metal door lifted upward, and it sealed seamlessly
into the weather-beaten hull of the shuttle.
The Captain's first officer, Commander Lewis Shorne, was
present to see them off. He was standing in the launch room,
behind the large clear window of the shuttle control room. He
had already shaken hands and wished a safe trip to Mushlik,
Tanaria, and Mark, giving them last minute details on the return
time of the Corona.
Because the personal communications gear was meant strictly for
use on the planet surface, a transmitter satellite was to be
left in orbit. If the distress beacon were activated by anyone
at the observation post, the satellite would beam out an intense
hyperspatial signal, which any ship within a hundred light years
would pick up in a matter of minutes. The hundred pound
satellite had already been placed in an astrosynchronous orbit
some twenty eight thousand miles above the observation post.
Its orbital period matched the length of the Dalthigian day,
thus ensuring that it always hung directly above the observation
post.
Mushlik approached Mark and his daughter.
"Well, let's get going. We're already five minutes behind
schedule. We'll have just enough time to land and unload at
night."
"Good luck" Myer said. He grabbed both of Mark's arms, and
they shook elbows.
He shook hands with Tanaria and then Mushlik, and the three
explorers climbed into the shuttle, through the airlock. Myer
and his copilot, Smith, climbed into the shuttle last, and the
inner and outer airlock doors slid shut and locked.
Within minutes, the passengers had belted themselves, and all
technicians had cleared the deck. With all internal airlocks
sealed, warning klaxons sounded, and a loud rushing noise
surrounded the shuttle, as the entire hangar was depressurized.
From his window, Mark saw that the external hangar door was
sliding open, revealing the distant stars and a sliver of the
blue-green surface of Dalthigia, lit brightly by the sun.
Tanaria heard the words of Myer and Smith as they powered the
engines and ran last minute tests on the flight systems. Her
hearing was more sensitive than that of any human, and she
periodically updated Mark on the launch sequence.
Mushlik was busy beginning his narrative log into his personal
recorder, and he seemed utterly oblivious to the launch.
With a dull roar and some minor vibration, the shuttle lifted
several feet from the shuttle deck and swung to point toward the
hangar exit. The shuttle eased forward at a few feet per
second, and suddenly the deck was gone, replaced by the curving
side of the Corona's outer hull and finally the spectacular
surface of the planet below.
Mark looked back and saw that the hull had resealed. The main
engines of the shuttle came to life, and Mark was pushed back
into his seat.
"We're on our way" Tanaria said.
Below them, the people of Mishria slept.
50.
The moon shone overhead as Lira crept from the back door of the
house. She closed the door quietly against the wooden frame and
turned to climb down the steps leading from the back porch.
After stepping gently onto the flat of grass which led to the
forest, she turned and saw a silhouette of her father, his
shadow wavering in size and position as the flame danced in his
reading lamp. Behind her, the forest lay, black and quiet, with
only the pale orange moonlight to illuminate the way.
She had seen her brother enter the forest nearly a half hour
earlier. Lira knew that he had been climbing down from the loft
window late at night, to steal into the forest where she
suspected he met with others, perhaps to discuss ways and means
of liberating their people.
With the need to protect her brother, she didn't tell her
parents or friends of her suspicions. At the same time, this
protectiveness forced her into the forest on this cool evening,
to find out if he had become entangled in something that was too
dangerous, and beyond the moral bounds with which he had been
raised.
Whispers and rumors of a secret resistance movement had floated
throughout their village and the capital city, borne up by the
lips of gossips who spoke openly against the Cinrekkians. Such
gossips rarely came to trouble in the outlying villages, but,
occasionally, they met their doom by speaking in a crowded place
in the capital, which happened to be seeded with one or more
"listeners", spies in training who were told to report of any
unrest or trouble for the Cinrekkian rule.
Lira walked quietly into the wall of trees, feeling the cold
air which hung below the branches in the night. She followed a
path worn through the brush, which she and others had used. The
path led for almost half a mile, ending at a large stream which
cut a gully through the forest and emptied into the Saras River
just outside the Capital.
Many times she and her brother had played hide-and-seek in the
forest, crouching behind the massive tree trunks, waiting to
spring at a moment's notice to scare the daylights out of
whomever was trying to find them. Now she imagined her brother,
hiding with others behind some large tree, perhaps discussing
their hatred of the Cinrekkians, perhaps fantasizing how they
could overthrow the powerful army which guarded the palace.
Lira had seen what that army could do. Years ago, she had
watched from a hilltop just north of the Capital, as the elite
Mishrian Capital Guard had fallen in less than two hours to the
Cinrekkian troops. She remembered the screams of battle, the
clatter of metal on metal, and the cloud of dust which rose on
that hot, dry day and moved over her on the wind.
Her foot snapped a twig in half, and she stopped, noticing a
flicker of light ahead, dancing on the vines which dangled from
the trees. Her eyes were adjusted to the darkness, and she saw
that a lantern was probably the light source, since a campfire
would be too bright, loud, and odorous for their purposes.
She moved quietly towards the source of light, soon hearing low
voices, with occasional rises in volume. She tried to discern
the voice of her brother, but was unable.
Turning to her left, she jumped in fright. Her brother was
standing with his friend Takob, about ten feet away. They were
watching her furtively, probably relieved that the intruder on
their secret meeting was only an unarmed girl, curious as to the
predictable disappearance of her brother.
Her brother Melki walked up to her and placed his hand on her
shoulder.
"Get back to the house, right now."
"Why?" she whispered. "What are you two doing out here? And
who else is meeting further up ahead?"
"That is none of your business" Takob said, his eyes as serious
as her brother's. "We don't want you getting involved, at least
not now, so just go back to sleep."
"What if I tell Mom and Dad? What would they think about you
climbing out of the loft late at night like this, and having
secret meetings in the forest?"
"You won't tell them" her brother whispered. "You would
destroy everything we are working towards."
"And what is that?" she asked, glaring at him.
"We can talk about all of this later, Lira. For now, just go
quietly back to the house. If they knew what I was doing right
now, even though you're my sister, we could both be in some real
trouble, worse than Mom or Dad."
Lira felt a pit of anxiety in her stomach, and she heard
continued conversation ahead between many voices. She felt for
a moment like rushing forward into the clearing, to see how many
people were there and who they were. She resisted, however,
because of the genuinely serious mood of her brother. She had
never before seen such a look of maturity about him. She knew
that he was becoming entangled in something beyond his control.
"All right. I'll go home. But you'd better tell me what's
going on soon, or I will have to tell Mom and Dad. I'm not
going to let anything bad happen to you, whether you think it's
bad or not."
She turned and walked back towards home, moving as carefully
and quietly as before. In ten minutes, she stood back at the
back door to their home. Her father's shadow was still dancing
against the window, and she slowly opened the door and stepped
inside. She managed to reach her room and climb back into bed,
pulling the blanket over herself.
Lira lay awake in bed for over two hours, before she heard a
faint scraping noise. She hoped it was the sound of her brother
climbing back through the window. When she heard him walking
about his room, she breathed a sign of relief. Closing her
eyes, she fell asleep.
51.
Mark stepped down gently onto Dalthigia, his foot crunching as
it met the coarse gravel. Around him, the sounds of night
insects filled the air, a sound he had become familiar with
while observing recorded footage from the previous expeditions.
It was much different actually being there.
He walked from the shuttle, and, according to regulation, he
engaged his personal cloaker. He could no longer see himself
with his own eyes, but he could hear his footsteps across the
gravel and finally onto a patch of grass.
"Mark" Mushlik's voice said softly over the earphone.
"Yes" he replied quietly.
"We are all cloaked. Shuttle sensor readings corroborate the
findings of the Corona's sensor sweeps. This area seems to be
completely deserted. I'd say the odds that some random Mishrian
would be in this part of the forest at this time of night would
be extremely remote."
"I agree" he heard Myer's voice say. "Let's uncloak."
With flicks of several switches, all of them materialized, very
near each other. Mark had learned that it was regulation
procedure to cloak while disembarking onto a non-friendly world,
both for their protection and for the local inhabitants, as the
Council explorers were forbidden to make themselves known to
such a primitive culture.
Mark could make out Mushlik, Myer, Tanaria, and the two
technicians who had accompanied them for the first phase of the
expedition. They were both middle-aged, like Myer, and they
began the routine of opening up the cargo bay door and dragging
crates away from the shuttle.
Myer and Mushlik, meanwhile, ascended the gravel and scrub
brush covered slope with the aid of a diffuse, red lamp. In a
couple minutes, they rounded the pillar of rock and stood before
the rocky surface of the cliff face.
Mushlik pressed a switch on his belt control unit, and they
heard the sound of the door unlocking itself. With a soft
whining noise, a large section of rock slowly moved outward and
then to the right. The doorway in which they now stood was
about two feet thick, and the rock gave way to a smooth metal
doorway, rectangular in shape.
Mushlik continued inside, noticing that the ventilation and
heating system had already been operating for several hours, as
ordered remotely from the Corona. He switched on low level
lighting, and he breathed deeply while turning about on his
heels.
"It's good to be back" he said.
Myer watched the psychologist as he looked with wonder about
himself at the furnishings of the observation post. Mushlik
disappeared for about a minute. When he emerged outside the
entranceway, he found Myer gazing upward at the thick clouds
which parted occasionally to reveal the stars.
"Everything seems to be in order so far. The computer system
is rebooted, and I bounced a quick message off the Corona.
Communications gear is working well, and we can activate the
emergency beacon satellite as well."
"Great. How's about us stowing the gear away then, before
dawn?"
"Right you are."
They moved back down the slope, skidding in their boots and
raising small clouds of dust in the moonlight.
They found that all of the shipping containers were lying out
on the ground on the near side of the shuttle. The technicians
were placing several of them onto an antigravity palette, and,
with the use of a hand-held remote control unit, the platform
raised silently into the air, hovering at eye level.
One of the technicians issued instructions on the keypad, and
the platform began to float upwards, along the slope leading to
the observation post. The tech followed closely behind it,
dividing his attention between his instructions and the position
and angle of the platform.
Mark felt almost useless, as the containers were too numerous
and heavy to try to drag up the hillside. He stood there and
talked with Mushlik and Tanaria about the various nearby
landmarks, such as the distance and direction to the Capital
City, the Pelosian Sea, and the northern plateau. Mushlik was
pleased to see that Mark had a good sense of direction, and he
even knew which paths to take to reach the main road headed
towards the city.
In another hour, all the gear had been stowed on the floor of
the main living area of the observation post, and the
antigravity platforms had been placed back into the shuttle.
The techs had performed most of their equipment checks from the
Corona, so they only wished to make visual inspections of the
equipment.
The environmental control system was performing perfectly, and
none of the filters needed replacement. The computer was
running and had already taken over automatic operation of all
systems within the observation post.
In another hour, the technicians were satisfied that everything
was functioning safely and efficiently. Mushlik himself, with
the help of Myer, verified the operation of the external viewing
systems, enabling them to see the ground surrounding the base,
and Mark and Tanaria made sure that the food storage units
operated, as well as the oven and stove.
They all walked back down to the shuttle together, where the
copilot was still seated, ready to take off at a moment's notice
due to an emergency. Myer turned first to Mushlik.
