Chapter 7, Part II

“We are at the fourth floor.” Gerate sighed as he spoke to his comrades. “They have heightened security on this level and all the levels after leading up to the throne room on floor ten. If things get bad-“

He stopped as the elevator door glided open, revealing a hallway crawling with guards. But there was no need to complete the sentence, for everyone knew what he meant. Death to all men, life to the brethren. Strike X.

Inusha tried to hide his nervousness as he followed his friends into the hallway. He hated the deception they had to use at every floor to get past the guards. Of course, they really had little option, but if it was the Unseen’s will, would he not allow them to do it without deceit?

The rebels halted as guards blocked their way, demanding identification papers. Even as Gerate gave them his identification card, Inusha knew that they would not be able to deceive the guards this time. Something was afoot, he reasoned as he watched his leader reason with the officer in charge. Perhaps they discovered the dead guard – the one he had accidently murdered while defending himself. That would certainly give them grounds for suspicion.

Ehoti nudged Inusha, pointing behind them. “There are more guards coming up the elevator. I think they suspect something.”

Think? It was obvious that they suspected something. But what did they suspect? Was it them and their unbelievable story? Inusha watched as the officer demanded Ehoti’s papers and closely examined the information, finding fault with details no previous guard had noticed.

The two began to shout, emotions heating with every piece of information. Finally the officer ripped the paper in two, throwing it to the ground. They would have no security clearance from this level on, unless…

“Now!” Gerate whipped out his weapon and sent a spray of gunfire into the midst of the guards, crumpling them to the ground in a heap. Instantly the security checkpoint transformed into a battle-zone – only, the rebels were prepared and the guards were not.

Despite his growing anxiety about their mission, Inusha fumbled for his weapon and joined the fray, shuddering as a guard fell to the ground a few feet away. A guard who had simply been doing his job for the day before returning home to his family. He felt so sickened he could have vomited.

The fight did not last long, for the guard’s weapons were large and bulky, hard to unsling when surrounded by a jostling crowd and flying bullets – in addition, they did not have the training and experience the rebels had obtained.

Gerate laughed, wiping the end of his weapon with his jacket. “We did it, friends! We are still alive!”

Inusha ignored him, gazing around the room with tears in his eyes. This was not simply a natural catastrophy that created this chaos. He had helped create it, killing men who did not deserve to die. He was a murderer. And a liar.

And a figure of light. It was all so horrible that Inusha stopped thinking about it.

*****

Narva scanned the busy street anxiously for guards, but none seemed to be watching the marketplace this morning. He turned back to the dealer with a sigh of relief.

“It must have been a disinterested stranger.”

The dealer shook his head. “I distinctly felt someone watching us. But, please, let us finish this business and depart.”

As Narva handed the dealer the currency, he began to feel somewhat of the same feeling. It felt as if someone was scanning them from a distance off in curiosity, watching what they were doing.

Quickly, he hid the package in his jacket and strode away from the dealer, glancing anxiously into the crowds for a uniformed guard. But then he sighed in relief.

It was simply a regular citizen, no doubt confused at what two men were doing at the corner of a building. But it was no matter, for a regular citizen could cause no mischief without a guard to assist them. And not a guard was in sight among the throng of consumers.

But this regular citizen was one of Netopia’s biggest threats. For it was Wenla, the infected escapee from the Northern Border Outpost. True, Narva had nothing to fear from him in regards to being reported for purchasing narcotics. There were far worse dangers lying ahead.

It was working swiftly in the infected Wenla, spreading itself among merchants and consumers alike. It was what drove Wenla on and on, keeping his interest set on highly-populated areas such as the marketplace. The control of several men was not enough – It wanted to pollute Netopia with its foul infection. And It was well on its way to doing so.

*****

“How did you come to learn about us, Reshnu?” Yive motioned to a chair on the balcony, taking a seat himself.

“I just read about it.” What else could he say? Reshnu could not bring himself to tell them about the heroic Lova – not to hateful men like these. He felt as if he was going to cry, but restrained his tears with an effort.

“Well, I am glad you decided to forsake the darkened pleasures of this world to come live with us.” Yive smiled at him as he poured a golden liquid into a glass. “Try some of my fresh Yakob – it very refreshing.” He handed the glass to Reshnu.

It was refreshing, especially to a little boy who had not quenched his thirst for two days. It was sweet, though the slight hint of sourness made his tongue tingle. Reshnu also ate a few veva cakes, though the taste was rather bland after the drink.

He looked up as a young woman entered the room and began to talk rapidly to Yive. “Is this the boy you brought back, Father? How old is he? Where did you find him? I-“

“That is enough, Kartena! Young women must learn to restrain their tongues, especially when addressing their elders!” Yive’s authoritative tone faded as he began to answer her questions, leaving Reshnu to sit and observe the newcomer.

She could not have been more than twenty-one, he thought as she talked to Yive. And her eyes are so shiny, like the sun. But she cannot be his wife – he is too old! No, she must be his daughter.

But suddenly Reshnu wondered why she was not asking him the questions. After all, she was asking about him, not about Yive. He sighed as she left the room, leaving him and Yive once again to conversation.

“Why was she asking you all the questions?” He looked to Yive for an answer.

Yive cleared his throat. “It is wrong for women to converse with men on a casual basis – only on matters of importance is communication permissible. All the citizens of our community stick to this basic principle-“

“But why? Why do you do this?” Reshnu had never heard of such an idea before – it sounded very strange.

“It is the Unseen’s will, my child. We have assumed that the line between male and female should be quite distinct.”

The little boy was confused at the reference to the “Unseen”, but he wanted to talk to the pretty woman who seemed totally different than these men. Maybe she knew Lova!

“But did the man say so?”

Yive smiled, patting his head. “These topics are far above your understanding, Reshnu. Perhaps another time we can discuss this more in detail. But please, help yourself to some more refreshment while I go check on my disciples.”

Reshnu settled back in the large chair, looking out on the large fields and beautiful gardens. It was a very nice community, with plants that Reshnu had never seen before. But he felt sad inside, almost oblivious to all the new sights.

He had expected so much more than this – a tribe of people like Lova, really. Sure they glowed the same color, walked the same stride, and talked the same way as Lova had. But there was something about Lova that made him different and better than these people, who let the men in the forest die at the hands of the Vehimar. It was all so disappointing to him.

Chapter 7, Part I

Wenla peered from the overgrowth of thistles as the party went by, unaware of his presence. Who were these people who glowed with light – he had never seen such a sight before or even heard of such a thing! But something inside of him hated these people for that glow.

They were gone now, voices mere echoes in the stillness of the forest. But he still waited in his hiding until the last remnants of pleasant voices faded away into nothingness. Only then did he set off again toward the city of Netopia.

