NO TIME FOR GLORY (SOLBIDYUM WARS SAGA Book 8)

by Dale Musser

  “Oh, none of our technology is secret,” Lood exclaimed. “Anything less than complete transparency in all things would violate our religious tenets. I must clarify, however, that we did not create the technology; rather we purchased it from another civilization. I regret to say we do not know how it works, exactly; but if you wish, I am sure I can find out where we acquired it and provide you with the appropriate contacts.”

  “Yes, thank you, Lood. Your assistance would be much appreciated.”

  Once over the water, Lood hosted the tour of the transport. On one level were several individual furnished compartments. We were told that, if we wished to rest, we were welcome to use any of them. We came to the next enclosure, where more refreshments and seating were available. A small group of musicians began performing as soon as we entered. On another part of the ship was an impressive library filled with rare books. Not far from the library was a sauna and adjacent cold pool. The décor throughout the ship was opulent, to say the least, bordering on gaudy without actually crossing the line. Next, we were shown the transport’s control room where two pilots, a navigator and a communications officer were seated at their respective stations. This critical area seemed small and archaic, compared to the control rooms of the Federation ships, but all appeared to be in perfect working order. As the tour finished and Lood escorted us back toward the lounge area, I noticed one door that seemed different from all the others we had seen on board. The door and surrounding frame were constructed of hand-carved wood that portrayed a mountain scene.

  “Excuse me, Lood, where does that door lead?”

  “Well, that is the compartment of the Gom‑Pasha’s and it is reserved exclusively for his use when he is aboard. I am afraid I cannot show you what lies beyond. Entry beyond this door is strictly forbidden. You are permitted into any other space on the transport but there.”

  I was intrigued by his comment. If my mental layout of the ship was correct, the space behind the ornate door couldn’t be more than 3.5 square meters – barely more than a closet.

  Eventually, we settled in the room where the musicians were playing. The music was very soothing and reminiscent of what we had called elevator music on Earth. None of it was particularly memorable, nor was it objectionable. I sampled several of the items set out as refreshments and found various sweet pastry items to my liking, as well as one beverage that Lood said was produced by insects in much the same way that honey was produced by bees back on Earth. Unlike honey, this beverage was not thick and gooey. It was more the consistency of tomato juice and tasted similar to strawberries. It was just sweet enough to be pleasant without being too sugary and it left one feeling refreshed.

  It was late afternoon when we originally landed at the spaceport, and our travels over the ocean had taken us in the same direction of the planet's rotation at great speed; hence, it was closer to midday, local time, as we approached the coastline. Lood suggested that we might wish to return to the main lounge, as most visitors to Eh-Netta found this approach to the mountainous continent to be the most beautiful view of the planet. Lood explained that we had traveled the preferred route, as it provided visitors a daylight view of the planet. Had we gone in the other direction, we would have been in darkness for most of the trip.

  Upon reaching the coast, our transport began to slow as it dropped lower in elevation. In the expanse before us was a lush, green mountainous landscape accented by the snowy caps of the taller peaks. At times, our pilots dropped the transport low enough to pass through some of the deep valleys and canyons. I found it difficult to believe that anyone who had seen this place would want to live on the flat and mostly barren second continent. Occasionally we spotted small villages, but we didn’t fly low enough to see any real details. After a period of time, I noticed we were headed toward a large mountain and what appeared from the distance to be a sheer cliff wall. As we drew closer I could see it was indeed a cliff wall; but along its face there appeared to be terraces with buildings and gardens. By this time, our transport had slowed considerably. We seemed to be making a final approach toward a large opening in the side of the cliff.

  “Is that the monastery ahead of us?” I asked Lood.

  “Yes, the Gom-Pasha’s Haljmat is located on the upper terrace. We will enter the mountain through that cave ahead of us and from there we will proceed to the Haljmat.”

  I assumed that we would find some giant hangar lit with suspended lights after entering the cave; but I discovered that it was really nothing more than a giant cavern. The only lighting came from its large entrance and from strategically spaced flaming torches. The transport landed on a surface that was nothing more than rock hewn from the mountain itself.

  After the gangway ramp lowered, I was surprised once again. Two teams of litter bearers approached with sedan chairs and stopped at the foot of the ramp. Lood instructed us to ride in them.

  “If we’re not violating any protocols or committing a taboo, I would prefer to walk,” I said to Lood.

  Lood’s face expressed mild surprise as he replied, “There is no requirement that you ride, but the route to the Haljmat from here is exhausting for most people. It is only for your comfort that we provide the sedan chairs. However, if you wish to walk the distance, you are welcome to do so. Even so, if you should tire along the way, please let me know and we will arrange for bearers to carry you the remainder of the distance.”

  “Thank you, Lood, but I believe we will be fine,” I replied. Is the Haljmat far from here?”

  “It’s approximately two kilometers along a steep and winding route,” Lood explained. “However, there will be rest stations along the way, where you can catch your breath and take some refreshments for a few moments. If you are ready, we must get started. The Gom-Pasha is expecting us within the hour.”