"Have a good expedition, David. I know you'll have a good
story to tell when you get back."
They shook hands.
"Tanaria, I know you must be excited, since this is your first
real expedition. Do a good job, so Dad will let ya' come along
on the next one too."
They laughed, and the two shook hands. At last, Myer turned to
Mark.
"Good luck, Mark. It'll feel kind of strange for a while,
bein' on a planet that'll seem in some ways to be like Earth,
but in other ways be totally different. Congratulations and
good luck."
They grabbed each other by the forearms, and Myer turned to
climb inside the shuttle.
The two technicians gave quick farewells, with handshakes and
"good lucks" to all three of them. Smith waved from inside the
shuttle, and Mark finally watched Myer closing and locking the
external hatch.
They walked halfway up the slope and turned to watch the
shuttle lift gently from the ground. Mark admired the grace of
the slender shuttlecraft as it rolled slowly to port. The
engines revved a little higher, and Smith switched off all
external lights.
As the shuttle ascended and flew to the east, Mark could make
out its shape occasionally, in rays of moonlight which pierced
the cloud layer. In less than a minute, the sounds of the night
insects returned, and they entered the observation post, closing
and locking the external door. They had arrived.
The Captain watched the huge image of David Mushlik's face on
the main viewscreen. The psychologist was seated in the
observing area, surrounded by video monitors.
"Everything has checked out perfectly, Captain. I guess we'll
be seeing you in about six weeks."
"Yes" the Captain said softly, resting his rounded chin on his
left hand. To Mushlik, the Captain's skin looked severely
anemic.
"As usual, our sensors will keep one channel open to the
emergency beacon."
"Thank you. On our behalf, I wish you well over the time of
our absence, and we shall be glad to return. With much new and
useful information, of course."
"Of course. Have a safe observing expedition. We are about to
leave orbit and enter hyperspace. The nearest Council
communications outpost knows of your mission and whereabouts,
and they'll be listening as well. Until then, good-bye."
"Good-bye."
The screen changed instantly to a view of Dalthigia, appearing
to rotate slowly beneath them. The Captain marveled at the
unusual beauty of this world, and he thought how wonderful it
would be to spend some time on its many unpopulated tropical
beaches and mountain ranges.
"Helm, take us out of orbit, and set a course for Base 15-A."
"Aye Captain."
The helmsman requested a new course of the auto-navigator,
which performed the necessary computations through the ship's
main computer. The Corona's thrusters fired, and the great ship
left orbit on a pathway out of the Dalthigian solar system.
The spherical vessel would be much too far away for Mark and
the others to watch as it entered hyperspace a half hour later.
52.
The communications officer mashed the earphone into the side of
his head and strained his ears. His stunned expression aroused
interest in the others.
"What is it?" the commander asked.
"I believe the Council ship has just left orbit, headed
completely out of this star system."
"How do you know?"
"I intercepted an uncoded message being sent to a
communications station. The translation indicates that they are
bound for a routine stopover at a Council Base over fifty light
years distant."
The officer looked into the sagging face of his commander.
"Also, I heard the energy flood from her hyperdrive."
"Excellent. Excellent. I suppose they left their
expeditionary party on the planet surface. Well, we shall try
to stay out of their way as much as possible. And when we
attain orbit around the planet, I want the beacon probe located."
"You wish to destroy it?"
"Not yet. But I want to know its location, in case we must do
so later. Navigator, power the engines. I find this moon
boring enough as it is, and we must return to the task at hand."
"Aye, sir."
The Abrax soon lifted from the lunar surface, kicking up a huge
dust cloud as it did. The Bellikan destroyer gleamed in the
sunlight as it emerged from beneath the rim of the crater in
which it had lain for several days.
As the navigator powered the ship's engines to full, a faint
plasma tail became visible behind the craft. The violet exhaust
plume brightened as the engines were throttled up, and it banked
sharply to starboard to avoid a mountain.
Then, with the grace of a sea ray, the Abrax arched upward,
into the starry sky, attaining orbit.
"Upon reaching orbit around the planet, signal base that our
operations can recommence, as the Council vessel has departed."
The Bellikan commander watched the planet swing into view as
the engines were engaged to leave lunar orbit.
"How beautiful this planet is" he said, softly enough so that
only he could hear his words. "Perhaps someday I shall retire
to this planet. I'm sure an engineer would be willing to erect
a comfortable home in the western mountains, far from these
naive primitives."
"Olg" he said loudly.
"Yes Commander" the voice said over his command chair speaker.
"Get ready for your next drop. I'm sure base will want you to
reestablish contact with that military governor you're dealing
with."
"Aye."
Olg climbed slowly into the large metal suit, with the help of
a midshipman. After securing the helmet, he engaged the
ventilation system. He breathed in the cool, dry air.
"Ah, that's better. Here, I'll test the cloaker."
He pressed a button inside the suit, and he disappeared from
view.
"Working perfectly" the midshipman said.
"Good came the reply", and he reappeared, flexing the stiff
gloves that were the hands of Dyzan's emissary to the
Cinrekkians.
"These damn primitives. It's not fun, having to act like a
god."
"Or his emissary" the midshipman said.
"What would you know? Hell, you were still clinging to your
mother's breast when I was on my first mission. The Akbar
tribe, on a planet a third of the galaxy away from here. We
found rich Terginium deposits underground, so we had to learn
their language, research their mythology. Like all primitive
tribes, they had a hundred gods and goddesses. We had our pick
to choose from, whether we wanted the god of the sun, the water."
"Which did you choose?"
"I didn't choose. The head of the expedition figured out that
I should be Vashna."
"The god of--"
"No, the goddess..."
"Ah, that must've been quite a challenge."
"I had my voice deepened quite a bit. The women on their
planet, though they bear children, have the deeper voice. So I
became Vashna, the goddess of the underworld."
"That makes sense. You wanted to mine underground, so what
better part to play."
"Indeed, what better part."
"We'll be over the palace in a few minutes. Ready?"
"Ready" he said with boredom, awaiting his apparition to the
Cinrekkian warriors.
Soon, the scout ship he occupied would detach from the
destroyer, once they had attained orbit around Dalthigia.
53.
In the morning mist which moved through the streets of the
city, one can be nearly blinded by the glare of the rising sun.
As its orange rays caused the mist to glow, Lira shielded her
eyes but continued on at the same pace.
As her eyes adjusted to the glare, she saw that others were
walking near her, through the street, toward the chapel where
Etar was about to speak. She had learned from friends of her
father that Etar now preached to the people of Mishria every
day. His work as a saltblocker had become secondary to his
spiritual mission.
Her father's friends, carpenters who lived only two blocks from
the chapel, spoke of Etar with mixed feelings. They had heard
him on occasion during the past month, and they thought he was
preaching weakness to the Mishrians, to accept the yolk of
slavery and poverty from the Cinrekkians. One of the men
considered the possibility that Etar was a Cinrekkian spy,
placed strategically to thwart attempts at a revolt. On the
other hand, they related the warm feeling they experienced as he
spoke of the will of Lamper.
Like Etar, Lira also thought that Lamper loved all people, not
just the people of Mishria. She had often thought one's
geographical borders were of little or no importance. She knew
of many evil Mishrians. Lira felt that a kind Cinrekkian would
make a far better friend and neighbor than a betraying Mishrian.
She caught sight of the chapel up ahead. It was typical in
construction, consisting of layers of hewn stone, now bright in
the morning sun. The structure was square in shape, about fifty
feet on a side, with walls one story tall. A wood shingled roof
rose from all four sides of the building, to meet in a sharp
point at the structure's center.
Atop this point, the Hand of Lamper stood, its three golden
fingers spread in the gesture of the Mishrian priests, a symbol
of the creative, preserving, and destructive forces of Lamper.
"Quickly!" she heard a woman say to her husband, "He is about
to begin!"
The man, hobbling along slowly with a wooden walking stick,
finally passed through the doorway. Lira entered next, and she
could smell the morning inside, mixed with the odor of the aging
wooden shingles.
Oil lamps burned at regular intervals about the chapel walls,
lighting the interior with a warm glow. Two slit-like windows
pierced the solidity of the front wall of the chapel, and Lira
could see Etar sitting on the lectern platform, his form edged
with the morning light that filtered through the window.
The voices of the people grew silent, and Lira heard infants
being quieted. Etar rose from his sitting posture on the
platform, and he spread his arms wide.
"I bid you peace" he said at last. The people responded with
the same message, and they turned to each other and repeated
this gesture, to as everyone within arm's reach. When they had
quieted and turned back to him, Etar continued.
"I was summoned before the high priest of Mishria just
yesterday. Priest Halfa wanted to hear my words, the same that
I speak to you, Lamper's children, each day. He is a very
learned man, able to speak six languages, and versed in the ways
of theology. He asked me what I thought of various dogmas of
our faith, and I replied in each case that I found them somewhat
lacking in importance."
He heard a slight murmur in the assembly.
"I said that Lamper does not want us to study it, to say
exactly what food we can or cannot eat by the word of Lamper.
How we hold our hands as we wash is not important. How we bow,
in which sequence our knees touch the floor of the temple, is
meaningless."
Etar walked slowly about the platform.
"What matters is how we love each other, how we care for the
sick and dying, how we teach our children. If we bow with the
left knee first but hold a grudge against our neighbor, of what
merit is this?"
Lira was captivated by his speech. He said exactly what she
felt in her heart. She jumped when a woman shouted something
from behind her.
"Why must we live under the oppressors? Don't tell me that is
of Lamper!"
"No, it is not of Lamper. But at the same time, we must love
our conquerors as we would any fellow Mishrian. We are all
children of Lamper."
"Then we must live in slavery?" she said again, slowly pushing
through the assembly, towards Etar. Lira could see that she
wore the robe of a priest, the white fabric touching the floor
as she walked in her sandals.
"If Lamper is in our hearts, if every action of our lives
speaks of the wisdom and love of the Most High, then we cannot
be slave to anyone or anything. Not even death, and certainly
not Cinrekkia."
"Our temple is desecrated--"
"No, for our temple is not a stone structure which houses the
elite priests who keep strangely silent during the oppression,
fearing that they might be thrown from their lofty positions of
power by the Cinrekkians. The temple is the heart, and that is
where Lamper dwells!"
He said this with fire, and Lira felt moved back by his words.
The priest stomped her feet in anger.
"You are a spy, sent to make us gentle and submissive, to do
whatever they say. You would have us believe that Lamper is
content to have us suffer under the rule of heathens!"
The congregation began shouting and milling about, some trying
to leave the chapel, others trying to get at either Etar or the
priest. Lira felt the pressing of many people against her. The
chapel was erupting into a riot.
She turned and saw a Cinrekkian soldier standing at the
entrance to the chapel. He looked about for several seconds and
then ran, undoubtedly to summon others to quell the uprising.
Turning back toward the front of the chapel, Lira saw that
almost a dozen people had surrounded Etar, their hands held in
front of them with their backs to him, protecting him from any
threat. The priest was being jostled angrily by the crowd, and
Lira heard her shouting and screaming at the top of her lungs.
