They all ran down a set of metal stairs that was attached into a vertical shaft dug by humans to connect what was once a breeding chamber with a antechamber of the tower’s ovule. In the inner sanctum, a group of clerics have already done the necessary meditation exercises to displace Wazdog’s astral projection onto the targeted Kraey starship. Seven clerics sit cross-legged in Madmasana position, some with their eyes closed, others facing what looks like a small cube in the middle of the sanctum. Their formation looks like a chaotic half circle because the occultists avoid facing one another. All lines of sight are focused on the platform and in front of each cleric a soldier has put a copy of a sketch of the targeted ship and its flight path towards the planet Earth from Mars. Wazdog is fully prepared, wearing a backpack full of equipment. He puts on his breathing device and sits down on the cube. The bishop hits a small bell and everyone closes their eyes. Apart from the hum of psionic Nekraeytian machines, everything is quiet.
The bishop begins the chant: “Ten noeh vultn uqc noeh. Ten noeh vultn ucq noeh. Ten noeh vultn ucq noeh. Ten noeh vultn ucq noeh. Giqc piqt tuul hlaqc. Fuulpey suq aq miiq cnool meyq dimaliit teelraaq…” Some of the clerics repeat the chorus, others repeat the spell. A glowing glyph appears beneath Wazdog’s cross-legged body. He repeats the phrase: “Ten noeh vultn meyq noeh.” As they chant, those who possess the art, can see flickering dust rise up from the participants. The ancient alien technology in the opposite side of the sanctum, above the altars, in the ceiling’s slanted architecture, is very powerful. Its psionic energy reverberates so strongly even the most psionically suppressed humans could feel the vibrations. If you are surprised by the syncretic mix of religious and technological and even extraterrestrial symbols and behaviors that permeate the room, understand that pragmatism prevailed over dogma long ago. It is accepted, by loyalist and orthodox alike, that Jaromil was inspired by the work and teachings of Austin Osman Spare, an English artist and Thelemite who emphasized the unconscious part of the human psyche and its atavistic memories. It is not clear whether Spare’s diagrammatic sigils of desire worked, but Jaromil’s use of glyphs to focus the psionic energies of his apostles is similar. It is one of these glyphs that now spreads across the room, filling the air with glowing yellow signs that float mid-air around everyone involved. What was a cold empty room has filled with an immense machine-driven power, and Wazdog is beginning to fade from this realm. In less than a minute, the man will be completely gone, projected through the tower’s peduncle into Earth’s orbit. The ritual concludes with a sudden rising echo of “Wgenc ram qo” to inject Wazdog from the sanctum directly into the space ship. Roughly translated, they chanted: This ship is our ship […] Alongside/By layer (e.g., ozone layer, Earth’s psionic containment layer) through boundary. Past sun and moon send my friend there […] teleport him now!”