As they approached, three guards stepped in front of the
entrance.

        "Who are you?"  one of them asked, his face stern and
unflinching.  Lira was accustomed to being accosted by
Cinrekkians, but not by Mishrian temple guards.

        "We are here to see Halfa, on urgent business of our faith. 
This is the girl who witnessed a demon, a harbinger of evil
doing the bidding of the Cinrekkians."

        The guard splayed his three fingers in the typical Mishrian
gesture to ward off evil, and he stepped aside, being careful to
avoid her touch.

        Once inside the door, Lira looked about at the dark brick of
the vestibule.  An acolyte, clothed in a black robe and hood,
silently opened the inner door for them, and she smelled the
aroma of spice candles.  

        They entered the meeting chamber, listening to the dull echoes
of the priestly voices, which suddenly quited.  The chamber was
dark, and oil lamps flickered along the walls, as well as in
large, metal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

        She stopped for a moment, waiting for the priest to instruct
her on how to approach the priests.  As they stood next to each
other, Hoka patted his forehead with a handkerchief.

        "I was only here once before" he said.  "Years before that, as
a deacon, I visited the palace.  Of course, you have now seen
both places."

        Lira flushed with anger at Hoka's pettiness.  How much he must
have envied the priests seated in the temple meeting chamber,
she could only guess.  Perhaps he saw her as a lever of
influence, a way to associate himself with the Mishrian power
structure.

        "Does the scripture not say that the evil are damned to eternal
peril, in a place of fire and molten lava?"

        The priest looked at her quizzically.

        "Hell" she repeated.  "Isn't Hell filled with fire and the
smell of lava and burning flesh?"

        "Why yes, I suppose it is."

        She shook her head.  She knew that the closest place to Hell
that she had ever seen was this meeting room, with the flicker
of flames illuminating the chamber walls with an eerie, orange
light.  The spice candles, she quickly realized, were kept
burning to cover the mustiness of the chamber.

        "Bring the child forward" a wheezing voice said.  It echoed
long and dark through the chamber.

        "Yes, most high Halfa."

        He grabbed her left arm and glared into her eyes, their faces
only several inches apart.  "And remember, call him Most High
Halfa, every time you speak to him."

        She shivered at the coldness of his stare.  "Got it."

        They walked slowly into the center of the chamber floor, and
Lira could now make out their forms, the male and female high
priests seated on ornately carved wooden thrones.  They all wore
white robes, the hems anchoring strings of brightly colored
beads.  Lira knew that some great deed or wise word uttered, had
earned each bead.  The high priest was dressed almost
identically to the other nine, with the exception that his robe
had a thick red stripe around the hem, the sleeves, and the
collar of his robe.

        His head was balding, and Lira could see the mountainous
wrinkles on his face and forehead, lit from the side by a nearby
oil lamp.  His eyes gleamed orange.

        "So, are you Lira, the girl from the village, who was arrested
with the heretic Etar?"

        "Most High Halfa, I am indeed Lira, and I was arrested by
soldiers of the Cinrekkian Empire.  The man Etar was also
arrested, and we were taken before the governor at the palace."

        "Yes, I know.  Do you not agree with us that Etar is a heretic?"

        She watched all eyes focus upon her.  She cleared her throat.

        "Most High Halfa, I do not believe him to be a heretic, for he
speaks words of wisdom."

        "Wisdom?"

        Halfa, thin and gaunt, leaned forward, moving his face a couple
feet closer to her.  He then sat erect for a moment, amidst the
murmuring of the other priests.

        "Child, do you not see how he mocks the holy priesthood, the
ways of our faith?  He even says that the Cinrekkians are as
loved by Lamper as we, the devoted servants!"

        "Did Lamper not create all people equal in the beginning?" Lira
said.  "And did Lamper not love all people equally?  If that was
the case at the beginning of the world, that must still be true
now.  Otherwise, that implies that Lamper once loved certain
people, but now does not."

        "Yes, but the Cinrekkians worship pagan gods and goddesses,
they ascribe gender to their deities, they desecrate the
freedoms of every race they meet and then conquer!"

        "I hate what the Cinrekkians do, Most High Halfa, but I do not
hate the Cinrekkians themselves.  Neither does Lamper, according
to scripture."

        An elderly woman priest stood and shook her finger at Lira. 
"Who are you to know the thoughts of Lamper?  You are just a
peasant girl."

        "I don't presuppose to know what Lamper thinks.  I am going
merely by what is written in scripture.  And I know that Etar is
holding faithfully to scripture.  He did not give in to the
Cinrekkians at all.  Instead, Taythlin the governor left us go
on our way, and to return the errant child who--"

        "This errant child.  Is it Etar's?"  the woman priest asked
accusingly.

        "No, he is the son of a very sick man and woman, who were made
whole again by Etar's touch."

        "So, you believe he works miracles, as many are saying?"

        "Yes, I have seen him work miracles with my own eyes.  He is no
fraud.  I don't know much about Etar, but I am drawn to his
words, for I believe that Lamper speaks through him.  Heed his
words well, Mishrians, Cinrekkians, and every race of the world."

        Hoka cringed before the bellowing cry of the high priest.

        "Begone!  Begone from our sight!  You are a heretic, just as
bad as Etar.  You are cast out from amongst us, and Lamper has
hidden his face from you, until such time as you recant these
words!"

        She turned and walked angrily towards the door, tears welling
in her eyes, as she realized there was no wisdom to be found
here.  She wouldn't have the heart to return home and tell her
parents what had happened.  Lira visualized the expression on
her father's face when she said that she had been cast out of
the Mishrian church.  As she saw his sorrow, she cried harder,
knowing that what upset her most was the pain that all of this
would cause her family.  She knew to herself that she was right,
in the eyes of Lamper.

        Hoka reached for her arm, to stop her, but she pulled herself
free of his grip, tearing the back of her tunic.  She could
barely hear his shouts against the roar from within the priestly
chamber, and she burst through the doorway, causing the guards
to jump back in surprise.  

        She walked as quickly as she could, and then she began running,
far away from the priests, the temple, all that was arrayed
against her.  The sun and wind dried her tears.

        At first she walked towards her home, at least two hours away. 
She took a course well away from the marketplace, as she didn't
want to be seen in her sobbing state.  As she rounded a corner
near the marketplace, she replayed the words of Halfa.

        "Heretic!"  she heard, and she winced, the pit in her stomach
sinking another inch.  She couldn't neglect the fact that the
religion of her family and country had driven her from the fold.
As she heard the word "heretic" again in her mind, she saw her
father, probably awaiting her arrival at home.  He wanted to
hear that everything was okay, and that she was done meddling
with Etar.

        There had been rumors that many had been brought before the
high priest, who had stood up for Etar, and who had then been
excommunicated.  Knowing that she was probably one of a hundred
who had experienced a similar reception by the high priest
failed to console her.

        Her case was special, however, of that she was certain.  Etar
had probably been arrested only once, and she had been alongside
him, brought before the ruling governor of all Mishria.  She
felt herself become proud of what she had been through, and she
quickly dismissed the thought.

        To her left, she heard the dull roar from the marketplace,
occasional laughs and shouts from people, all trying to get the
most for the least money.

        "I can't go home, not yet at least" she thought.  She stopped
and closed her eyes, letting people flow around her, like water
separating at a rock in the middle of a stream.  She smelled a
woman's fragrance, and she felt the breeze on her face.  A
shadow passed over her, and she imagined that a cloud had
momentarily blocked the sun.

        Slowly opening her eyes, she saw a head, silhouetted against
the sun.  Blinking in the brightness, she stepped to the side,
and her eyes widened with surprise.

        "Etar!" she said, putting her hand to her mouth.

        His gaze was solemn, and it cracked suddenly into a smile. 
"Good to see you again, Lira.  I am most sorry for what
happened."

        Her mind raced.  Had he followed her to the Temple or seen her
running from its portals, tears streaming from her eyes?  She
prayed to herself that it was a miracle of Lamper that Etar knew
what had happened.

        "How do you know?"

        "I just know"  he said, in a shockingly lighthearted manner. 
"Sometimes I have to try to look into a person's soul, and other
times, their soul comes knocking at my door.  The High
Priesthood, though once composed of those devoted to our
creator, has become a political instrument, used to further and
maintain power over us.  I detest this, and that is why I never
entered the Mishrian priesthood, as I had once set a course for
over ten years ago."

        "Really?  Did you get very close to your vows before--"

        "No.  Actually, about a month into the year of trial, I
realized that all their self-discipline was meaningless, insofar
as their goal was to prove how much they could wither their
bodies and still keep their faith.  It is easy for them to
believe, for they are comfortable, and they had no opposition,
at least not before the invasion.

        "I am here to say that there is a better way, a way to give
one's life to the Lamper, and that the grace flowing therefrom
will illuminate existence, bringing meaning and fulfillment. 
They don't see this.  They see me as a threat to their power."

        "Oh well, their loss I guess."

        And then Etar laughed, a deep hearty laugh.  Lira was surprised
by his manner, thinking of him as a scriptural prophet, solemn
and serious in every way.  Then a thought occurred to her. 
Perhaps that was how people remembered prophets -- as humorless.

        "It will be difficult explaining all of this to your father.  I
saw the worry in your heart from four blocks away.  I myself
suffered a disappointment today.  It seems my boss at the
salthouse doesn't want me working there anymore.  He said
something about not wanting any more troublemakers interfering
with our work.  So much the better, I suppose."

        "Do you have family here?"

        "Yes, but I sent them from Moga.  I know that I will be fed and
clothed.  After all, if Lamper could create the universe, the
heavens and the earth, then surely it can sustain one man."

        Lira smiled and cleared the windblown hair from her eyes. 
"Yes, that does make sense."

        Then they both laughed, thinking of the magnitude of the world,
of Lamper, and then of their own smallness against this
momentous backdrop.

        "Would you walk with me, into the countryside?" Etar asked.  

        Lira blushed.  "Where to?"

        "Just south of here, there is a beautiful stream that I visit. 
Please come with me."

        "Agreed."

        She watched him pull a white hood over his head, and he began
walking beside her, his glance aimed towards the ground.  Once
they had walked another block south of the market, he looked up
and into her eyes.

        "Healing the sick requires that I feel their pain and
suffering.  I must have all the energy in the world, to overcome
their affliction.  I grow tired from so much of it, and I just
want to take a long walk, to be with the trees, the wind, and a
friend."

        "How can you heal people?  Does Lamper speak to you, telling
you who and what to heal?  Does Lamper tell you who is seeking
to embarrass you?"

        "I just know these things, all at once.  I can't tell you who
Lamper will heal tomorrow, but tomorrow, just when things are
meant to happen, I will know.  You don't know how much pain
people feel.  Overcoming hate and anger is more difficult than
building the highest mountains in the world, more of a challenge
than bailing out an ocean with a bucket."

        "I can imagine, after seeing the hate in Halfa's eyes.  I
thought I was being called to the temple to tell them what had
happened, when we were arrested.  Instead, it seemed like they
wanted to find some way of discrediting you."

