Forbidden Sanctuary

Forbidden Sanctuary

by

Richard Bowker

FORBIDDEN SANCTUARY

Reviews & Accolades

"Highly involving...A thoughtful and well-written novel, combining a good mystery with the agonies of a well-meaning people trying to solve an awful dilemma."

~Library Journal

"Well-developed characters with the pace and style of a top notch suspense thriller."

~Science Fiction Review

"This book is thought-provoking and well-written, involving very credible human and alien characters as well as an objective consideration of various ethical and political issues.

~Dragon Magazine

"Spellbinding... vivid and believable characters, subtle humor, excellent insights into alien and human psychology and behavior, mature dialogue, and a twisting plot."

~ Kliatt

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ISBN: 978-1-61417377-9

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Copyright 2012 by Richard Bowker. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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Thank You.

Chapter 1

"I believe in One God, the Father, the Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth..."

Some days it was hard to pray. Angela's mind would float off in any direction but Heavenward. Today, for example, it started on music (what would be the Numian word for
counterpoint?
For that matter, what was it in Italian?); music was her job, today, and she wanted, as always, to do a good job. Then it drifted back (as it often did) to when she got the job: walking out of her class in Advanced Spanish and seeing the man dressed in the gray suit, incongruously formal for a California fall. "Ms. Summers?"

"Yes?"

"How long do you think it would take you to learn a language from scratch—just from hearing it spoken by someone who doesn't know any English?"

"Depends on the language."

"Would you like to give it a try?"

"Don't mind if I do."

"I believe in Jesus Christ, His Son our Lord..."

Well, her religion had caused them a minor problem or two, but she was too good; they had to have her. Her mind skipped to Bacquier, looking harried, a million decisions to be made, her little request one of the least of them. "All right, all right," he had said. "But you can't go alone. Security, you see. Can't have you people running around alone out there."

Security was all right by her—as long as her request was granted.

"I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the Giver of Life, who proceeds from the Father and Son. With the Father and Son He is worshiped and glorified..."

Now the end was in sight: something about the number of cycles that had been completed. And what had come of all of it? Enough to keep scholars busy for quite a while—until the ship returned. If it was going to return.

"They've got to come back," Colin had said. "We have too much to offer."

"That's right. Too much," Natasha had countered. "They're afraid of us."

Angela didn't like to speculate, but she did have one thought on the matter. "What if," she had asked, "they can't find their way back?"

There were still far more questions than answers....

The priest plunged ahead. As usual, there had been no sermon. He had nothing to say, Angela supposed, especially to five old ladies and one stranger. That was all right: it was the ritual that mattered to her, even when it was trampled through by an overweight middle-aged man eager to get to his morning coffee and newspaper.
Ex opere operato,
she thought. She knew Latin too.

Numian was a bit like Latin, actually. Highly inflected, relatively few irregular verbs. She and her co-workers would write it all up, of course, and someday it might be declassified. It was odd, really, but more than one person had compared the Numoi to the Romans. There might be something to that; there might be something to a lot of things.