by K R Sanford
He was unsure of its substance. He felt at any moment he would get swallowed in a glob of amber like a mosquito. He continued walking to what appeared the edge of a fiery cascade. He looked over the edge of the temple. Beyond the wall, the miniature stars rotated at his feet.
All the stars he imagined lay before him. Stars and systems of stars he recognized. Constellations and networks of star systems he had seen in his travels.
The arms of the galaxy spiraled out until they got swallowed by outer darkness. Stars he had not seen before seemed familiar. He became overwhelmed, dizzy and light-headed. He took a step away to collected himself. Marco marveled at his solid footing. He was awestruck at the appearance of a formation existing in an unending chasm of wild space.
Marco wanted to scoop up the floor and taste it on his tongue. He felt a joyous sensation then he lifted his communicator to ask someone to bring him something to eat. He shoved the communicator back on his belt and waited. He waited for the probing of his emotions to make tangible sense. He waited on the edge of the anomaly.
He let the story of all time connect with his being. He looked up to a light glowing from the perfect round transparent chrome. A soft light illuminated the hemispheric shape. It connected with the servant features below. The delicate balance of light and substance was the power for the celestial temple.
The familiarity of the dome overhead gave Marco a recollection of the Lord Legion's body. He felt a wonder that made his blood run cold. He felt vulnerable. His body began to lose control of its strength.
“Get hold of yourself. Get a grip. My god, now I'm talking to myself.” Marco looked behind him. “The Eagle's still there. Funny, no one called me on my communicator. No one followed me out. Did I say not to make contact until I signal? How long have I been standing here? Am I standing here? Is this real?” Marco felt his heart pound. Panic seized his throat.
He knelt and touched the floor. His hand passed through the translucent gold and into the mysterious substance. He pulled his hand out. “Feels like tinsel.” He reached his hand back inside, and as he did, the faint sound of chimes reached his ears. He opened and closed his hand on the tinsel. It felt more like glitter in a field of static electricity.
His sense of panic abated. He was able to breathe. He put his hand flat on the floor and stretched out his fingers. He felt the floor elongate like a living muscle, tightening and solidifying over and over. A wave of panic seized him once again.
He stood to his feet and began to tremble. “Oh,” he groaned. “From joy to wonder to panic,” he mused. “I know I'm in the wrong place. No, I'm in the right place. I'm hungry, so that means I'm not dead. I'm in a right place but it’s not of my design. I’m in a crucible, a crucible of time, but whose time?”
Marco gazed out to the stars below circling the scaly walls of the anomaly.
“Okay, I see the stars,” he said out loud, “The Middle Corridor!” Marco looked to his left and he looked to his right then behind him. “There's the Eagle. And, standing on the bridge is the ship’s company, warriors. And, some of them are royalty from out of space and time.”
“Well done!” echoed the soft, low voice of the Emperor.
“Yes,” answered Marco, not knowing the voice he heard was not his own. “What?”
Marco searched the floor and found the runway empty.
“Well done, my son.” The Emperor's voice rumbled again.
Marco recognized the voice of Lord Legion. “Where's your ship?” he replied.
“My ship,” said the Emperor “is in a slight phase variance from this continuum, not far from here. Devin will offer you the same technology for your ship, if you give him the opportunity.”
Marco, suspicious of the Emperor's all-knowing mind said, “Is that your answer? How can a ship that I touched with my own hands become invisible? I don't understand.” Marco got outraged at getting manipulated by the superior being.
“So soon you forget your experience on the floor. There is much work for you to do and your journey has only begun,” replied the Emperor.
A sheepish grin came over Marco's face.
“Don't try to know all things at one time, my son,” continued the Emperor. “You will see and instinctively know what I have said, when you see the sons of thunder.”
Marco dropped his head and frowned.
“Come present of mind, Marco,” said the Emperor. “You have a long journey ahead of you.”
“I don't need to know where I should go,” said Marco. “Or what I should do.”