        "They are hoping to find that I am in league with the
Cinrekkians.  The high priesthood is in collaboration with a
growing movement of rebellion in our country, particularly this
city.  They are constantly on the lookout for spies, informants,
and the like.  And here I am, preaching peace and good will
towards all people, and they think I'm a pacifist tossed in by
Taythlin, to convince Mishria to live obediently under the rule
of the invader."

        "Should we ever rebel?"

        "That is a question I have thought much about.  I feel that, if
the Cinrekkians had come to our nation with the intent to kill
us, to remove us from the world, then we have the obligation to
defend ourselves.  However, they took over with minimal loss of
life, and it is clear they want us only as a colony.  I look at
this as an opportunity.  It's not that I hope to drive the
Cinrekkians out of Mishria, by making them so sick of our peace
and love that they pinch their noses and run for the border. 
No, I want the Cinrekkians to see our witness, so that they will
long to be free of sin and corruption.

        "I see all people as one nation, not separate nations in the
world, each having different races within them.  If the
Cinrekkians accepted Lamper as the rule and goodness in their
lives, and all Mishrians would as well, boundaries would vanish,
leaving only people, of one mind and conscience."

        Lira saw a new depth to Etar's teachings.  Realizing that he
was striving for the unification of all Dalthigians into the
will and mind of Lamper was no small ambition.

        "Who would head the Mishrian religion then?  Groups of people
from the Cinrekkian Empire, the Lothian Empire, Mishrian?"

        "No, no.  You forget an important point.  Lamper doesn't want a
hierarchical church, with dogma and false promises and power
plays.  Lamper wants a communion of faith, peace, and love to be
our mutual bond."

        As they began ascending a steep hill, Lira grew anxious to see
the lush scene to the south, which would soon be visible as they
reached the summit.  The noises of the city were fading behind
row after row of trees that grew along the sides of the streets
behind them.  The homes on either side of the road were spaced
more widely, with patches of meadow and groves of trees between
them.  In another mile, they would be beyond anything but
scattered villages.

        The sun was sinking in the west, and Lira suddenly wondered how
she would arrive at home before dark. Her parents would be
terrified, afraid that she had been mugged or hurt on her way
home.  Doubtless, the priest would stop by their home, to inform
them of the grim news of her excommunication by the Most High
Halfa.  She felt nervous at continuing further.

        "I should be getting home.  It will be dark soon, and I know my
parents will think I'm in trouble."

        "How far away is their house?"

        "In Sekath, northeast of the city--"

        "Yes, I know of it.  Well, if you try to start out for there
now, it will be dark before you even get beyond the city.  I
have no money or carriage to have you taken home.  If you wish,
you can stay with me, at a friend's house on top of a hill just
south of the stream we're approaching.  I'm sure she would be
glad to have us."

        For the first time in her life, she felt a surge of
independence, from her family, her village priest, her friends.

        "Okay, that would be fine.  I'm getting hungry though, could--"

        "My friend will feed us, I'm sure of it."

        They resumed their walk up the hill, which began to level off. 
As they reached the summit, the wind picked up, and the wide
meadows and rolling hills became visible.  Birds soared above
them.  The road became thin and meandering, with numerous ruts
worn into its surface.  Trees stood on either side of the road,
about which bunches of wildflowers grew.  They swayed in the
wind and filled the air with a subtle fragrance.

        "I have heard that others have gone into the city and the
surrounding country, preaching your words, calling themselves
followers of Lamper." She looked at him sideways, to observe his
reaction.

        "Yes, there are a handful who have left their jobs, their
brothers and sisters, their homes, to spread the message I have
brought.  You can meet them tomorrow if you like."

        "How did they come to follow you?  Did you ask them?"

        "No, they stayed with me occasionally, discussing and praying. 
They would show up when I spoke to the people of the city. 
Then, one day, I was walking along, and two of them, Perla and
Tamron, asked if they could work with me."

        "Were you angry?"

        "Angry?  Of course not.  I want all people to receive the love
of Lamper into their lives, to spread the word by mouth and by
everyday witness.  In time, five more joined, one at a time. 
Some of them still live with their families.  Celibacy is not a
necessary part of liberation, as the Mishrian priesthood would
have us think.  In fact, Lamper wants us all to live out our
natures.  Some of us marry, others stay single."

        "Do you meet every day, to discuss plans or events?"

        "You forget, I am not here to start a religion and charge
others with specific duties.  They seek me, and I them, to be
friends, to pray, to converse, to work together.  I find new
wisdom in each of them.  Those who teach with me have all said
the same thing, though."

        "What's that?"

        "That they always felt the things I say are true, and that they
had always felt a certain loneliness, thinking they were the
only ones who viewed the world in such a way.  They said that I
had the courage to speak my thoughts and feelings, to all
people.  Perhaps I am the spark for the liberation of many."

        "Do you think there will ever by a bloody revolt?"

        "Yes."

        Lira grew worried at such a quick, sure answer.

        "Why do you think that?  Have you seen evidence of it?"

        "So many people whisper of it, in the city, in the country, at
the salthouse where I worked.  I can see the hatred in their
hearts.  Some want to revolt merely to lash out, even if they
know there is little or no chance of ousting the Cinrekkians. 
Face it, they're the world's most powerful empire, by far.  At
the same time, I think the Cinrekkians know there will be some
large scale attempt, perhaps not as soon as it will actually
happen."

        "When do you think it will happen?"

        Etar stopped walking, and he faced Lira.  She looked deep into
his eyes, as he squinted during a gust of wind.

        "It will happen tonight."

        She took a step backward and shouted "What?"

        "I feel it, I know it, just as I know who needs healed and who
feels pain.  Just as I knew, only an hour ago, that you felt
pain.  I can't help but sense these things."

        "What can we do?  Will they succeed?"

        "I doubt it.  There will be some bloodshed, I don't know how
much.  But I feel darkness descending upon Mishria, as the sun
sets this evening.  Many of our countrymen are taking up their
arms in secret, in shops in the city, in some of the villages. 
I feel that there are other rebel groups which don't even know
about what is about to happen, but they will probably join in
when the mayhem begins."

        "Didn't you warn the rebel leaders that they would fail?  You
knew!"

        Tears began filling her eyes.

        "I don't know who the rebel leaders are.  I don't even know
specific names of the rebel soldiers.  Who would I have warned? 
The Cinrekkians?"

        He said these words with a glint of anger, and Lira knew he
spoke the truth.  She could never believe that he was privy to
knowledge of every detail of the rebellion -- he was not a
warrior.  But his capacity for feeling, for discerning subtle
moods and atmospheres, was strong.  Lira slumped to the side of
the road, thin wildflower stems poking out from around the back
of her head.

        Etar stood next to her, his hands on his knees, bending down to
be close to her.

        "When did you first know?"

        "Just before I saw you hurrying from the temple.  I couldn't
say when I first had such an intuition. It is more than that
now, though.  My heart sinks and my stomach churns at the
thought of what will happen tonight.  And who knows how long it
will last?  What will be left of our homes, our city, by the
morning?"

        Lira thought of her family.

        "My brother!" she shouted, and she jumped to her feet.

        He grabbed her arm and held it gently, preventing her from
running away.  "You mustn't go back into the city!  By the time
you could get home, the violence will have spread everywhere!"

        "I know my brother is in this rebellion!  I have to warn him!"

        Then she remembered that her brother had been spending the day
and night at a friend's house, in a different village.  She
didn't know the other boy's name, nor where he lived.  Her
parents undoubtedly knew, but if all this had been a cover to
take part in the approaching revolt, he was probably somewhere
else anyway, a place unknown to both Lira and her parents.  She
leaned against Etar's shoulder and began sobbing.

        "My brother is in on this.  Just as you know things, Etar, I
know this!"  They stood there, Lira staining his tunic with her
tears, and the air grew cool around them.       The city was now out
of view, as they had begun their descent into the verdant valley
to the south.  Lira thought of backtracking just far enough to
look over the city, to hide in some tree and watch and pray that
no one would be killed.  Her heart, once seized by the fear that
her brother might be in mortal danger, slowly calmed.  She
realized that her brother was probably part of some small
splinter group of the rebellion.  Perhaps he was one of the
people Etar had spoken of -- those who didn't know of the
approaching revolt.  She hoped that her father would get to her
brother before he could do anything stupid.  Her tears subsided,
and she finally spoke again.

        "Let's go.  We'd better get to a safe place.  Rebel groups,
being chased by Cinrekkian soldiers, will probably use this road
to flee the city."

        "Agreed.  We should probably just get to my friend's house.  It
will only take about another hour, and we'll still see our way
by then.  Okay?"

        "Yes."

        They resumed their journey.  As they continued, Lira wondered
for a moment whether Etar was wrong.  Perhaps she would feel
herself a fool the next day, when, upon returning to the city,
she would see that nothing had happened.

        "Lamper, let the rebels have a change of heart" Etar began to
pray as they walked.  "Let them repent of their ways of
violence.  Melt their hearts, convincing them to lay down their
weapons and live in peace."

        As he grew silent, Lira summoned up enough courage to utter her
own prayer, next to that of the great prophet, Etar.

        "And, please, Lamper, fill the hearts of the Cinrekkians with
mercy and pity, so that they will not kill and maim your holy
people.  Help the Cinrekkians to see the way of goodness, of
ending their conquering ways and living in peace with Mishria
and the rest of the world."

        "Yes"  Etar whispered, his eyes shut.  Lira noticed a single
tear, trickling down Etar's cheek.  The wind blew it back,
horizontally across his dark cheek, then down his neck, where it
finally soaked into his collar.

        "Perhaps the whole world will be liberated someday.  It would
be wonderful to see that in our lifetime.  I am sure it will
happen someday."

                             65.

        Taythlin topped the stairs and began walking towards his
bedchamber.  His left leg was sore from how he had sat the
entire day, hearing the endless procession of petty crimes
brought before him.  He had once thought himself a conqueror,
and now he was a broken-down judge.  He looked to the end of the
hallway, seeing the inviting leaves of the garden, waving to
him, beckoning him to relax under their sun-dappled canopy.

        Ahead of him, a translucent apparition suddenly materialized. 
It was the minion of Dyzan.  Taythlin's heart almost jumped up
his throat when he saw it.  In the catacombs, just several days
earlier, Taythlin had surmised by the minion's words that it
would not return for another two weeks.  But it was there,
standing in his path.

        He fell to his knees, and the minion spoke.

        "Dyzan wishes that you have his instructions now, written on
the finest parchment, to fulfill his will.  You will find them
in the meeting room next to me."

        Taythlin looked up, raising his head out of his outstretched
palms.  He saw the darkened doorway of which the minion spoke.

        "Thank you.  I am most grateful that you have laid out Dyzan's
plans for his loyal servant.  We shall proceed as quickly as
possible to finish digging the mine, so that the jewels can be
brought to Dyzan."

        "Very well.  Dyzan is most pleased with your work."

        Taythlin's heart slowed a bit when he heard these words of
reassurance.

        "Because he is pleased, he is rewarding you with a special
knowledge.  Tonight, a revolt will occur."