Wenla was still confused that he knew the way through the forest. He had never ventured into its depths. He had never been assigned to join a killing spree among an isolated people. And yet he knew the dark terrain of decaying trees and thistles like the back of his right hand. Perhaps, he reasoned, these new yearnings for freedom were the source of his new-found knowledge. Certainly nothing else had happened recently that could explain it.

But he never stopped to think whether he actually wanted what he was yearning for, which was exactly what It wanted. For if Wenla had truly focused on his dream to experience freedom, he would have realized that something was wrong if he sought so dutifully to see the city he was returning to in less than a week. The industrial province of Netopia City had never held any excitement for him in the past.

It was solely because of It that he continued on to fufill It's dreams despite the difficulties. Slowly, the chains of darkness were drawing nearer and nearer to an unsuspecting people ripe for infection.

    *****

Areola’s heart sank as the doctor explained the catastrophe through his blinding tears. Even now, he clung to the hope that somehow they might recapture the infected man, but overwhelming doubt took hold of his mind, a mind divided between three different feelings.

He felt contempt for the man who would sleep on duty, even at the peril of his people. What level of fatigue would bring a man to do such a thing, especially one sworn to protect Netopia? Because of the doctor, every citizen stood the chance of infection by a horrible disease without cure.

Areola also felt saddened for Wenla, a man driven to actions he would not want in his right mind. He knew Wenla – they had joined the military together, life-long friends and comrades. Now he was – well, a monster that needed to be tracked down and captured, strapped to a bed until he either died or healed from this horrific disease.

But a third, fatalistic feeling began to grow on him, one which he had not even experienced before. What was life, anyway? What was there to live for besides the political dream? It felt so depressing to think that his life was simply a course of unrelated events with no set destination. And now, it looked as if it was going to grow decidedly worse.

Areola broke his chain of thought as the doctor rose from his seat, trembling. “We have to chase him, Areola!” He looked pleadingly at the guard. “We cannot let him go free and contaminate the entire planet!”

Of course they could not – it would break every rule of morality and decency that existed. They had let the prisoner escape their grasp to flee to the outside world, and it was their moral responsibility to take him back. But what was morality anyway? And what defined it?

Slinging his heavy pack over his shoulder, Areola looked around at the room he had occupied for a single week. It was still shocking how much had happened in such a short amount of time, especially at a remote border outpost such as this. He would have never guessed at such a week before he experienced it.

As they entered the corridor, Areola looked vainly for signs of the escapee’s path. He could have exited the outpost any way he wanted to, reasoned the guard. Though if he still felt enough self-preservation to care, he would probably have gone through the ventilation room to avoid being traced.

“What do you think, Areola? Which way?” The doctor had calmed somewhat, but his speech still shook a little as he questioned his friend. Areola sighed.

“The exit in the ventilation room is probably the most secretive way one could leave the outpost, but Wenla could have simply used the emergency exit in a hurry to escape. There is no real way of knowing.”

Of course there was not, thought Areola as he opened a door and stepped into the cold ventilation room. There is no real way of finding him at all – it is a hopeless mission. And he felt hopeless too, but tried to mask his emotions for the sake of the already-unstable doctor.

The doctor stopped, his limbs shaking even more than before. Steadying himself on the wall, he looked pleadingly at his friend. “I feel sick, Areola. Could we – stop for just a moment?”

The guard could only nod, motioning to the corner. However much he hated the doctor right now, Areola knew that he could not leave without him. Cure or no cure, It would be better fought by a trained physician than by a simple guard. He watched in disgust as the doctor sank into the corner, shivering in the cold.

The military created men, not weaklings. And yet this disease, whatever it was, made stalwart guards into wimps without any conceivable explanation-

Diseased. The only explanation for the doctor’s strange behavior. The only explanation for his continual weakness. It could be nothing else – the man had spent an entire week caring for the infected, keeping them alive. If anyone would be infected, he would be!

He looked up a second too late to see the doctor spring to his feet and run to the main ventilation unit. The physician wrenched at the door, forcing it to open a few feet. Quietly he turned to Areola.

“It’s over, my friend. You made a good comrade.”

“NO!” Areola almost screamed as he protested. “YOU CANNOT DO THIS! Come back and we can-“

The doctor shook his head sadly. “Life is meaningless to me. I feel sick and worn by fatigue. This life is wretchedness and emptiness – I do not want to live any longer.” He smiled faintly and waved, slowly releasing his hold on the grate as the fan pulled at his body. “Goodbye, Areola.”

“NO! YOU CANNOT DO THIS-“

Areola fell to his knees, tears streaming from his eyes like a river. He was alone, and for the first time he felt it so deeply that it surpassed all other emotions, even the horror at the doctor’s suicide. Depression would be such a horrible understatement that it barely deserves mention here.

He looked up to the ceiling, eyes awash with tears. “There has to be something more than this! I cannot live life how I have, for emptiness and sorrow! Is there something more – something to hold onto? Answer me, whatever or whoever you are! If this is truly it,” he looked around at the dismal surroundings, “than I will follow the doctor to death, the only thing that can offer me relief from this aching empty feeling inside of me and all around me!”

He had nothing to live for, and nothing to die for. Just as if he was-

And then Areola finally understood. It is almost impossible to describe in mere words how he understood, or why he understood – he just understood everything as plainly as if he had known it all his life. Now everything made sense.

“I’m dead.” It was so revolting to Areola that he wanted to cease existing. His life – an illusion? His body, a rotting corpse? Looking around the room, the guard began to see things with a new perspective. None of this was real.

But even as he adjusted to this new reality, something else was there. Areola could not tell what it was, but it was so real to him that he could have touched it. Everything in the room seemed to shout it at the top of its lungs, even his very body joining the chorus.

And It was alive. Not the It that devastated men’s lives, but a different It, something that seemed to shout his name over the whir of the ventilation system. It was not an illusion – and it was calling to him to come.

It seemed to encompass everything, the filler in a world of emptiness. The only real thing – the only thing one could live for. Areola began to desperately wonder if It could possibly be for him, his last hope for life in the midst of death.

But as his heart leaped in his chest, another feeling of despair and condemnation began to weigh it down again. He was dead – dead men always remained dead. No man had ever risen from the grave to glorious, purposeful life. His mind must simply be playing tricks with him.

And then the voice spoke again, calling his name. His name, as if he had always been a close companion. The doubt pulled harder, trying to divert his attention from this wonderful, beautiful voice that knew him. Memories of the infected flashed before his eyes, bombarding him with the past. He could be infected, and who could tell the results of such disease if one was actually alive!

Suddenly he made his decision, pushing all his doubt aside for a brief moment. Areola did not care that he might be infected. He did not care whether he deserved It. He was going to take it, and whatever came would come.

A warm feeling crept over him, starting at his feet and slowly moving up his body. He was glowing! Areola looked in disbelief at his radiant skin, shining a pale white color. It seemed so – real.