“True,” replied the Emperor. “You have all you need for your journey in the palm of your hand.”
Marco looked over the edge of the wall. He looked to the middle arm of the Milky Way. The Middle Corridor lay at his feet. “How do I get there from here?” said Marco.
“From here,” replied Legion, “you can go in any direction you want to go. Leave as you came. Then, let your journey be your destination.”
Marco took one long, hard look at his relation to the tiny stars at his feet. He reached to his belt and held his communicator in front of his chest. “Captain to Eagle, come in Eagle.”
“Yea, Marco!” replied Ryan. “What happened? We've been trying to reach you for over an hour. The force field somehow got activated and we couldn't get through.”
“You will find its okay now,” said Marco.
“What's been going on?” said Ryan.
“I'll explain it later,” replied Marco. “Right now, you need to see this view out here and feel this floor.”
“The floor, Marco?” said Ryan.
Marco smiled to himself and replied, “Yes, the floor, Ryan, at your leisure.”
C H A P T E R 11
________________________________________________________
THE JOURNEY HOME
Ryan and Marco gazed out the thirty-foot viewer. The crew and the royal guests walked onto the transparent floor of the Emperor's temple. Grantham stood by himself looking over the frozen wall of fire at the stardust. Elsinor and Lucia danced a minuet beneath the dome and laughed. Devin with his hands in his pockets got distracted by the impulses of light overhead. Grantham's intense solitude polarized the edge of the temple.
“I hope you don't feel slighted that the Emperor didn't speak to you.”
Ryan turned. His blue eyes and fair hair unfettered by the long journey. He was calm and collected. He smiled as he offered Marco his reply, “There will be other times. Besides there's nothing I can do right now.”
“You're a good man, Ryan,” replied Marco. “So, how did you ever get stuck on the wrong side of the law?”
“We're not outlaws,” reported Ryan. “We represent the persistent voice. We are like our friends the Vallians. They have been fighting the oppressive interests of man since the beginning of time. Now, they are leaders on a planet whose real power is holding us in the palm of his hand as we speak. And, what is strange, we carry the highest order of their race on board this ship.”
“That’s what you call poetic,” said Marco. “I don't see the Vallians as a vengeful people. Devin is not out to destroy the human race.”
Ryan shook his head. “It’s ironic. I didn't say they were vengeful, and I'm not saying Devin wants to destroy the human race.”
“I agree with you,” said Marco. “He wants security for his people. He's telling us he has the Amedan technology to back up his stake in the galaxy. They will not bend to human slavery. In fact, we have much to learn from their peaceful order.”
“Yes, we agree,” said Ryan. “No race should succumb to slavery, or whatever you want to call it. Ambassadors such as the Amedans have their work cut out for them and I see we can help.”
“I know,” said Marco. “My question is; are we being too idealist for our own good?”
“For our own good,” Ryan repeated. “Let’s talk about this. Since you brought it up, I see a difference. We need to strengthen our community so we can maintain an independent place in the galaxy. Every memb
er in this company needs to maintain autonomy. If for nothing else, we need to maintain the company image. We are professionals.
There is a difference between theories and imagined cultural beliefs. And there is a difference when our first priority is being here. The independent is present and in full position of his or her senses and capabilities.
The Interstellar Forces creates the illusion of peace and contentment for everyone. Your taxes get collected to support that illusion. The general population cannot by themselves challenge that policy. That struggle would sooner or later threaten the livelihood of the elite.
Our own race continues to lose voice for themselves and their families. They cannot compete on all levels with the Elite or the Interstellar Forces. It's a great struggle and very expensive. It always has been. Like someone said: The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.”
“It is a constant struggle and a constant heartache,” said Marco. “I don't know how to look at it and make sense of it all.”
“I’m sorry, Marco. I didn't mean to upset you,” said Ryan. “Hey, you're not alone. We all do our part around here. We all do what we can, right? I mean, that's why we're here, isn't it? So, to change the subject, what's this cloaking device that you were talking about?”
