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raised.
    The whole city went silent. Then he slammed them down as if starting a race.
    Every torch fell to the ground, and the natives pulled off their festive cloaks and threw them over the torches, smothering them.
    “Look up there,” Hewitt whispered. “Over the mountain.”
    The full moon was sitting precisely on the tip of the mountain, like a lunar Stonehenge, and gave out the only light other than the white foam of the long thin waterfall.
    Then the silence was broken, as the whole city began to chant in unison, a three syllable sound, over and over, a whisper building to a scream.
    “Ahh uhh AKK, Ahh uhh AKK, Ahh uhh AKK…” The marching bands started banging their rocks together again, a deafening racket that anyone within twenty miles could surely hear.
    Then another sound rose, not rhythmic but steady, deep and monotonous.
    That was when the waterfall began to flow.
    It was like a dam breaking, megatons of water suddenly released from within the mountain. But it didn’t flood the valley – the reservoir behind the temple filled first, and then the water rushed out of the base of the temple, the level of the Grand Canal filling with a flash flood. The screaming and rock banging becomes orgasmic.
    The water didn’t rise over the banks, though – its release had been precisely calculated to irrigate, not inundate, the city.
    And as the first wave of water traveled down the main canal, the lampposts began to light up, one by one, exactly as the water reached their position. They were brilliant yellow incandescent light, lavishly energy-wasting bulbs.
    On every avenue, as the city’s waterways filled up, the lights came on. Then, the canals full, the water began to leave the city, spreading out to flood the fertile delta, bringing light and life into the darkened world.
    “Jesus,” Cruz said with a start. “That’s what they’re saying. That chant. Ah, ooh, uh…They’re trying to say…Alex.”
    Chen nodded grimly. “Yeah. Marcus,” he said, knowing the young man was monitoring their comms, “it looks like you were right about that machinae deus …”

CHAPTER FIVE – BEHIND THE MASK
     
    Two days after her encounter with Vai Ranza, her cabin shuddered. We’re docking with something , she guessed.
    Sure enough, a few minutes later, the door opened and she had a new visitor. This Rhal was dressed in an elegantly draped set of robes crisscrossing her chest and falling to floor length, similar to the priest’s, but hers were red and blue – the exact same red as the military uniforms she’d seen in the films.
    The visitor had a smooth, polished female voice, emitting from a device at her throat. “Director McAllister, I am DuVai Kottaka, wifemate to Vai Kotta. Welcome to Rhalbazan.” She inclined her head slightly.
    “Thank you,” HM replied, returning the motion.
    “We’ve prepared a welcome for you, and His Imperial Highness the RhalVai Jekta is eager to meet you. If you would…”
    “Of course. Please, just give me a moment to change. Won’t you have a glass of water while you wait?”
    The DuVai waved the idea away. “Thank you, I’m fine.”
    HM changed into her briskest-looking black skirt and jacket, with a white blouse. Basic, simple, businesslike.
    She followed the DuVai out into a hallway, speculating on the method of her arrival. They hadn’t wanted her to see anything between the pickup on Earth and the arrival on the planet. But now she’d meet the real “Majesty,” after having seen so many idealized representations in the movies.
    At last she was getting some first-hand sensory data. They were walking down a splendid colonnade, red marble pillars along its edge, and she was able to see a large garden several floors below. The air was hot and very dry, probably about 40 Celsius. She took in as much of the gardens as she could at the brisk pace at which the DuVai was shepherding her.
    It was more like a xeriscape or a Zen garden than an old-school European palace