Lira tried to turn around, but she was suddenly shoved
violently forward by something flat and solid. As she rolled to
the side, she saw the armor of Cinrekkian troops glinting in the
lamplight. They forced their way forward, clubs above their
heads, their metal shields positioned in front of them.
She rose to her feet and begin moving towards the door, through
which several hundred men, women, and children were streaming.
As she exited the chapel, Lira felt anger towards the priest,
who sought nothing more than the preservation and furthering of
her own power. The priest sought influence over people, not
hearts, in her own name, and not in that of Lamper.
Once outside the chapel, she ran across the road to the
salthouse. Lira found a place to hide, behind two wooden
crates. She stayed there for almost a half hour, watching the
few people lingering outside the chapel. Dozens of others from
the surrounding city had gathered to the left of the
entranceway, and they pointed their fingers and shouted at the
Cinrekkian troops who emerged.
In the midst of the soldiers, Etar walked, his hands bound
behind himself with rope. The soldiers shoved him and poked his
back and chest with their sticks, making fun of him in their
native tongue.
As the guards marched towards the palace, a Mishrian boy picked
up a rock on the side of the road and hurled it towards them.
The rock rang off a guard's armor, and the soldier fell to the
ground. The guard quickly regained his stance and turned to see
the boy romping about on the ground, jeering at the soldiers and
gathering more rocks from the road.
The onlookers shouted for his parents, but Lira could see that
no one present knew the boy or his family. The boy began
running towards the guards, throwing smaller stones as he went.
His face furrowed with rage, the guard ran towards the boy, the
wooden club clenched tightly in his fist. Lira watched, and to
her the entire scene took place in slow motion.
She saw the sudden look of terror in the boy's eyes, as his
mouth opened, and he began wailing for his mother. She saw the
stones fall from his limp hands to the ground, kicking up dirt
as they landed.
The guard slowed to a walk and was now only fifteen feet from
the boy, who turned to see the stony faces of the onlookers.
"I'll beat you to a pulp" the guard shouted in his Cinrekkian
tongue.
He raised the club into the air, and suddenly, from beyond his
view, someone dove in front of the boy, snatching him and
carrying him several feet before falling to the ground.
The onlookers were stunned. The other guards watched in
amazement as the young woman stood up and beat the dust from her
tunic. She reached down and hoisted the boy to his feet, and
then, kneeling at his side, she cleaned the dust from his face
and the tears from his eyes.
The guard reached down and grabbed the young woman by the arm,
and she stood before him, face to face.
"Who are you?" he said in thickly accented Mishrian.
"I am Lira of Sekath."
"You are the mother of this criminal?" he bellowed in
Cinrekkian.
Lira looked puzzled but could tell the guard was enraged.
"You are coming with us!" he shouted again in a thick accent.
"No, no, I must go home" she said.
She resisted the guard, and he began dragging her by the arm.
An onlooker shouted at him and stepped forward, and he heard the
sound of half a dozen swords being unsheathed. When he saw the
polished Cinrekkian blades gleaming in the sunlight, he stepped
back into the crowd.
Lira finally stood and walked with the guard, who was at least
a foot taller than her. With his golden helmet and plumed
crest, he seemed a giant. When Lira joined the other guards,
one of them bound her hands to those of the boy, and the entire
group began marching toward the palace.
As they walked, Lira looked around and saw that the guards were
more interested in who was watching them, wary that at any
moment someone might hurl a stone at them.
Lira was terrified. The soldiers thought her to be the boy's
mother. Hopefully, those at the palace would speak Mishrian, so
she could explain the mistake. At the same time, she wanted to
protect the boy. By his wobbling gait and the vacant look in
his eyes, Lira surmised that he was an idiot from birth and
didn't know the gravity of his actions.
As they continued, the boy began crying, and Lira tried to calm
him. It was then that she felt a strong hand on her arm. She
looked up from the boy's tear-filled face. Etar was walking
with them. This should have been obvious to her, but her
protectiveness of the boy had overshadowed her sensibilities.
"Thank you" she said. As she looked into his eyes, she found
strength..
"You're welcome" he said. "Thank you for saving the boy.
They would probably have killed him if it weren't for you."
One of the guards growled several words in Cinrekkian.
"My name is Lira" she said. "I heard you speak once before. I
believe in what you preach."
"I don't preach" Etar said. "I merely speak the words of
Lamper which well in my heart."
"Be quiet!" one of the guards shouted.
"We can talk later" Etar said.
"Will they harm us or imprison us?"
"Probably not. At least not you and the boy." Etar's face
remained calm and unshaken, and they continued on to the palace,
to where Taythlin and his officers had finally communicated
again with the minion of Dyzan.
54.
"The computer does a better of job of steering the probe.
Observe."
Mushlik adjusted the controls on the console, and the camera's
view steadied. The probe was a miniature vehicle, nearly
spherical and only a foot in diameter. Its low power
electromagnetic drive system assured silent operation.
Because of its small size, it was easily cloaked, and its
onboard reactor enabled it to remain so for over a day at a
time. The probe was equipped with visible, infrared, and x-ray
cameras, as well as advanced audio microphone systems. This
enabled the observers to pilot the vehicle into places they dare
not tread in person, to eavesdrop on the affairs of whomever
they chose.
"It's a beautiful day outside" Tanaria remarked. The probe
displayed the vivid blue sky as it skimmed over the outskirts of
the city of Moga. Using the emergency drone satellite in orbit
around Dalthigia as a relay station greatly enhanced the probe's
telemetry range, to cover roughly half the planet. Due to its
limited speed and power supply, however, the probes were never
allowed more than two hundred miles from the observation post.
"The first place we should investigate is the palace. Daily
hearings are held in the main chamber by the Cinrekkian military
leaders."
"What kinds of hearings?" Mark asked.
"Criminal proceedings. Anything that the Mishrians have done
wrong, from killing someone to badmouthing a Cinrekkian soldier.
The Cinrekkians run a pretty tight ship, and there are many
spies and informants under their pay."
The probe slowed, and the camera system swung to afford a view
of the palace. The building was huge compared to the
surrounding buildings of the city, its outer walls dotted with
arched windows. They saw the massive, wooden doors which led to
the palace courtyard, as well as the iron portcullis which hung
above the entranceway, able to be lowered by the gate watchmen
at a moment's notice.
"How long do the hearings last?"
"Usually about three or four hours" Tanaria answered. "It just
depends on how many cases must be heard, as well as what other
pressing matters are at hand. If a revolt were on, I'm sure the
Cinrekkians wouldn't have their leadership hearing about petty
theft."
The probe slowed to about five miles per hour, now moving only
ten or fifteen feet from the ground. It passed effortlessly
through the massive, arched entranceway, and its camera's
adjusted to the darkness within the main chamber.
"Incredible architecture" Mark remarked.
The probe moved a foot per second now, panning around the
central chamber, which was the size of a small auditorium. The
chamber was cubic in shape, with a gently arched and
decoratively painted ceiling. The mosaic tiled floor was dotted
with Cinrekkian troops, who guarded Mishrians awaiting their
hearings.
"Computer, bring the probe directly over the throne, and engage
the translator for both the Cinrekkian and Mishrian languages."
The large oil fired chandeliers which hung overhead were an
imposing sight, and the probe moved underneath the largest of
them. It was circular and fashioned of wood and wrought iron.
Below, under the steady yellow light of the oil flames, sat
Taythlin and his chief officers.
The probe microphones were switched on, and they listened to
the voice of Taythlin. He was seated on the ornate throne
chair, its shiny silver and gold metalwork extending over a foot
above Taythlin's head. The arms of the chair were padded with a
soft, blue fabric, below which jewels and engravings were inlaid
into the metalwork.
Before them stood a short Mishrian man, his hands folded on his
potbelly. He looked at the floor, his eyes shifting
occasionally to the guards who flanked him. The physical
appearance of the Dalthigians was striking, their dark skin and
large, circular eyes making them appear somewhat frog-like.
Their arms and legs were approximately human in proportion to
the total body size, but the head was somewhat larger. The
height of the average Dalthigian adult was about five feet.
Dalthigian women possessed a single breast, rather large, which
was situated just to the left of the center of their chest.
Their facial features were a little softer than the male face,
which possessed rougher skin and thick bearding between the ears
and chin.
"You are found guilty of assaulting the man in question"
Taythlin began. "Your sentence is twenty days of hard labor, in
the salt mines. That is all."
The Mishrian swayed slightly on his feet while hearing the
sentence, his plain, brown robe dragging on the ground as he
heard the words of the military governor. The Cinrekkian guards
approached and grabbed his arms, slowly leading him away to be
delivered to the salt mine for his appointed work detail.
"We have found that the Cinrekkians, though imperialistic and
militarily vicious, have a remarkable sense of jurisprudence.
Take that case for example" Mushlik said. "We probably all
know of civilizations where the convict would merely be tossed
into an underground dungeon for a week, or possibly even killed
on the spot. This governor, named Taythlin, possesses a certain
degree of wisdom."
They heard shouts from the main entranceway. The probe camera
was panned upward. A handful of Cinrekkian troops were
escorting a Mishrian man, woman, and child forward, pushing
their way past the several groups of Mishrians awaiting their
turn.
"There has been a riot" the chief guard shouted to Taythlin.
"This man has incited a riot!"
Taythlin suddenly rose to his feet and gathered up his robe.
"Bring the prisoners forward" he commanded.
The guards obliged, and soon, Etar, Lira, and the nameless boy
stood before the military governor of Mishria. They came very
close to the throne, and Taythlin slowly descended the steps,
ending on the floor of the main chamber.
"Who are you?" he asked in Mishrian. Taythlin had been tutored
long and hard on the Mishrian language before the conquest, so
that he could more effectively deal with his colonial subjects.
"I am Etar" the man said.
Taythlin turned briefly to Lira and the boy. "Are they your
wife and son?"
"No" Etar said, his face remaining firm. Lira felt herself
blush.
"Guard, explain this man's crime."
The guard who had been used for target practice stepped
forward. The other soldiers stood side by side, at attention.
"He caused a riot in the chapel not more than five blocks from
the temple" the guard said in Cinrekkian.
"I caused no riot" Etar said.
Taythlin's eyes widened, and he walked to within inches of the
preacher of peace. "You know the language of the Empire?"
Etar nodded.
"And where did you learn it?"
"Like most of my people, I am literate. There are translated
writings in the Central Library."
"Very good. And for what reason did you learn our language?
To subvert us?"
"No." Etar grew silent, so Taythlin pressed him, his brow
becoming more green than brown as it furrowed.
"Why then?" he asked.
"To bring my words to you, I learned your language."
Taythlin looked puzzled. "What words?"
"The message of Lamper, one of peace and compassion. Those
before me were charged with the power of spreading the divine
mission of Lamper amongst the people of Mishria. However, you
and I are both children of the one true Lamper."
"I see. So you are a prophet. I follow the faith of the god
of war, Dyzan. I don't need your words of peace and love. My
conquests are won with the sword and the shield."
"That is all you have ever known. Even as a child, that is all
you knew. Your father's lack of time spent in raising you is an
example."