Quickly, he looked up at the surrounding room, scanning the surroundings. There was the same room he had been in before the change, before his skin glowed. The same ventilation system whirring, the same metallic floor dully clanging when he took a step. But everything was viewed from a different perspective.

He was alive. Life now had meaning. What that meaning was, Areola was still undecided about, but he knew that he needed to follow It – the truth and the life. But before he left the compound, Areola knew he needed to do something he would have never done before his life. He needed to release the prisoners from their bonds.

Slowly, he stepped in the corridor and trudged to the ward, each step smaller than the step before. They were lunatics! Who knew what the infected men might do once they were released? Did not he and the doctor plan to track and recapture the escaped Wenla?

But who was he to judge them? If he left them here, they would starve to death, foul wretches though they were. And Areola knew that such an act would be contrary to the will of this life that he lived for. With that decision, he quickened his pace until he reached the ward door, which he opened slowly.

There were the beds, the occupants strapped down tightly to prevent their escape. Many times a day he and the doctor would check the bonds of the infected men, to reassure the strength. And now, after all the effort expended, he was to release every one.

A wave of sadness swept over him as he looked at his friend Beru, the diseased man’s eyes looking blankly at Areola’s face. So dead-looking – and he knew that it was not limited the outside body, either. Quickly, the guard whipped out his tactical knife and snapped the straps binding Beru to the bed. Without waiting for response, he moved to the next.

It was soon finished – every captive was now free. Areola felt horrible for his action. It felt so wrong, going against his second-nature military training he spent four years of his life learning. And yet he knew that somehow, this new life and what it defined as right was more important than the military’s demands.

Quickly, he ran to the door and entered the corridor, taking a glance back at the figures. He still was afraid of what they might do, even to him as a living man. Memories of the crazed Wenla still were as vivid as when they had taken place – too vivid for him to remain close to the men.

He strode through the hallway until he reached the emergency exit door – the point of no return. Areola’s identity card was sitting on a desk in his room, his only means of entering the outpost. This decision to leave everything behind began to mean much more to him than earlier. If he left now, there was no way of turning back to his former life.

Slowly, Areola stepped forward and opened the door, shivering as a burst of cold air blew through the opening. It seemed so radical – this decision to change everything. But he was a new identity, defined by his life. Not his occupation.

The lock clicked as he slowly released his hold, forever sealing him from his former life. He was free, a different freedom than Wenla’s several hours ago. It was a freedom to throw off the chains of his past and embrace this new life. It was freedom in the Life-Giver; the Unseen.

It was the only freedom that existed.

Chapter 6, Part II

As the elevator slowly climbed to the next floor, Gerate handed out weapons to each of the rebels from a small satchel he had concealed in his jacket, also distributing extra ammunition.

"Keep these in your jackets so they are easily accessible when the time comes. Remember, it will only take one shot to bring the entire palace after us, so make the shot count."

Inusha looked with a shudder at his pistol before he tucked it into a jacket pocket. It was horrible to think of the men it would kill, men with wives and children. Men that had ordinary jobs with ordinary friends, doing ordinary things. He shook his head. This was not the enemy he wanted!

The elevator beeped as the door opened, revealing a long hallway crawling with armed guards. Determinedly, Gerate stepped out and strode to the officer in charge, flashing his identification card. "We are here to relieve the second guard shift on the throne room floor."

The officer scrutinized them closely, suspicious at Inusha's lack of identification. "He has no card?"

"No sir – he lost it last week during a convict chase in the downtown area." Ehoti let the officer scan his card. "I can vouch for him, though – he is getting a replacement in a week. These types of things take time, especially when you need a new identification card."

The officer sighed. "I cannot let you go any further without proper identification, sir. You will have to report back to the central station and explain why you cannot-"

"It is urgent, officer. I tried to tell the central station, but they told me to proceed anyway. Besides, my comrades know me and can vouch that I had proper identification."

In the end, Inusha had to surrender his utility belt and knife before they could proceed. The lost card story was a bold-faced lie, to be sure, but at least it had allowed them to pass the checkpoint without problems. They might not be so lucky next time…

Desidu sighed in relief as the elevator door sealed shut and the car slowly climbed to the next level. "That was close, Inusha. If you had been detained, they would have reported to the central station that never sent you up here."

Gerate nodded. "We can use the same argument for the other checkpoints, all the way to the throne room. I am relieved."

But everyone knew that the argument was barely convincing. Certainly it would not get them more than a few more checkpoints toward the throne room.

Then they would have only one option.

*****

Reshnu was having a wonderful dream that he was lying in his own bed in the morning. As he opened his eyes, his mother rushed into the room and smiled, hugging him tightly.

He stirred as the clicking noise grew louder and louder, forcing him to open his eyes and leave the pleasant, blissful trance. Still half asleep, Reshnu tried to place the clicking noise. It seemed so familiar, and so recent too-

The Vehimar. He was up in an instant, looking around carefully for signs of the monsters. To his relief, they were not in sight, but the clicking noise continued on. As quietly as he could, he crawled toward the guard's camping spot, hiding behind the big bush and peering carefully around the leaves.

The guards all lay on the ground, fast asleep. And surrounding the prostrate men were ten smiling Vehimar, bending over the sleeping figures. Reshnu gasped, horrified at what was about to happen.

Suddenly a hand was clapped over his mouth, smothering a cry of fear. But it was not the cold, clawed hand of a Vehimar. It was the warm hand of a human – and it glowed.

"Quickly!" whispered Yive. "Bring him around to the others!" Before Reshnu could say anything, another stranger grabbed his hand and hurried him through the woods, whispering to him as he went.

"Do not be afraid, child. We are the Veti, and we will not harm you. My name is Hasner – I am one of Yive's disciples. Just follow along quickly now, and we can talk more freely."

Reshnu was overjoyed as he rushed along with the glowing figure, his exhausted supply of energy renewed. He had found them, the Veti – and he could tell them of the guard's plans to kill them! But as Hasner stopped and released his hand, Reshnu back from where they had fled.

"Wait!" Hasner reached him in two large strides and grabbed his arm, preventing him from going further. "We will not hurt you, we promise!"

"I know you won't!" Reshnu wriggled free from the Veti's grasp. "But the monsters will kill the guards in their sleep!"

"The Vehimar?" Yive strode through the trees, laughing slightly. "Most undoubtedly they will – darkness killing darkness." He stopped and examined the boy critically.

"You can't let them die!" Reshnu looked from one to the other, confused and discouraged. "They're people too!"

Yive shook his head. "If they were truly men like us, we would not be called to complete separation. Let them die!"

Reshnu shuddered as screams rent the air, mixed with the clicking of Vehimar. A voice called out for help, broken off in the middle with a gasp. The two Veti stood silently, listening to the cries of anguish without a single expression of sorrow. Finally, the cries died out.

Yive sighed, shaking his head. "Thus ends the path of those who plot to do evil. My boy, may you never stray on similar roads." He turned from Reshnu to a path on the right, where four more glowing figures appeared. "What happened?"

