Chapter 3, Part I

A place of authoritative magnificence, the palace represented one of Netopia's greatest structural achievements. The entire structure was shaped in the fashion of a dome, covered with transparent electrum-crystal and hints of silver. Complex roadways and security checkpoints regulated the air traffic in and out of the edifice, giving the government exacting knowledge of whom and what was entering the palace.

But if the palace itself was a work of art, then the throne room was a masterpiece. A thousand feet in in length and half the measurement in width, ten large pane windows gave an impressive view to the dictator when he was seated on his throne. The territory he ruled could be surveyed for a full ten miles on a perfectly clear day, giving this particular room the illusion of supreme, unsurpassable authority.

And then there was the throne – twenty feet high and coated with a heavy layer of silver. There the dictator would sit throughout the day, hearing the boons of various ambassadors across the kingdom. There he would make the final judgments on important matters of state, his word the standing precedence for all future cases.

In this room he reigned with power as a fearful and majestic figure to whom all bowed the knee. What else could they do to one so powerful; revolting would lead to rapid discovery and subsequent execution.

But history has shown time and time again that supreme commanders will rise and eventually, fall. Countless dynasties and monarchies displayed all wealth and power of Netopia, but never withstood the test of time. And regardless of the power and command displayed by a sovereign, not one has come face to face with Death and survived the encounter.

*****

Inusha adjusted his binoculars for the darkness of the night, gazing intently from the rooftop at the ground below. One every fifteen seconds – that was the pattern, he reasoned as he watched the sentry disappear into the dark tunnel. There couldn't be a more perfect location to commence the break-in of the palace, and it was probably one of the few where the operation could actually succeed.

Ehoti leaned over, covering his mouth to soften the whisper. "Did you get a good look?"

"Yes, I did." Inusha leaned back against the steel roof, placing his instrument back in its pouch. "A sentry arrives every fifteen seconds at the left side, and continues on toward the lit tunnel at the right."

"Why, that is easier than we prepared for! What is our strategy? Jump and make a run for it?"

The leader shook his head. "We would attract instantaneous attention to ourselves and jeopardize the entire mission. This will need to be a surreptitious operation; and a dangerous one at that." Gripping the edge of the roof, he leaned over to take another look.

But the edge of the roof was not as sound as it seemed. Years of heavy rainfall had eroded and rusted the metal brackets that held it in place.. Now, as Inusha placed no small amount of weight on the frail structure, it gave up its feeble pretense of being bolted and tore completely off, sending both the gutter and the rebel plunging toward the ground.

Inusha was up in a flash, alert to the sound of the approaching footsteps of the next guard. Flattening himself against the side of the building, he stood panting, looking anxiously to the gate on the left. Would the darkness of night be enough to hide his figure from the eyes of the sentry?

Even as the sentry entered from the left, Inusha knew it was ridiculous to suppose that he would escape detection. The guard would have heard the crash and would be doubly alert to any looming forms or shapes-

The blinding beam of the flashlight jolted him from his thoughts. Hardly knowing what he was doing, Inusha jumped onto the man, wildly grabbing something out of his belt and hitting him with it. As Inusha fell on top of the man, he pinned the guard to the ground, but felt no resistance to his efforts.

The guard was dead, killed by the sharp blade of Inusha's tactical knife. It had all happened so fast… Hastily pocketing his bloody weapon, he motioned to Ehoti to come down from the roof with the satchel. A slight pang of guilt seared his brain as he helped his comrade descend from the roof. Didn’t they agree not to kill anyone, regardless of the situation? They were to love their-

"We need to go, Inusha!" Ehoti tugged at his arm. Inusha gathered himself up and took the lead toward the tunnel. Did he just make an fatal mistake?

*****

As spotlights pierced the darkness for signs of approaching aircraft, a small glider drifted unnoticed in the commotion of landing diplomacy aircraft and freighters. Though this would be almost impossible on most days, the Netopian palace was having a convention of diplomats from around the planet to confer about the new proposed authoritative structure regarding more remote provinces.

Of course, the glider being present on this particular date was no perchance accident, as the rebels could not afford to take chances. This was the result of careful hacking, forgery, and bribing – invasion streamlined to an art.

Gerate expertly navigated the glider below a large freighter from Mesomifult, taking pains to fly directly in the shadow cast by the great ship. Desidu acted as co-pilot, keeping in constant connection with the two rebels skirting the compound. Sahure sat in the back, merely watching the proceedings.

There wasn't much to be said about Sahure. He was an expert hacker – that was certain – trained under the best in the illegal business, eventually branching off as a free-lance crime artist. One of the recently executed rebels had recommended his capabilities to the current group. They had accepted him, of course; he charged a very slight wage compared to the others in the industry.

But there was something about him that the rebel group just could not understand completely. Perhaps it was his air; a refined professionalism that was not seen in most electronics hackers. Maybe it was his past; he had a grievous tale of torture in prison before his release.

Now he resided with them, fully knowing every detail and quirk of the entire operation. He was perhaps a little less enthusiastic than the rest, but he was one of them in the minds of each and every rebel. As they glided secretively above the large ship, he stood in the back, gazing at the bright lights of the airspace.

The communication system crackled, attracting their attention. After a brief pause, a slightly distorted but recognizable voice echoed from the speaker. "Are you there, Desidu?"

"Affirmative, Ehoti. What is your current status?"

Ehoti motioned for Inusha to reduce his pace as he whispered into the radio. "We are all right so far, though Inusha had a brief skirmish with a guard back there."

Desidu looked at his comrades, concerned. "And?"

"Dead, killed by a nifty stroke from Inusha. Currently, we are in a dimly lit tunnel, hoping for the best. There are no guards in our field of vision; however we cannot be sure. You?"