        Taythlin almost fainted when he heard these words, and his
vision grew dark for a moment as he struggled to regain his
composure.  He would have to always be strong in the sight of
Dyzan.

        "It will begin at the northern border of the city, with an
assault on your troop barracks there.  Other groups, hoping to
distract your response, are planning an assault on the palace,
when you divert forces to this initial point of conflict.

        "Dyzan orders that you do not commit your best forces to the
northern attack, but instead, send a small force there to
reinforce the troops already there.  If they fight valiantly,
they will easily crush the attempts of the infidels of Mishria. 
In return, keeping your best forces within the palace, you will
be ready for the main attack, which will come shortly after
midnight."

        Taythlin stood to his feet and removed his battle sword. He
crossed the blade over his chest, and his face turned to stone. 
His warrior instincts were awakening, and all cares and thoughts
beyond the invasion melted into oblivion.  His stare told the
minion that he still held the flame of battle in his heart, that
he was ready to confront and defeat this challenge to his power.

        "Dyzan rewards his devout servants, you above all, Taythlin. 
Take this weapon."

        The minion raised a ghostly arm, a small metal object in its
hand.  Taythlin walked slowly forward, marveling at the size of
the minion.  When he was only two feet away from the apparition,
he reached out and took the cool object from the minion's hand.

        He had never seen a pistol before, and he looked into the
barrel, about a half inch diameter and a foot long.

        "This weapon unleashes light, the light of the power of Dyzan,
which burns to cinders all that it meets.  The light strikes
forth from the front of the weapon, the hole into which you are
now looking."

        Taythlin instantly pulled his eye from the end of the barrel. 
He found that his hand could hold the weapon comfortably by
gripping the roughly textured stock.

        "Very good.  Now, turn around, and raise the pistol.  Aim it as
you would an arrow, by sighting down the length of the long
barrel, from which the light will emerge.  Hold the weapon at
arm's length."

        Taythlin did as he was instructed.

        "Now, reach down with one finger, and find the small lever,
which is called a trigger.  Place your finger in front of the
trigger, and pull back on it slowly."

        Taythlin felt the trigger and pulled back on it.  Suddenly, a
beam of blinding blue light shot from the barrel.  It struck the
window at the opposite end of the hallway, and the window and
some of the stone wall surrounding it glowed with the same
brilliance.

        Taythlin released the trigger and stood in awe, gazing through
the hole the weapon had bored, through almost two feet of solid
stone.

        "This weapon is truly powerful, unleashing the might of my god,
Dyzan."  Taythlin turned back to the minion.  "Thank you, and
praise be to Dyzan."

        "At the rear of the weapon, just above the stock, the part your
hand is gripping, you will see a small lever.  If you switch the
lever to the left and fire it at an enemy, it will merely knock
him to the ground.  If you switch the lever to the right and
fire at your enemy, he will be killed, burned to cinders, as you
observed when firing the weapon at the wall.  You will find ten
more weapons, just like this one, which you can give your elite
guard, to defend the palace.  When the battle is over, it is
Dyzan's will that you return all the weapons to this room, where
the holy plans have been laid."

        "Yes, the will of Dyzan be done. It will be done as he
commands."

        "Hurry, for the rebels are gathering their forces."

        The minion slowly faded from view, until only the orange rays
of the setting sun could be seen, filtering through the leaves
of the garden.

        Taythlin ran back towards the stairway, shouting for his chief
officers.  As he reached the bottom of the stairway, he found
several of them, standing together and looking at him with panic.

        "The minion of Dyzan has made itself known to me again, just
now!"

        Their faces went pale with shock.

        "There is a revolt, by the Mishrian rebels, which will begin at
the northern barracks.  We must send one quarter of the palace
force there, to aid in its defense, as well as to warn our
troops there.  The rest of the force is to await an attack on
the palace, which will begin in the middle of the night. 
Quickly!  Summon our officers together!  The enemy prepares to
attack!"

        The men rushed about the palace chamber floor, shouting orders
and calling the officers together, to plan the defense and
deploy troops to the north.

                                66.

        "There!"  Mushlik bellowed.  "I've found a match between the
topography on these blueprints and our stored maps of this area."

        Mark and Tanaria moved close to the large viewscreen, inset
into the wall and about five feet square.  Tanaria traced her
finger around the central area of the screen.

        "This is the Mishrian Palace." she said.  "Whatever excavation
is occurring, the entranceway they're digging will be less than
a quarter mile from there."

        "Yes"  Mushlik agreed.  "As is typical of palaces and temples,
especially those of religious significance, we believe there to
be an extensive catacomb system underneath the primary
structure.  These prints suggest that an initial tunnel will be
enlarged, off of one of the catacomb passages, in the direction
of the next dig, one which connects the lower tunnel vertically
to the surface.  Let's see what kind of buildings lie there now."

        He panned around a block diagram layout of the city.

        "This reminds me of construction in a city" Mark piped in. 
"The cities on earth are so crowded, that, when a new building
is planned, older sections of the city must be demolished and
cleared."

        "A Mishrian chapel lies on this spot, as do some residences,
and, according to our records from the first expedition, a
metalworking shop.  The plans call for one large pit, about
fifty feet in diameter to be dug straight into the ground.  The
concealing structure around it is to be about 150 feet across."

        "So we know now that they're digging this vertical tunnel, to
meet up with the catacombs.  I don't see any plans for stairs, a
ladder, or even an elevator.  So of what use is this hole, if
people can't travel up and down?"

        Mushlik's eyes looked straight through Mark's, as he was deep
in thought, searching for an answer to Mark's question.

        "Perhaps the Bellikans want an accessway to the catacombs."

        "To establish a base in the Mishrian capital?"  Tanaria
speculated.  "What interest do the Bellikans have in Dalthigia? 
I can't see them being interested in their cultural development.
 If war, riches, and power aren't in it for them--"

        "That's the way to approach this" Mushlik said, placing his
hand on his chin and rubbing it slowly.  "We have to think like
a Bellikan, and then we'll know.  Now, the Bellikans strive to
increase the boundaries of their empire.  That's number one."

        "Maybe they're establishing hidden outposts, from which to
strike at Council forces" Mark answered.

        "But why so far into our territory?  Wouldn't they want to
establish such bases closer to their perimeter?"

        "Maybe."  Mark thought hard.  "Or maybe they've already done
so, and this is how far out from their borders they've
progressed."  This thought unnerved them, as they knew this
would mean that the Bellikans could be entrenched on at least a
hundred other neutral planets.

        "I think it unlikely that they could have established so many
bases.  If this is their first of such bases to be used for
future attack, I think it's highly coincidental that they happen
to be beginning their work on a planet being studied by the
Council.  Besides, why wouldn't they construct a base on one of
Dalthigia's moons?  They could work much more quickly, without
fear of discovery by the Dalthigians."

        "The Bellikans are cowards in many ways, though"  Tanaria
answered.  "If they have a base directly under a neutral,
primitive culture, then how could the Council destroy it?"

        "Good point!"  Mark said. "It's kind of like a holdup, when the
criminal grabs an innocent person as a bullet shield.  That does
seem to fit what I've learned about the Bellikans."

        "Here's the last print"  Mushlik said, calling the digitized
information onto the viewscreen.  The vertical tunnel was drawn
from the side.  The surface was not visible on this image. 
Instead, the tunnel was drawn open from the top of the
blueprint, down a third of the parchment, until it met the
deepest level of the catacomb passages.  It extended down,
perhaps another hundred feet, before ending in a chamber, from
which the beginnings of further tunnels could be seen, extending
radially outward and downward from the central chamber.

        "Look"  Mark said, "the tunnel continues down further, below
the level of the catacombs.  It looks like the catacombs are
just a convenient, hidden point from which to hollow out the
vertical tunnel.  Their ultimate objective, then, seems to lie
much deeper."

        "And the chamber at the bottom, a point into which to send
Bellikan technicians and engineers?" Mushlik asked.

        Tanaria suddenly covered her mouth and looked to her father,
then Mark.

        "What is it?" Mark asked.

        "I've figured it out"  she said, in a half whisper.  "The
Bellikans are getting the Cinrekkians to construct an accessway
for their ships, men, or whatever.  The tunnel reaches the
surface, around which they'll have the Cinrekkians build a
concealing building.  They'll make it look like something the
Cinrekkians need, like barracks for their troops.  The Bellikans
can descend in their shuttles right into the tunnel, and drop
straight down to the chamber at the bottom."

        "Sounds reasonable"  Mushlik said.  "That's why it would be
vertical.  If the Bellikans did this themselves, they would be
visible to the Dalthigians, and they would be interfering with a
primitive culture.  They know we survey the primitive worlds
throughout Council space, and that we might see such
interference.  This project, on the other hand, will be
invisible from orbit."

        "Why are the Cinrekkians collaborating with the Bellikans,
though?  Do they know who they are, and that they're from
another world?"

        "Maybe the Bellikans have studied this world for a while, just
as we have.  They're either going to use this place as a base,
or there's something underground they want. Whatever the case,
the Bellikans are probably giving the Cinrekkians weapons and
new technology.  Having surveyed many worlds before, I've seen
instances where the Bellikans have used all sorts of disguising
techniques.  They've appeared as mythical beings, gods,
goddesses, or whatever, commanding primitive races to accomplish
tasks for rewards of salvation or being spared destruction. 
That could be the case here.  Also, the Cinrekkians are the real
power on Dalthigia, and perhaps their evolution to that position
was due in part to the Bellikans."

        "Whatever the case, the Bellikans are interfering with a
primitive culture, and they're either building a base or looking
for something." Mark said.

        "For what would they be searching?"  Tanaria asked.

        "Well, again, let's think like a Bellikan" Mushlik said.  "What
would anyone look for underground?"

        They all thought for a moment.  Mark answered "Deposits of
valuable minerals, metal ores.  Or some valuable artifacts they
believed to be buried there."

        "Sounds reasonable.  Now, as for artifacts, the Bellikans have
no interest in the study of other cultures, unless they intend
to destroy and overtake them.  Which they wouldn't be doing
here, unless they want all-out war with the Council.  The only
thing they could be digging for is old wreckage, from some crash
in the distant past.  I find this unlikely, since such a crash
would have had to occur before the construction of the Mishrian
capital, over a thousand years ago.  The Bellikans couldn't want
something from that far in the past."

        "Then there may be some valuable deposits under the surface. 
If they were directly under the capital city, that's why they
would dig here, instead of out in the countryside somewhere,
where they would be much less visible." Tanaria speculated.

        "Well, I think we have it down to two possibilities.  They're
either constructing a base for spying or storing military
hardware for an invasion, or they're beginning some sort of
mining operation.  I myself favor the idea that it's a base for
spy operations, maybe even a future invasion.  Who would look
for a base under a city on such a primitive planet?" Mushlik
said.  He continued.

        "If we can just keep a low profile until the scheduled return
of the Corona, they can call in a Council raid on the existing
Bellikan base, wherever it is on this planet.  Then we'll know
for sure.  Maybe this will uncover a whole string of Bellikan
endeavors in this sector of space."