"Dead, every single one slaughtered by the Vehimar."

"Good." Yive seemed pleased at the report. "We do not want the darkness of Netopia to spread any further toward our settlement." He turned to Reshnu, who stood silently by a decaying tree.

"Come, little friend, what is your name?"

Reshnu did not know what to say. He had expected brave, heroic men who would defy danger to save a life. He felt deeply disappointed, and for a moment wanted to stubbornly refuse to give his name. But he realized that the refusal would do nothing for the dead men in the wood.

"Reshnu."

Yive smiled and patted his head. "Pleased to meet you! I am the Elder Yive, though most simply call me Yive. You are lucky that we came when we did, otherwise you too might have fallen prey to the Vehimar. What a sad fate that would be for one so young! But it is all over now.

Here, Reshnu, come with me to my house, and have something to eat and drink!"

Chapter 6, Part I

Ehoti nudged Inusha, waking him from a much-needed sleep. "They are here."

Inusha looked up to see Gerate entering the seating area with a weary expression on his face, Desidu following closely behind him. Even without asking, Inusha could tell that something had gone terribly wrong. Quickly, he moved over to allow the leader a seat.

Gerate sighed, holding his head in his hands. Never before had Inusha seen him in such a state of worry – Gerate, the fearless rebel whose ferocious determination had convinced them all to come. Where was Sahure?

"What happened? Where is Sahure?" Ehoti looked anxious too at seeing his leader in such a state.

"Sahure was captured as we crossed the airfield. I do not think anyone saw us in the excitement, but his capture will lead them to suspect a few friends tagging alongside. They will reinforce all the guard at the throne room and lower levels."

"We cannot keep going with the original plan, comrades. Already we have seen reinforcements sent to the airfield."

"But we cannot give up now!" Ehoti whispered furiously. "I have not come all this way to run away like a frightened rabbit – surely there must be some way we can adapt the mission-"

"We can." Desidu looked at Ehoti solemnly. "But the only way we can do so is to use-" He paused.

"Strike X." Gerate finished, ignoring Inusha's horrified face. "Ehoti, Desidu and I already discussed this. I know we agreed to never use such a measure, but we cannot get to the throne room without it! You know we cannot!"

Ehoti sighed, closing his eyes. "I know, I know. They are the enemy, a foe to be conquered. But I just wish-"

"No!" Inusha looked at his friends angrily. "We agreed not to use it, ever! How can we rightfully assassinate the dictator in the name of truth, when we kill innocent men on the way? This is wrong!"

"Then what do you propose we do? Navigate through dense security forces in these outfits?" Gerate pointed to Inusha's tar-stained clothes. "The security down here may be lax, but you know very well that they will not allow a stranger without a uniform to enter the throne room. This is the only way we can complete our mission!"

"Our mission is not as important as the truth!" Inusha whispered fiercely. "You are getting your priorities wrong!"

Desidu shook his head. "Our mission is the truth. Once the dictator is dead, we can share the truth with everyone, without persecution. We can abolish Querilon, save the captives, and free the people!"

"But we send dead men to instant consummation in flames-"

"Would you rather half the guards in the palace go to flames, or the rest of Netopia?" Gerate was beginning to get angry as well. "Do not think that you are the only one whose heart breaks at the thought of killing uninvolved men, men with families. I have a family – I know the heartbreak they would experience if I died!" He calmed down somewhat, looking pleadingly at Inusha.

"But Lova's death illustrated plainly that sharing the truth in Netopia is no longer possible! He sacrificed his life for nothing. Would you do the same?" Turning his attention from Inusha, he began to explain the plan to his comrades.

"We will go as high as we can before we use the explosives and weapons. Remember, a single shot is all it takes to send the whole realm of Netopia after us, so if you shoot – you cannot stop."

Inusha felt horrible. What was he to do? Would it be right to forsake his companions and his alliance to their cause for a few moral qualms? They were experienced veterans of the truth – it would be foolish to presume that he knew more than they did. Still…

"I will go." He looked quietly at the other rebels, fighting back his feelings. "Lead the way, Gerate."

*****

The Vehimar had disappeared.

It did not make sense, Reshnu thought as he stood in the forest, vainly searching for signs of his predators. A moment ago he was surrounded by Vehimar. But the next moment, they vanished without a trace. What frightened them into leaving?

He looked all around him, waiting for an evil smile to protrude from the shadows of the dead trees. It almost felt like a dream, but Reshnu could see where the ground was slightly indented from the monster's feet. They had been here. And they had left.

Reshnu heard a crash as something fell to the forest floor a distance away, followed by several rough voices. It could not be the Vehimar – they did not talk or move. The noise and voices sounded like men –but he was not going to let himself be seen.

Quickly, Reshnu hid behind a large bush, hoping the top of his head was covered by the overgrowth. He peered from the side as the sound of footfalls grew louder and closer, intermingled with coarse voices and cursings.

"I say Cata, I am tired of walking! We have not taken a single rest since yesterday!"

A commanding voice, which Reshnu supposed to be Cata's, responded. "Quit your complaining, or you will be left behind! You will have plenty of time to rest after we deal with the Veti!"

Reshnu gasped. The Veti were the tribe he was trying to find! How did these people know about them, and why were they going to them? Reshnu was just about to burst from his hiding and confront the strangers when another voice broke in.

"We need rest, Cata. If we do not, chances are that we will die of fatigue in this wretched forest! Besides, even you must feel exhausted."

The voice of Cata shot back some intelligible retort mixed with a few curses, but the sound of tramping feet stopped. He heard a few more groans as heavy packs were thrown to the ground and weapons clattered on the rocks. For a moment conversation lulled as the guards ate and drank from their packs.

"Why are we going to kill these people anyway?"

Kill them? Kill these beautiful creatures that glowed with light? Kill the relatives of his rescuer? It could not be!

Cata closed his pack and pushed his weapon to the side, leaning back against a large rock. "They are anti-governmental fiends, that's what. They completely isolate themselves from the outside world, living in this tiny community without modern-day conveniences. I don't know why, and I don't care – the sooner they're out of our hair, the better!"

"Why do they have to live so far away, anyhow?" The grumbling voice continued. "It is impossible to get supplies from Netopia City where they're at."

"Oh, they never go to Netopia City. They produce their own supplies."

Another guard closed his water tankard and stretched. "Seems a shame to kill people like that – besides, they can't be hurting the government if they never go near it."

"But they refuse to submit to the dictator, and they set a bad example to the rest of the population. All who see will be indoctrinated."

Someone laughed. "But no one sees them – no one even knows about them! I think the dictator's guards just have nothing to do, and so they make up assignments to fill their time."

Cata's voice grew taut. "Idiot! That alone could have had you chained in a dirty cell – do not speak against the military again!"