Desidu paused for a moment as Gerate steered the ship left, jolting the cabin slightly. "All is good on our end. We've prepared the explosives and weapons for the entrance."

"Perfect! We should probably cut off communications for a little while; there is danger of the tower picking up our frequency."

"Affirmative. Please respond back in ten minutes."

*****

Ehoti placed the radio back in his pouch, anxiously peering ahead into the gloom. "We need to get going, Inusha. The next guard should show up very soon."

Inusha nodded. "We don't want to be caught. But Ehoti, what was Desidu stating about the explosives and weapons being ready? We had agreed-"

"That doesn't matter anymore. Sometimes, you have to modify the rules to fit the situation, just as you did back there."

"Ehoti, you know very well that He loves every single one in Netopia, and gave us the commission to spread the truth. How can you know that and-"

"Kill an innocent guard doing his duty?" Ehoti turned to the troubled rebel. "Look, I understand your confusion about your duty. But let us explain it this way. He cannot allow the dead into the Greater Reality. The only conceivable way the dead will rise is for them to obtain life, which requires someone to bring the life to them. But our dictator is secretly slaughtering all those who bring truth! Think of Lova-"

"I believe he did the right thing, Ehoti! After all that time holding back, he finally made the decision to tell the truth!"

"Good for him; what did it do? Lova is dead, his message erased from the records for its 'offensive' content. None of the spectators that murdered him are going to care about death. He made no lasting results; it all faded away after he died. Our operation will succeed!"

"At what, Ehoti?"

"The death of a killer-"

"By a group of killers." Inusha slowed his pace, looking at the floor. "And I am one of them – a wretched, self-focused figure of light who keeps his glow hidden for a more covert operation."

Ehoti stopped, frustrated and annoyed at Inusha's constant questioning. "What of it? We are killing for His sake! Think of all who will hear the truth after the dictator's assassination!" Ehoti lowered his voice, looking into Inusha's eyes. "Calm down, Inusha; working up your emotions will accomplish nothing. You know you had to kill him; your capture would jeopardize our mission and our lives! We're doing this for the further spread of the truth. We can't hold back!"

*****

Areola shuddered as he watched the screaming figure furiously claw at the straps constraining him to his bed. It was the second day of seeing Wenla in this crazed, unnatural state, as if one hour was not enough. The pitiful guard was covered with scratches and bruises from convulsing against the leather straps holding him fast.

The medical examiner shook his head as he left the crazed being in his state of insanity. "Never in my years as a military medetician have I encountered an unsolvable case. Lasers searing corners of the brain, glass shards preventing proper kidney usage, even blinded eyes from sparks. But total insanity for no observable reason is beyond my understanding."

Areola nodded, listening with pain to his former friend scream and shriek incoherent statements. Occasionally he thought he could almost understand what was being said, what sounded similar to "It", but the volume and frequency of the voice made all the rest a blur of sound.

The examiner sighed as he opened the door. "Just keep an eye on him; make sure that he doesn't get loose." He left the room, the door slamming behind him with an eerie clang.

For a little while the guard stood silently, watching Wenla begin to calm down from his seizure. Now he was almost quiet, shifting around in the cot. His eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling tiles, giving him an almost lifeless appearance. Areola approached cautiously, taking care to avoid the grasping hands of the victim.

"Wenla, it's me. Your friend Areola." Wenla looked blankly at Areola, visibly attempting to place Areola in his memory. Then a wave of recognition lit his face, and his appearance changed to look a bit more like the Wenla Areola knew before.

"Areola, pal, how are you doing?"

"No, Wenla. How are you doing? You seem – ill."

Wenla laughed. "Me? No, no, I'm fine; don't know what gets into me sometimes." He eyed the straps with a subtle glance of hatred. "Pal, would you mind undoing these straps for me? Just make them a bit looser, something more comfortable."

Areola shook his head. "You may think you are fine now, but if you could only see yourself sometimes - you wouldn't want to be released."

Wenla laughed. "Come on, pal; that's all over now! You having nothing to fear from me!"

But Areola was firm; there was no telling what his sickened companion would do in his fits of insanity. Thankfully, Wenla glazed over the refusal and continued on to a different subject. "You know, Areola, I have the strangest feelings sometimes. Craving things I've never craved before."

"Such as screaming and kicking in your bed?"

"No, no! But things similar, darker, deeper – things you couldn't even imagine. It's almost as if something took over my brain and my heart, giving my love to a stranger."

As Wenla continued on, Areola began to feel uneasy. Was this sickness simply limited to the seizures and self-destructive attempts? Or was there more that not even the physician could foresee or predict?

Areola looked closer at his friend, who was now talking eerily to himself about his many new cravings. Death, suffering, and theft; an innate desire to do wrong and hurt others. Of course everyone had the natural inclinations; stealing a money pouch lying in the market place, but this seemed to be on a deeper level; farther down the scale…

A jarring pain hit his finger as Wenla laughed hideously, releasing Areola's finger from his clenched fingernails. Areola jumped back, revolted at his friend who simply continued the hideous laughter. "Just like that, pal; cravings for suffering! Just like that!"

Shaken, Areola wrapped his cut finger in the corner of his jacket and turned to the door. But Wenla began to protest, anxious for him to stay and talk. "What? Come on, pal; that was just a little pinch! I'm so alone; stay with me!" Areola, now wiser for the experience, continued without turning toward the door.

Wenla began to scream, cursing Areola for his treachery. "You filthy maggot! All our years of friendship and life together, all the time I watched your back to keep you safe! Me, putting my life on the line for you, a wretched excuse for a Netopian, and a guard at that! I should have murdered you when I had the chance! I-" He stopped as the door slammed shut, leaving him alone in the room.

Letting out one final scream of hatred, Wenla threw himself back onto his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling tiles.