  Both Padaran and I were in good physical shape from regular training and exercise and I had just completed a treatment with A’Lappe less than two days ago, so I was confident that we would be able to handle the ascent with no significant problems. The walk wasn’t too bad, at least for the first kilometer. At our initial stop we barely rested, pausing only briefly to drink some kind of tea served to us by the monks of the monastery.

  The monks were interesting. In some ways they reminded me of the Buddhist monks that once followed similar practices on Earth. Among these monastics were men and women of various races. From what I could surmise, there were no gender or racial biases within their ranks. Most of them wore simple, coarse, gray cloth garments that were similar in style to the garb worn by martial arts practitioners back on Earth. The remainder were dressed in more brightly-colored outfits of a finer material. I assumed that these individuals were higher-ranking members of the religious order.

  I couldn’t help noticing that many of the monks stopped abruptly and stared at me as we passed, then turned away to whisper to each other. I wondered whether this odd behavior was because Padaran and I weren’t riding in the sedan chairs or whether there was some other reason. Perhaps it was our lack of robes, but I had a distinct feeling there was more to it than that. As we progressed up the mountainside, we passed through a number of quaint villages scattered along the terraces that jutted out from the cliff face. I became a bit nervous when more and more people appeared to be lining the streets of each village we passed, as though word of our approach was preceding us.

  I finally expressed my concern as we moved through a particularly large crowd gathered along both sides of a village’s main street. “Excuse me, Lood, but I was under the impression that it was important to prevent visitors from being identified by the citizens of Eh‑Netta. To the contrary, it seems that everyone here is turning out to see us.”

  “I do apologize to you, Tibby; however, there is no need to be concerned about being seen here. Those within the monastery do not speak to those outside of what goes on here, nor do they say who comes and goes. Please trust that your presence here is completely confidential.”

  By the time we reached t
he far end of this large village, I was beginning to regret my choice to walk. I found my breathing becoming labored and the burn in my muscles was getting difficult to ignore. The thinning atmosphere was definitely slowing me down, though both Padaran and I seemed to be doing as well as our companions.

  Finally, the path along the cliff flattened out. Ahead of us, spread across what was by far the largest terrace on the cliff face, was the Haljmat of the Gom-Pasha. My feet ached and my thighs were completely fatigued as we entered the gates of the Haljmat.

  Up to this point in our journey along the mountainside, I had been awed by the view of the mountains and greenery. Even the villages people were fascinating to see. However, all of it paled in comparison to what lay inside the gates of the Haljmat. Beautifully landscaped gardens were separated by reflecting pools and streams that meandered through the compound. Brightly-colored birds sang as they fluttered between the trees and shrubbery. Especially lovely were the flowers that had been selectively placed with the purpose of accenting the unique beauty of the place. The gray smocks of the monks could be seen scattered among the patches of color. Each monk worked silently and with a graceful methodology. Their slow and fluid movements while watering a flowerbed or pruning an errant twig or leaf suggested a meditative state.

  Beyond the first garden area, we passed through a bowl-like depression surrounded by taller vegetation. Here I observed about a dozen monk as they practiced what looked like a Tai Chi ritual exercise that had been a common practice on Earth. Eventually, we entered the main temple building that was decorated with deep velvet-like red textiles, polished gold trims and shiny black columns with gold bases and caps. The floors appeared to be made of dark glossy stone. Diffuse light emitted from strange cylindrical objects that were mounted in the ceiling and from scones mounted on the wall. I was curious about these fixtures, as the light seemed, for want of a better description, natural – at least more natural than light generated from energy sources.

  I asked Lood, “What sort of lighting is this? It has a very soft and natural appeal to it.”

  “You have a keen eye, Tibby. Indeed, the light is natural. It's carried by fiber optics from outside to light the interior during the day. By night our light source is restricted to torches.”

  “Yes, I haven’t noticed any sign that you use electricity anywhere in the monastery.”

  “We do maintain a very limited source of electrical energy, which is used mostly for communication purposes. Among other reasons, we have observed that our meditations are clearer when fewer electrical components are in use.”

  “I understand,” I said. “They can be very distracting.”

  “Oh, it’s not the noise distraction, per se. One can learn to disconnect from disturbances of that nature. We believe something in the magnetics created by electrical fields that impedes meditation and spiritual thought. We have attempted to study the phenomenon and we have been able to see a correlation, but we have thus far been unable to fully grasp and understand it.”

  “Interesting. I had never thought about those possibilities. I’ve often heard people say they can meditate better when away from technology and immersed in nature.”

  “When we passed through the gardens, did you hear the birds?” Lood asked.

  “Yes I did. Their melodies were quite lovely,” I replied.

  “Yes, but the overall noise of the birds should technically still serve as a distraction. To the contrary, such natural sounds are anything but a distraction during meditation. Now, if we were to conceal a large electronic transformer in the midst of the garden so no one knew of its presence, the brethren would have a difficult time meditating, even though the transformer produces no sound at all.”

  As we spoke, we passed through the front section of the temple building and into a large atrium courtyard that held yet another beautiful garden and reflection pool. Here, too, monks delicately trimmed the foliage so that all was maintained in a state of perfection.