The conversation turned to other subjects, but Reshnu was too focused on what he had just heard to care. They were going to kill the Veti because they did not like Netopia? Why did they not like Netopia? He needed to save them, but how? He did not know where they lived-

But the guards did. They were on their way to kill the tribe, which meant they had to know the way through the forest. That was it, then! He would simply rest until they began to move again, and then he would follow closely behind!

With this thought in his head, Reshnu crawled away from the guards into the forest, settling himself behind an overgrown patch of shrubbery. He would wait.

*****

"We have finished gathering the supplies, Yive. All of us are ready for the trip."

Yive nodded in satisfaction at the Veti he placed in charge. "As usual you prove faithful, Hasner. Where are the four other scouts?"

"Having a quick meal before we leave. Rations on the trail are not as bountiful as the feasts at home, they argue, so they stuff themselves before they leave." He laughed. "I have greater worries than a slightly empty stomach, however. So I refrained from filling my belly too much."

Yive laughed as well, patting Hasner on the back. "A wise motion – your friends may wish they had used the same discretion a few hours into the climbing. But you said you have worries, my friend. What are they?"

Hasner sighed. "I do not know, Yive. I feel as if something unexpected was going to happen on this scouting voyage – something that will change our future, our destiny. But who can tell what it might be? Surely you, even as Elder of the community, must sometimes feel such things?"

"I have, Hasner. It is the fate of the mortal race of men to experience such feelings. For we cannot predict the future, and our feeble minds revolt at the thought. Still, they are simply feelings, and feelings cannot change what is yet to come. It is only Him who destines us for good or for bad, in His timing."

Hasner smiled. "Of course, Elder Yive. I do not believe the feelings to be of any real consequence to our trip. Nevertheless, they do way one's heart down. But I will try to ignore them. Ah, here they come!"

The two Veti turned as the remainder of their party returned from their feasting, lugging their overladen packs filled with food. Yive knew each one well – he had picked these out to mentor and train in the ways of the Great One, hoping one could be his successor to ruling the community.

He led the way through the camp to the edge of the forest, stopping at the foot of the steep slope to speak some final words of advice.

"You all know our purpose – to see how far the evils of Netopia have spread. We are not going to enter any settlement outside our own, nor will we eat the food of the defiled Netopian race." Here he looked sternly at his followers. "We are called to be separate, and even a morsel of food would bring us closer to the defilement, entrenching us in darkness.

Are there any questions?" Yive stood tall and looked at each one of the men. Of course there were not – they had grown to know each other better than they knew themselves. These were men he could count on – men he could trust. He turned to the slope.

"Follow me!"

Chapter 5, Part II

Inusha still could not understand why the officer let them by. Did he really believe their flimsy story? Maybe he just didn't care who they were – the faster he cycled people through the queue, the quicker he could take a break. But even that seemed strange for an officer.

"Believe us and our flimsy story? Not a remote possibility – the dictator's guards are neither daft nor easily worn by fatigue. He knew very well that we were lying." Ehoti nodded to a passing guard, who walked on without stopping them.

"Then why did he let us go on? Arresting two rebels would probably bring benefits to a guard, especially an officer."

"Possibly. The dictator rewards those who defend him. But do not forget that the fiend has many enemies spread throughout Netopia. Some are free to do as they please, believe as they please. Others", he stopped walking as they reached the end of the tunnel, "others must bend to a yoke they never wanted to bear in the first place, forced to keep an outward façade of submission." Ehoti motioned to the door ahead of them. "In fact, we need a similar façade here."

As they stepped into the reception area, Inusha could not veil his awe at the brilliance of the surroundings. Morning had dawned, shining shimmering light through the large windows near the entrance. And unlike the outside streets clothed in industrial pollution and waste, the marble floors were spotless.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Inusha turned to see a young guard, smiling pleasantly at him. Had this guard been watching him ever since he entered the building? Quickly, he fumbled for a reasonable answer.

"Oh, yes – our loyal dictator certainly created a beautiful piece of architecture."

"But you act as if you've never seen such a sight; surely this cannot be your first time inside the palace?"

He could think of no reply. Any guard would have seen the palace early on in his training, during the public safety period. Here he was, pretending to be a guard – and already he failed the part.

"He took an advanced course in engineering as part of his training." Ehoti broke in, saving Inusha from having to reply. "One of his specialties was structural integrity, and even you, comrade, can see the thought taken in the erection of this facility."

The guard laughed. "Of course – you’re an engineer. Forgive me for my questioning you." Whistling merrily, he strode away to a security booth. Ehoti heaved a sigh of relief.

"That was getting close. I wonder why he took the time to talk."

Inusha shrugged. "Maybe he was just being friendly. He seemed a rather nice fellow to me."

Ehoti shook his head. "They serve the dictator, the tyrant killing those who follow the light. They are the enemy – but please, let us stop this conversation before another 'friendly' guard overhears us."

Leading the way, he strode to a seating area, conversing briefly with the attendant in charge. Ehoti motioned toward two secluded chairs in the corner. "We can rest here."

As they sat, Inusha surveyed the guard force patrolling the room. They were like locusts, covering every single stalk of barley in a field until nothing remained untouched. Even this rest area seated more than a dozen guards, tired after a long day of patrolling.

"What do we do now?"

Ehoti sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Now, we wait."

*****

Reshnu scrambled up a steep hill, ducking low to avoid the dead branches blocking his path. As he reached the top, he looked around for signs of his pursuers.

The clicking noise in the distance had stopped. Perhaps it was some form of communication between the monsters, similar to the signal fires tribes in the Far East used. At any rate, he had not heard the noise for more than three hours. The creatures had either given up chase or were keeping silent.

But they are not chasing, Reshnu thought as he hurried down the slope. They do not move.

He had seen several earlier that day, shrouded in the shadows of the dead retendus trees that dotted the forest. Motionless, they had stared at him with their bulbous eyes until he diverted his gaze and continued through the dead forest.

As Reshnu reached the bottom of the slope, he slowed to a walk. Where was he anyway? True, he had not followed any specific path through the forest, but surely the wood did not continue on forever. He was starting to feel the pangs of hunger gnawing at his empty stomach.

Reshnu was surprised that he had not given up already. He missed his mother. He missed his books. The only reason he did not turn around now is because he missed the man that saved him more. That longing to meet him, even if it was only his relatives, drove him onward against the odds.

Suddenly he felt a hand grasp his shoulder – an icy cold hand. Reshnu whirled around, heart beating so loud he could almost hear it echo through the wood. For there stood a Vehimar – the evil smile gleaming on its frozen face, its arm stretched out toward him with a clawed hand. It had snuck up on him without a single warning.

The little boy was so startled that he forgot his fright momentarily. Taking up a stick, he thrashed it against the creature's head. But it did not move an inch, not a single scratch on its deformed face. A click turned his attention to the left, where another monster eyed him hungrily.

