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.