        "Shouldn't we call the Corona back immediately?" Mark asked,
getting nervous at the thought of the Bellikans being so close,
and obviously in a militarily superior position.  The Bellikans
wouldn't travel anywhere without being heavily armed, especially
well outside their own empire.

        "No, as I said before, they have probably observed the arrival
of the Corona.  Maybe they even know the location of this
outpost!  But to interfere with a cultural expedition such as
this would be suicide.  If they destroy us, then the Corona will
seek them out upon her return.

        I don't want to activate the emergency beacon, as the Bellikans
may be listening, waiting to see if we send out a call for help.
If we were to do so, they might assume that we're onto them,
and then they would surely destroy us, and cover the evidence. 
They'd probably leave behind all their efforts on this planet
too, and flee back across the border, just so the Council
couldn't make a case against them."

        "I sure hope the Bellikans don't know we're onto them" Mark
said.

        "Me too"  Tanaria said, placing her arm around Mark's
shoulders.  She smiled and joked "We all like living, don't we?"

        "Yeah, death just isn't us" Mark replied, glad that they could
joke.

        "I think we can assume that the Bellikans know of our presence,
but I also don't think they realize that we're onto them."
Mushlik added.  "As a result, in addition to updating our
knowledge of the evolution of Mishrian religious psychohistory,
I think that our main goal at this point, sad to say it, should
be to gather as much information as we can about the Bellikan
meddling into Dalthigian evolution.  If we lose this
expedition's scientific value, so be it.  The Bellikans are
tampering with this planet.  Hopefully, whatever they're doing
is reversible."

        "Reversible?" Tanaria asked.

        "Sure."  He placed his pipe into his mouth and sent the
lighter's blue jet into the bowl of scented tobacco.  "When one
uses a suitable mysticism, the authenticity of those myths are
strengthened for the beings involved, in this case the
Cinrekkian governorship of Mishria.  This is an influence on
Dalthigian evolution, but it is one which fits into the
religious milieu of the Cinrekkians, and it thus flows with
their history, which includes their mythology.  If we can
quietly gather information against the Bellikans, bring this to
the Council, and have the Bellikans embarrassingly confronted of
their deeds in a court, then they would most probably quietly
withdraw their contingent here, and we could return on a later
expedition to take up where we left off."

        "How else can we gather evidence against them?" Mark asked.

        Mushlik turned to the control console, spread along the entire
wall of the laboratory.  "Computer, prepare all three probe
drones for departure."

        "Where are you sending them?" Tanaria asked.

        "One will be stationed for as long as possible at the palace,
so we can eavesdrop on the meetings between the Bellikans and
the Cinrekkians.  It makes perfect sense that they occur there,
since we have already witnessed a Bellikan soldier bringing the
construction plans there.  Also, the excavations are occurring
in the catacombs beneath the palace."

        He swept his finger over one of the blueprints, now displayed
in true color on a monitor.  "Another, we can send directly into
the catacombs.  I'll handle that one, since I have the most
experience guiding these vehicles into tight spaces.  Tanaria,
you can guide the probe into the main chamber of the palace.

        "Mark, I need you to control the third probe.  Position it
outside the palace.  Keep your infrared sensors on, as I want to
see the next Bellikan vessel approaching from sufficient
distance to ready the other probes.  Also, when the shuttle
departs, since they'll be cloaked and in silent mode, they won't
travel very quickly, maybe 100 or 150 miles per hour.

        "If that is the case, you can follow them with the probe,
keeping low to the ground and praying they aren't looking for
anything following them, at least nothing so small.  My goal
here is to locate the Bellikan base, possibly even film their
shuttle entering it."

        "Hell, we even have some footage already!" Mark beamed,
pointing to the memory module containing the images of the
Bellikan walking through the palace.

        "Shouldn't we act as quickly as possible?" Tanaria asked.  "I
say we get the probes in place tonight.  Let's have them
automatically loaded with extra power packs."

        "Can the computer or the probes alert us when anything
interesting is happening?"  Mark asked.  They looked at him with
puzzled expressions.  "I mean, we have to sleep, don't we?"

        "The computer is capable of pattern recognition, as well as you
or I"  Tanaria answered. "We will instruct it to alarm us in the
case that any Bellikans are on the scene.  During our waking
hours, however, we should be carefully watching the telemetry
ourselves.  There might be events of interest to us."

        "All right"  Mushlik said, standing with a sense of urgency. 
"Computer, fit the probes with extra power packs.  How long
until they are ready for launch?"

        "Fifteen minutes"  the computer replied.  On one of the many
viewscreens in the control room, they watched the dull,
spherical probes being readied.  Each of them sat on its own
holding platform.  A series of delicate robot arms were anchored
to the side of each platform, there to tend and perform minor
adjustments to the robots, all by automatic computer control.

        The platforms could be raised or lowered several yards,
enabling them to be placed into the launch airlock.  This
airlock was coated with absorptive substances, making it
invisible to external sensors while the airlock was open, during
launch.

        This period of vulnerability would last only half a minute or
so.  Once the probes were in the air, the airlock would be
sealed, and the base would once again be invisible to everything
but deep-penetrating sensors.

        "I'll instruct the computer to initially autopilot the probes,
toward the city.  Then, as a form of practice, both of you can
work the joystick and other probe controls, enabling you to get
the feel for how to guide them.  I know my daughter is quite
accustomed to piloting the probes, but a quick refresher won't
hurt.  And, as for you, Mark, this will be your first attempt to
control such a craft.  Do you feel up for it?"

        "Sure.  It looks a little like the video games we had back on
earth.  If I'm as good as I used to be on those machines about
five years ago, I'll be flying like the Red Baron."

        He looked about, noticing he had lost his girlfriend and her
father.  "Never mind.  I'll do fine.  Really."  He smiled and
grasped the joystick, ready for his first attempt.

                              67.

        The base commander watched his chief officers, busily
monitoring at their consoles.  Within the hour, the attacks
would most probably begin.

        They had been watching the congregations near one of the city
shops for well over a week, taking sound and video recordings of
who was present and everything that was spoken.  Grob had
surmised, with the consensus of his officers, that about two
thousand rebels would participate in the revolt.  Their strategy
was clear -- overtake the northern troop barracks and then take
the palace.

        Attempting to take the palace first would result in an onrush
of troops from the north, thus introducing the possibility that
the rebels, still battling for control of the palace, would be
fighting on two fronts.  Also, by controlling the northern area,
they could more effectively strain out any Cinrekkian messengers
sent to warn other troop emplacements in Mishria, or those
attempting to reach the Cinrekkian capital.

        At the same time as he planned to foil the revolt, Grob worried
about the Council expeditionary team on Dalthigia.  He had
concluded that the expeditionary team was small, as the Corona
had left the system completely, and only an emergency beacon
remained, typical of scientific missions conducted under Council
sponsorship.

        Initial, approximate location of the satellite showed that it
lay in geosynchronous orbit above a point very near the Mishrian
capital city.  Following the suppression of the revolt, Grob had
already ordered that the satellite be located precisely, thus
giving the most probable location of the Council outpost.  In
the event of an emergency, he wanted to be within reach of a
short and complete strike against it.

        "We have located the thermal signature of a group of rebels"
his officer said loudly, enhancing the infrared image on his
viewscreen and swiveling it towards his commander.  "Telemetry
indicates that the force is moving slowly southward, just as you
thought.  By the looks of it, the attack will probably begin
within the hour."

        Grob smirked at his officer, hungry but foolish, an underling
more apt to kiss the boots of his commander than defining his
own abilities.

        Grob had tangled with the Council several times before, and he
wasn't about to lose this chance.  Here was one of the richest
mineral deposits ever found, in such a sensitive location,
especially one outside Bellikan space.  The ore had many uses,
one of which was an ingredient in the manufacture of Kremlagite,
a compound which had allowed the secret of the antimatter
processor to elude them.  But Grob could think of other uses for
Kremlagite, such as concealing weapons of mass destruction, for
eventual use against Council warships, including, as would
someday hopefully be his honor, the Corona.

        Base commanders were tested for their resourcefulness and
patience.  Beyond that, his success would hopefully return him
to active space duty, possibly as commander of a destroyer and
someday a heavy cruiser.  

        He gripped the armrests of his chair as he watched the revolt
unfold.

                                68.

        Kerlan moved quietly through the forest, paralleling a road
several hundred yards to the east.  Other platoon leaders moved
beside him, as they slowly advanced on the Cinrekkian
installation, just north of Moga.  The sun had just set, and the
purple sky was beautiful.  

        Kerlan stopped to hear the forest.  He had been the strongest
platoon leader in the northern army.  Though the army had fallen
to the Cinrekkian invaders, he and his men had fought valiantly.
 

        The greatest challenge in organizing the underground had not
been the construction of weapons but maintaining secrecy,
especially during maneuvers.  He and the other platoon leaders
had trained the rebels in small groups, disguising their
ventures as short hunting trips into the forest.  During these
two day ventures, they had trained the rebels rigorously.  

        Morale was high, and they had been eager and ready to attack
for over a month.  Careful planning, however, to ensure proper
weather conditions, lunar phase, and weapons distribution, had
dictated patience.

        Of the 1300 people attacking from the north, about 450 were
former army regulars, and the others were an even mixture of
farmers and craftspeople.  About a quarter of the force,
including army veterans, were women.  The traditional minimum
age of sixteen years had been applied.  For those too weak to
fight, there were other vital tasks, such as weapon construction
and message relay.

        After bottoming a valley and crossing a stream, Kerlan's force
ascended the slope.  They knew that the barracks and surrounding
wall lay just beyond the end of the uphill climb.  His heart
thumped in his chest as he mentally prepared to charge into
battle.  He prayed, like most of his fellow patriots, that
Lamper would grant them victory against the invaders.

        In the still of twilight, thoughts of previous battles ran
through Kerlan's mind, and he felt the pain of the Cinrekkian
invasion, when thousands of soldiers had died.  The Cinrekkians
maintained the greatest military machine in the world, and
Kerlan respected them for it. But when he remembered the
executions, the cruel imprisonment, during the early phases of
Cinrekkian rule, his eyes filled with rage.

        He opened his mouth, breathing silently as he exerted himself
during the ascent.  "Just another few hundred feet to the
summit" he thought.  "Then we wait at the tree line until the
gates are opened."

        He prayed again for the platoon charged with overpowering the
guards and opening the gates.  They wore the uniforms of
Cinrekkian officers, and they were going to approach the gate on
a drawn carriage, supposedly filled with supplies for the base. 
Beneath the hay sacks lying in the bed of the cart, however,
were a dozen army veterans.  Once inside the gate, they were to
attack and kill the perimeter patrols.  Then, swinging wide the
massive doors, they would sound the horn for the attack.

        Kerlan saw light flickering between the gently swaying leaves
of the forest, but he heard nothing.  He moved to the edge of
the forest.

        The massive stone wall stood ominous and black before them. 
The access road was dimly lit by the lamps which stood atop the
wall, on either side of the gate. Kerlan saw the usual pair of
patrolmen, leaning on their spears, horns slung over their
shoulders.  At the first sign of trouble, they would raise the
horns and summon the aid of their fellow Cinrekkians. 
Hopefully, Kerlan and his troops would be out of the forest and
at least partially through the gate before that could happen.