And then another, to the right. Soon he was standing in a circle of Vehimar, none attacking, yet none going away. It almost felt as if the monsters were examining him critically, though their eyes did not move and their expressions did not change.

"I'm not afraid of you!" shouted Reshnu angrily, hoping his face did not betray his lie. For in truth, he was very afraid – afraid of what the creatures might do to a small boy like him. And this fear made him angry; angry at himself that he was not a strong figure like Lova. He wanted to be brave, standing up in the face of danger. But this longing could not drive away his fear.

He was in danger – the most dangerous time of his life so far. And he was alone, without a friend or comrade to share his fear. What could he do?

*****

Jahure yawned as he forced himself to concentrate on his work. The radar was inactive, for the convocation of diplomats had come and gone the day before. Only a few blips dotted the screen, small patrol aircraft that mattered little.

Suddenly he remembered the northern border radar, a guilty memory he had strived to forget. Why, it had been almost three days since they fled the facility in the night, fearing discovery – he had completely overlooked checking on the blip that had worried them.

"Menthrall, good fellow, are you awake?"

Menthrall yawned. "Unfortunately, yes. What is wrong?"

"Remember the Northern Border radar?"

Menthrall popped from his seat, eyes opened wide. "Yes, I do. What of it?"

"Nothing, except that we have not checked the radar for three days – it would probably be good to follow up on the blip." Scrolling through a long list of radars, Jahure located the radar of interest and opened it. He sighed in relief.

"It is exactly the same."

Menthrall laughed. "Of course it is. Did you expect a full-scale invasion of Netopia?"

"I did not know what to expect. Still, it is relieving to have that out of the way-"

He frowned as an alert distracted his attention. "Menthrall, why is the Northern Highlands radar flashing red?"

Menthrall leaned over the desk to look at the monitor. "I have no idea. Check the statistics."

Jahure opened the radar and loaded the statistics. Then he gasped, whispering to himself.

"There are nineteen blips on the Northern Highlands." His heart sank, knowing exactly what this meant. What a fool he had been to pass the blip off in the first place – for such a minor reason as an extra shift. His country was at stake, his government, his people…

"I am sorry, Jahure, you mumbled the last part. Something about nineteen?" Menthrall chuckled. "Enunciate, fellow, enunciate!"

They had kept silent too long. Too long had they whispered to each other, keeping the problem secret from their coworkers. But no longer would it be hidden! Rising from his seat, he shouted:

"There are nineteen blips on the Northern Highlands! This is an emergency!"

Instantly the room was electrified. The chief of staff hurried to Jahure's monitor. "Are you sure?"

"I am positive, sir – check for yourself." Several voices shouted across the room, affirming his statement. As the officer carefully examined the statistics, his face grew solemn. Turning around, he faced his staff and began giving orders.

"Report to head of air traffic security at once and tell them what is happening! Menthrall, you keep an eye on the radar while I report to the military head! This is a critical emergency!"

Jahure sat down in his seat, tears streaming down his face. It was too late to do anything now, too late to save his nation from invasion. Blood would be shed – Netopian blood – the blood of innocent citizens that relied on the government to keep them safe.

And it was all his fault.

Chapter 5, Part I

Vandigera shut her eyes, trying to block out the sound of the gruesome machinery that depleted the chemical makeup of an innocent political prisoner. And to think that the man would not even be here if the dictator had not risen to power…

Wishful thinking; everything evolved around the dictator now. He was in perfect health; thirty years of age, great physical condition. He had the support of the Mesomifult congress and the media networks. Possibly the control of both as well, since nothing seemed to escape his grasp.

Why had she accepted the job opportunity; the chance to be a "great" contributer to medical science? This was not where she wanted to be, or what she expected it would be. She wished she could just go back to life as it had been before Querilon took it over. But she was not brave enough to turn in a resignation form.

I am a coward, Vandigera thought to herself, a first- rate coward. I have lost my morality, my purity, my life, all because I cling to my career in desperation. But what would people think if I gave up my job here? How would I pay for lodging, for food, for entertainment? I want to get married; who would marry a woman without a job?

An electronic beep sounded from the machine, notifying her that the cycle was complete. Who cared? She didn't at least. It was the doctor's wretched experiment, his treasure. Never had she seen him so impassioned about someone or something, whether experiment or cause in science. Now, it was both, and he was absolutely infatuated.

Still, she could not resist the innate curiosity that characterized her since childhood. Slowly, she opened the heavy iron door and unclasped the container locks, looking for a moment at the formerly respectable man, the victim of unloving fate. He was not even dead; a heaving chest showed that the injured lungs still struggled for oxygen.

A clang behind her made her jump, dropping the lid as she did so. Turning around, she faced the doctor, smiling widely. He did not seem to have any troubles, at least.

"Is the cycle completed, Vandigera? Has our patient taken his first step into becoming the greatest scientific achievement of the century?" He strode forward and lifted the lid, noting the body with professional satisfaction.

"You monster; he still breathes! You were villain enough to-"

"Not place him in a medical coma? Absolutely, my dear Vandigera – you could not have stated the truth more plainly. Experiments tend to succeed more often when the patient is kept alive and active, as-"

"Do not call me that again, doctor; I tire of your false terms of endearment. They grate on my nerves-"

"Just as you grate on mine at this very moment, dear one, so you have no reason to complain at all. The experiment is turning out beautifully, would you not say, poppet?" He never grew angry, face frozen in a permanent smile. It was almost eerie how wide the smile was, and its never-failing place on his mouth.

A plethora of other medical staff entered the room, distracting the doctor's attention from Vandigera to the patient, who now lay still in the machine. Pain and chemical combustion had forced him into a coma.

Slowly, the staff lifted the body out of the container onto a moveable table covered with an excessive layer of paper. Again, the doctor smiled at Vandigera before taking charge of the medical crew, leading the procession out of the room to the general surgery area.

She followed, less out of actual interest than ingrained habit from countless numbers of previous operations. Donning a thin mask and cloak, she took her place among the staff and watched the doctor, who quickly sterilized his gloves and medical tools, laying each instrument on a small table.

The doctor was excited, his words many and his actions rapid; too rapid, in fact. Twice he pricked himself on an unsterilized needle in his flurry of activity, cursing but continuing on without stopping to check the syringes – a careless man.

Vandigera shuddered as the doctor gleefully made his incisions; wasteful cuts that were too long for practicality. But unlike the other figures of medicine, the doctor did not have to worry about a legal battle from the patient; he could easily be replaced by one of the hundreds more lying in the ward. The doctor talked rapidly as he continued the operation.

"See how I cut this brain cord here, to remove the ability to navigate about by movement of the limbs. This will be replaced by an electronic manipulator that will send the brain pulses dictating movement based off emotion. And this here-"

The operation did not even make logical sense. Movement based off of emotion? Electronic pulses stimulating the brain to position the body in different ways? What a total idiot he was; an idiot who did not care that he was an idiot in the least. This experiment would die immediately after the operation, and the doctor would have to admit that the entire ordeal was foolish and nonsensical, just as Vandigera had predicted less than two hours ago.

