"All right, Axel," growled the Skipper. "That's off the cuff, under the circumstances, but aim that cannon somewhere else!"
They faced Ravano and fifty bowmen in the flickering torchlight. The tense silence was broken only by the rising mantra chants of the nearby Krias.
"Let's go!" fumed Stockton suddenly. "They can fry in hell!"
"No, wait!" said Elliott. He pointed to a familiar figure that had come out of the shadows behind Ravano.
Holy Sam had emerged from the temple. Ravano's sister also appeared and rushed to her brother in tense excitement. When she spoke to him, he stiffened in alarm, then glared sullenly at the delegation. Sam also spoke briefly to him and he seemed to deliberate gravely.
Akala ran to Freddie and took her hand while speaking to her urgently in Talavat.
"There are signs of the Oracle!" Freddie announced. "We're allowed to enter the temple!"
When Elliott accepted the transcorder from Freddie, Lyshenko lowered his rifle disgustedly. "That's it! Let's get back to the base!"
As the two women hurried toward the temple entrance, Saussure chuckled derisively. "But why, Commander? Now is our chance to prove their abysmal ignorance!"
"Bishop!" challenged the swami. "You shall have that opportunity, but it is not by chance that you are here!"
Saussure pointed to him and shouted peremptorily as if he were commanding a papal army. "Seize the heretic! He is behind this work of Satan!"
The Bishop was met with surprised or disgruntled expressions. Nobody moved except Ravano. He spoke briefly to his guards who were murmuring among themselves because of the sudden revelation. When they stepped back to their original positions he bowed slightly to dismiss himself from the meeting. Then he walked to the dark tunnel entrance that gave access to the temple.
"Maybe that's not a bad idea, Swami," said Lyshenko. "Why shouldn't we take you back with us? You're a dangerous man. Because of you, men have defected, property has been destroyed, equipment and guns have been pilfered. And now I don't know what the devil you're up to here!"
The swami had been totally unaffected by all of this. He assumed the position Ravano had vacated between the flaming torches. His rotund, bearded figure seemed to loom before them bigger than life. When he spoke, his voice was full and vibrant.
"I stand here by virtue of two laws, one that you can not yet comprehend, and one which is your own." He indicated Saussure with a slight wave of his chubby hand. "Auguste Saussure is not here in accordance with either your book or mine. He was not transported across time and space to assume the holy vestment he desecrates. He was assigned, rather, as a presumed expert on comparative theology and primitive religions. He has failed abysmally to contribute anything other than his own invented dogmas, for purely political reasons."
"Do you hear him!" cried Saussure, imperiously indignant.
"Yeah, loud and clear," rumbled Bjornson, "if you'll shut your yap!"
The Skipper narrowed his eyes warily as he studied the swami. "You said you were here by my book. Just how do you figure that?"
Sam indicated Elliott. "You have my assigned superior there to judge what I say. Dr. Elliott heads the parapsychology unit. What were we sensitives commissioned to do on this expedition? However you may define it, sir, I am busy at my task. Furthermore, this is a most crucial moment for decisions affecting the total mission."
"Why, for God's sake?" Lyshenko insisted.
"The Star Quest itself," Sam answered. "What is the meaning of the Barrier Wall? Why do no ships return? What is the key to returning?"
"What does all that have to do with idiotic voodoo rites in a cave?" Poyntner demanded. "We're wasting time here!"
"Yes," said the swami, "we are wasting time, because a tremendous phenomenon is about to occur. I will express the situation succinctly." There was something so vastly authoritative in his voice that even Lyshenko was momentarily silenced. "Commander, you represent the law. As such you attempt to legislate solutions. Dr. Poyntner, you are the soul of a mechanistic, materialistic science. As such you attempt to invent solutions, whereas our misguided Bishop here attempts to dogmatize them. Valid solutions cannot be legislated, invented, or dogmatized. I have said that until you know what you don't know you are not ready to know, but now here is the opportunity for that knowing." He waved an arm toward the temple. "The Council members and Daniel Troy are invited to enter the temple of the Lahas."
"Why the hell should we?" Poyntner demanded.
