by Steve White
“Dr. Waemhofer,” Persath began, “you probably don’t remember me, but we met eighteen years ago. I am Persath’Loven.”
Waemhofer beamed as individual recognition overcame alienness. “Why, my dear Persath, I had no idea you were on Earth again! Of course I remember you. We had many stimulating discussions then. We were gratified by the interest that you, a Lokar, showed in the revelations of the Imperial Temple.”
“And I, in turn, was flattered by your willingness to share with me some of the highly confidential scientific evidence that proves the truth of those revelations.”
“Ah . . . well . . . ahem! Yes . . .” Waemhofer seemed to look around him nervously, as though in search of listeners.
“As you know,” Persath soothed, “I fully lived up to my promise not to publish any mention of . . . that to which I just alluded, and which I will not identify now.”
Waemhofer looked so relieved that Andrew expected him to break out a handkerchief and wipe off the sweat that had popped out on his smooth brow. “Indeed you did, Persath. We took a great risk by trusting you. But you justified our faith in your word of honor, and we are grateful for it.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Arnold,” said Persath, launching into the strategy they had worked out on the voyage, “for I am about to ask another favor of you.”
“Yes?”
“First of all, let me assure you that I have continued to keep my promise—which, as you will recall, applied to the public media. However, I have privately shared the information of which we speak with—”
“What?!”
“Calm yourself, Arnold. To repeat, I acted on a strictly private and confidential basis, with people I know I can trust.”
“But . . . but . . .”
Persath motioned Andrew and Rachel into the pickup. “Let me present Patrick Nolan and Sarah Rosenfeld, researchers from the colony planet Esperance, on the Sagittarius frontier. I made their acquaintance on a recent stopover at their planet.”
Andrew spoke up. “Sir, Persath has sworn us to secrecy, and we have no intention of letting this go any further without your permission. But it may interest you to know that certain relics recently discovered in the Esperance system suggest that there may have been an outpost of the Empire there.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of this,” said Waemhofer, his interest piqued.
“Of course,” said Rachel. “The evidence has been largely suppressed by powerful elements in the scientific establishment.”
“Our enemies are everywhere,” Waemhofer intoned with a nod.
“But fortunately the two of us knew of the Imperial Temple’s teachings. So when we learned of the relics, we were able to put two and two together. Then we discussed it with Persath, for we knew of his interest in Earth’s hidden past. That was when he told us what he knew.” Rachel gave a smile that Andrew couldn’t imagine the old duffer resisting. “We understand the importance of keeping the artifact and the body secret, at least for the foreseeable future. But Patrick and I believe that if we are allowed to examine them with certain state-of-the-art Lokaron devices, we will be able to gather data that will prove the authenticity of the relics beyond any doubt and burst the cover-up wide open.”
“But I can’t possibly authorize any further compromising of the secret on my own! You have no conception of its transcendent importance—no one has, outside the Imperial Temple’s innermost circles. Earth’s future reunion with the Empire hangs by a thread! No, such a decision would require convening a full meeting of the Stewardship Council and—”
“Our time on Earth is very limited, Dr. Waemhofer,” said Andrew. “If you could make an exception, we would be grateful. It would confirm Sarah and me in our growing faith in the Imperial Temple’s teachings. And . . . it might well result in a new acceptance of those teachings among the people of Esperance.”
Waemhofer’s eyes lit up. The Imperial Temple had yet to make any headway among the growing human colonies.
“Er . . . how long would it take?”
“If what we are looking for is there to be found, finding it will take only a few minutes,” Rachel assured him. “In fact, if you could let us in yourself, no one else would have to know.”
“I fully vouch for their trustworthiness, Arnold,” Persath put in.
“Well . . . I shouldn’t, you know. But perhaps a brief viewing would do no harm. Persath, can you bring them to the High Shrine at midnight tomorrow?”
“I believe that can be easily be arranged. In fact, we’re quite nearby.”