Marco smiled. “Ryan, you are one of the smartest and loyal people I have ever known.”
Ryan weighed the comment and returned a poker face. He waited for Marco to speak first.
“As for Devin,” continued Marco. “The technology comes from the Amedans. He seems confident it will work for the Eagle.”
“Play the King's Game with him,” said Ryan. Know his mind. Find out what he wants to do and see if he has a way of installing that cloaking device. I guarantee; installing a new gadget like that will take your mind off things.”
Marco's eyes brightened. “That's a good idea.” He looked out at Devin and ladies enjoying themselves. He contemplated the royals decompressing on the table of the gem. He thought the image was more bizarre than surreal. “I've cut him off a couple of times now,” he rejoined.
“Don't worry about it,” said Ryan. “I find he's a reasonable guy for a King. Talk to him.”
“You're right,” said Marco. He watched Grantham on the landing pad. “Where are Clorissa and Hector?”
“I can't say for certain,” replied Ryan. “Clorissa wanted to investigate the walls of the temple.”
“That could prove interesting if the walls are like the floor,” said Marco. “They could be investigating all day. This temple is a strange place, emotions and feelings getting cross-wired. Here, you smell colors and see tastes. My experiences here expand the possible. Have you eaten lately?”
“Come to think of it,” said Ryan. “I guess I haven't, how about you?”
“No,” replied Marco. “I have a hunger but it's not for food. It's more for a type of energy, not chemical but electrical.”
“It has to be something in this environment,” said Ryan. “It could be we're sensing the energy of the Emperor. This is his domain.”
Marco grinned. “This is his domain, yes. I say that knowing I'm over stating the obvious. There is a field force here like the Amedans’ extra-sensory powers in the Shrine?”
“That could be it,” replied Ryan. “I do think there is more going on here than extra-sensory powers. Tell me something. How do you feel? Are you all right?”
“Yes,” said Marco. “It's that I'm not comfortable here. This temple or space station sends its visitors to their appointed destiny. This place is for centering an expedition then getting it started again. It’s like a mission control station.”
“Okay,” said Ryan. “Well, do I call everyone in so we can get started?”
Marco turned and paced across the length of the bridge. He stopped next to the magnavator and turned back around. He gazed at Hector's life-support console. He studied the King’s Game with its cosmic symbols of the galaxy. He sat on the arm of his command chair.
“Marco?” said Ryan.
Marco reached open his hand toward Ryan. “We're not making the Middle Corridor a workable place by sitting here in Legion's temple. And, the only riddle I have to go on is vague and futuristic. If anything is going to happen, Ryan, it's going to happen out there!” Marco jabbed his finger at the viewer. “We go back the way we came, away from the Emperor's gold launch pad.”
Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. “So, you want me to call everyone back in?”
“No,” replied Marco. “I want everyone to finish their business with the source in the temple. Hector and Clorissa can show up on their own schedule.”
“Okay,” said Ryan.
“Have you played this game?” asked Marco.
“We all have,” replied Ryan.
Marco pointed at the game pieces. “These four pieces?” he said.
“The tokens,” replied Ryan. 'They are the four levels of consciousness.”
“Consciousness?” queried Marco.
“Yeah,” said Ryan. “Or the personalities of the four winds, whatever you prefer. You play one token at a time. Let's say you chose the head of the lion; that's the king of the animal hierarchy. That would be the ruling or executive part of the mind; the decision maker and protector.”
Marco stepped away from his chair and picked up a token. “Looks like a bird, a predatory bird.” He held the token for Ryan to see.
“That's the eagle,” said Ryan. “This is the part of the mind that soars, the visionary, the seer, one's ability to perceive things to come. That's the same ability to sight one's goal.”
“Sounds like you know this stuff well,” said Marco.
“Well,” said Ryan, “it's not difficult. Devin's the real expert.”
