Gita, his whole frame shaking with fright, helped lift the stricken Kyr onto Spence’s shoulders while Adjani kept the naga demons at bay, brandishing the rod. The jolt to the first demon seemed to have made them cautious, but they had regrouped and were closing in.
“Gita, you lead the way. We’re right behind you. There!” shouted Spence, shoving Gita ahead toward the forest. “Get going!”
The demons saw what was happening and began shrieking in rage. They leapt into the air to pursue the chase.
Spence, with Kyr slung across his shoulders, stumbled on as fast as he could, slamming now and again into branches and trunks of trees as they gained the forest. Adjani stayed at his elbow, steadying him and guiding him through the thick tangle. Occasionally he turned to loose a shot at the beings darting after them.
They ran on a downward course that grew steeper as they went along. To Spence it seemed that they had traveled for hours, but it must have been only a few minutes before his lungs began to burn and his legs tired. But he kept moving.
The forest began to thin out and the undergrowth became sparse. He imagined he saw lights through the trees ahead. “I think I see something!” cried Gita. “Yes! It is the village! Rangpo is ahead.”
“Can you make it?” asked Adjani. “Let me take him.”
“No, I can make it. Let’s keep going.” Spence allowed himself a quick backward look. “Where are they?”
“They’re right behind. But they seem to be keeping their distance.”
“They’re afraid of your weapon there—”
“Or they’re waiting for us to run out into the open.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” The thought made Spence’s heart sink once more.
The way became steeper and rocky. Spence fell several times over rocks and landed on his knees. Each time Adjani hauled him to his feet and they hurried on. Then they were standing at the edge of the forest looking down at the village on the hillside below. They could hear the obscene buzzing of the demons’ wings growing louder and more ominous as the creatures closed in.
Spence, his heart pounding wildly, his breath coming hard, leaned heavily on Gita’s arm. “Well, it’s now or never. Let’s go!”
Gita muttered a prayer and dashed out from the shelter of the trees; Spence followed on his heels. Instantly there was a shriek above as one of the creatures streaked down upon them. “Down!” cried Adjani. Spence threw himself to the ground and heard a raking claw whisper by his head. He glanced up just in time to see Adjani running toward him.
“Look out!” he shouted. But it was too late.
Adjani, watching the sky behind, did not see the fallen tree trunk lying directly in his path and went down hard. The weapon in his hand was thrown out and sailed through the air to land midway between them. Adjani squirmed back onto his feet and dived for the alien weapon. There was a whir in the air and a dark shape swooped down and snatched the instrument away.
Spence, helpless under Kyr’s weight, watched all this happen. “Oh, no!” he groaned.
“Look here!” exclaimed Gita. “The Lord be praised!”
Spence swiveled his head in the direction of Gita’s voice and saw smooth high stone walls shining faintly in the moonlight. Adjani was instantly beside him lifting Kyr. They slung the Martian between them and made for the wall.
“This way! Hurry! The seminary! Run quickly!”
They reached the wall and ran alongside it, looking for an opening to duck inside. Gita disappeared around a corner and they heard his voice call back to them, “Here is a gate! Hurry, my friends! A gate!”
When they caught up with him he was hammering on the gate with his bare hands. A single lamp burned in a lantern over the entrance. They huddled in the pool of light, as if it might offer some protection against the terrors of the night.
Spence leaned Kyr against the archway. A moan came from the alien’s throat. “I think he’s coming out of it. Can you see them?”
Adjani, eyes to the sky, replied, “No, but I’m sure they’re out there. Strange, I don’t think they followed us. I don’t know why.”
“I don’t care why, just as long as they leave us alone.”
“I hear someone coming,” said Gita, still pounding on the wooden gate with his hands.
In a moment they heard a voice from behind the door speaking rapid Hindi. Gita answered and then said, “Please, open up! We need help!”
There was a grating sound as of a bolt being drawn back and then the door creaked open and a face appeared in the crack.