“All right.” Waemhofer seemed to overcome his jitters. “When you are half an hour out, call and use this extension.” He read it off. “That will connect you with me directly. I’ll make sure no one else is present.” He gave another compulsive look around before signing off.
“I hate all this lying and deception,” said Rachel. “And I really hate what we’re going to be doing to him. He’s just a harmless old eccentric.”
“I know how you feel,” Katy soothed her. “But it’s necessary. There’s just too much at stake here.”
“And remember,” Andrew added, “he won’t come to any physical harm.”
“I know. I wouldn’t be a party to this otherwise. Still . . . am I the only one here who could use another drink?”
***
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Imperial Temple of the Star Lords would have liked to build its High Shrine on the site of the Empire’s original colony, from whence their doctrines held that humanity had spread across the globe. Alas, it now lay underwater, for the ever-eclectic Sebastian Gruber had brought in Atlantis along with so much else, attributing its sinking to the titanic forces unleashed in the Empire’s final, cataclysmic war. It helped to no end when explaining away the embarrassing lack of the sort of archaeological evidence a prehistoric high-tech civilization would have been expected to leave.
So Gruber had done the next best thing and located it in the San Luis Valley, where the upper reaches of the Rio Grande flowed southward between the San Juan-La Garita Mountains and the Sangre de christo range, from the vicinity of Saguache in southern Colorado down to Taos, New Mexico. Throughout its history, the valley had seemed to attract the macabre (several serial killers, including one cannibal), the bizarre (cattle mutilations), the supernatural (manifestations of both the Virgin Mary and the Devil), and, in the late twentieth century, UFOs. Gruber had tended to downplay the last, for little grey aliens had no place in his synthesis of sucker bait. But recently his successors had even worked them in, declaring that the Greys were a subject race of the resurgent Empire who had been assigned to scout out Earth and had returned a negative report after finding it in the throes of the Cold War. Anyway, there was something about the valley in general that tingled the spines of the gullible. So the High Shrine stood on a foothill of Marble Mountain, not far from the Caverna del Oro, entrance to a vast cavern system under the Sangre de Cristo holding one of the buried treasures with which the valley was (of course) reputed to abound.
The site’s remoteness had made it a natural repository for treasured secrets. It had also encouraged Waemhofer to permit a surreptitious midnight visit.
The dramatic setting was lost on Andrew, Rachel, and Persath as they approached in Katy’s air-car under the myriads of desert stars, homing in on a beacon Waemhofer had activated in response to their call. The minimal lights he had consented to turn on allowed only a ghostly glimpse of the building’s eccentric six-sided design. Gruber had understood how a wealth of detailed description can lend a spurious air of reality, and he had by “astral clairvoyance” provided extensive information on Imperial civilization, ranging from architecture to costumery.
The latter was on display when they settled onto the landing pad and emerged, Andrew and Rachel each carrying a satchel containing tools. Waemhofer emerged to meet them. He apparently considered the occasion one of sufficient gravity to warrant his ceremonial vestments, in a color scheme ranging from electric blue
to silver, with a white cape descending from flared shoulders. It occurred to Andrew that if anyone had ever written a science-fiction comic opera, this would have fitted right into the wardrobe.
“I’m taking an awful risk,” he jittered as he hurriedly ushered them inside, through a doorway beneath a bas-relief of the Imperial symbol as described by Gruber: a spiral galaxy surmounted by a crown. They proceeded through a series of overdecorated halls. “You have no conception of the significance of what you are about to see.”
“We realize that great events may be about to unfold,” Andrew assured him.