The swami smiled. "You have one firm faith, my son. It is your faith in knowledge. I claim now that you are at the threshold of its source."
"You're a madman!"
Sam parted his hands and bowed slightly. "If what you are about to experience proves your contention, I shall be at your advantage." He then addressed Lyshenko. "Commander, you are a practical man–"
"You're damn right I am!" snapped the Skipper. "So get to the point!"
"You once made a statement which applies to the present moment. You said, 'Let's get it into the record, so we can use it or forget it!'"
"Commander," said Elliott, "I recommend that we check him out on this."
"Give me one good reason!"
Elliott's voice was as calm and gentle as ever. "I'll give you three, Alex. First, Sam is infallible when he is like this. He's in a heightened level of consciousness. Second, I sense that something of a highly critical nature is involved here, which may produce some answers. Third, I'll take the responsibility under my rights as a department chief. I don't think you need section and paragraph of Project regulations. You can rest assured we're going by the book."
Lyshenko took a deep breath and stared up at the swami, obviously mystified by his new personality. He looked around at his colleagues. "All right, let's get this over with!"
"I decline," said Saussure.
"You'll do as you're told! You just opened your yap to say we ought to go and prove something in that heathen hole. Now don't welsh out!"
"And if I refuse, Commander?" Poyntner met his stare solemnly.
"You'd be a bigoted ass, at least as a scientist! For God's sake, Al, if there's nothing there for us, at least that will settle something around here!"
When they finally went with Holy Sam to the temple of the Lahas, Danny had a feeling that Lyshenko couldn't take the risk of not going. If there were answers, any at all, concerning the key to returning across the Barrier, he would be violating his own book to refuse. The other men were too involved arguing the pros and cons of the Skipper's startling new policies "to be disgruntled about being excluded from the temple. The majority of them still regarded Sam as being spaced out.
His thoughts were haunted now by the swami's words on the jungle trail: "All I can tell you is that we are at a crucial point in the cosmic continuum. At such times, intervention is permitted." As he traversed the dark, descending tunnel toward the ancient inner sanctum he tried to deride his rising of awesome revelations to come. But there was no denying the cold sweat he felt on his hands and forehead.
THE FOURTH CYCLE
"Then came the Lahas through the gates of Maita-Yemus (the Sky Worlds), and there was war and fleeing when the Sun Death Struck. The Star of Prophecy was seen, and Maitluccan returned to his home. This was the Fourth Cycle."
–Stanza 85, Vol. 31 – The Lahayana
CHAPTER XVI
Like a golden Pythia of the Delphic Oracle, she sat in mystic trance on the trihedron stand above the spirit pit. She had been bathed in energized waters from volcanic geysers, anointed with incense oils, and had eaten of the padama-tama or vision root. Her slender torso was wrapped in the holy white-red wreathes of the vadya-khitam or virgin veil, and her long blond tresses were adorned with the symbolic three-petaled blossoms of the sacred atraya vine. Her marble white breasts were flower-tipped symbols of innocence yet somehow unveiling the sphinx-like mystery of the female hierophant within the shadowed portals of revelation.
Khyatri had chosen Lalille to be the voice of the O
racle. Holy Sam had foreseen this. As he told Danny before, she was an emerging type. The Krias had sensed this in her above the trained sensitivities of Akala, and the priestess of Ramor had wisely concurred.
The great temple cavern echoed to the mantra chants of the Krias and attending native disciples. Throughout the caves and across the outer slopes of the jungle, the sky voices of the maita-bhavas put out the call for devout concentration of Ravano's people. This was the high holy hour of na-thitasu when Ramor was to be heard.
"They are building a psychic cone of force," said Dr-Elliott in an awed whisper.
"Bullshit!" retorted Cyrus Stockton, not whispering at all.
"Jules, what kind of orgy are you getting us into?" complained Lyshenko, fidgeting uncomfortably. None of the star voyagers had ever seen the Lily thus undraped.
"It's a drug trip," sneered Poyntner derisively.
"Primitive sorcery of the most demonic kind!" commented the cowled Bishop, crossing himself sanctimoniously. "This should be stopped or we'll have to exorcise the poor girl!"