“Who disturbs our rest at this late hour?” Black eyes glittering in the light glanced quickly at each of them in turn.
“Please, sir. We seek refuge behind your walls. Our friend is hurt. May we come in?”
There was a slight hesitation and then the door was thrown open wide, revealing a small man with a smooth bald head which gleamed in the moonlight. “You are welcome, friends. How can I help you?”
As soon as Kyr was moved inside Adjani whirled to the door and shut it, throwing the bolt. Their host narrowed his eyes and looked sharply at his guests.
Spence saw the look and said, “We mean you no harm, sir. We won’t trouble you further.”
“I am Devi, dean of the seminary. I was just on my way to my quarters when I heard you knocking on the gate. Are you in trouble?”
“We were traveling on the road earlier,” said Adjani. “We camped in the forest.”
“Wild animals found us and pursued us,” said Gita, his eyes big with fright. “We came here. Your Eminence.”
Devi laughed. “You have had a time of it, yes; I can see that. Now about your friend.” He bent to examine the Martian.
Spence quickly turned to hide the alien’s features. “He’ll be all right. He fell. We had to carry him. I think he’s coming out of it.”
Devi nodded. “I won’t pry. Your secrets are safe with me. Wild animals have been known to wander nearby in these forests, though it has been a long time since anyone saw a lion or tiger. But we’ll let that keep for now.” He smiled and Spence saw his bald head bob. “Now you’ll want to lie down and rest, I think.”
“We don’t want to put you to any trouble, sir,” said Adjani.
“Oh, no trouble. I am only sorry I do not have beds to offer you; they are all full. But follow me—I will find something.”
He turned and led them across the courtyard toward the main building of the complex. Their steps echoed faintly on the stone walk. They moved cautiously, peering into the sky for the dreaded shapes. But the sky was clear and bright and the moon fair. Not a sign of the demons could be seen.
24
KALNIKOV LOWERED HIMSELF CAREFULLY through the man-sized hole in the lower deck beneath the docking bay staging area. The hole was made for more standard-sized spacemen, not Russian giants, and Kalnikov was a husky giant at that, so he had to squeeze his shoulders through carefully in order to keep from getting stuck. Once through, he dropped down a short ladder and made his way through a junction tube to the maintenance room that he and Packer had made their home, war room, and base of operations for the coming revolution.
He entered the room, filled with cylinders and hydraulic hoses and the electronic servo boxes which operated them. Packer sat hunched over a small console at a tiny table in the cramped room, his face green in the reflected light from the screen he stared into.
“How goes it, friend? Progress?”
“Hmph. It’s enough that you give me obsolete tools to work with—you expect progress, too?”
“You are getting to be a very disagreeable fellow. Packer. But I don’t mind,” the Russian said cheerily. Packer looked away from the screen at his companion and noticed a definite change in the man’s appearance—he seemed buoyant, full of smiles and winks.
“Have you been drinking?”
“No, I have news.”
“What is it?”
“First, you must tell me how you are coming on your little project there.”
Packer fro
wned. In the last several days—or was it weeks?— he had not stirred out of their prison. For most of that time he had been sitting before the small screen staring at green phosphorescent blips and scrambled letters and numbers. MIRA was a tough old girl to crack, and he had only the tools of a fourth-form schoolboy to do it with.
They had decided to risk tapping MIRA’s data bank to monitor the flow of information between the administration and security offices—between Wermeyer and Ramm. To do that they needed a terminal and a hook-in that would not be noticed when engaged. Kalnikov had scrounged an old manual keyboard model from a dusty corner somewhere and put Packer to work. He had been working constantly ever since.
“I am becoming permanently hunchbacked,” said Packer. “That’s how I’m coming. As for the project, well, who knows? Tomorrow or maybe the next day. It’s too early to tell. MIRA’s got a thick shell, tough as armor. And there’s only so much this kiddie computer can do.” He paused and dismissed the machine with a wave of his hand, and then continued.