“Yes! We are fortunate to be alive in these times. For it is now clear that what we once hardly dared hope is actual fact. Somewhere in the galaxy, the Empire has arisen from the ashes and purified itself, and is reaching out to its long-deserted children. Over a hundred years ago the Star Lords sent their faithful nonhuman servants ahead to investigate Earth. We were found unworthy in those dark days. But then the Imperial Temple arose, and from the beginning we sought to establish astral contact and let the Empire—if it still existed—know there were those on Earth who had rediscovered the truth and were keeping the faith. And we must have succeeded, for now the Star Lords have given this world a second chance. They themselves—humans from beyond the stars—are abroad in the solar system!”
“Persath told us how you recovered the body of one from a crashed ship on Mars,” Rachel prompted.
“It is the most precious thing we possess,” Waemhofer said quietly as he led them down several flights of stairs. “It conclusively proves that Imperial humans have been active in this system for at least the last twenty years. Surely you, my dear, will live to see the glorious day when the great ships descend from the sky and the Star Lords make themselves known to all. I may even live to see it.”
“Persath also said you have a device recovered from that same crash,” said Andrew.
“Indeed.” Waemhofer became less rapturous bur remained enthusiastic. “The fact that it survived unscathed amid the wreckage proves that it must be a product of the Empire’s ancient technology. So does its . . . inexplicable capabilities.”
“But you didn’t test out those capabilities to the fullest?”
“No. We dared not, in our state of ignorance. And at any rate, all will be revealed when the Empire returns.” They had reached the bottom of the stairs, to find themselves in a bare chamber of no great size, holding nothing but an elevator door. Waemhofer stepped in front of what Andrew recognized as an up-to-date ranged genetic scanner, and the door slid open. They descended into still lower levels, which had doubtless been hollowed out using Lokaron nanotech molecular disassemblers.
“Now perhaps you understand what a unique privilege it is to be allowed this viewing,” he told them. “I consented to it out of my high regard for Persath, who has earned our trust.”
Maybe you’ll even put in a good word for him with the Empire, Andrew thought. By now he knew Persath’s expressions well enough to recognize the Lokar’s discomfort at the prospect of betraying that trust.
The elevator reached bottom. They emerged into a fairly long chamber filled with enclosed display cases. Most of them seemed to contain old manuscripts or artifacts from archaeological digs “proving” the Imperial Temple’s dogmas. But at the far end was a door that required another genetic scan of Waemhofer before it would open. Within was a small chamber holding only two objects.
One was a pedestal with one of the enclosed display cases atop it, holding a metallic object no larger than a handbag. The comparison came instantly to mind because it had a handle, so featureless and utilitarian as to give no clue as to the nature of the hand for which it was intended. In front of the handle was a group of tiny holes. The surface was partly blackened with carbonization, but there was no other evidence of damage.
The other was a coffin-shaped container with a transparent plastic top. Inside it lay a body. Andrew heard a quick, unsteady indrawing of breath from Rachel as they stared down at what lay under the transparency. The body was a mass of charred horror, with what was left of the face frozen into a mask of agony. But it was unmistakably a human form.
Waemhofer indicated the device on the pedestal and spoke in what were, for him, matter-of-fact tones. “It’s lighter than it looks. The fact that it is also practically indestructible is surely proof of a technology beyond our horizons.”
Andrew wasn’t so sure of that. He was reasonably sure that familiar technologies could produce something just as light and durable using molecularly aligned crystalline steel for the casing and packing the solid-state internal components in composite laminate materials. In fact, he knew of examples. Nevertheless, he put awe into his voice.
“Now I understand what a stroke of incredible good fortune it was that the crash on Mars was discovered by the Imperial Temple, and not by someone who would not have understood what it truly meant.“
“I believe there was a Higher Power at work,” said Waemhofer simply.
“I gather you know how to activate it. How does it work?”
“Flush with the underside of the handle is a tiny pad. When it is depressed, the holes on the surface light up. So the power source also survived the crash, although of course we have no way of knowing how much longer it will last. It is operated by covering the holes with one’s fingers in a certain order, interrupting the beams of light. By trial and error our explorers on Mars produced a momentary effect which defied explanation, as if space itself was distorted. They naturally experimented no further. We demonstrated this for Persath.”