  “Does gardening play an important part in your religious practices?” I asked.

  Lood smiled. “Not in the way you might think, but it is a useful tool for directing one's inner energy and aligning one’s self to the universe. Plus, our gardens are quite large and require a lot of attention.” His smile grew when he said the last part and I knew he intended it as a joke.

  We exited the far end of the atrium by way of a broad stairway that led to another enclosed level of the temple. The stairs were made of massive pieces of wood and, while they remained highly polished, it was clear that they were old and eroded from heavy use. As we climbed the stairway to the next level, Lood sighed and commented, “We will soon have to replace these stairs. They’ve becoming quite worn. It’s been nearly a thousand years since they were last replaced.”

  “A thousand years? How long has this temple been here?” I asked as we reached the second floor.

  “Our records go back almost seven thousand years,” replied Lood as he led us down a wide corridor that passed through rows of large shelves filled with books and manuscripts. “The area before you is part of our library complex. The books and volumes stored here consist mostly common works that are abundant or easy to find throughout the universe. On the floor above us are rarer books, but we won’t be passing near them today.

  Lood stopped walking as if suddenly remembering something. “Pardon me, Tibby, do you or Padaran need to stop and rest? I should have been more mindful of asking you when we first arrived at the Haljmat, but you seemed to be doing better than most of our visitors. As you can imagine, the altitude here has a significant impact on most of our guests, who often find even the most leisurely walks or movements restrictive. Of course, those of us who reside here permanently have adapted quite well to the thinner air.”

  I glanced at Padaran, who seemed quite comfortable and engrossed in the endless sea of books that surrounded us. “Thank you, Lood, but we’re quite well. I do feel the effects of the thinner atmosphere, but only mildly so,” I replied. I began to wonder just how much further it was before we would arrive at the place where we would meet the Gom-Pasha.

  I was impressed with the size of the library. It seemed to go on forever, which was no surprise, given the Haljmat records were nearly seven thousand years in the making. The room was lit with the same sort of daytime lighting we had seen on the floor below and glass-globed lanterns for nighttime lighting were mounted on the ends of the bookshelves and on the columns that lined the central corridor. Several monks could be seen reading at tables of various sizes that were arranged with chairs throughout the library. As with the gardens, many of the monks were occupied with dusting and maintaining the shelves, slowly removing each book in order to carefully wipe the cover and binding with a soft cloth before replacing it. Other monks seated at small, semi-isolated tables appeared to be either transcribing books or hand-copying them in a slow and meticulous fashion that also reminded me of the meditative gardening techniques.

  “Do you produce all of your books by hand?” I asked quietly.

  “Oh no,” Lood laughed, “but we have found that comprehension of the more complex ideas is enhanced when one contemplates the material while hand-copying the manuscript. Plus, the finished reproduction is retained by the individual as their own personal copy for future reference, if needed.”

  Eventually, we left the library area and followed Lood through a section of the temple complex that looked like small-apartment like accommodations. Finally, we arrived at a space that was open on three sides, where we could look out over the valley below. One of these sides was directly adjacent to the sheer cliff wall, which was wet from a slow trickle of water that collected at the floor in a small channel, which then flowed into a carved basin that extended into the central part of the room. The basin was positioned within a ring of recessed fire pits that served to heat the water.

  “It is customary for those visiting his Holiness to bathe here first,” said Lood. “You will be provided with appropriate attire f
or your visit with the Gom-Pasha after you have bathed. The clothing you wear now will be returned to you when you leave.”

  Padaran and I began to undress, as did Lood. As much as I was enthralled with the ancient Haljmat, I wondered just how much longer all of this was going to take and whether I was ever going to get to talk to Asalott. We had been on the planet nearly five hours now, and it wouldn’t be long before nightfall. It became clear that we wouldn’t be returning to our freighter that night.

  Once bathed, several monks brought us attire similar in style to their own, only ours was made of a silk-like, dark jade-green material trimmed in gilded patterns. Once we were dressed, Lood instructed us to put on special slippers before leading us a short distance into a relatively small garden area. This unusually isolated area was contained on three sides by walls were constructed of massive hewn stones. The front and lateral walls ended against the cliff face so that the cliff formed the fourth wall. In front of the cliff wall sat a large high-backed throne that appeared to consist of the same material as the cliff face, but it had been ornately carved and embellished with gold and jewel inlays. A rather exquisite cushion was fixed to the back and seat, where I assumed the Gom-Pasha would sit.

  I looked about the small garden. A single monk dressed in the typical gray garb methodically pruned the vegetation and paid no attention to us as he performed his duties and remained deeply absorbed in meditation.

  “When his Holiness the Gom-Pasha comes out, you must address him as your Holiness,” Lood said. You will also be expected to bow your head slightly, so that he might touch you to bestow his blessings on you. He will do this by touching your forehead and saying May the blessings of the universe be with you always. You are not to speak until after he has finished blessing you.”

  “Will this interview last long?” I asked.

  “I cannot answer that question, because I do not know what it is the Gom-Pasha has to discuss with you,” Lood replied.