The Last Oracle (Sigma Force Series)

by James Rollins

Overview

In this superb thriller from #1 New York Times bestselling author James Rollins, Sigma Force must battle a group of rogue scientists who have unleashed a diabolical project that could bring about the extinction of mankind.

Salvation . . . or annihilation?

What if scientists could bio-engineer the next great world prophet--the next Buddha, Mohammed, or even Jesus? Would it mark the Second Coming or initiate a chain reaction leading to the end of mankind?

Formed during the Cold War, a think tank of world scientists known as the JASONS have discovered a way to manipulate and enhance autistic children who show savant talents--mathematical geniuses, statistical masterminds, brilliant conceptual artists. Yet among their young patients a strange side-effect begins to arise. Before it can be analyzed fully, a rogue group of the JASONS begins their own secret experimentation with a cadre of the best children. Their goal, to create a world prophet for the new millennium, one who can be manipulated to create a new era of global peace . . . a peace on their own terms, that is. But such manipulation has grim consequences as a biological meltdown among the children begins to occur--turning the innocent into something far more frightening.

To stop the JASONS before they engineer the extinction of mankind, Commander Gray Pierce of SIGMA Force races against time to solve a mystery that dates back to the first famous oracle of history--the Greek Oracle of Delphi. But can the past save the future?

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780061562686
Publisher:	HarperCollins
Publication date:	07/29/2008
Series:	Sigma Force Series , #5
Edition description:	Large Print
Pages:	688
Product dimensions:	5.90(w) x 8.90(h) x 1.50(d)

About the Author

James Rollins is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of international thrillers that have been translated into more than forty languages. His Sigma series has been lauded as one of the "top crowd pleasers" (New York Times) and one of the "hottest summer reads" (People magazine). In each novel, acclaimed for its originality, Rollins unveils unseen worlds, scientific breakthroughs, and historical secrets--and he does it all at breakneck speed and with stunning insight. He lives in the Sierra Nevada.

Hometown:

Sacramento, California

Date of Birth:

August 20, 1961

Place of Birth:

Chicago, Illinois

Read an Excerpt

The Last Oracle LP
A Novel

Chapter One

A.D. 398

Mount Parnassus

Greece

They had come to slay her. The woman stood at the temple's portico. She shivered in her thin garment, a simple shift of white linen belted at the waist, but it was not the cold of predawn that iced her bones.

Below, a torchlight procession flowed up the slopes of Mount Parnassus like a river of fire. It followed the stone-paved road of the Sacred Way, climbing in switchbacks up toward the temple of Apollo. The beat of sword on shield accompanied their progress, a full cohort of the Roman legion, five hundred strong. The road wound through broken monuments and long ransacked treasuries. Whatever could burn had been set to torch.

As the firelight danced over the ruins, the flames cast a shimmering illusion of better times, a fiery restoration of former glory: treasuries overflowing with gold and jewels, legions of statues carved by the finest artisans, milling crowds gathered to hear the prophetic words of the Oracle. But no more.

Over the past century, Delphi had been brought low by invading Gauls, by plundering Thracians, but most of all, by neglect. Few now came to seek the words of the Oracle: a goat herder questioning a wife's fidelity, or a sailor seeking good omens for a voyage across the Gulf of Corinth. It was the end of times, the end of the Oracle of Delphi. After prophesying for thirty years, she would be the last to bear the name Pythia.

The last Oracle of Delphi.

But with this burden came one final challenge.

Pythia turned toward the east, where the sky had begun to lighten.

Oh, that rosy Eos, goddess of dawn, would hurry Apollo to tether his four horses to his Sun chariot.

One of Pythia's sisters, a young acolyte, stepped out of the temple behind her. "Mistress, come away with us," the younger woman begged. "It is not too late. We can still escape with the others to the high caves." Pythia placed a reassuring hand on the woman's shoulder. Over the past night, the other women had fled to the rugged heights where the caves of Dionysus would keep them safe. But Pythia had a final duty here.

"Mistress, surely there is no time to perform this last prophecy."

"I must."

"Then do it now. Before it is too late."

Pythia turned away. "We must wait for dawn of the seventh day. That is our way."

As the sun had set last night, Pythia had begun her preparations. She had bathed in Castilia's silver spring, drank from the Kassotis spring, and burned bay leaves on an altar of black marble outside the temple. She had followed the ritual precisely, the same as the first Pythia thousands of years ago.

Only this time, the Oracle had not been alone in her purifications.

At her side had been a girl, barely past her twelfth summer.

Such a small creature and of such strange manner.