        Kerlan's messenger crept up beside him.  He was barely a man,
still thin and agile, as Kerlan had been several decades ago. 
He marveled at the determination on the boy's face, smudged with
mud. 

        "Go immediately"  he told him. "Tell them that only two guards
are visible above the gate.  No unusual activity."

        The boy nodded and disappeared silently into the darkening
forest.

        Kerlan waited in the forest for at least fifteen minutes,
until, in the distance, he heard wagon wheels, rolling over ruts
and rocks in the road.  Soon, the cart rounded a corner,
appearing in full view, as it traveled the final hundred feet to
the gate.  The drivers wore the characteristic plumed helmets of
Cinrekkian officers, which glinted in the lamplight streaming
from the top of the wall.

        The patrol guards left their usual positions and took several
steps closer to the gate, bending over slightly so as to get a
close view of the driver.  After a few words from the wagon
driver, who had studied since the Cinrekkian invasion to speak
their language with no perceptible accent, one of the guards
waved his arm, and Kerlan heard the sound of the metal bolts
being undone.  The gate was about to open.

        His mouth watered, and his breathing grew heavy as the wooden
doors swung slowly open with a loud creak.  Kerlan raised the
bird whistle to his lips and inhaled deeply.

        As he burst from the edge of the forest, he blew the whistle,
and the tree line erupted.  The entire force streamed towards
the gate.  The Cinrekkians looked astonished, and they both
jumped down from the wall, into the compound.

        "They haven't blown the warning horns yet!"  Kerlan thought. 
"They are cowards, more interested in fleeing from danger than
protecting their own men!"

        All of the rebels had lined up against the tree line before the
charge, so they all came into view the moment Kerlan had blown
the whistle.  In another thirty seconds, the fastest runners had
passed through the gate and into the compound.  No shouts were
heard, no horns, no clangs of metal on metal, just the sound of
them running over the grass and through the gate.

        Kerlan passed into the compound.  Once inside, he saw numerous
low buildings.  Looking behind him, he saw that the last of his
men were passing through the gate.

        As they ran toward the buildings, Kerlan suddenly had a strange
feeling.  It was so quiet, and almost every window in the
barracks was dark -- unusual so early in the evening.  

        He heard a familiar creaking sound, and he turned around to see
that several Cinrekkian guardsmen were swinging the gate closed.
 As the doors met, the guards pounded the bolts inward, so hard
that no hands would pry them loose.

        When Kerlan turned to face his onrushing troops, he looked with
horror at the archers who suddenly appeared in every window in
the compound.

                                69.

        "You are a natural for this!" Mushlik exclaimed to Mark.

        "The probe responds perfectly to my commands.  That's the
difference between being a video pilot and being onboard an
aircraft -- the lack of g-force and the accompanying
disorientation."

        He pulled back on the joystick, and the drone rose higher into
the air, now hanging about a hundred feet above the outpost.

        "Engage cloaking for all three probes" Mushlik ordered.  The
computer obeyed, and all three blips vanished from the sensor
screen.  "Let's go" Mushlik said.

        All three sat before the main console.  There were four sets of
joysticks, monitors, and keyboards, so they had a spare in the
event of a malfunction.  Mark set the heading for his probe
through the keyboard, and he eased gently forward on the
joystick.  The bird's eye view from the onboard camera was
wonderful, and he watched hills rolling gently beneath the probe
as it reached a speed of nearly a hundred miles per hour.

        Mark maximized the camera's light sensitivity, since night had
fallen, and neither moon was in the sky.  The landscape was
barely visible, so he switched to near infrared, and the
landscape lit up in false color imagery.

        They said very little while steering the probes.  Each
concentrated on the task at hand, scrupulously maintaining
proper course and altitude.

        "There, the first group of buildings" Mark said.  He slowed the
probe down to about twenty miles per hour.  Swinging the camera
to horizontal, he saw the Mishrian palace.  He almost fell off
his chair, however, when he saw the flames leaping into the air
about it.  Smoke billowed angrily over the entire structure,
blown by the wind from the numerous wooden buildings just to the
west.

        "My God!"  Mark shouted.  Mushlik looked up, and his jaw
dropped open, sending his pipe to the floor, where a bowl of
sparks and smoldering tobacco spilled onto the tiles.

        Tanaria saw that a cloud of dust surrounded the northern
outpost.  As the probe drew nearer, she saw the raging battle
taking place within the compound walls.  She motioned for their
attention.

        Mark and her father looked from their respective viewscreens,
now both displaying the battle from different perspectives.  As
they observed the second battle at the northern base, Mushlik
stood up and reached for his imaginary pipe.  Suddenly realizing
he had dropped it, he bent over and grabbed it from the floor.

        "It must be a revolt."  He frantically adjusted controls and
sent his probe closer toward the palace.  Mark maneuvered his
probe directly over the palace, swinging the camera to focus on
a cluster of burning buildings.

        "Switch on the audio sensors" Tanaria said, as they heard the
shouts and screams of troops from the speaker.  She started the
data recorders rolling for all three probes.

        Some 200 feet below, flames consumed the wooden structures. 
Panning back toward the palace courtyard, Mark watched the dance
of orange light on the giant walls of stone, standing impervious
as of yet to the surrounding carnage.

        Mushlik piloted his probe into the palace courtyard.  As he
passed over the stone wall, he saw the Cinrekkian soldiers
standing on ledges behind it, only their heads poking above the
top layer of stones.  They were firing their bows and crossbows
into the throng of rebels which moved toward the palace wall
from all directions.

        The Cinrekkians were repelling the attack effectively. 
Hundreds of rebels lay motionless on the ground, arrows
protruding from many of their chests.

        Mushlik swung his probe and headed toward the palace itself,
over the heads of dozens of guards and officers, utterly unaware
of his presence.  Switching to infrared, Mushlik saw the bright
shapes denoting the guards and the dark lawn between them. 
Panning his camera skyward, trying to spot the signature of
Mark's probe, he imaged the wedge shape of a Bellikan shuttle,
moving slowly over the city.

        "Wait a minute!"  he exclaimed.  Tanaria and Mark saw the image
on the screen.  "If the Bellikans are aiding the Cinrekkians in
any way, we'll have them before the Council once and for all!"
He seethed with anger.

        "Perhaps the Bellikans warned them of the revolt" Tanaria
began.  "It seems like the rebels are having no success
whatsoever.  The Cinrekkians were lying in wait for the rebels."

        Mark suddenly saw a flash of blue light near the ground.  A
guard had been shot.  The Cinrekkian was thrashing about on the
ground, a large arrow shaft extending from his chest.  Two
rebels had managed to climb over the gap in the wall, and one
now lay on the ground, his clothes charred and smoldering.

        Mark swung the camera back onto two Cinrekkian officers, one of
them holding a large, shiny weapon in his hands.  Another burst
of blue light jumped from the weapon, and the second rebel fell
from the wall, back onto the city street outside the palace
grounds.

        "That weapon is not Dalthigian!" Mark said.  He placed his
index finger over the image of the Cinrekkian officer.  As
Mushlik watched, he saw another blue flash, from a different
location.  Zooming his camera onto the relevant area, he saw
Taythlin himself, holding one of the metal pistols.

        "Well, we're getting the demise of the Bellikan Empire on film!
 When the Council sees interference of this nature, this far
from their borders, there could be a large police action, even a
blockade.  These asses are terrorists!"

                                70.

        "We're almost there"  Etar said.  "Around the next corner, and
then straight along the edge of the hillside.  She will be
preparing dinner before our arrival."

        "Do you think it's wrong to be a ..."  Lira paused, embarrassed
to finish her thought.

        "A vagrant?  A beggar?"  He smiled, his white teeth barely
visible in the darkness.  "I'm not a beggar in the sense that I
don't have the will to work, to try and make the world a better
place.  But, at least for now, I am a beggar in the sense that I
am not working for money, with which to buy food, clothing, and
a roof over my head.  I suppose I earn my necessities by
performing spiritual duties, and my bodily needs will be taken
care of, somehow."

        Lira stopped walking, and she looked up into the night sky. 
The stars were still visible, but a thin layer of clouding was
moving in from the west.  "What are the stars, really?  Are they
just lamps hanging from the floor of Heaven?"

        "I don't think of Heaven as a place" Etar suggested.  "I think
of it as a spiritual realm, one not perceivable by us.  It is
beyond all that we know and see."

        "Then what are the stars, if there is no floor of Heaven from
which to hang them?"

        "I don't know.  Other worlds, like ours, far out there."

        They rounded the corner and saw two windows, filled with a
yellow glow, about a quarter mile ahead, at the top of a steep
hill.

        "Her home" he said, pointing to the windows.

        Lira felt the pit return to her stomach, and she turned
slightly towards Etar as they walked.  "Has the revolt begun?"

        "I feel that much darkness is on Mishria.  The Cinrekkians are
too powerful to be overtaken by the small forces that our fellow
countrymen can assemble, weapons included.  In addition, the
conquering will of the Cinrekkians is indomitable.  Fighting
back merely plays into their hands.  Striking out against them
gives them a valuable opportunity, in their own eyes.  It's a
chance to cut down any growing rebellion and reassert themselves
as the authority over the land."

        "What if all the peoples conquered by the Cinrekkians were to
make a unified rebellion, against them?"

        "That would probably defeat them.  But there would be no way to
unite that many lands.  Many of the conquered nations, though
they share a hatred for the Cinrekkians, still war between each
other, not recognizing the need to see what their bickering has
wrought."

        They continued to walk in silence, both of them breathing
heavily from exertion.  She couldn't believe that hundreds of
people were dying, just several miles to the north.  She
wondered what the city would be like the next day, assuming the
fighting had ended.  If the Cinrekkians would overwhelm the
rebels as Etar had said, the streets might be quiet by then,
except for roving patrols of Cinrekkian troops.  They would
continue the long, vicious process of rounding up the rebels.

        At last the road leveled, and she saw a glimmer of light from
her right.  As she turned, she couldn't believe what she saw. 
The city lay spread out before them, its border almost two miles
away.  No lights could be seen hanging in the windows of the
outlying buildings and homes.

        Further to the north, atop the gentle roll of the hill that
rose from the center of the city, flames were leaping into the
air.  It looked as though the entire marketplace was burning. 
She covered her mouth, and tears welled up in her eyes.  She
felt Etar hold her arm just as she held his.  They heard
occasional screams in the distance, intermingling with the dull
roar of the flames.

        An explosion suddenly sent a plume of flame into the air,
lighting up the wall of the palace.  It was clear, even from
here, that the palace was not burning, only the buildings
surrounding it.  The Cinrekkians themselves had probably set the
fires, forming a wall of flame around their stronghold.  The
rebels would have to cross the flames, only to face the
Cinrekkians, armed to the teeth and fresh for battle.

        She turned and saw that Etar's face was wet with tears.  "I
mourn for those who have died and who will die, because of this
violence.  My words have gone unheeded by the people of Mishria
and Cinrekkia."