As Etar spoke these words, Taythlin's eyes widened with
surprise, and his mouth hung open. He stepped back once, then
stumbled back onto the stairs, sitting up and watching as Etar
spoke of the military governor's youth. His advisors rose from
their seats, as they also knew the words to be true. The
guards, not knowing of their validity, stood and watched
skeptically, hoping for a harsh judgment.
"You are a remarkable man, Etar. How do you know these things."
"His words are meaningless" his chief officer said. "It
doesn't take much to realize that because military authority is
passed from father to son, that your father was also a
conquering general. And it only makes sense that a conquering
general does not have much time to spend with his wife, whose
duty it is to raise the children."
Taythlin seemed relieved by these words, and he stood up and
remained on the steps.
"Yes, yes, of course, how foolish of me." He looked into
Etar's eyes.
Mushlik looked up from the viewscreen. "This is very
significant. He is preaching in the chapels, perhaps even the
main temple of the Mishrians. By his manner, he doesn't seem to
be a revolutionary zealot."
"Then why was there a riot in the chapel?"
"Perhaps he's saying something the Mishrians refuse to hear.
Oh, this is incredible!"
Mushlik checked that the recorders were running. They were
observing a historical occasion, when the first prophet during
the time of Mishrian subjugation had appeared.
Taythlin's chief officer walked to his side and whispered into
his ear. "If he is preaching peace to all people, perhaps it is
wise to free him."
"Why, if he has incited a riot? We need peace and order,
especially in Moga."
"I agree, but peace excludes the possibility of revolt, does it
not? Perhaps he is preaching submission to our rule."
Taythlin looked to Etar.
"In your vision of a world without war, what should be done to
those powers which seek to conquer other nations?"
"Nothing violent should be done. By the example of the lives
of the people of Lamper who dwell about and amongst them, the
hearts of the conquerors will soften and someday hear the word
of peace. It is by our witness to Lamper that those outside the
faith are drawn forward, to entrust their lives to the greatest
of all powers."
Taythlin looked to the officer and nodded, now in agreement
with his advice.
"Why did the people riot, if you preach your words of peace?"
"It was the woman priest who started the riot" Lira said
suddenly, stepping forward.
"Who have we here? A woman who comes to the defense of a
prophet?"
"This woman intervened as I tried to punish the boy" the
soldier said.
"What could this little boy do to hurt you?"
"He threw rocks at me."
"Violence against any of my men is a grave offense."
Taythlin walked to the boy, who clung to Lira, his arms
embracing her waist, his head at her side. Taythlin placed his
hand on the boy's chin. The child stood there, shivering and
mumbling aimlessly, obviously unable to speak properly. His
eyes looked clouded, and he slobbered onto Lira's dress.
"Is he your son?"
"No, but he is obviously an idiot. I was protecting him. He
doesn't know what he's doing, and I couldn't find his parents."
Taythlin's eyes grew softer. "So, you were listening to Etar,
when the riot occurred?"
"Yes" Lira replied. "A temple priest shouted against his
message of peace, calling instead for a way of violence against
your rule. I ran from the temple, and your soldiers entered,
taking Etar away. As he was being led to this place, the boy
threw rocks at the soldiers, and this man charged the boy with a
club after being struck. I stepped in to protect the boy."
"Ah, that is very good. Thank you for explaining to me what
has happened."
Taythlin walked to the group of soldiers and questioned them
quietly. In another minute, he turned to Lira and Etar.
"You are free to go, prophet of ... Lamper. Continue to preach
your words. Let the woman's sentence for intervening in the
actions of my soldier be to restore the child to his parents.
That is all."
He walked quickly up the stone steps and sat down on the
throne. Taythlin watched Lira and Etar exit the palace, the boy
still clinging to her.
"Let us hope that his preaching of peace doesn't cause more
trouble than good for our purposes" another officer said.
"Indeed, let us make sure of this. I want one of our spies to
be present every time this Etar speaks. Let him report back to
me what he finds after the first day, then every two days,
unless he finds something urgent that we should know
immediately."
"Yes, sir" his officer replied. He immediately left the main
chamber, to select the best informant for the job.
55.
Etar walked next to Lira, the boy between them. They stood
near the chapel, the wind swirling about them, occasional
passersby recognizing them from the earlier incident.
"I don't know this place very well. His parents could live
anywhere in the city."
"I have seen his parents before" Etar said, looking with a
smile at the boy's upturned face. "I think that house over
there is where he lives."
Etar pointed to a small house, set back from the street,
nestled in a small stand of trees. As they began walking over
the grassy slope leading to it, the boy pointed his finger and
cried with delight. Lira bent down and looked into the boy's
eyes.
"Is that home? Is that your home? Mom and Dad?"
The boy's smile grew very wide, and he began laughing. They
continued on until reaching the front door. Etar used the black
iron door knocker, and the door soon swung open.
An old woman stood in the doorway, her face perspiring and
shiny from working over a fire. She looked with surprise at her
son, then at Etar.
"What has he done now?" she asked.
"He got into some trouble with a soldier."
Her face went white. "What kind of soldier?"
"A Cinrekkian guardsman. He struck one with a rock, and Lira
protected him from the guard's attack."
The woman shifted her glance to Lira. "Thank you. Thank you.
Are they coming for me now? When are they coming?"
"Don't worry" Etar said soothingly, placing his hand on the
woman's arm. "We explained what happened, and he is free to go.
Your house is free of guilt."
"Oh, thank Lamper" she said, her hand on her chest as she
sighed with relief. "This is the worst thing he's ever done.
He has hollered at the soldiers before, but never done violence
to them. They must understand. He is not normal. He's a
little ... slow."
"I understand" Etar said. "We are all slow children to Lamper.
Maybe he's just a bit slower than most of us. But he is still
a child to be loved and cherished."
"Yes, you're right" the woman said. "Thank you for risking
your own freedom for Atki" she said. Lira smiled, and the boy
tugged on her dress.
"Would you like to stay for dinner? My husband is always ill
these days, you see, and so I must cook. We would be honored to
have you."
"Thank you, but I--"
"We'd love to sit down with you" Etar said, smiling at Lira
with a slight nod of his head.
"Here, come in." The woman turned and moved into the dark
interior of the house.
"I have to be getting home" Lira said nervously. "My family is
expecting me for dinner."
"I'd like you to meet Atki's father. You can leave now if you
wish, but please stay for just a little while. You'll find him
an interesting man."
"Oh, all right."
She followed Etar and the boy into the house, and she gently
closed the door behind her.
The house was laid out very simply. They stood now in the
central living area. A fireplace crackled to their left, over
which a metal pot steamed and bubbled. Lira could smell bread
baking in the oven which stood next to the fireplace.
A wooden table and four chairs stood at the center of the room.
The woman hurriedly placed two more ceramic plates at the
remaining places at the table, and she disappeared for a moment
into another room.
Lira could hear her talking in a hushed tone, and she heard a
man's voice, speaking at a low volume. The woman emerged from
the room and smiled at them.
"My husband will be out in a moment. His legs are very bad,
and it takes him a while, with the pain."
"I'm sorry" Etar said. He watched the little boy tossing small
scraps of wood into the fire. Atki pulled back with a start,
having burned his finger by poking at the fire with a long twig.
His mother took no notice.
Etar walked behind the woman.
"So, how long have you lived here?"
The woman failed to answer him. Lira thought her rude, so Etar
walked back around to face her.
"How long have you been living here?"
"Oh, for about ten years now."
"Has your hearing always been bad?"
The woman blushed. "Oh, I had the fever when I was a just a
baby. I can hear myself talking, but that's about it."
"Here" Etar said. Very calmly, he walked up to her, and he
cupped his hands over her ears. "My creator wills that you hear
again."
She jumped back away from the preacher, her eyes wide with
amazement. She clapped her hands and listened to her son
playing near the fireplace. As she looked at Etar, tears
welling from her eyes, she fell to her knees.
"I can hear again! I can hear! It is a miracle. You have
healed me!"
56.
Taythlin walked down the ancient stone stairway. The centurion
to his left held a large oil lamp, its orange flame dancing as
they descended. The air was damp and still.
"So, this is the deepest we can go beneath ground level?"
"Yes, commander. At least, without digging."
"Are there passageways beneath this city which extend farther
down?"
"Yes, but they are narrow, and would require too much
excavation to be of use. These are the temple burial caves.
They have large entranceways and wide passages, perfect for the
mining."
"Very good. How far underground are we now?"
They reached the bottom of the stairs and stood in a passage,
lit dimly by lamps anchored to the walls.
"About eight stories. The storage floors under the temple
extend down four stories, and the burial chambers go down from
there, to this bottom level."
"Ah, there are our men now."
They walked quickly through the passage, the walls inlaid with
smooth stone. Along the walls, at roughly twenty foot
intervals, there were darker squares of stone, with epitaphs for
the deceased, who lay just behind the wall.
Taythlin stopped before the group of Cinrekkian laborers, who
had begun digging and picking their way into the wall which the
servant of Dyzan had designated. They had progressed about
thirty feet, and they lined the passage with heavy timbers, to
support the ceiling from collapse.
For the moment, they rested, aware that their supreme commander
was inspecting their progress. Their labored breathing echoed
through the catacombs.
"Impressive. You have made much progress" Taythlin said,
smiling as he skirted the laborers and stepped several feet
inside the newly dug tunnel. "We shall find jewels beyond
compare."
His centurion looked surprised. "They are that close to the
surface?"
"Yes. The minion of Dyzan has spoken, saying that this is the
best place, where the jewels are directly below the temple
catacombs."
"Now that we have progressed a sufficient distance" the
centurion said, "we shall begin to slope the passage, to take us
into the heart of the gem deposits."
"Excellent. And now, please head back towards the catacomb
stairway. I wish to be alone here for a little while."
"Yes, commander" the centurion said. He and the other
soldiers immediately began their walk back through the
passageway, and when Taythlin saw that they had disappeared
behind the far corner of the tunnel, he turned to the dark
interior of the newly hollowed passage.
"We have done the will of Dyzan" he said. "I pray that you are
pleased."
In front of him, near the end of the tunnel, the silvery minion
slowly became visible, its metallic skin glinting dully in the
light from the oil lamps. Taythlin was very nervous, his skin
clammy in the cave, and he hoped that he would be found
deserving in the eyes of his god.
"You have done well, Taythlin, servant of Dyzan" the apparition
said in a whisper. Its words seemed to emanate from the rock
itself.
"Your servant is grateful to serve you." Taythlin bowed in
respect.
"Continue down at a steep angle from here. For another two
weeks you must burrow, into the cold ground. At the end of that
time, widen the passage, large enough for ten soldiers to walk
abreast."
"It is done, according to your will."
"Excellent. Dyzan is most pleased. At the completion of the
tunnel, including its widening, I shall appear again to you."
Taythlin fell to his knees as the image of the minion grew very
bright for a second, and then instantly disappeared. He slowly
rose to his feet and turned. He was now alone, amid the
flickering of the oil lamps. Shaking off the cold of the cave,
Taythlin walked back towards his men.
57.
"Very good" the commander said, watching the clear picture of
the tunnel from his viewscreen. "In another minute, set a
course back to base."
"Aye" the ensign said, laying in the course ahead of time on
the computer.