“But I’ve organized fifteen of my best third-year men into teams. We’ve split the program into five parts and each team is working on a portion of the key. Right now, I’m merely trying to juice up our system here to handle the sneak feed once we’re on line.”
“Then we are in?”
“Not yet. Soon though. I’ve been able to worm in using the autohydraulic servo connect lines and I’ve reversed a couple of them without anyone noticing so far. There may be a red light blinking somewhere that someone may notice, but we’ll have to chance it. There’s still a way to go yet.”
“When?” asked Kalnikov, crossing his great arms across his wide chest.
“Like I said, soon—tomorrow or the next day. Maybe longer. The problem is that the best program engineers in the world put in state-of-the-art worm traps. Sliding into the data core means outsmarting the traps and that’s next to impossible. It would probably be easier to put your ear to the keyhole and listen that way.”
The Russian was unimpressed. “It can be done. Anything one man can do, another can undo.”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
“But it must be done by tonight.”
“What? Now wait a minute—” Packer leaped from his seat and sent his chair crashing backwards to the floor.
“Restrain yourself, please. We need to be on line by tonight. I have received word through the network that messages have been received this morning.”
“Messages from who?”
“It is all in code. We don’t know. But the effect has been to increase the effort to find us and to expose the network.”
“Oh, great.”
“Time is growing short. Something is about to happen and they want us safely out of the way before it does. We need all the advance warning we can get. We must get into MIRA’s datafiles and read those signals—and any more that come through.”
“They’re really upset, huh?” Packer raised his eyes upward.
“They are even sniffling out the ventilation systems—they say there is a chemical leak from sanitation and traces of cyanide were found in the air. It is just an excuse, of course, so people will not become alarmed.”
“Then it’s only a matter of time before they flush us out of here.”
“I am taking care of that. I am in contact with my second-in-command. He is with us. He will either disrupt the search of the docking bay, or he will obstruct it in some way. We don’t need to worry yet. Anyway, he will be able to warn us. But about tonight …”
Packer sighed. “I’ll do what I can. We’re all exhausted. We’ve been working at this round the clock.”
“Do your best, comrade. Soon your work will be rewarded.” Kalnikov turned to leave.
“It’s coming down soon, isn’t it? How long do we have?”
“Within the next forty-eight hours, perhaps sooner. Take heart, my friend. Soon you will be a free man again.” The big pilot stomped off humming a vaguely martial melody.
“Yes,” muttered Packer, “one way or another I’ll be a free man.” Then he returned to his keyboard and tapped in an exhortation to his team of code-cracking worm masters and asked for a progress report. That done, he settled himself back to work once more.
AUGUST ZANDERSON STOOD IN the dark. Evening had deepened around him as he waited, motionless, like a stone image of a man awaiting the summons that would call it to life.
Nearby he heard the gentle rise and fall of Ari’s breathing, sounding like the shallow wash of sea upon the sand heard from afar. Upon returning from her last encounter with Hocking drowsy and incoherent, she had lapsed into a deathlike sleep. Her father had stood over her watching until darkness removed her from his sight. Now he listened to her breathing, clenching and unclenching his fists while alternately cursing and praying for her recovery.
After a while he became aware of voices in the courtyard below. The hushed sounds drifted up through the open balcony doorway. Stirring himself he stepped woodenly onto the balcony to peer into the darkened space below. He heard the rush of feet hurrying away to some other part of the palace and then all was still again.
He turned to go back to his sentinel’s post near his daughter and as he did so he glimpsed, black against a lighter sky, the passing of several large, ill-defined shapes winging over the palace toward the lower slopes.
A feeling of dread accompanied the passing of the eerie shapes. Zanderson shivered involuntarily and moved back inside.
“ALL WE WANT IS a bed for the night,” said Spence. “We’ll be gone in the morning.”