She felt sick and queasy inside, like liquid sloshing in an over-sized glass container. Was it the surgery itself that sickened her?

Vandigera could not stay another minute in the wretched room – it felt as if she was being suffocated. Turning around, she walked from the room, ignoring the stares of her coworkers. Let them stare if they wanted.

*****

The door glided open as the doctor wheeled the experiment in, whistling a non-melodic tune while he again surveyed the results of his work. Vandigera quickly moved back into the shadows of the room. She wanted nothing to do with the wretched doctor.

Unfortunately the doctor saw her before she could conceal herself in the darkness, calling her out with a wide smile. "My dear, there is nothing to be afraid of, nothing to run from. The experiment is simply undergoing more chemical re-arrangement before the final two surgeries – naught to be disturbed of at all! In less than four hours, we will have the greatest medical achievement ever on our hands! But alas, I will need your help for one more step, dear. I need you to calibrate the machine."

She stayed silent, eyeing the doctor with disgust and annoyance. Could he not see that she wanted nothing to do with the "great" medical advancement? Of course he could – not that he cared in the least for what she or any of the other nurses wanted. Nettled but obedient, Vandigera powered on the machine and began the calibration process using the electronic keypad.

It was soon finished; too soon, in her opinion. Now she stood in the corner, watching the doctor lift the experiment from the table to place it in the container. What was he planning to accomplish by yet another chemical re-makeover? Why did he insist on this specific methodology of working? Or was he carelessly mutilating the body, following no process at all?

"You haven't been, have you?"

The doctor looked up with a smile. "Haven't what, my dear?" She stiffened. That word seemed to grow more and more aggravating every time it was used.

"Following any logical pattern of work; this experiment served as a playground for your fancies!"

"On the contrary, my dear one, you are quite mistaken. I have a method to my seeming madness, one too vast and complex for one such as you to fully comprehend-"

"Try me!" Vandigera strode forward, eyes flashing with anger. "On second thought, do not try – I do not want to stand here for half an hour listening to a jabbered, muddled pretense of a medical procedure!"

The doctor laughed as he secured the latches on the container. "My dear poppet, you really must try to control that dreadful temper of yours. Besides, you have no cause to be angry – you are not the one being experimented on, now, are you?" He smiled broadly, the expression unnaturally distorting the corners of his mouth.

"Yet you have no care for those you do injure and abuse-"

"Nor do you, dear one. You simply observe my actions, even now as I send a patient to almost certain death. How could you possibly criticize me when you are doing the exact same thing?"

Vandigera stopped, mouth open in shock. Was it true? Did she truly show her support for his actions through her own lack of protest? It couldn't be!

"What you do is wrong, doctor! You devastate human beings-"

"Enough!" The doctor straightened his shriveled frame and looked the nurse straight in the eye. "You say you are against my practices, my constant experimentation on political prisoners. Show me then!"

A challenge, to stand up for what she knew to be right – to give up her career for her morals. Could she muster the courage? Or would she back down again, cowering at his feet in fear of losing her high-paying job?

He spoke again, enjoying Vandigera's confusion and bewilderment. "I know darling – it is hard. It is quite easy to say that what we do is wrong; in fact, it is impossible to pretend otherwise, but actually doing what you know to be right is a very different matter. Perhaps you begin to see that you might not be that different from me? Perhaps?"

Sweat formed on her face as she fumbled for words, fully at a loss of what to say or do. It was easy to say what she knew to be right – but it did not make any difference without corresponding action. Irritation grated up her spine as the doctor's smile widened, belittling her.

Suddenly she ran forward and shoved the doctor against the machine, causing him to lose his balance and topple into the open container. "You are a dirty, despicable rat! You ask me to make my decision, and I do so! Take that as my farewell, then, you-"

A beeping noise stopped her midsentence, turning her attention to the inactive machine. The beeping noise was not supposed to be on – that only sounded when the machine was…

"GET OUT!" Vandigera screamed, running to the container to open the door. But it was locked, a safety feature during chemical re-positioning cycles. Desperately, she logged onto the console, searching hopelessly for a cancel option, though she knew such a feature likely did not exist.

Screaming shook the machine, sending shivers down her spine. Dizzied, Vandigera took a step toward the container, steadying herself on the wall. What had she done in her fit of passion? She never foresaw such an event from a mere passionate shove. The room blurred and swayed as she sunk to the floor in a dead faint.

*****

She did not want to open her eyes or move. She wanted to lay on that floor motionless for the rest of eternity until she turned to dust. Most of all, she dreaded opening the container and looking inside at what she knew would be an awful, gut-wrenching sight.

A clicking noise started, bothering her ears. At first she ignored it, not caring for anything besides her wretched self. But she began to notice that it sounded – human. Someone was in the room, making the noise.

Opening her eyes, Vandigera scanned the familiar room, but saw no one. She knew it could only be coming from the container – which was exactly where what she wanted to stay away from. But she could not, despite all of her most fervent wishes. She had to get the grotesque task over with, as soon as she possibly could.

A trembling hand grasped the handle, her fingers numb and cold. Slowly, she raised her arm, looking with dread at the container. And then she screamed, shaking uncontrollably as her eyes focused on the doctor.

It was no corpse that met her eyes. There was a thing sitting quietly in the container – and it was smiling at her. A pale, evil looking creature it was too, with large ghost-white eyes that never blinked. In fact, it did not seem to move at all. But it was so obviously alive to her that it could have been bolting about the room.

Vandigera screamed again as a brief sign of recognition lit its face. It knew her. It knew she was the one who brought it to such a state. What form of revenge would such a creature take? She trembled violently as it clicked again, mouth motionless but still making noise.

It vanished swiftly, leaving the nurse clutching the machine for support. There were greater passions, greater longings wrapped up in the heart of the monster – longings that did have the time to take revenge on a former enemy. The two never met again, Vandigera dying several months later from a stroke.

No one ever saw the monster again, though scores of staff and patients met their death that day as it fled. Some say it ran to the forest, murdering anyone who entered. Others insisted the monster haunted the streets at night, the source of every unexplained death.  None seemed to fully answer the question.

And so, for a time, Dr. Vehimar faded from existence.

Chapter 4, Part II

"I have finished my shift, officer."

The officer looked up from the computer screen to see two rather unique figures waiting before him. Both wore costume entirely different from the other guards; in addition, they were somewhat dirtied with rooftop tar. He stood for a moment, staring.

The taller newcomer impatiently shifted, pulling out a swipe card. "My name is Chader, officer; I have finished my shift with my comrade here." Somewhat suspicious, the officer scanned the card for signs of fraud. "No picture?"

"No officer, the card was replaced a week ago; I have not had the time to get a new picture taken. My friend here" – nudging Inusha – "still has not received his replacement, but I can vouch for him."