The child had simply stood naked in the spring waters while the older woman had washed and anointed her. She'd said not a word, merely stood with an arm out, opening and closing her fingers, as if grasping for something only she could see. What god so suffered the child, yet blessed her just the same? Surely not even Apollo. Yet the child's words thirty days ago could come only from the gods. Words that had plainly spread and stoked the fires that now climbed toward Delphi.

Oh, that the child had never been brought here.

Pythia had been content to allow Delphi to fade into obscurity. She remembered the words spoken by one of her predecessors, long dead for centuries, an ominous portent.

Emperor Augustus had asked of her dead sister, "Why has the Oracle grown so silent?"

Her sister had responded, "A Hebrew boy, a god who rules among the blessed, bids me leave this house . . ."

Those words proved to be a true prophecy. The cult of Christ rose to consume the empire and destroyed any hope for a return to the old ways.

Then a moon ago, the strange girl had been brought to her steps.

Pythia glanced away from the flames and toward the adytum, the inner sanctum of Apollo's temple. The girl waited inside.

She was an orphan from the distant township of Chios. Over the ages, many had hauled such children here, seeking to abandon such burdens upon the sisterhood. Most were turned away. Only the most ideal girls were allowed to stay: straight of limb, clear of eye, and unspoiled. Apollo would never accept a vessel of lesser quality for his prophetic spirit.

So when this willow branch of a girl had been presented naked to the steps of Apollo's temple, Pythia had given her hardly a glance. The child was unkempt, her dark hair knotted and tangled, her skin marked with pox scars. But deeper, Pythia had sensed something wrong with the child. The way she rocked back and forth. Even her eyes stared without truly seeing.

Her patrons had claimed the child was touched by the gods. That she could tell the number of olives in a tree with merely a glance, that she could declare when a sheep would lamb with but a touch of her hand.

Upon hearing such stories, Pythia's interest had stirred. She called the girl to join her at the entrance to the temple. The child obeyed, but she moved as if disconnected, as if the winds themselves propelled her upward. Pythia had to draw her by hand to sit on the top step.

"Can you tell me your name?" she asked the thin child.

"Her name is Anthea," one of her patrons declared from below.

Pythia kept her gaze focused on the child. "Anthea, do you know why you've been brought here?"

"Your house is empty," the child finally mumbled to the floor. So at least she can speak. Pythia glanced to the temple's interior. The hearth fire burned in the center of the main hall. It was indeed empty at the moment, but the child's words seemed to whisper at something more.

Maybe it was her manner. So strange, so distant, as if she stood with one leg in this world and the other beyond this realm.

The child glanced up with those clear blue eyes, so full of innocence, so in contrast with what spilled next from her lips.

"You are old. You will die soon."

The Last Oracle LP
A Novel. Copyright © by James Rollins. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

Editorial Reviews

Once again, the action is nonstop.

Sacramento Bee

The perfect escape novel, an edge of-your-seat read.

Knoxville News-Sentinel

Go out and buy James Rollins’s latest saga. He just keeps getting better and better.

The Barnstable Patriot

Rollins combines real-world science with high-octane action to create rousing stories of adventure that are as exciting as any movie.

Chicago Sun-Times

Lots of absorbing scientific information and tantalizing sentences.” — Publishers Weekly

“Rollins combines real-world science with high-octane action to create rousing stories of adventure that are as exciting as any movie.” — Chicago Sun-Times

“Once again, the action is nonstop.” — Sacramento Bee

“The perfect escape novel, an edge of-your-seat read.” — Knoxville News-Sentinel

“Rollins has outdone himself with this fabulous mix of history, science, and adventure that will easily increase his growing number of fans.” — Library Journal

“Go out and buy James Rollins’s latest saga. He just keeps getting better and better.” — The Barnstable Patriot

From the Publisher

Rollins combines real-world science with high-octane action to create rousing stories of adventure that are as exciting as any movie.

Chicago Sun-Times

Rollins's latest novel is reminiscent of the work of Dan Brown in its scope and convoluted plot. But it lacks the compelling and likable characters and dramatic twists that make Brown’s works so successful. The result is a lackluster story about the dangers of bioengineering and human genetics, along with a little ancient history, myth, and mystery. Narrator Peter Jay Fernandez gives a reading that offers little in the way of dramatization and settles for stereotypical characters who make the story even more unbelievable. Everything seems rehashed and oddly familiar in some way. Fernandez sounds as though he's done it all before. L.B. © AudioFile 2008, Portland, Maine

OCTOBER 2008 - AudioFile