So it began, in heated controversy.
When Danny saw Freddie sitting apart from the Council members, looking girlish and lost without her glasses, he went over and sat down beside her on the low, polished obsidian bench. He took hold of her hand with obvious deliberation. She gave him that same wary fawn look that he had noted more than three years ago on the observation deck of the star ship.
She glanced quickly over his shoulder at the Council members. "They can see us!" she half-whispered.
"Who gives a damn?" He gazed upward at Lalille on her prophetess throne while giving her hand a firmer squeeze.
She returned the pressure. "Danny, thank God you're here! I'm lost! It all seems crazy, and yet–"
"It's the and yet part were waiting for, sweetie."
The long-hidden temple of the Lahas had been built into the largest cavern available. Above the Oracle center a wide, jagged vent in the basalt roof admitted both air and indirect daylight. The huge irregular chamber slanted steeply downward to an arena-like basin where the spirit pit was located. Ancient cyclopean stonework provided massive circular tiers which were interspersed with narrow stone stairs leading to higher natural batteries and tunnels. A number of low pedestal stones around the temple supported bowls containing burning oil. Their orange flames produced an eerie illumination that seemed to commune with the shadows Instead of dispersing them, as if light and darkness here were but two expressions of a single principle. The effect was subliminal, capable of tugging at the imagination and invoking psychic response, which was the intent. A pervading haze of incense and subtler odors, combining with the mantra ululations and wavering descant of the maita-bhava flutes, was enough to prepare all but the unregenerate for the coming of demigod or demon.
Facing the Oracle tripod was a long stone tier on which stood the shaman Krias and disciples led by the three-horned Khyatri and his priestess Akala, whose nearly nude body seemed to weave with the slowly dancing lights and shadows. Also there beside the long-haired seated figure of Ravano was Nolokov, standing tall and silent, staring in cabalistic concentration at the blond prophetess on her lofty tripod over the smouldering pit. Like a dark-eyed sorcerer, he appeared to be willing the nascent winds of the communal psyche into manifestation.
Sam, however, had remained purposefully with the Council group. Serenely impervious to their impatience and derision, he hovered over them like a good shepherd with a captive flock, anticipating storm and lightnings and prepared to keep them together for their own sake. When Danny caught this impression he also thought of wolves in sheep's clothing. Poyntner was still candidate number one, but the Bishop was running him a close second. Stockton was a jackal following the pack. And the Skipper? He was either brainwashed or a simple soldier, like himself, born out of his time.
To add to the mood of phenomenal emergence, a slight rolling tremor shook the temple and was accompanied by muffled rumblings. The mantras intensified, and King Ravano glared with new expectancy at the hierophant figure above, who gripped the arms of her throne instinctively. By now Lalille was half-entranced.
"I suppose that's another sign of the approaching Oracle," muttered Poyntner disgustedly.
"No," returned Sam quietly. "There are other signs, mostly psychic. Yet others you may soon see."
Stockton snickered. "Swami, you're conning the wrong crowd. We're scientists, not suckers!"
The swami smiled. "Then let us be scientists here and observe. All is science, there are no miracles. Even what men call magic obeys natural laws."
"That part's obvious enough!" retorted Poyntner. He indicated a Krias priest who had run forward to toss additional powders into the pit beneath the tripod. New billowings of bluish vapor rolled up spectacularly from the bubbling mud pot below. "Hallucinogenics. It's probably some alkaloid derivative like those root cuttings they fed their victim. Hyping the synapses is very scientific!"
"No more nor less than a telescope lens," said Sam. "A tool of perception."
"Except that the girl can end up like a frontal lobotomy case?" snapped Poyntner. "These are primitive witch doctors, not trained parapsychologists!"
"There's nothing new in the whole procedure," insisted Saussure pontifically. "These methods were used in classical antiquity – the Delphic oracle, Trophonius, Dodona, Latona. A whole mythology has been built up using these heathen methods, including talking to trees, rivers, and statues, or caves allegedly occupied by magical nymphs, dryads, or devils. Don't talk to me of science, Swami. What we have here is forbidden blasphemy!"