        He sat on the edge of the road and lay his face in his hands,
his shoulders shaking as he wept.  He looked up, into her eyes,
and she felt as though she were falling, from a tall cliff.  The
sensation of weightlessness lasted for an instant, and she felt
herself hit bottom.

        Lira knew that someone had died.  Her mind raced to find who it
could be.  Her family was well outside of the city.  Perhaps one
of her friends who lived to the south of the city, Jia or Mik.
She thought of Jia's new infant, caught in a struggle between
Mishrian and Cinrekkian.

        All the while, the same thought kept surfacing in her mind. 
"My brother!"  She tore it from her thoughts the moment she
thought of Melki.  "No, the revolt is in the middle of the city.
 My brother doesn't have friends there."  Tension grew within
her, and she heard a voice off the side of the road.

        "Quickly!  Come inside!"  Lira saw a middle-aged woman, waving
them towards the door of the house.  A large bush was propped up
next to it.  Trees and shrubs grew densely at the road's edge,
and, in the faint flicker of light from the burning city, the
house was practically invisible.

        "Tonur!"  Etar said, falling into her arms, still sobbing. 
Lira followed them into the house, dragging the large bush over
the doorway as she entered.  Tonur bolted the wood door, and
Lira saw another man, one of several in the house, closing the
window shutters.  They had left them open until their arrival,
the lamps lighting their way to safety.

                              71.

        Taythlin saw a rebel topping the stone wall, slashing at a
Cinrekkian soldier with a sword.  He was a giant of a man.  As
the soldier fell back to the ground, the rebel raised his hands
in victory.

        Taythlin aimed the blaster and pulled the trigger.  A flash of
blue light shot a foot to the right of the target, so Taythlin
angled the gun slightly to the left.  Pulling the trigger again,
he struck the man in the chest, and what was left of him fell
backwards, outside the wall.

        Some of his officers cheered.  A smile never crossed Taythlin's
face.  He knew that Dyzan was watching closely.  He was the god
of war, and he demanded honor and determination from his
servant.  Taythlin uttered a silent prayer on his lips every
time he pulled the trigger, thanking Dyzan for the holy weapon.

        Suddenly, just twenty feet above him, he saw a huge flash of
light, and something exploded, sending shrapnel about him.  One
of the pieces struck his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. 
Placing his hand over the point of impact, he felt a trickle of
blood.  At his feet lay chunks of gray rock, smoldering and too
hot to touch.

        Taythlin looked into the night sky and saw a large rock
hurtling over the wall, approaching a group of officers near the
palace wall.  Taythlin saw a beam of light, extending from the
wall of the palace garden, strike the rock and blow it to pieces.

        "There must be a minion of Dyzan there" he thought.  He knew
that none of his officers or soldiers were stationed within the
garden.

        Taythlin shouted orders to an officer near him. "Continue the
battle as planned.  I'm climbing to the palace roof.  I shall
return shortly."

        As his officer saluted, Taythlin turned quickly and hurried
across the courtyard.  In another minute, he was bounding the
steps toward the top floor.  He stopped on one of the landings,
realizing that he should sheath the holy weapon, as a sign of
submission to whatever awaited him in the garden.  He jammed the
weapon, barrel down, between his belt and waist.  Taythlin
continued up the steps, until he stood on the top floor, the
sound of the battle now muffled within the thick walls of stone.

        He emerged into the garden, his hands at his sides, and the
sound of the battle rose again, as he smelled the smoke which
billowed from dozens of buildings.  The air was hot from the
flames, which cast an eerie glow on the garden.

        As he walked through the garden, Taythlin tasted smoke in his
mouth.  For a moment, the stars were blocked out, and he raised
himself to see over the wall.  He strained his eyes to make out
something beyond the layer of smoke below.

        Looking up, he saw a peculiar disturbance within the smoke,
small vortices and motions that moved against the wind.  The
disturbance was descending, and his head began to tingle, as
though something was crawling through his hair.  He felt a
vibration, and the air around him grew hot.  He soon gasped for
breath.

        A clanking noise disrupted his gaze, and Taythlin heard the
sound of heavy metal footsteps moving along the sidewalk, at a
right angle to his position and at the opposite end of the
garden.  Taythlin saw a thick, metal cable which dangled in
midair.

        The footsteps stopped, and the cable, ending in a large chair
fashioned of metal strips, grew taut.  The chair soon rose
skyward.

        "He is being taken into the realm of Dyzan" Taythlin said to
himself, his heart now in his throat.  The chair continued to
rise, turning slowly on the cable as it did so, and it
disappeared into the layer of thickening smoke.  Then, very
slowly, the vibration faded, and the air cooled.  He sat down on
a stone bench.

        "That's strange"  he thought.  "I was standing a stone's throw
away from a minion of Dyzan, and he didn't speak to me." He felt
guilty for questioning the will of Dyzan.  "Perhaps this minion
was sent to protect his servants, but not speak with them.  We
are like small children to Dyzan, not comprehending his
inscrutable ways.  Just as a father must do things for his son
without explanation, Dyzan is the same way with his warriors."

        The sound of the slaughter rose, and he left the stone bench,
climbing the surrounding wall.  As his head poked above the
stone ledge, he saw hundreds of bodies strewn about the streets
near the palace.  He also saw several of his own soldiers, lying
still on the ground.

        He felt no anger against the Mishrians, only his sense of duty.
 The next day would be the worst, as he would have to send his
troops out amongst the commoners of the city, to ruthlessly
demonstrate authority over the masses.  Others would die
tomorrow, and many of those captured would be publicly executed.

        His officers were already dispatching messengers to the
northern fortress, telling them of their complete victory over
the rebellion.  Just several hours earlier, he had received word
from a messenger that a similar victory was being won to the
north.

                               72.

        Mushlik eased the joystick forward, sending his probe downward,
moving through a thick layer of smoke.  The onboard camera
sliced through it, enabling him to chart his course between
buildings.  Swinging the auxiliary camera upward, he saw that
the Bellikan shuttle was increasing in altitude and speed.

        "Hurry"  Tanaria urged, bumping his elbow with her arm as she
leaned forward to watch the shuttlecraft.  Her father's
irritation passed.

        "I'm sure the Bellikans are taking footage of the city directly
surrounding us.  If they're using infrared cameras, they'll see
us unless I move within this smoke screen."

        Mark thought the idea ingenious.

        "Then, once we see the shuttle accelerating to head back to
base, I'll pull up and gain speed.  We should be able to keep up
with them, assuming their base is nearby.  The Bellikans know
we're around here, so I'm sure they'll be traveling below mach,
otherwise their presence would be too obvious.  Besides, they
still have to maintain some respectful distance from the
Dalthigians themselves."

        Mark continued to monitor the battle below, bringing the probe
over the garden wall of the palace, only to see Taythlin
entering the palace.  As the Cinrekkian disappeared into the
stone hallway, Mark caught sight of the weapon strapped to his
side. He quickly checked the camera recorder.  It was still on
line.

        "I don't know the distance to the Bellikan base" Mushlik began
"but it shouldn't be very far from here. With the probe's energy
storage, I'd say we can track them at top speed for about a half
hour or so, one way.  I want to have enough to make it back in
one piece."

        On the viewer, they watched the Bellikan shuttle as it
accelerated.  When it headed outward from the city, Mushlik
gripped the joystick and ordered full power from the probe's
drive system.

        The smoke cloud receded behind them as the probe climbed above
the clouds.  Buildings moved through the camera viewscreen at an
ever increasing pace, and soon the probe was flying low over the
trees.  The direction indicator showed the probe to be traveling
northwest, at about 100 miles per hour.  Mushlik swung both
cameras to the horizontal position, displaying the Bellikan
shuttle in infrared.  They seemed to be keeping pace adequately,
at least for the moment.  The underside of the shuttle glowed
brightly from the increased engine thrust.

        "Let's hope their base isn't far away.  I'd love to get one
picture of it.  They'll have to uncloak to admit the shuttle."

        Mushlik, bleary-eyed and tired, piloted the probe over trees
and between hills.  The optical ranging system onboard the probe
indicated that the shuttle was moving at about 200 miles per
hour.  When the shuttle arrived at base, they would know the
range and relative orientation to the probe, though still miles
away from Bellikan headquarters.

        Mark and Tanaria brought the other probes into hovering
positions above the palace and the northern troop barracks,
setting them on automatic record mode.  The battles had quieted,
and, within the walls of the northern base, they could see
handfuls Cinrekkian soldiers, shackling their prisoners.

        "Do the Cinrekkians normally take prisoners?" Mark asked.

        "They will imprison all survivors of this massacre.  They don't
believe in killing just for killing's sake.  Many of those we
see below will be interrogated and tortured to release the names
and locations of the rebel leaders and outposts.  This is a
golden opportunity for the Cinrekkians to stomp out the
rebellion."

        Mushlik scrutinized the computer screen next to the probe
camera display.  "The Bellikan shuttle is now about fifty miles
northwest of the city limits.  We've been following them for
about fifteen minutes, so we can continue at top speed for
another fifteen."

        The ranging system displayed the decreasing velocity of the
Bellikan shuttle.  They watched the indicator carefully, as it
slowed below 100 and then, very quickly, under fifty miles per
hour.  The probe was now gaining on it, still roughly twenty
miles behind the Bellikans.

        "They're descending"  Tanaria said, zooming in on the infrared
image of the shuttle.  "They'll be at treetop level in just a
few seconds."

        As she finished speaking, the infrared image winked out. The
air still glowed from the shuttle's exhaust.

        "We'll have enough power to reach that location!" Mushlik said
anxiously.  "I'm decreasing speed to fifty miles per hour, to
conserve energy.  We won't get to see them uncloaked, even if we
maintain top speed, so we might as well ensure the safe return
of the probe.  The propulsion is much more efficient at slower
speeds."

        Tanaria had been calling up topographical maps of the area
around the Bellikan outpost.  She displayed an area of roughly a
square mile on the viewscreen.

        "If we assume that the shuttle descended vertically to base,
then the entrance is located ... here."  She pointed to a small
red square that appeared on the map.  It lay between two low
ridges, about 250 feet high and several miles long.  The
separation between the ridges was about a quarter mile.

        "Seems like a reasonable place" Mark replied.  "Far enough from
the city, secluded between two hills for invisibility.  Also,
they're far from any streams, and elevated above the water
table.  That color coding is elevation above sea level, isn't
it?"

        "Yes" Tanaria responded.

        "I wonder how large the base is."

        The probe was still skimming over the treetops, and they passed
silently over a ridge of trees and heavy undergrowth.  Mushlik
put his finger on the next ridge, still miles away.

        "We should be there in about five minutes.  I'll bring the
probe right down to the treetops and hover, so we have a view
into the valley.  Hopefully we'll see some infrared signature. 
I don't want to use any active sensing at all.  They'd probably
pick up on it immediately.  Also, all telemetry must remain
unidirectional.  Any attempt to use omnidirectional will be
detected immediately by their sensors."