“Please, you may stay as long as you wish. Until you are rested and your friend is able to travel again, do not even think of leaving. You are safe here and most welcome. We are a poor seminary, and our students are poor, but we are rich in the Spirit and a great wealth of grace is ours. What we have we will share with you gladly.”
Spence was about to protest, but Adjani cut him off saying, “We are most honored. Dean Devi. Of course, we will stay as long as is necessary. Your hospitality is most welcome.”
Devi’s smile was warm and pleased. He turned to the door of the chapel and opened it and led them in. It was dark and warm inside and smelled slightly musty with age—like an old library or museum, thought Spence. The scent was not disagreeable at all; rather it made him feel secure, as if he had stepped into a safe harborage well out of reach of the world’s blasts and alarms. This, then, was what the ancients meant by sanctuary. Here on this holy ground nothing could harm him. He was safe and at peace.
At once he felt the weight of care roll off his shoulders.
He looked around at the high-vaulted ceilings, barely outlined in the soft light of candles burning in great iron holders in the front of the sanctuary.
“Yes, this place is very old, and most holy.” Devi spoke in hushed tones.
As he spoke, Spence became aware of the presence of others in the chapel. He had thought they were alone, but realized, as his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, that there were several figures silently bent over something at the front of the chapel. “Are we disturbing something?” He indicated the figures.
“Not at all. Let us make your friend comfortable and I will tell you about them.” He nodded toward the figures outlined in candlelight.
Kyr had recovered enough to move under his own power, but still seemed not to know where he was or what was happening to him. Adjani, who had been supporting him, laid him down in a nearby pew, propped his head on a cushion and spread the blanket over him which Devi had provided. Gita lay down at the other end of the pew and both were soon sleeping peacefully.
“I think he’s going to be all right,” whispered Adjani as he joined Devi and Spence. Both Spence and Adjani had been careful to keep Kyr in the shadows as much as possible so as not to alarm their host with the alien’s presence—it would have been very difficult to explain, after all. With him now resting safely in the pew both men breathed a sigh of relief. Their secret was safe a little
while longer.
Devi motioned them away to a place where they could talk more freely without disturbing the sleeping men. Spence looked at the kneeling figures; he could see them clearly now, bowed over the image of a cross set in white stones in a mosaic on the floor.
“They are the Friends of Intercession,” said Devi. “They are observing their office of prayer.”
“Friends of Intercession? A holy order?”
“Yes, but not the way you mean. It is a society, but anyone may join. We are all members here at the seminary. It was given its modern name by a professor we had here many years ago—an American like yourself. He had a daughter, a little girl, who was taken ill and nearly died, I believe. They held a prayer vigil for many weeks and she eventually recovered. He attributed her deliverance to our intercession and gave us the name, though that, as I say, was before my time.”
“They’ve been praying ever since?”
“Oh, yes, and before—long before. The practice goes back many centuries. I told you this place was very old. Tradition has it that it is founded on the exact spot of the first Christian church in India. This chapel rests on the foundations of that first church.
St. Timothy himself is said to have visited this place, it is that old. The apostles spread the new faith to the ends of the Earth in accordance with the Lord’s Great Commission. Their seed found fertile soil here and took root.
“From the beginning this has been a place of prayer. We observe this most venerable and holy rite in our turn as the others did in theirs. It stretches back through time in an unbroken chain, spanning the years, joining us to the very first believers.”
As Devi spoke, the door to the chapel opened and a lone figure slipped in and took its place at the front of the sanctuary, replacing one of the members of the little group who then got up and left just as quietly.
“So it goes on,” observed Devi. “Sometimes in large groups, or small; sometimes a lone student or faculty member kneeling silently. They come to pray and stay until someone else comes to take their place. The chain stretches on—forged a link at a time.”
Spence was overwhelmed by the enduring devotion of the society. He had never heard of such a thing, and could scarcely comprehend such selfless pity. The quiet, fierce discipline of the Friends of Intercession left him almost speechless. “What do they pray for?” he asked, embarrassed at once by the crudeness of his question.
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