Sam retained his enigmatic smile. "Like the daemon of Socrates, or perhaps Solomon's witch of Endor in your scriptures who invoked the shade of Samuel?"
"Oh hell!" exclaimed Poyntner in pained exasperation. "Where is this getting us?"
"We take things too literally," suggested Elliott gently. "Symbols are powerful aids to conceptualization and imagery." He pointed to the tripod stand above the pit. "The Pythagorean triangles are there, standing for the past, present, and future vision of Apollo, or what eastern philosophy refers to as the Akashic Record. Sam and Noley call it the Memory of Nature. The three sides of the trihedron shape allude to superconscious, self-conscious and subconscious levels of perception. The position of the prophetess represents man's spiritual nature suspended over the abyss of oblivion."
"Otherwise known as the bondage of illusion," added Sam. "And there, gentlemen, is part of your Barrier Wall. Where is science actually? Are you mere mechanics, content only with your tools and labels? You speak learnedly of Earth antiquities and classical precedents but what you lose sight of is that this is not the Earth. If it is some parallel-universe equivalent of our world, we are millions of years earlier here than in the later days of Pythagoras or Apollo. How, then, do you explain the universality of these symbols? Where is the common denominator that binds these things across the stars in a common truth?"
"Human nature!" retorted Poyntner. He raised a warning finger. "Sam, let me cut you off right here, damn it, once and for all! The puerile attempts of primitive minds to rationalize wishful thinking have always led to the same anthropomorphic principles. Men have always molded their gods and heavens to fit their dreams and their little egos. Science can only look at reality!"
"You're right!" growled Lyshenko. "This is getting us nowhere!"
"But it will," said Sam with supreme confidence. "Otherwise I'd not have brought you here."
Danny whispered to Freddie, "You're the headshrink, honey. Do you think Sam has flipped?"
Freddie's wide amber eyes were fixed on Lalille's glassy-eyed face. "There's something here that's probing the primeval," she murmured. "Call it the universal unconscious. Whatever it is, it's heavy."
When another ground tremor rumbled through the cavern, he put his arm around her and she clung to him willingly.
"I don't mind telling you, Danny, I'm scared!"
"Then you've got company, baby."
W
hile the cone of force continued to build within the increasingly sensitized chamber, Sam went on insistently, calmly overriding every vicious or desperate criticism with a growing entrapment of reason couched in their own language. He reminded them of his previous reference to a lost faculty, the Collective Consciousness of the race. In the dawn races of all humanities, this state was "intuitive," but through mental and psychic evolution the advanced humanities returned to it on a cognizant level. In all ages and in all worlds, advanced ones had achieved this through Art, which was happening here. Although the Krias caste lacked mechanistic knowledge and technology, they were advanced types mentally and psychically, through former guidance by the Great Ones or Lahas. Sam drew the Council's attention to the fact that the maita-bhava horns had sent out a call to thousands outside the temple. A primeval phenomenon unknown to empirical science was being demonstrated.
Also, he explained, this action created interlockings of various levels of consciousness. "Each level of perception may see this differently," he said swiftly. "These phenomena of higher cognition are often considered as dualistic. In primitive man, the dualism is seen as between himself and an external or tribal god. This is effectively as real to him as any other view, because pragmatically it works."
The Council members had begun to fall into longer silences, Danny noted. Either they were giving up the argument, resolved to merely wait out the ritual, or they were like himself and Freddie, caught up in a web of interwoven impressions and waking sensitivities. Temporal sequence began to be lost in the mix of sound and incense and dancing shadows. Sam's voice or his unspoken thoughts overlapped occasional protests from the Council, but a time-unreality crept in, having the effect of absorbing the group into a Now of shared impression.
Suddenly Frederica was tugging at him and pointing upward into the low-roofed natural galleries of the cavern. Furtive nymph forms with blind-eyed exotic faces – the Moals!
"It's a definite sign of the kryasakti effect," came Sam's voice into their consciousness. "The prehumans are at their cyclic crisis, responding to the final phases of their long symbiosis with the dawn race."
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