''Brother Jonah, I do what the Angels of Light tell me, as I know you do what they tell you. Please continue on with your daily lesson. I assure you, I will do all that the Angels put within my reach to open the ears of those I now take to listen to the wisdom of the Great Guides.''
That made quite a hit with the crowd. Kris caught the murmured words ''the Great Guides'' several times.
''May they bless your efforts more than they ever blessed them before,'' Jonah said, not willing to let Prometheus have the last word.
The Marines marched on. Maybe Jonah did his shouting a bit more softly. His noise fell behind.
''I didn't think your associates believed in God,'' Kris said when she could whisper it.
''We don't, but thirty years ago, the Great Guides announced that the Aliens of the Light privately called themselves angels and their home solar system Heaven. Some of the more simple-minded like Jonah are easily confused by that and miss the fine points of distinction that the Great Guides highlighted.''
''So everyone doesn't see matters the same way?''
''Jonah's son walked away, and he has never forgiven me. My son, Lucifer, preaches among the young the need for another Bearing of the Stones. His son boarded a starship that I had done business with and now is lost to us forever.
''It is a heavy burden for Jonah to bear.''
Kris let the rest of the walk pass in silence.
9
Kris had been in huge buildings, both human built and alien. The Assembly of the Great Guides set new standards. From the outside, it looked like a massive grassy knoll … maybe hillock would be a better word. Inside was an enormous amphitheater. The ceiling hung low, almost claustrophobic in its oppressive-ness. The conflict between the two feelings left Kris confused.
No doubt the effect was intended.
With a will, Kris shook the feelings. I'm a Longknife. A naval officer. A princess. You may have the ceiling, but I have the Marines. The thought brought a grim smile to her lips.
But that didn't let her escape one final thought. There was a whole lot of dirt up there. Hopefully, the Great Guides had better engineers than theologians. It would be a very bad day if the roof picked just now to surrender to gravity.
No Marines were out in front of Kris. Either to avoid getting intimidatingly close or to spread out his troops, Jack had Gunny forming the Marines in a line behind the top row of seats. It was just Kris and Jack, Abby and Penny making the long walk toward the central sanctuary, a huge place in its own right.
Chief Beni hung back with the Marines. Kris could already hear his excuse that he could measure anything from back there.
Kris slowed as she reached the bottom of the amphitheater. What appeared to be the sanctuary stood atop a six-foot wall above the floor. There was no visible entrance.
Then suddenly there was. A wide stairwell opened before her. ''We are very honored. The Great Guides have deigned that you should approach them,'' Prometheus said.
Kris felt delighted with that honor … and knew she was being manipulated. Just at the edge of her hearing there was music. NELLY, ASK THE CHIEF IF WE'RE GETTING ''HAPPINESS'' OR ''I BELIEVE ANYTHING'' GAS.
CHIEF BENI SAYS THERE ARE MINOR TRACES OF BOTH GASES AS WELL AS LOW HARMONICS REINFORCING THEM.
Kris tapped two skin patches on the inside of her wrist. The antidotes to both gases shot into her bloodstream. To her right, her team did the same. To her left, Prometheus climbed the stairs, a near beatific joy on his face.
A few feet past the stairs, a rail rose from the floor, marking the limit, apparently, of their honor … and advance. Kris reached it, stopped, looked around, and saw only a vast expanse of white marble. So she turned to look the place over until whoever was choreographing this show caught up with her.
Thick carpet covered the riser seats, the better for soft bottoms to endure long sermons or harangues. The Marines covered the entire top row, one every five yards. Every fifth Marine faced backward, keeping an eye on what might come up behind them. Gunny and sergeants roamed along their rank, making sure troopers stayed attentive even though nothing seemed to be happening.
''Beni, any little word of advice would come in handy just now.''
''I'm not finding any electronic action in this whole anthill. You know there are such things as hydraulics and mechanical motors, Your Highness. I got a feeling these folks have swallowed a really big old-timer's pill.''
Which might be true, but was no help to Kris.
A hissing brought Kris back to face front. There was steam in the air above them; the music was louder and more pounding. Kris had been to a few rock concerts in college that were this lame.
Then again, she'd done them drug free, and most of her friends who hadn't had seemed to enjoy them a whole lot more.
Oh well.
A block of ebony marble began to descend from the ceiling. Twelve white thrones followed. Lights flashed through the steam, making the black stone and gleaming thrones sparkle and roil. Kris counted ten people seated on the thrones, two empty. So much for flexibility.
Kris eyed the descending guides. NELLY, PLEASE MATCH THESE GREAT GUIDES AGAINST THE ONES RUNNING THIS SHOW BEFORE THEY LIT OUT FROM HUMAN SPACE.
THEY DO NOT MATCH. NONE OF THESE TEN WERE AMONG THOSE TWELVE.
Which leaves two that could match, but Kris wouldn't take a bet on them. And which set of Guides had decided the good aliens were angels. How bloody had been the change in revelation.
Kris knew politics could become a blood sport. Her father had kept it otherwise … most of the time. Apparently, when angels talked directly to you, things could go real bad.
The slab of marble, or at least what looked like one, settled twenty meters from Kris. The twelve thrones were just about ready to touch down. The steam dissipated, letting Kris spot the supporting cables on the slab and chairs. Nelly estimated they could support no more than 125 kilos except for the overweight man who sat in the middle. He had double cabling.
They were not quite down when Kris took the lead. ''Hi, folks. I'm glad you could find time in your busy day to meet with me. I represent King Raymond I, monarch of one hundred and twelve planets, and I'm here to open relationships with Xanadu.'' Kris blessed them with her best princess smile.
Nothing happened while the thrones settled into place behind the fake marble. Nothing happened while the fat man in the middle studied Kris for a long moment through small beady eyes.
''You do not speak to us,'' he growled. ''We speak to you, and you answer only when it is our wish for you.''
''You did notice the Marines lining your sacred precinct, didn't you?'' Kris said.
''I could tell them to leave, and they would obey me.''
''You might want to double-check that, fellow. Your ‘I believe anything' juice is pretty out-of-date.''
''You there,'' he said, waving at Jack. ''Leave us.''
Jack's right hand went to rest on his holster. He shook his head. ''Sorry, Charley, it ain't gonna happen.''
''Let me tell you what is going to happen,'' Kris said, casually settling to a half-sitting position on their rail. ''Humanity is set to do another spread out. You're only two jumps from Cuzco, so it's not going to be very long before there's a lot of traffic through your system. You are soon going to go public in a big way.''
''I told them we should have moved farther out,'' a woman said, three down from the big guy in the middle.
''Cuzco was growing like a weed even before we moved here,'' said a man on the opposite side.
''They began the migration eighty years ago. It was too late to change,'' put in another beside him.