The Bellikan commander knew that they would have to recede into
the hills very quietly, as they now hovered silently above the
capital city of Mishria, a mere hundred or so feet above the
palace walls. Using most of the ship's power, the holographic
projection had been successful, with little or no image breakup
after passing through the many intervening layers of stone.
"Soon enough, we must order the construction of the blockhouse,
to be positioned directly above the catacombs, to the north of
the temple."
"We have the plans completed, sir. They must only be
delivered."
"Good, then when we next make ourselves known to Taythlin,
these plans must be delivered. This must be done, therefore, in
the palace garden. We can't hand him a holographic set of
plans."
The commander switched the display to an exterior view of the
city below, watching the dimly lit streets, deserted this late
at night.
The Bellikan shuttlecraft moved silently over the city, bound
for their base.
58.
"Thus," continued Mushlik "I believe there has been an
incredibly significant event in the history of Mishria -- the
appearance of a prophet."
"Luckily, the Cinrekkians didn't kill him on the spot."
"Yes, Mark, but you are presupposing a bias on our part. You
used the word luckily as though we are hoping for the eventual
liberation of the Mishrian people. We are to be impartial
observers, not --"
"That's true, but I cannot deny my own feelings. The very fact
that we are here to study the Mishrians indicates a certain
predisposition to their survival. If the Cinrekkians tonight
were to kill every Mishrian in the entire world, wouldn't you be
at least a little disappointed?"
"Yes, but that wouldn't happen. Mishria is merely a colony, to
support the wealth of the Cinrekkian Empire. It would be to
their ultimate disadvantage to do such a thing. I'm just saying
that we can't really pick sides."
"I agree" Tanaria said. "To do so might bias our study. I
think we're all in agreement that slavery is a bad thing, and in
that sense we hope the Mishrians someday enjoy freedom. But we
cannot affect that history, and, as has been seen in the past, a
bias sometimes influences the observer to fight for the cause of
the enslaved."
"Don't worry, Tanaria, I won't stoop to that. I'll uphold the
policy of noninterference. At the same time, I'm not ashamed to
admit, nor do I think it makes me any less professional, to say
that hopefully the Mishrians will someday be free. They are a
monotheistic people, much like the people of Israel under the
power of Rome. I feel my roots here in a sense. I cannot be
denied the strong feelings evoked from a situation that I have
read and learned about since my earliest childhood memories.
Are you a believer, David?"
Mark realized for the first time that Mushlik and Tanaria had
never discussed with him their own religious beliefs. They
approached such matters scientifically, always differentiating
themselves from the issues being raised.
"I am a monotheist, as I believe my daughter is as well."
Tanaria nodded slowly.
"My beliefs are more universalist, however" Tanaria continued.
"I believe that dogma does more harm than good. If religion
does not go hand in hand with a deeply personal and shared
spirituality, a true way of life, then that religion is merely
some social, political, or economic instrument."
"I know what you mean. To many people, Catholicism is bingo, a
pope who always has to be right, and a string of rosary beads.
But, on the other side of the coin, what do most Catholics do to
dispel those impressions? They lie, they're just as greedy,
they're just as prone to marital problems as the average
non-Catholic Christian. In essence, there is very little in the
life of a Catholic or any other Christian which differentiates
them from a non-believer, if they're not spiritual."
"And what does it mean to be spiritual?"
Mark looked Mushlik squarely in the eyes. "Being spiritual
enables a dialogue, from one's deep, innermost, reflected
thoughts, to one's everyday actions, those within and outside
the walls of a house of worship or a temple. I believe these
thoughts can be either self-generated or involve a certain level
of ... communication ... with a divine reality."
"Very nicely put" Tanaria said. "Our native history is full of
sectarian religions, which usually began with good intentions
but which soon evolved into institutions, for the furthering of
people's power and wealth. Many of our people are still part of
such religions. My father was brought up in such an atmosphere,
and he went off on his own after a while, searching for a deeply
personal and communicative bond with the Supreme Reality."
"But I still consider myself within the bounds of the core,
central beliefs of my native religion." Mushlik piped in.
They sat for a while quietly, occasionally sipping on their
mugs of hot coffee.
"Well, tomorrow is a big day for all of us." Mushlik finally
said. "Tomorrow, by three o'clock, we have to be on our way,
through the forest route, until we reach Road A to the city."
Mark felt nervous. "You mean we're going to walk among them?"
"Why, of course. You knew all along we would do this to record
detailed information. But I know the feeling. It's one thing
to theorize and plan such things when you're still ten million
miles away from your objective, and it's quite a different thing
to switch on your personal cloaker and step into a crowd of
aliens, all the while having to rely on the integrity of your
equipment and your training."
Mark nodded in agreement.
"I'll lead, at first at least" Mushlik said. Let's be up, oh,
around 2:30. Which gives us about seven hours of sleep."
He stood from the table and tipped back his mug and drained it.
"Goodnight you two."
Tanaria gave him a goodnight kiss on the cheek, and the
psychologist disappeared into his sleeping quarters. Mark
looked across the table at Tanaria, who was playing with her mug.
"Are you nervous?"
Tanaria looked up into his eyes. "Yes, afraid would actually
be a better word."
They both laughed, realizing that they were not yet the
explorers they had thought themselves to be.
"Another thing I want to do soon is to check out the caves that
Aron once explored" Mark said. "There might be more
interesting artifacts there."
"I'm afraid it would be impossible to make it through all the
rubble."
"Rubble?"
"Yes, there was a massive cave-in near the end of Aron's tour
of duty, and he recounted that the earth had caved in so
completely that, by the time of the arrival of the next
expedition, it would be impossible to see where the original
cave had been."
"I had no idea. We could probe for the cave location."
"Aron did that, at least that's what Dad said. He found that
earth and rock had filled the areas of the cave holding the
artifacts he had been studying. He used a pretty powerful
scanner."
Mark felt sudden disappointment, realizing that one of his most
hoped for areas of exploration was now inaccessible.
"Oh well, maybe I'll hike over that way, just to record how
things have changed since the last expedition."
With that, they switched off the lights, and, before separating
to their separate bunks, they made love very, very quietly.
59.
The air was crisp and chilly as they emerged from the
accessway. They were cloaked for the moment, and would probably
disengage the devices within several minutes, once they were
sure of their safety.
Several creatures had been detected by the infrared detector,
but the computer had identified these as birds and small
foraging mammals, much like rabbits, which grazed on the lush
vegetation of the forests. Mark watched one of them rustle
amongst the grasses at the bottom of the slope.
It was unaware of his presence, as he was downwind from it.
Even though visually cloaked, he still possessed an odor, even
when wearing his light environmental suit, which was sealed
around his entire body, save his face and hands. One
disadvantage of investigating an alien culture was the
possibility that one could be "sniffed out" by certain creatures.
He felt Tanaria's hand fumble down his side until she found
his, and they held hands for a minute, as Mushlik's breathing
became audible, just behind them.
"Are we all here?"
"Yes" they replied.
"Are all systems functioning normally?"
"Yes, cloaking devices and communicators" each said in turn as
they ran self checks.
"Let's go" Mushlik said happily.
They watched the access door seal shut and lock, and suddenly,
they stood in silence. As their ears became attuned to the
sounds of early morning, they heard the small animal at the
bottom of the slope, the chirping of insects, and the
occasional flapping of wings of birds which were slowly taking
to flight from their night roosts.
Leaves rustled about them in the breeze, which cooled their
faces as they slowly began their descent along the slope. As
they began to move, the grazing animal stood up on its hind
legs. It sniffed the air and bolted into the forest.
In a minute, they stood at the bottom of the slope, and Mark
looked upward, for the first time, into an unfamiliar sky of
stars. The plane of the Milky Way was easily visible, which for
a moment gave the illusion that he was back on earth, but the
constellations were all wrong. He watched one of Dalthigia's
two moons slowly rising in the east, its surface appearing
orange through the refractive layers of the atmosphere.
Mushlik took in a deep breath of air, and the others did as
well, smelling the faint odors of pollen, a different perfume
than they knew from their respective home worlds. Mark
experienced a powerful nostalgia. He felt at home here and
alien at the same time.
He remembered the cold mornings when he would walk into campus,
to begin his day's work of teaching and research. Mark saw the
cars speeding by him as he traced a path along the the sidewalks
of his former college town. He remembered brewing a pot of hot
coffee, being the first one into the office, and the sound of
the radio in the background as he ate a muffin while logging
onto the computer.
Then he was back on Dalthigia, over a thousand light years from
his home planet, standing beneath an unfamiliar sky, an alien
girlfriend and her father at his side. The thought recurred to
him -- that he was romantically involved with a different
species, one similar enough to make them sexually attractive to
each other, yet different enough to render them forever
childless as a couple.
He let these thoughts run their course as they began their walk
over a grassy plain that constituted the first leg of their
journey. When he felt Tanaria's hand, however, he knew that he
loved her. Mark wondered whether she was his solace in an alien
world, that perhaps he hadn't yet completely adjusted to being
away from fellow humans, and that he needed as close a tie as
possible to his old ways.
"Remember, always walk on foliated terrain" Mushlik said at
last, into the earphones plugged into the sides of their heads.
"We never want to kick up a dust cloud, especially on a dry day
like this one."
They walked for about fifteen minutes, up the gradually sloping
grassy hill, and into a sky of brightening purple. Sunrise was
still an hour away. The moon was now crossing their meridian,
and Mark imagined for a moment that he could actually sense its
motion as it passed overhead.
"We should get an interesting view of the city, in the
moonlight" Mark said. He felt the infrared binoculars hanging
around his neck, knowing that, if the moonlight weren't bright
enough, they would use the binoculars as a visual aid in
choosing their path into the city.
"It feels good to be outside, and totally free of the outpost
and the ship" Tanaria said. Mark agreed with her, and Mushlik
began telling them a story of an expedition on another world.
"Elgar was a desert world, with virtually no night whatsoever,
with three suns in the sky. The temperatures got well above 130
during the hottest parts of the day, and we had to wear
sunshields over our faces all the time. I was never so glad to
be back onboard in all my life."
They were now atop the hill, and, for the first time, Mark and
Tanaria saw Moga, the capital city of Mishria. Roughly a mile
away, the shapes of many buildings reflected the dim light of
morning. Occasional windows were illuminated with an orange
glow, including those of the palace, which stood massively in
the midst of town, surrounded by a large stone wall.
"There, the palace" Mushlik said, motioning his hand towards
it. He suddenly realized that his arm was invisible, and he
continued.
"Those walls were built so massively as more of a religious
symbol than anything else. The fact that the Mishrian
priesthood is the power in Mishrian society, in terms of civil
and religious law and its enforcement, can plainly be seen from
here.
"There are many dungeon cells beneath it, holding everyone from
the prostitute to the heretic. You would find former Mishrian
priests there, who had broken the vow of celibacy, particularly
those who have admitted homosexuality, and many of them will
stay there for decades, until their natural death. Others,
especially the heretics, will be urged to recant, under pain of
death by beheading."
Mark thought of the former ways of his own church and felt
relieved that valid religions abandoned such ways.
Countless small houses surrounded the central city. The
density of small buildings and houses gradually fell off,
merging into the forests about two miles from the center of town.