Marco puckered his lips and acknowledged with a nod. “And this one looks like the face of a cow, or steer.”
“That's an ox,” said Ryan, “The burden barer, the worker. It's the part of you that installs the cloaking device or maintains the ground plane girders.”
Marco nodded, “And the face of the man?”
“He's the social part in us. That's our compassion; belonging, the artist, the communicator, that sort of thing.”
Marco looked up. “Like the part of us that serves our species and the universe. I guess we're not limited there. But, we are dependent on how well we work with other parts of our consciousness.”
“I like your point,” said Ryan, “It gels with what we're doing here.”
Marco put down the token. “I'm going to make my rounds; you going to be alright up here?”
“Yeah, go ahead, and thanks,” said Ryan.
“Thanks?” asked Marco.
“I enjoyed the conversation,” replied Ryan.
Marco paused. He gave the bridge a once over. He glanced at the small soft green light glowing in the leather fold of his chair. He said, “We'll need to leave the way we came in. The Emperor was insistent about that.”
“Very well,” said Ryan. “I will make the preparations. We can break the rules some other day.”
Marco smiled and turned. He walked into the magnavator and the door hissed shut.
Ryan stood alone in front of the viewer. He couldn’t help wonder about his loss of appetite. Were the others experiencing altered states? Is their conscious mind dipping into their subconscious? And likewise, was the subconscious breaching the conscious?
They had been there for a little more than twelve hours and he hadn't seen anyone touch so much as a snack or a beverage. Ryan thought what force might power the mercurial state of reality. What else was onboard the Emperor's way-station.
He felt a tingling sensation on the tip of his tongue. It was not unpleasant; in fact, the feeling was stimulating, even arousing. The sensation grew. It traveled down the back of his tongue. It spread to his throat and up through his nose. He smelled the faint fragrance of rose petals.
A warm metallic taste formed inside his mouth. The experience and sensation rushed upward in his head. He felt his eyes floatin
g in a pool of effervescence. The sensation moved like vapor on his skin. It numbed his face. The feeling possessed him. It swirled around his eyes. It gave his mind clear bold vision.
The colors of the console lights came alive. He could focus clear and perfect on the smallest detail. He looked and saw new possibilities. Connections interfacing sensors and remotes, servos and memory crystals could have more efficient ergonomics. He saw uses of applications he had not imagined.
The lucid power of his refreshed aptitude released a careless intellect without error. He could move compound thoughts from one side of his imagination to the other. His agility and swiftness to rearrange images would have been a blur had he lost his focus. He had the ability to gather, place and store color-coded images with neon being the brightest and best.
As the sensation grew, Ryan felt his chest begin to pound. His feelings of compassion and wonder at the beings on the viewer moved him aloof. He felt their protector. He was protector of intrepid beings who assembled from the opposite ends of the galaxy. He watched Clorissa walk. A warm rush filled his loins. He watched her ample hips sway across the frozen floor of golden ether.
His hands and feet felt the power of the immortal cherubs. He flexed his fingers as if lightning bolts would release at his command. As the sensation grew and grew, his mind and body became energy. He transformed into a new being of translucent gold. Energy flowed through his body from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet.
He was the central power of the universe, its sole creator. He was one with the macrocosm of his universe and he shouted; “I AM A GOD!” He laughed and laughed out loud. And, as he did, the sensations and illusions dropped from his eyes. They fell like glitter from the noonday sun.
Ryan giggled. He looked down at himself to see if he was still the illusion of his imagination. He smiled. He was still a man. He admired Clorissa as she postured to an unseen audience. He brushed the back of his neck with the palm of his hand then turned and grabbed the ship's external intercom.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We will be boarding in about thirty minutes. Please put all inalienable items in their assigned compartments. Lift-off will begin in 'T' minus sixty minutes. Thank you for your cooperation.” Ryan replaced the intercom. He smiled with satisfaction then wallowed in the silent applause of his performance.