"Interesting, quite interesting – two good friends both lose their cards at the same time. Tell me, Chader, how tall would you describe yourself to be? Six feet?"

Ehoti gulped. He had not thought of that. "Possibly, officer; I have grown quite a bit since I received the card."

"Indeed; the card describes one with a stature of less than five and a half. Quite odd that you should gain six inches in less than a week." The officer looked up with a small smile. "Your eyes are brown, not blue."

Inusha glanced anxiously around the room, wondering how much attention they were gathering – already several guards were whispering together near the beverages. "Colored lenses, sir; he likes the change." A ridiculous proposition – he knew no one in their right mind would believe such a statement.

The officer sighed. "And your hair is brown, not black. Dye, I suppose?"

"Exactly officer, I dye it quite often." Ehoti looked fearlessly into the officer's eyes. "I have a hair appointment in about an hour, so if you could hurry us by, I would be very thankful."

The officer looked the stranger straight in the eye, a faint smile the only emotion displayed on his face. No disbelief, yet no belief either – only the expression one used to feign interest in a child's game. Slowly, he reached under his desk, searching for something. Already several guards were gathering around the strangers, wondering what was taking so long.

Things were not going as planned.

*****

Cautiously, the doctor opened the door and entered the room, gazing with sadness at the area of beds. There lay ten picked men – men he had once known as comrades. And comrades they still were, though the resemblance had blurred almost to the point of invisibility.

It was somewhat relieving that even though the insanity continued its course, the screaming had stopped. Now each lay quietly, their faces blank with no signs of knowing anyone. They did not speak, they did not eat, and they did not drink. Almost as if they were dead.

What was this disease, that none of the medical arts could cure or even treat? Why did it continue to defy him, regardless of his best efforts to discover a treatment? Where did it come from? Why was it here? And most importantly, what was the range of its contagion?

Sighing, he leaned against the wall. He was exhausted, worn to the point of collapse. Dragging screaming men to bondage, constantly checking the straps for strength, and always arriving just in time to force a crazed guard to take a breath.

He knew each one well, warriors that wanted to live life to the fullest, chasing after their dreams and ambitions with passion. Out of all guards the doctor had known, these seemed to be most alive of all – until now.  Why suicide? Why this new desire to prematurely shorten one's life?

Slowly he walked back to the door, fighting the overwhelming desire to drop to the floor in fatigue. Even this fatigue seemed unnatural, this sleep pulling at his eyelids like hundred pound weights. Life seemed unnatural to him; unreal, unfit to live in. Everything was happening so fast and blurry, too fast to keep track of or even care about. With a yawn, the doctor fainted on the floor.

 *****

If Wenla had loosed himself at any other time but then, Areola and the doctor would have captured him and retied his bonds. But the doctor was unprepared, lying on the ground in a dead faint. Areola was unprepared, assuming that the doctor had his eye on the patients. And Wenla was unprepared, lacking the only means to rid himself of the disease. It was, to be sure, a fateful combination of events and circumstances.

He stooped, looking at the doctor's prostrate figure stretched out on the floor in mild curiosity. But he lost interest quickly; he wanted to leave this place. Quietly, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, anxiously looking for signs of Areola. But Areola was in bed, taking a much-needed rest from the worries of outpost life.

Wenla ran to the emergency stairway and softly closed the door behind him, noting with glee the click of the one-way lock as he descended the steps. Even if he wanted to return to the outpost, he would need for one of his comrades to admit him in. But he didn't want to return.

Running into the field, Wenla laughed aloud. He was free from bondage! No longer would his hateful comrades constrain him in a bed and strap him down in safety – they no longer had any control. He was free to roam the entire planet if he wanted, and no one could tell him what to do.

Would you not agree to the irony of Wenla's definition of freedom? As he ran joyfully across the field to the forest, he was subjected to the bondage and will of It. He had given up all resistance, content to let it control him. Wenla was free; in captivity to the deadly horrors of an invincible foe. It was happy enough to allow the prisoner to play with his chains as long as the chain formed into a noose. Still more, if the noose ensnared others in the strangulation.

Yes, Wenla had his liberty; the day he unleashed the full destructive powers of It upon the whole of Netopia. His freedom brought the world's doom.

*****

"Doctor, such an experiment would never be a success!" The nurse glared at the doctor, her lab coat stained red from the previous operation. She and five other nurses were sitting with the doctor in a conference room at Querilon.

The doctor adjusted his glasses and smiled. "My dear Vandigera, you have no idea what you talk of. What do you know of tele-techno cyprocess?"

"Enough to know that such an experiment is foolishness at best. You cannot reduce the body to such a state of animal-like characteristics-"

"Of course, Vandigera, of course. Your moral qualms will most definitely stand in the way of science, as do all of the other weak-minded nurses."

Vandigera flushed red at the mention of morality. "I am not weak-minded, doctor, nor do I bring my morals to Querilon each morning. But we all know that the body is constructed a certain way, an intelligent design. You cannot do this, both in the name of science and the name of humanity!"

"Of course not; it would be daft to suppose so." The doctor leaned forward, smiling widely at the agitated nurse. "But oh, would it not be so much fun to try?"

He turned to the other nurses, smile broadening as he spoke. "We are not limited by humanity, morality, or decency here in Querilon, as you all know so very well. This experiment, you might say, is enchanting in nature." The doctor removed several documents from his desk and distributed them, continuing to explain the experiment.

"Thirty minutes in the geriofactor cyclonizer will bring the body to the right temperature and chemical make-up, allowing us to do the delicate work ourselves without the complex machinery. We will have plenty of time, plenty of fresh air, and oh, so much fun!"

"And what will this create, doctor? Bio-killing waste to be disposed of, as is in countless other experiments you perform? A clone that lives five minutes at most, fouling our equipment and killing our patients? What will your experiment accomplish that has not yet come to existence?"

"My dear Vandigera, sweet poppet, you have yet to be revealed the depths of medical experimentation at Querilon. You have seen the dredges, the failures; for you are a nurse, and naturally the nurses are assigned the mundane drudgery surrounding the failures of such experiments. But for the first time in your life will you see brilliance.

We will create the first-ever human animal – a combination of a creature and a man. No one has ever attempted such a task, none have thought of such an idea; until now. You should be on your knees weeping at the chance to contribute so greatly to the realm of medicine-"

"Of death, doctor! You care naught of medicine or healing, only destruction and inhumane curiosity! Too many times have I held the hand of a dying man, leaving his life because you were interested in what might happen if you removed a vital organ. Too many times-"

"Silence!" The doctor rose from his seat, motioning to the other nurses. "I did not ask you here because I wanted to argue the morality of an experiment. I asked you here because I am commanding you, as your employer, to help your coworkers with the equipment during the operation!

We will begin in less than an hour, at the critical operations center. I would advise you not to be late…"