Beyond the northern borders were the outlying villages, home to
many of the craftspeople and then the farmers. Their fields
stretched for many miles, connected by a series of three paved
roads and countless unpaved ones.
They continued quietly, until Mushlik, emerging from a patch of
brush, set his foot on a paved roadway. Mark and Tanaria
followed, and they now stood on the unevenly laid stone of a
Mishrian road, deserted in the early morning hours.
"This area will be teeming with people headed to market in
another three hours" Mushlik said through the earphones. "We'll
get to see all of this."
"Let's go south on this road, until we reach a small chapel.
Then we must turn right, and proceed down the main street
directly into the central market. From there, the palace will
be only a third of a mile away, and you'll get to see the
Mishrians up close as they start their day."
They began walking down the road, using their infrared visors
to keep track of each other. Now that they had reached smoother
terrain, they tended to part hands more often.
The sky grew brighter, and wisps of clouds were glowing
brightly to the west. The clouds in the east were silhouettes
against the bright sky, their edges burning with red and orange.
The stars in the eastern half of the sky had vanished.
"Observe the houses carefully as we walk, not only to watch out
for approaching people or oxen, but to note the architectural
style. The houses are built of wood frames. They are finished
with logs on the outside, or with mortared stone. The larger,
wealthier homes tend to be stone, whereas the vast majority are
constructed solely from wood, including their roofs."
Mark watched the sturdy homes as they proceeded, wondering how
many sleeping Mishrians they were passing, totally unaware of
the aliens who walked amongst them.
Above each doorway, he saw triangles fastened above the door
jambs. He had learned from his readings that this was the Raj,
consisting of an equilateral triangle fashioned of either metal
or wood. Each side signified one of the domains of Lamper, the
land, the sea, and the air.
They soon arrived at a Mishrian chapel, simple and box-shaped
in construction, with large Raj symbols above the doorways which
led into the chapel from the rear.
"Let's all make a right at this intersection" Mushlik said.
The first rays of the morning sun lit up bits of walls and
roofs of the buildings they passed, and a breeze began to stir,
blowing dirt along the street. Ahead of them, they saw an old
Mishrian man walking, his trembling hands clenched to a wooden
cane. His steps looked slow and painful as he moved toward the
marketplace.
"The market is not just a place to buy and sell merchandise.
It is also a place of social gathering. With the Cinrekkian
rule, large gatherings are discouraged, and you can bet that
there are numerous informants and spies scattered throughout the
area, eavesdropping on conversations and reporting their
contents, if of interest, back to Taythlin and his officers."
"Isn't that the way any oppressing force maintains control,
though?" Tanaria asked. "If they let their guard down for a
second, there will be a thousand people revolting, scaling the
palace walls and attacking their troops."
"Yes" Mushlik said. "And I have my suspicions about the older
people in this city."
"What do you mean?" Mark asked. "Do you think a lot of them
are informants?"
"No, I mean just the opposite. Most people think of the older
generation as consisting of people, who, if they are not in
positions of direct power, have passed their strong years. They
come to market and sit on benches and speak of old memories.
But, what better group of people to quietly communicate the
progression of a revolt than people like that old man just ahead
of us. He can't wield a sword and cut down a charging soldier,
but he can gossip with coded words, to help organize meetings,
traffic weapons, and give the locations of crucial arms and
troops."
"Fascinating. On Earth, it's usually the younger generation
that does such things during times of invasion."
They soon reached the marketplace, which was deserted as of
now, save for the old Mishrian man who walked silently over its
stone-paved surface, hobbling wildly with his cane.
Mark was impressed at the size of the marketplace, consisting
of a paved, open area about a thousand feet long and two hundred
feet wide. The edges of the open area were lined with
wood-shingled awnings, sheltered areas also available to
marketers. The center of the open area also held a shelter,
which stood perhaps twelve feet high and ran the length of the
market.
The stone shone brightly in the light of the morning sun, and
Mushlik led the way down the center of the marketplace.
"People should start showing up any time now. They finish
loading their wagons right at sunrise, so they're on their way
here."
"When do shoppers first arrive?" Tanaria asked.
"A few will arrive as the wares are being placed for display,
but the busy time won't start for about another two hours."
Just as he spoke, they heard the clatter of wooden wagon
wheels, and a large terskix, pulling a cart, entered the
marketplace. Two men and a woman road atop the cart, and they
wobbled from side to side as they moved over the rough pavement.
Mark walked quietly behind Mushlik, watching the cart slowly
move to the rear center of the market, whereupon the riders
slowly climbed down from the cart. They began to unload their
goods, apparently large piles of folded fabric.
Mushlik marveled at the brilliantly colored fabric. "One thing
you'll find is that these people have an eye for color. In the
chill of the early morning, they'll wear their poorly colored
sweaters and robes, but by midday, they'll be walking around
wearing multicolored tunics and pants. Young and old, shy and
outgoing, they all dress flamboyantly, at least in the center of
the city."
Mark turned up the sensitivity knob on his translator unit,
trying to listen in on the conversion between the old man and
the sellers unloading the cart, but they were standing too far
away. Looking up, he saw that they had reached the center of
the marketplace, and a road led to the right and left.
Between the rows of crowded buildings lining the street, they
looked in awe at the palace, now visible to the left, only
several blocks away. The ground sloped up, pavement giving way
to grasses which led to the base of the immense stone wall. A
large gate stood at the center of the wall facing them, and an
iron portcullis, which they had seen from the remote probe, was
being raised very slowly, with a loud clanking sound.
60.
Lira awoke with a start. She had experienced a nightmare. In
it, she had relived the day's experience with the Cinrekkian
soldiers. Her father had been at the palace, pleading for
Taythlin's mercy and the release of his daughter.
In reality, her mother and father had been horrified when she
told them that she had been arrested by Cinrekkian soldiers and
hauled off to the palace. They were then relieved to find out
that no charges were being pressed, that their daughter was
safe, and that she had returned home safely.
Later, however, her father had questioned why she had been so
far into the city to begin with. They needed nothing from the
market, and she had left her house chore duties, on her word
that she was going to help a friend in their village. So, she
had lied to them, and they had found out the truth -- that she
had gone into the city to listen to a preacher. Her father had
been hearing rumors about Etar -- that he was a Cinrekkian
sympathizer, but there was now much doubt of that, as he had
been harassed and arrested by the Cinrekkians.
Despite this shift in popular opinion as to the nature of Etar,
and though many now considered him a holy one of Lamper, her
father looked upon followers of prophets as troublemakers. He
told Lira firmly that he wouldn't tolerate any involvement with
the "movement" that Etar now seemed to head. Several hundred
people had come to hear him preach just a day after his arrest
by the Cinrekkians, and the stories of miraculous healing of the
sick and dying were increasing in number.
Her father had ordered her not to tell anyone of the healing
she had witnessed at the house on the outskirts of the city, but
word had gotten around that the child, his father, and his
mother had all been healed. They had been seen riding around
the city on a wagon, filled with others who proclaimed Etar a
prophet of Lamper.
Lira felt hurt when told to keep silent, realizing that her
parents, steeped in their faith and devout in following the
teachings of Lamper, looked upon miracles as events in the past,
done by prophets who could no longer exist in the modern world.
She was to stay at home now, helping her parents with their
work. She felt as if her wings had been clipped. She had been
quiet after receiving their orders, retiring to bed and tossing
and turning most of the night. Upon falling asleep, she had
experienced nightmares, involving arrest by the Cinrekkians.
As she lay now in bed, listening to the house creak in the
morning wind, she heard a knock at their front door. In a
matter of seconds, she heard her mother whisper excitedly that
priest Hoka was there, wishing to speak with both of them.
Lira stood and placed her ear against her bedroom door,
listening to the priest proclaim a solemn blessing upon them,
before sitting slowly and creakily onto a chair.
"I understand Lira has seen this man, Etar, speak, that she has
seen him perform miracles."
"She didn't know what she was seeing, reverend. I'm sure they
weren't really as sick as they told everyone they were. Look
how many people, even in our village, proclaim their sickness
beyond truth, only to surprise everyone when they seem back to
health, especially after being given handouts and gifts by their
neighbors."
"There are other accounts, involving other people. My
superiors at the temple wish me to bring her before the Council
of Elders, to recount what she has seen. We must arrive at the
truth."
"But what difference is her word? Have not hundreds seen him
perform much greater miracles than my daughter?"
"Perhaps, but when Etar was arrested, she accompanied him to
his defense before the governor of all of Mishria. The Elders
wish to know what Etar said, whether he witnessed to our faith
or gave clues as to a possible alliance with the Cinrekkians."
Her father sighed in frustration.
Lira was enthralled with the chance to tell what she had seen.
She wanted to see and hear Etar again, and this seemed to be the
only avenue. Just one day ago, the idea of appearing before the
chief priests would have terrified her. But, after her
encounter with the Cinrekkians, she felt safe, confident that if
people of a different and hostile race had treated her fairly,
that those of her own nation would do the same.
The priest asked that she come to the chapel within the hour,
so that they could set off for the temple. After more token
resistance by her father, Hamlek relented, and Lira took her ear
off the door and began to dress for the trip.
Just as she finished dressing, her father entered the room,
realizing at once that she had heard the entire conversation.
He closed the door behind himself and sat down on the edge of
her clothing cabinet.
"This is a dangerous thing" he said, almost in a whisper. "We
are invaded and overtaken, by men who try to make a profit from
us. They own us, Lira. And anything or anyone that gets in
their way has been and will continue to be dealt with in the
same way -- with death."
"We are not owned, father. We are children of Lamper."
"What good is it to be a child of Lamper and stand up to a
troop of soldiers? What good are the words of a supposed
prophet, when your own daughter places herself in danger far
beyond what she is aware of, being led in her youthful naivet,
by the latest wise man of a chapel?"
Lira felt tears coming to her eyes, as she realized the
shallowness of his faith. She felt angered by his skepticism.
"He speaks the truth, Father, and he is no informant, no plant
by the Cinrekkians. I have seen him, I have walked with him and
stood before the very invaders of which you speak. He upheld
our faith, and he was a message that I have longed to hear for
my entire life."
"I just don't want you to be hurt. You are our pride and joy.
Please, be careful."
He embraced her, and her anger subsided. He had not been
interested in hearing about Etar's message. As he hugged her
tightly, she knew how much he loved her.
"I love you" she said.
"I love you, too" her father replied.
61.
As Mark stepped forward with his companions towards the massive
stone archway, a large pit formed in his stomach. The
Cinrekkian guards flanking the archway were outfitted in
Cinrekkian ceremonial uniforms.
Mushlik had explained that this was done as a show of power,
and that, other than the guards located in the imperial chamber,
the others were dressed in regular issue uniforms, since they
were not within view of the Mishrians.
"We must pass through this gateway one at a time" Mushlik said
with a whisper into his microphone. "I'll go first."
All three placed their infrared viewers over their eyes,
wearing them like a pair of lightweight glasses, the flat,
ovular lenses appearing black and opaque in visible light.
The world was transformed into false shades of red, orange, and
yellow, each hue representing a particular wavelength range of
infrared radiation. The stone archway, still cold from the
night, glowed a dull red, while the exposed faces of the guards
shimmered with a brilliant shade of yellow.