        They watched as Mushlik continued to steer the probe along the
valley floor and then up the following slope.  As the probe
skimmed over the tall trees, Mushlik decreased velocity down to
ten miles per hour.  At last they could see the top of the
ridge, and Mushlik brought the probe to a stop, immediately
swinging all cameras to the area of interest.

        "Nothing visible" he said.  "But don't be disappointed. 
They're cloaked, or at least the entranceway is." His eyes
widened as he examined the infrared image.

        "Look at that.  A definite infrared signature, directly under
our projected position of the shuttle's landing."

        A dull red patch was visible on the screen, roughly rectangular
in shape.  The entire region was several hundred yards in width,
parallel to the ridge, and about a hundred yards long.

        "That's a fairly large outpost for observation purposes"
Tanaria said.  "I wonder how far underground it extends."

        "Impossible to say" Mushlik said instantly.  But at the hottest
point on the image, there is a small clearing amongst the trees.
I'd bet my life that we're looking at the entrance.  By the
size of that space, you could probably land a small destroyer
there."

        "It seems obvious, then, that the Bellikans are not merely here
for scientific observation or experimental purposes.  They have
long term goals on Dalthigia."  Mark and Mushlik nodded in reply
to Tanaria's conclusion.

        Mushlik watched three screens at once, hoping to see some sign
of activity from the subterranean base.  The computer suddenly
spoke.  "EM receivers are picking up signals emanating from a
point at--"

        "Display origin of signal" Mushlik interrupted.

        "Impossible to position to better than 51 feet."  Another
illuminated square appeared, at the west edge of the base's
infrared signature."

        "Explain the nature of the signal." Tanaria ordered.

        "Standard high frequency signal, non-hyperspatial.  It is
strongly collimated, and the probe is monitoring energy
scattered by the atmosphere."

        "That means we can't decode it" Mushlik concluded.  "But if
it's not a hyperspatial transmission, the receiver must be
nearby, perhaps in orbit around Dalthigia.  They're probably
communicating to a Bellikan vessel in orbit!"

        "The signal has ceased." the computer said promptly.

        Mushlik turned the probe and guided it on a slow journey home.

                                 73.

        Mark visualized the Dalthigian terrain scrolling beneath him as
he pulled the covers against his chin.  He felt the joystick
between his fingers, his knuckles sore from operating the
device.  Mushlik had assured them both that he would make sure
the probe was home before retiring for the night, and Mark heard
the psychologist now, switching off equipment and yawning as he
walked to his bedroom.

        Though unnerved by the presence of the Bellikans on Dalthigia,
Mark felt safe at the outpost.  The Bellikans were probably
aware of the Council presence, and Mark prayed that they would
decide to keep their distance.  

        In the midst of tensions over the wisdom in remaining at the
outpost, Mark's love for Tanaria strengthened, and his respect
for Mushlik grew immensely.

        Mark had first thought him to be an ivory tower academic, with
little comprehension of how the real world functioned.  How
accustomed he had been at college to using that phrase.  Mark
believed that many academics construct a reality within their
minds, and they make the mistake of assuming that the entire
world adheres to their vision.

        But Mushlik had shattered the image of the naive intellectual. 
Mark felt safe with Mushlik in charge, particularly in evading
the Bellikans.

        As his eyes grew heavy, he felt the joystick melting from his
grasp, and the seemingly endless scrolling of forest beneath the
probe faded.  At last he fell asleep.

                                74.

        The essence hovered over Mark, gently touching his mind, from
several feet away, its cold connections reaching inward.  It
sensed the approach of the dream state, and it melded, formless
and without mass, one foot in this world, the other beyond
physical reality.

        Mark sat up in bed.  He saw a man sitting before him, in his
quarters, now well lit.  The man had a scar on the side of his
face, and the skin around it appeared stretched.  His hair was a
mix of sand and silver.

        "So, Mark" he began.  "How is the expedition progressing?"

        Mark felt urgency, a rising tension in his throat to warn him
that someone was watching, that an alien presence was nearby.

        "The Bellikans" he whispered loudly.  "They know we are here. 
You must run and communicate this to the Corona, or they will
destroy us.."

        "There is one more task you must perform."

        "What is it?"  Mark felt anger grow within himself.  He knew
now that he was looking at a familiar face, one he had seen
while viewing footage from previous expeditions to Dalthigia,
working alongside Mushlik.

        "How dare you ask me to stay here, to gather data for your own
satisfaction!"

        "That isn't what I'm asking for" the man said calmly.  "I know
you are in danger.  Your caution and some degree of Bellikan
wisdom has ensured your safety.  There is something on this
planet, something you must take."

        "What?"  He remembered the footage, showing a man, red-faced in
the heat of a summer day, standing next to Mushlik and
displaying artifacts.

        "Aron!" he blurted.  The man smiled.

        "There is one last thing in the cave, which you must bring back
with you.  Please."

        "But ... Tanaria said that the cave is sealed."

        "I know of another entrance, on one side of the main passage. 
I will show you.  We don't have much time.  The Bellikans are
growing restless.  They know of your presence."

        Mark felt by the numbness of his mouth and tongue that he was
dreaming.  He grabbed control of his mind for an instant,
standing less than a yard from Aron.

        "I'm dreaming.  You're not real.  None of this is really
happening."

        "You must go to the cave, as soon as possible.  It will be a
short and safe journey, in another several days, once the
Cinrekkians have completed their search for the remaining
rebels."

        "Give me some proof that this is not a dream."

        Aron's face turned to stone.  "What kind of proof?"

        "Surprise me."

        "You are in danger tonight, young explorer.  I am protecting
you as well as I can.  Tomorrow, when you wake up, you will see
what I have done."

        Aron's form vanished, and Mark jumped awake.  He shivered from
the dream, and he noticed that, for an instant, his breath was
condensing  above his bed.  He reached out his hand, from under
the warm blanket, and he felt something, some coldness, retreat
from his touch.

        He returned to sleep.

                                75.

        The essence moved like a snake into the computer's machine
intelligence.  It passed over the myriad boards of processors,
finally reaching the liquid reservoir which cooled the optical
relay system at the heart of the computer.  In the wink of an
eye, the essence transmuted its energy into instructions, ones
encoded with secrecy.  The computer would not record these
instructions for future reference, not to humans, not even to
its own limited intellect.

        An antenna atop the outpost beamed a rapid series of bits to a
satellite orbiting directly overhead.  The satellite received
the data uplink, and with the issuance of the correct security
clearance, its thrusters came slowly to life, easing it to a new
location above the planet surface. 

        The essence guided the satellite patiently.  The sole link
between the outpost and the rest of the universe moved to a
point  above a small river, roughly ten miles from the outpost.

        At this new position, the braking thrusters fired, and the
satellite moved as before, in a perfectly synchronous orbit
above the planet surface.  From this position, the outpost could
still easily transmit any emergency signal.

        The essence fled from the computer.

        Mark, Tanaria, and Mushlik slept a long, satisfying sleep.

                               76.

        The next morning, Taythlin opened his eyes and felt his head
throb with pain.  A moment of calm was swept away, as the
memories of the previous night came flooding back on him,
reminding him that, today, he would have to be ruthless.  He
would make examples of the rebel prisoners, to ensure that
another such rebellion would not occur.

        Rolling to the edge of his bed, he let his feet drop to the
floor, and he  strained his eyes in the sunlight which flooded
through the window.  Looking to the wall behind the bed, he
glanced at a portrait of the Cinrekkian Emperor, Halos.  He
gazed coldly from the wooden frame, a red robe flowing about him.

        Distracted by shouting noises, Taythlin walked to his window
and pulled up the thin shade.  His eyes flinched once again in
the light, and, as they adjusted, he saw several of his men,
constructing wooden platforms on which many executions would be
performed.  Hammering soon met his ears, and he heard the sawing
of wood.  He smelled fresh sawdust, as his men labored under the
morning sun.  

        Taythlin watched some townspeople  gathering near the front
gate, to see what the Cinrekkians were building.  Many had a
good idea already, and when the tall vertical posts were hoisted
into the air, they knew that their worst fears had become
reality.  The soldiers were constructing a set of five Axlar. 
The poles were high enough that, when the executions began, the
victims would be visible above the palace wall.

        "Axlar" Taythlin whispered to himself, feeling remorse that he
needed to resort to such means.  He had seen some of his own
friends executed in this way, having incited the displeasure of
the Emperor or one of his chief advisors.

        It was a form of execution meant to serve as a display of
cruelty and power to all who witnessed the event.  Death was
essentially in the hands of the individual being executed.  Some
lasted minutes, others nearly a day.  Taythlin had seen one of
his friends, a fellow officer in a past military campaign,
immediately and purposely submit himself to death, so as not to
satisfy the Emperor's taste for a bloody struggle.

        The victim's hands were tied behind his back, then both his
wrists would be tied to ropes encircling the waist.  A thick
belt was placed around the victim's upper body, just under the
arms, and a metal hook was clipped to the back of the belt.

        A rope ran from the hook, over the top of the main support
beam, back down to the ground, where the executioners could pull
on the line and raise the victim into the air, up to a sloping
metal platform, anchored to the pole.

        The victim instinctively stood on the platform, barely large
enough to support one's feet.  The metal platform formed the top
of a small box, into which hot coals would be placed.  The
frequency of replacement of the coals, as well as the endurance
of the victim, determined how long he could keep his feet from
sliding from the platform.

        Once the victim was standing atop the sloping platform, an
apron of sharp, metal prongs was raised and girded around his
abdomen.  The apron was secured in a fixed position to the pole
behind the victim's body.

        When one finally tired and gave up the struggle of remaining on
the platform, the victim would fall downward, the metal prongs
piercing the abdomen and bringing a quick death to most.  For
some however, the prongs would miss a major blood vessel,
causing them to die slowly, over a period of hours, in
incredible agony.

        Turning from the window, Taythlin dressed and proceeded to the
meeting chamber, where his officers were wide awake and eager to
begin the crackdown.  Fifteen rebel commanders, of varying rank,
were to be executed each day, for a week.  One of the officers
suggested that they continue the executions through the night,
as the mental impact of hearing the screams of agony, either in
complete darkness or above the dim light of torch flames, would
be most effective.

        Taythlin felt that resorting to such unusually extraordinary
measures of execution would possibly incite the entire city to
riot, breaking down law and order to such a point that more
legions would have to be ordered from within the Empire.  It
would have a negative impact on the Emperor's opinion of his
government, and it would also mean the deaths of many Cinrekkian
troops, something that would not endear Taythlin to future
generations of warriors.

        By the end of the hour-long briefing, he decided to end the
executions by sundown and resume upon the following sunrise. 
Any victims still hanging on the poles at the end of the day
would be encouraged to die quickly, either by breaking their
legs with clubs, forcing them to fall onto the metal spikes, or
by fueling the ember boxes with many coals.

        Leaving the meeting, Taythlin went to meet with several
officers who had arrived from the northern military base.  They
discussed the casualty list, maintenance of the prisoner
population, and the organization of search squads.  The squads
would soon depart from both the palace and the northern base, to
forcibly search for rebels and their weapons.  Taythlin knew
that, by now, they had melted back into the general population. 
 Those the squads found would be interrogated.  Taythlin would
order the execution of many, and the remainder, those most
physically fit, would dig a great pit, to expose the gems that
lay beneath the catacombs.