“I remember it vividly,” said the Lokar.
“I would like to perform scans with certain instruments,” said Andrew, reaching into his satchel and withdrawing one. “Would it be possible to uncover the device?”
“Certainly.” Waemhofer bent over it and snapped open a very basic mechanical latch—no more was required, after all the security they had already passed through—and the display case’s lip rose.
“Thank you.” Andrew stepped behind him, touched the device to the base of his spine, and pressed a firing stud.
Sonic stunners—a more humane alternative to the stun setting of laser weapons—used ultra-high frequency focused sound that affected the nervous system. Unfortunately, the difficulties of creating a unidirectional beam had defeated all attempts to make it a ranged weapon. On contact, though, it worked very well. Waemhofer went limp.
“I hate this,” said Rachel, not for the first time, as she helped Andrew ease him to the floor.
“He’ll awake in a few hours with no ill effects beyond a headache,” Andrew reassured her.
“That, and a great deal of understandable disillusionment,” said Persath. A complex of emotions was making him nervously irritable. “Let’s take the artifact and go!”
“Right.” Rachel lifted the device by its handle. “It really is lighter than it looks. Ready, Andrew?”
“In just a moment,” said Andrew in a preoccupied voice. He had stepped over to the coffin-shaped capsule and was bending over it with an instrument he had taken from his satchel.
“Well?” snapped Persath, his nerves seemingly at the breaking point. “Do you plan to take the body with us as well?”
“No,” said Andrew, and something in his voice stopped both his companions in their tracks. “We don‘t need to. I know everything about it I need to know.” He stood up and held out the instrument. It was the handheld medical sensor he had borrowed from Zhygon. His hand, like his voice, was steadier than he felt. “That is the body of a Shape-Shifter.”
“What?” blurted Rachel. “But that’s crazy! He would have transformed back into his natural shape when he died.”
“Not if Zhygon knows what he’s talking about. Remember, he theorized that sudden, instantaneous death, before the consciousness has had time to fragment, will leave the body locked into its current form. Only a prolonged death agony like Leong’s gives enough time for the mind’s control of the process to sl
ip and the protoplasm to resume its natural form.”
Rachel looked at the burned body with a new level of revulsion.
“Well,” Persath broke the silence, “now we know why the Shape-Shifters want this device. It is, after all, their property.”
“But why is it so very important to them?” Rachel wondered aloud.
“Maybe that will become apparent when we’ve found out what it is and what it does,” said Andrew. “Let’s get out of here.”
Rachel handed the device to Persath, and she and Andrew each took Waemhofer under one arm. Together they lifted him partly upright and dragged him in front of the genetic scanner. The door slid open and, with some difficulty, they pulled him to the elevator and hoisted him up again, with the same result.
“Do we have to haul him any farther?” puffed Rachel.
“No,” said Andrew, entering the elevator and motioning the others to follow. “Leave him here. He didn’t have to get past any scanner that I could see when we came in through the main entrance. I’m counting on that.”
They rode the elevator upward—Andrew had been careful to observe Waemhofer’s manipulation of the controls—and ascended the stairs. They fled through one hallway after another, hoping that their recollection of the layout was accurate. There was no one about—Waemhofer, who had been bending the rules, had seen to that, as they had planned that he would—and they reached the main entrance without incident.
“All right, I think we’re home free,” said Andrew as he lifted the perfectly standard-looking latch.
It was, of course, precisely the wrong thing to say. An alarm screamed.
“Run for it!” yelled Andrew as he shoved the door open. They sprinted for the aircar, with Persath lagging behind under the burdens of age and Earth’s gravity. Andrew strapped himself in and activated the transponder. The gig’s location appeared as a blinking red light. As soon as Persath, emitting the thin whistling sounds of Lokaron gasps for breath, was inside, he flung the air-car aloft and into a north-northwestward course.