Mushlik and Tanaria appeared in almost full visual detail,
glowing in various shades of orange, and Mark watched Mushlik
walking quietly towards the archway. Tanaria stood several feet
in front of him, but Mark could see over her head.
The psychologist placed each foot gingerly to the stone inlaid
pathway, and, in a matter of thirty seconds, he turned and waved
for Tanaria to proceed next. She did so, just as cautiously as
her father, though more rapidly, and Mark was about to begin
when he heard a loud clatter behind himself.
Turning, he saw a large wagon approaching, being pulled by two,
well-groomed, gray terskix. Looking in panic to his companions,
he saw Mushlik frantically waving him to the right side of the
road. He obeyed, and the wagon rolled by.
Several Cinrekkian soldiers sat on the wagon, two of them
controlling the thick reigns to the beasts. A mound of sacks,
crates, and barrels lay behind them, jostling as the cart bumped
over the rough stone.
Mark looked down and suddenly felt very uneasy, as he was
standing on a patch of grass, perhaps six inches high, and two
shoe-sized flattenings were visible, beneath his boots.
Looking up, he saw that the Cinrekkian guards were talking with
the cart drivers, who had momentarily halted the animals, so he
gingerly stepped back onto the road and watched the grass
recover and stand erect.
"Aaaaah!" one of the drivers shouted, smacking the left
terskix on the shoulder with a stick. The voice sounded
childlike, had it been a human speaking the word.
Mark saw that Mushlik and Tanaria were again standing in the
middle of the road, as the cart disappeared from view beyond the
archway, and he began moving forward, very slowly, watching the
guards with great caution.
He strained to hear each step that he took, and his caution was
paying off, as he could hear nothing, not even with his audio
sensor.
"Very good" Mushlik said. They were all standing about twenty
feet inside the archway, the palace now directly before them.
As they continued towards the palace, the wind gusted, and the
cool air swirled about them. They instantly looked to the
ground, watching for any wind shadowing effects being produced
by their bodies.
Mark had been warned about such problems while onboard the
Corona. If one were walking across a flat of sand, one would
see the sand immediately downwind from a person remaining
undisturbed. In some cases, given the right terrain, this
shadowing effect could produce a reasonable likeness of the
cloaked person, making them visible to anyone near them.
The sloping front face of the palace glowed in the bright
sunlight as they walked. Lush yellow-green grass grew on either
side of the stone walkway, and numerous shrubs and flowering
plants dotted the palace lawn. The Cinrekkians, having an eye
for natural beauty in their own capital city, continued careful
cultivation and maintenance of the palace grounds.
"Remember that there will be more guards at the main entrance,
as you can already see from here." Mushlik said.
Four guards, clad identically, with shining gold and silver
armor and scarlet capes, stood casually on either side of the
entranceway. The two guards normally stationed on the right
side of the entrance were standing to the left, talking quietly
with the other guards. One of them was louder than the others,
and he spoke more with his hands than his mouth, appearing to
act out some battle scene to his fellows.
"Switch on your external microphone, and make sure the
translator is on" Mushlik said.
Mark checked and found the equipment was functioning. He
switched the microphone to long-range pickup, and he heard the
words of the guards, each assigned a particular vocal tone by
the computer processor.
"And then my platoon leader ordered me and Irik forward, to
take out the gatekeeper. We had gone in first most of the time,
since he knew we always got the job done."
"Then what about just last week, when some Mishrian woman
caught you peeing in the bushes by the main road?"
They all began laughing, and Mark turned down the translator,
to hear what a Dalthigian laugh sounded like. It was a
continuous droning sound, their mouths hanging open much like
that of a laughing human, and they leaned backward then forward,
as long as the laugh continued.
The braggart shoved the guard who had accused him of public
urination, and he let forth a token laugh, pretending to not be
annoyed by the other's accusation.
Once through the archway, they had momentarily removed their
infrared goggles, but Mark donned them again, as they were only
a stone's throw from the entranceway.
"Well, let's go inside" Tanaria said.
62.
The number of people before him was astounding. The green
grass of the hillside was barely visible between the Mishrians
who had gathered to hear his words. Cripples dotted the crowd,
accompanied by their families. The sun was warm in their faces
as they looked to the large tree which stood at the bottom of
the hill, beyond which a stream gurgled over the rocks.
A blind woman sat at the front of the crowd, her eyes staring
fixedly directly ahead of her, far from the tree under which
Etar now walked. The crowd grew quiet as his pace slowed. At
last he emerged from beneath the shade of the branches. Etar
spread his arms, cloaked in the pale yellow tunic that was the
mark of a saltblocker.
"I bid you peace" he began. The crowd answered him back, in a
nearly singular voice. "Lamper, in its goodness, has created
the beauty of nature, which surrounds us now. I wanted to meet
with you here, well outside the city, so that more of you could
assemble, as well as to enjoy this garden."
There was a rustle in the crowd. Someone shouted forth from
the crowd, "You are a prophet of Lamper. Tell us, how are we to
live under the burden of the Cinrekkians?"
"One must realize that liberation from the world is the way to
finding inner peace, but this liberation must be founded through
an acceptance of the will of Lamper. Is this world, are not our
bodies, all temporary? Which one of us lives more than a
hundred years? Yet we know that many have lived before us, and
that many will live after us. We exist in a wink of time, a
period so brief that it barely exists in the eye of Lamper.
Yet, despite our frailty, the brevity of our life, and the many
wrongs we do, Lamper's holy love is ours.
"By submitting to the will of Lamper, we open our lives to
divine grace, and our lives are transformed by its power. We
then see that our life is an opportunity, to use the abilities
given to us, to love others, to love Lamper, to make the world a
better place, to spread this way to others, so that they too
will see the path to enlightenment and salvation.
"As I have said many times, this salvation is meant for all
people, even the Cinrekkians. Though Lamper does not will the
horrible enslavement they have placed upon us, Lamper still
loves them, their essence, that which makes them living children
of the holy.
"Through our holy lives, we attain a likeness to Lamper,
approaching the unattainable perfection which has created us,
and which draws us ever forward, towards the light of truth and
goodness. Upon the death of our physical, external selves, our
spirit, our essence, is then freed of all distractions, and it
can soar to the creator, to see the very face and glory of
Lamper."
Etar walked slowly towards the blind woman. He knelt slowly
beside her and took her hand in his. Her eyes moved toward his,
which sparkled in the sun.
"Oh that you could see the beauty of Lamper's world with your
eyes. You hear of the wonders of the world, and you have Lamper
in your heart. Lamper wills that you see."
The woman opened her mouth as her eyes widened. The crowd
began murmuring as she slowly stood on her own and faced them.
She squinted her eyes in the bright light which reflected from
everything about her.
"I can see!" she shouted. "It is a miracle. Etar has healed
me of my blindness!" She wept and fell into her father's arms.
They stood there, crying and hugging each other, and the crowd
began to push forward, as the cripples were brought forward.
"Heal me" a lame man begged, dragging himself to Etar's feet.
"I believe in the power of Lamper."
Etar placed his hands on the man's back, and the old man gasped.
"The heat!" he cried. "Is my back on fire?"
His friends hoisted him to his feet, and they slowly released
his arms. He stood on his own, wobbly and clumsy before the
crowd. The old man began laughing and turning around slowly,
again and again, and Etar was suddenly immersed in a crowd of
cripples, the blind, the deaf.
He laid his hands upon each of them, praying for the salvation
of Lamper, and each was made whole. For several hours, they
came, some of them new arrivals who had not heard him speak
under the tree, but had come to be healed of their afflictions.
They fell before him, many weeping, some of them expressionless
but trembling with anticipation. A man who had never seen
received his sight, and he became a babbling fool, as he could
not comprehend what his senses perceived. A child who had never
heard a sound wished to sit by the stream, and listen to the
babbling waters.
Yes, all who came were healed, without exception. A deacon of
the Mishrian priesthood approached him, faking a limp, as he
dragged one leg behind himself. As he approached Etar, the
prophet opened his arms to the man.
"You have the worst affliction of all, that of doubt."
As he said these words, the deacon's face turned to stone.
"But I cannot walk. Please heal me. I have the faith!"
"How dare you mock the healing love of Lamper. Go back to your
viper's den, and tell them what you have seen, that the love and
forgiveness of Lamper conquers all, even the unbeliever!"
The deacon shook with rage. A woman stepped forth and laughed
at him, slapping him on the back as he stood normally again, his
eyes burning.
"You will pay for this, false prophet! You have no education,
no upbringing in the holy ways! We shall reveal you!"
"No" Etar said. "It is you who are counterfeit."
The deacon ran up the hillside, and the crowd gradually
dispersed, as Etar finished healing those still afflicted with
illness.
63.
Once inside the main chamber of the palace, Mushlik gave the
order for all to use their infrared visors, and to stay aware of
each other's positions at all times. Mark and Tanaria had
already done so.
Viewing the heat signature of the Dalthigians present in the
chamber, it was easy to tell which were clothed in fabric and
which in armor. Mark had noted early on that, just as explorers
in Earth's past had thought that almost all individuals of a
foreign race looked alike, the Dalthigians were hard to
distinguish from each other.
Already, however, after walking amongst them for a couple
hours, slight differences in their facial features and bodily
proportions were evident, especially when distinguishing
Mishrians from Cinrekkians.
Mark saw the Cinrekkian governor of Mishria, seated on his
throne atop the sculpted, stone platform.
Two large, opulently ornamented chairs stood on either side of
the throne, and two younger officers sat on them. Mark pulled
down his visor momentarily, marveling at the bright polish of
their uniforms.
Taythlin himself was robed in red and white, and his brown neck
and head contrasted starkly with the fabric. He wore nothing on
his balding head, and Mark thought he could make out wrinkles on
the ruler's forehead. Four trios of soldiers dotted the chamber
floor, each group holding Mishrian suspects, between the throne
and the palace entryway.
Replacing his visor, Mark saw that Tanaria and her father had
made their way halfway to the right side of the chamber, near a
stone stairway that ascended into the officer's quarters and the
upper floors of the palace. Mark quietly caught up with them.
"There is a library on the top floor that we must visit
briefly" Mushlik said. "The Cinrekkians keep archived journals
there, as well as important documents from the Cinrekkian
Capital -- orders, edicts, and such. Assuming Taythlin hasn't
rearranged much, and he probably hasn't, I know which volumes I
must record."
They began walking up the stairway, in single file, with
Mushlik leading the way and Tanaria just behind him. The
stairway consisted of shallow, smooth steps of white marble,
much like those Mark had climbed in museums on earth. The steps
were shallower, due to the shorter stature of the Dalthigians.
There was no banister rail for the steps, which rose in flights
of a couple dozen steps each, each new flight proceeding at a
right angle to the last. There were four flights of steps per
floor, and they panted for air as they neared the fifth, and top
floor. Mushlik reminded them to remain quiet.
They reached the top floor, passing through a tall,
hemispherical archway, lined with wood carvings depicting
prophets of Lamper, and they now stood in a hallway. Marble
lined the walls and ceiling, and the floor was covered with
mosaic tile patterns. The hallway was deserted. Only the light
streaming through the unshuttered windows at either end of the
hallway illuminated the passage.
As they proceeded, Mushlik pointed out small meeting rooms, the
wooden entrance doors to which were recessed a couple feet into
the wall. Near the middle of the hallway, Mushlik stopped and
peered through a darkened, open doorway.
"All clear" he said. They filed inside the chamber, lit dimly
by oil lamps braced on the walls, between the tall wooden cases
which held the library scrolls. The room smelled of parchment,
which mingled with the odor from the oil lamps.
Mark felt relieved now that they were alone, but he frequently
looked to the doorway for approaching trouble.
Mushlik, meanwhile, was quickly ruffling his way through the
stacks of parchment scrolls, protruding from square pigeonholes.
Mark listened to the faint rustling sound of the scrolls, and
he decided to stand in the doorway and keep watch.
"Where are you going?" Tanaria asked through the communicator.
"If I stand in the library doorway, I can post watch. I'm
worried that someone might intrude and find a couple parchment
scrolls floating in midair."
"Sounds good, Mark. Did you hear that, Dad?"
"Yes, yes. I should have thought of this myself. It's just
that the Cinrekkians read and record during the evenings.
They're usually kept too busy during the day. But, go ahead."
Mark stood the in doorway and looked in both directions down
the hallway. At the farthest end, he saw an archway. Beyond
it, Mark could see trees and bushes.
"What's at the other end of the hallway?" Mark asked.
"Oh, there's a beautiful garden down there. If we have time,
we can take a quick look at it. The priests once prayed and
meditated there, but now, it's Taythlin's favorite place to
relax. There are plants there from all over Mishria, and I
wouldn't be surprised if the Cinrekkians brought some native
plants, to remind them of home."
Mark listened to the muttering voice of Mushlik, as he mumbled
the words written on the outsides of the scrolls. In another
minute, he heard Mushlik say a resounding and excited "Yes!"
"What have you found?" Tanaria asked.
"The latest orders from the Cinrekkian Empire. Here, Tanaria,
help me unroll the parchment to image it. We'll translate it
back at base."
Mark looked back and saw the parchment floating in mid air,
quietly unrolling. The parchment descended to the floor, and
Mark heard Mushlik switch on the imaging camera.
After replacing this scroll into its compartment, Mushlik
immediately found the other scrolls he had sought. Pulling them
three at a time from the shelves, he and Tanaria quickly
unfolded and imaged them.
"How's it going?" Mark asked. "Everything is still all clear.
I don't hear anyone."
"Excellent. About four more scrolls, and we'll have all the
recent court records. With these translated, we'll be able to
chronicle the problems the Cinrekkians have to deal with, such
as insurrection, as well as domestic, political, and religious
disputes."
In another two minutes, the last of the scrolls had been
replaced on the shelf, and they departed from the library. They
were about to return to the stairway, when Mark remembered the
garden.
"Do we have time to get to the opposite end of the hallway?"
"Oh, yes, I almost forgot. You two must see the palace garden.
It's not very large, but it's laid out perfectly, and the
plants this time of year should be in full bloom."
They began walking down the hallway, Mushlik again leading the
way. Through his visor, Mark saw Tanaria reaching behind
herself, so he held her hand.
When they emerged into the garden, they were impressed by the
incredible array of delicate plants, many of them appearing as
miniaturized versions of those growing in the forest around the
observation outpost. The sun peeked between the puffy clouds
which were blowing in from the west, and a warm breeze swirled
through the garden.
They wound their way through the garden, stopping occasionally
to comment on a particular plant or stone carving. Mushlik
suggested that they sit down for a moment on one of the several
stone benches. They found a suitable one, and Tanaria sat down
between her father and boyfriend, feeling the warm sun on her
face.
Mark looked into the sky, now free of the infrared visor, and
he tried making shapes out of the clouds. A wave of earthly
nostalgia swept over him, and he saw himself as a young boy,
lying in a grassy field, making dinosaurs, airplanes, and
dolphins out of the constantly changing clouds.
Replacing his visor, he watched the clouds in infrared, their
sunlit edges appearing brighter, just as in visible light. As
he brought his glance down towards the garden, he saw a flicker
of light in the visor. He had turned to speak with Tanaria when
he saw it, but then moved his gaze upward, until he was looking
just over the edge of the garden wall.
A long, flat slice of light was moving against the sky. From
this position, it was impossible to tell the nature of the
phenomenon, and he tuned up his audio sensor to maximum, hearing
nothing unusual.
"Well, are we ready to head to the temple?" Mushlik asked.
"Wait a minute!" Mark said aloud, with enough volume to make
Mushlik issue a soft "Shhhh!"
"Look into the sky, just above the wall, at about 11 o'clock."
They both did as he asked, and he heard Tanaria gasp with
surprise.
"What is that?" Mark asked.
"What is what?" Mushlik asked. "I don't see anything."
"Put on your infrared visor!"
He did so. "Oh my God, it's a craft of some sort!
Mark felt a pit form in his stomach as the realization hit home.
"It's cloaked" he said nervously.
"Yes, and by its wedge shape, it doesn't look at all like a
Council shuttlecraft, and it's certainly not from the Corona."
"Is anyone else from the Council performing observations on
this planet?"
"Not that we know" Tanaria answered. "I'm taking an image of
it, at several magnifications." They heard her operating the
camera. "Now in the near ultraviolet" she said.
"What would we see in ultraviolet?" Mark asked.
"Perhaps something from its exhaust."
The craft suddenly banked towards them, and now they made out
the vehicle's ray-like shape.
"I know of only one race that builds ships like that" Mushlik
said, his voice shaking. "Bellikans!"
The craft was still banking steeply, and it leveled out, now
pointing directly towards them.
"It's coming this way!" Mushlik said. "Let's get out of here.
Or at least into the cover of the hallway!"
They jumped from the bench and hurried through the winding path
in the garden. As they passed into the hallway, Mark looked
back for a second. The craft was only a few hundred yards from
the palace, and it was descending silently, slowly coming to a
stop directly over the garden.
The three observers hid in the hallway, a few feet behind the
edge of the doorway leading to the garden. Tanaria peeked
around the edge of the doorway, quickly pulling back.
She switched off her communicator, and she reached about until
she found Mark's as well. Feeling for his head, she whispered
just an inch from his left ear.
"We must switch off everything but our cloaker. They might
pick up our communicator signal."
She felt Mark nod his head, and she knew that her father must
have already switched off his own communicator.
They felt the floor vibrate slightly, and Mark almost fell over
when he saw a huge figure stride silently through the doorway
and down the hallway. Lifting his visor after it had passed, he
saw that it too was cloaked.
In infrared, Mark saw that the creature had a smooth exterior
and a bubble helmet.
"I know I've seen one of them before" he thought. His blood
ran cold as he recalled the alien assault on the observatory.
He saw the armored Bellikan soldier, firing at him from high on
a wooded hillside, just before being destroyed by a bomb
personally autographed by John Myer.
The bulbous shape disappeared into a room, and Mark breathed a
sigh of relief that they had finished their tasks in the library
earlier. In another minute, the Bellikan soldier emerged, and
it walked quietly through the hallway.
Mark saw its sagging, fleshy face, glowing brightly in infrared
behind its helmet faceplate. It held its arms at its sides as
it moved, and the eight-foot soldier walked past them, without
ever noticing them.
A minute later, Mushlik cautiously peeked around the edge of
the doorway, and he saw that the ship was gaining altitude as it
proceeded to the northwest. He switched on his communicator.
"They're gone" he said. Realizing that they had not yet
powered their communicators, he whispered to both of them that
the Bellikan shuttle had departed.
"What are they doing on Dalthigia?" Mark asked angrily. "We're
well inside Council space, aren't we?"
"Yes" Tanaria replied. "They're clearly in violation of
treaty. But then, they never obey treaty."
"I'm glad I took some images of the soldier, as well as the
ship as it headed away from us."
"Leave it to you, Dad, to have the nerve to work the camera at
a time like that!"
"What should we do now?" Mark asked. "Should we send out a
distress signal to the Corona, informing them of what we've
found?"
"Yes, once we return back to base. But I am worried."
"About what?"
"If they have been here for at least several days, then they
must have monitored our arrival. Perhaps they feel they can
remain invisible to us. On the other hand, they may be
searching for the outpost, to destroy it. The moment we try to
send a distress signal, they could home in our location."
"What about the relay satellite?" Tanaria asked.
"Yes, that's another problem. They might have destroyed the
only link we have with the rest of the universe." He thought for
a moment. "Actually, no, they probably haven't. The Corona
monitors health and safety telemetry from the satellite. It's
heavily coded, so they couldn't synthesize the signal
themselves. If the telemetry vanishes, the Corona would be back
here, probably within several days at the latest."
"Are they planning some kind of invasion of this planet?"
"No, I seriously doubt it. They wouldn't be that stupid. But
they're here for a reason. And we must try our best to find out
why. It looks like we're taking on a dual mission on this
expedition -- to observe the evolution of a civilization, and to
figure out why this malevolent race is meddling in their
affairs. Let's get back to base."
They began their walk through the hallway.
"Wait a minute." Tanaria said. "Let's see what the Bellikan
left behind."
They walked to the doorway of a meeting room, and they donned
their visors. Once inside, they saw that the Bellikan had left
two rolled parchments on a tabletop. Mushlik unrolled one of
them, quickly taking several images.
As he proceeded through the remaining scrolls, he seemed filled
with energy. He was recording valuable evidence of some sort
against the Bellikans.
"Perhaps they're just on an observing mission, like us."
"By the looks of these plans, the Bellikans are cooperating
with someone, probably the Cinrekkians."
"Plans for what?" his daughter asked.
"I don't know yet. We'll analyze these images upon our return
to base. Let's get out of here!"
He lay the parchments in their original orientation, and they
proceeded into the hallway. In another ten minutes, they had
exited the palace, and each took turns passing through the gate
leading from the palace courtyard.
64.
The journey to the Temple of Lamper took several hours. As the
carriage rolled to a halt, Lira strained to see to the top of
the structure from her seat. The afternoon sun shone on the
side of the building facing her, and she marveled at its beauty.
The Cinrekkians had exiled the high priesthood of Mishria from
the palace. The priesthood had decided, with the assent of the
Cinrekkian commanders, to take up residence in a new structure,
built adjacent to the Temple. This put them roughly a half mile
northeast of the palace, still within the city of Moga.
The priesthood coerced Mishrian workers, already burdened with
their new status as servants of the Empire of Cinrekkia, to
construct their mansion. This enabled the priesthood to
maintain a humbled but still comfortable lifestyle.
"Come along, Lira" the priest said, stepping backwards from
the carriage and onto the street. She followed him.
He began scampering along the walkway leading to the meeting
chambers. Lira followed patiently, her stomach churning at what
she might soon have to face. She had only glimpsed the high
priest Halfa once before, during a gathering of the entire
Mishrian priesthood, six years ago, and he had seemed old and
broken down then.
"Come, my child. Hurry. The high priest is awaiting us. We
are already late."
"I could have walked here myself, and this meeting would
probably be over with by now" she thought. She followed him up
the wide, stone stairway, leading to the main entranceway.