                             77.

        Lira walked in a slow circle in front of the house.  A small
hillside rose behind it, allowing the artificial brush cover
which surrounded the house to meld into the trees behind it.  As
the wind blew, gaps appeared in the camouflage, revealing the
home's weathered exterior.

        "I hope the Cinrekkians don't find us here" she thought.  "It
might fool someone from a distance, but not as they pass on this
road."

        "It has already served its purpose."

        She turned around, startled to see Etar standing halfway to the
house.

        "What do you mean?"

        He walked towards her and continued. "Last night, as you slept,
I heard several groups of soldiers passing through here,
probably in pursuit of fleeing rebels.  They failed to notice
the house, because the darkness covered the gaps between the
bushes.  But the soldiers have passed, and they're probably back
in the city by now."

        "I see.  But what if more soldiers come out this way today?"

        "Then they will probably see the house and perform a ruthless
search of it.  In fact, it would help if we uncovered the front
and tossed the bushes onto the other side of the road."

        "What?  I see your wisdom just before suggesting that we open
ourselves up to Cinrekkian attack."

        "If you were a soldier traveling along this road, where would
you expect to find rebels hiding?  Would it not be in a place
they were trying to keep hidden, and not in a place as visible
as this house would be without concealment?"

        "I see your point.  When do you think we should remove the
covering?"

        "Now.  Taythlin will undoubtedly send out hundreds of his men,
in every direction.  Some could be arriving soon.  They must not
even suspect that we are rebels.  We were hiding mainly from the
rebels themselves."

        With that, Etar turned and walked to the house, dragging bushes
from the ropes which had secured them loosely to the wooden
slats.  Lira joined in, and soon they had removed the cover. 
The bushes, however, lay in several piles on the near side of
the road, so they carried them to a hillside, on the opposite
side of the road.

        Lira heaved one bush after another over the hill, watching them
roll and stir up dust as they headed toward a stand of trees. 
Most of the bushes stopped halfway down the hillside.  As she
worked, the worry for her brother flooded her mind.  Lira
climbed down over the hillside.  She fought back the tears in
her eyes, as she gripped the prickly branches of the bushes and
dragged them down toward the grove of trees.  Etar was working a
stone's throw away, dragging the majority of the bushes into the
trees.

        "He must be all right.  He would never believe that he could
defeat the Cinrekkian army.  I know he was involved with the
rebels, but he probably returned home when he learned of their
plans."

        Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she stopped working to clear
her eyes.  As she dried her face, she turned and saw Tonur, one
of Etar's followers, moving down the hillside towards her.

        She was a middle aged woman, rather portly, with a smile that
revealed her inner joy.  The night before, she had prayed after
the others had fallen asleep.  Lira knew this, since she had
awoken twice, only to hear the tree branches scraping the walls
of the house, intermingled with the whispering of Tonur as she
prayed.

        Tonur's face grew more serious when she saw Lira's tears, and
the two met in a hug.  Lira cried loudly into the woman's tunic,
feeling her tears dampening the cloth which smelled like a
spring morning.  Tonur patted her on the back and hummed a soft
song into Lira's ear.

        "I pray that your brother is okay, Lira" she said, revealing
the strain of withholding tears in her own voice.

        Suddenly, Lira felt her stomach sink, and she became dizzy. 
Falling forward to her knees, Lira thought she was about to
vomit.  The dizziness grew, and she felt her face rubbing
against Tonur's pants.  The sensation passed.

        Lira stood.  Looking Tonur square in the face, she spoke.

        "My brother just died."

        Etar overheard her, as she repeated her words over and over,
once again in the warm embrace of Tonur.  Soon, Lira turned to
Etar and saw that he knew as well.  The wind brushed her hair as
she turned to face the house.

        "I want to follow you.  I shall stay with you Etar, to fulfill
the will of Lamper for all people, both Mishrian, and
Cinrekkian."

        All three of them stood facing each other, in a small circle. 
She looked into Etar's eyes and saw in their depths the love of
Lamper, urging her forward.

        They turned and walked toward the house.

                                78.

        Mark walked into the control room and found to his surprise
that Mushlik was still in bed.  He sat down at his console and
switched on the main viewing monitor.  In a second, he knew that
something was different.

        Normally, when logged off the computer, the screen was a gray,
blank color.  But from the corner of his eye, he saw that an
image was being displayed.  There, on the main screen, was an
almost life-size image of Professor Aron, standing in a forest
not more than a mile from the outpost, proudly holding an
ancient statue.  Mark leaned back in the chair and rocked
backward several inches.  Placing his hands behind his head, he
closed his eyes and replayed the dream.

        "You must go to the cave" Aron had told him.    

        "Computer" Mark said.  "Display a map of the area between here
and the Dalthigian cave discovered by Professor Aron."

        Instantly, the image of the scarred professor was replaced by
that of a topographical map, filled with shades of green and
brown, indicating types of forest vegetation and any roads
extending between the trees.  Streams and ponds were displayed

in blue.

        The four miles of terrain between the outpost and the cave,
marked with a site number on the screen, consisted of numerous
small ridges, ranging in height from fifty to a hundred feet,
running from southwest to northeast.

        Trees covered the ridges, and thin brush grew beneath the
hundred foot canopy of branches.  The nearest roadway was two
miles to the south, one that had branched several miles further
west from a main highway to the capital city.

        "What is the typical travel time to the cave?" Mark asked.

        "Moving at a speed of roughly three miles per hour, the travel
time would be one hour, twenty minutes."

        Mark felt stupid that he had not done this simple computation
in his head.  He worried about the possibility of meeting
Dalthigians in the forest, especially a group of hunters.  They
might hear him walking over fallen leaves and twigs.

        "What if I took one of the probes with me?  I could use a
hand-held remote to control its flight.  With its infrared
camera, it would pick up a Dalthigian a mile away."

        The inevitability of the journey finally sank into his mind,
and he recalled Aron's words once more.  He wanted to believe
that he had experienced a vision, or some visitation from Aron's
spirit.

        "Does that mean that Aron is dead?"  He had never believed in
the possibility of projecting one's consciousness into another,
but he did put some credence into the possibility that a life
form's conscious energy could persist after one's death.        "But I
was never close to Aron.  I never met him!  Why would he choose
to make himself known to me?  Has he appeared to Tanaria, or
Mushlik?"

        He thought of questioning them on the matter, but he had the
suspicion that Aron had appeared only to him.  In that event, he
would feel embarrassed about telling them that he had seen a
ghost.

        "Since Aron and I never knew each other, perhaps he's made this
request for some special reason, one transcending his previous
working relationship with Mushlik.  Perhaps Mushlik would've
dismissed such a dream as just that, and not considered it
further."

        Mark left the console and walked to the equipment locker. 
Unlocking the hinged, metal door, he opened it quietly.  Inside,
he found one of the probe remote control units.  It contained a
small computer keyboard, requiring great concentration to strike
the keys properly, a directional joystick, and the same velocity
and camera control keypad as those in the control room.  The
unit was battery powered, and it had three small screen
displays, roughly two inches on a side, which lined the top
third of the remote control unit.  The unit was about the size
of an encyclopedia volume.  Mark switched the unit on and saw
that the battery power was at medium.  As a precaution, Mark
recharged the battery pack, to make sure that it would be full
for his trip.

        As he closed the locker and returned to the control console, he
knew that, for now, he would keep his plans secret from Tanaria
and Mushlik.  Leaning back in the control chair, Mark felt a
strange coldness in the air, and he heard Aron speak in his
thoughts.

        "You must keep these plans between us.  Besides, if the
Bellikans become a factor, the less everyone knows about this,
the better."

        Mark turned around in his chair and felt the coolness vanish. 
Sweat had appeared on his forehead, and he wiped it with the
sleeve of his tunic.

        "Computer, please recount the known history of Professor Aron."

        The computer began displaying both video and audio data.

        First, a picture of the professor appeared on the screen, one
of him standing on a small hill on Dalthigia, Mushlik perhaps
ten feet behind him and busily taking notes.

        "Gregory Hinkrik Aron, Professor of Ancient Civilizations at
the University of the Planet Uras."

        "Is the planet Uras a member of the Council?"

        "Yes, though they maintain an isolationist stance in the realm
of Council politics.  There are strict limitations to the number
of off-worlders permitted to visit the planet.  Several
religious and political sects native to Uras perpetuate the
notion that cooperation with Council is of great value, though
the preservation of the uniqueness of their culture is of equal
importance."

        "How long has he been a professor there?"

        "From records he provided to Professor Mushlik, he had been a
professor there for ten earth years, before commencing a five
year sabbatical for off-world studies, one of which included an
expedition to Dalthigia.  Following this expedition, he
supposedly was headed back to Uras, to resume his professorial
duties at the University."

        "Didn't Mushlik publish data on the Dalthigian expedition with
Aron?"

        "No.  Aron, following his departure from the expedition, sent
only several brief communications to Mushlik.  The first stated
that he had changed his mind, and was seeking a new
professorship, at one of several universities in the Hath
system.  He and Mushlik exchanged notes on the expedition, and
Aron continually delayed the process of publication.  After more
than a year, Aron contacted Mushlik for the last time, stating
that he had the chance to go on a new and exciting expedition,
that he could not reveal the location, but that he would be in
contact with Mushlik upon his return."

        "How long ago did he supposedly leave for this expedition?"

        "Four years, five months.  Since that time, Mushlik has given
up all attempts at contacting Aron, deciding that perhaps
someday, he will decide to reinitiate some degree of
professional collaboration."

        Mark dialed up more video footage.  One frame showed a series
of artifacts that Aron had found within the Dalthigian cave. 
Mark asked the computer for a description.

        "These finds represent what are believed to be remnants from
ancient, Dalthigian burials.  The engravings on the artifacts
suggest that they are pre-Mishrian, and radioactive dating has
determined that all of the artifacts are approximately five
thousand, four hundred years of age.  They are constructed of--"

        "Display footage taken of the cave's interior."

        The screen blanked, and an image of the cave interior appeared.
 Small stalactite formations, hanging from the cave ceiling,
gleamed in the light of some unseen lamp.  The chamber being
viewed appeared to be about ten feet high, judging the scale by
Aron, who was standing in the middle of the chamber, waving at
the camera.

        The chamber extending for at least thirty or forty feet behind
Aron, and only one wall could be seen, to his right, curving
smoothly from floor to ceiling in a gentle arc.  The wall looked
smooth, though it was difficult to tell from the coarseness of
the image.

        The scene switched to footage taken of a cave wall, on which
several images were engraved.  One showed a stick figure, most
probably the crude representation of a Dalthigian, holding a
spear and attempting to kill another Dalthigian, this one
wearing a large headdress of some kind.

        Moving slowly across the cave wall, another engraving was
visible, this one depicting several Dalthigians, their arms
raised towards the sun, its brilliant rays carved as radiating
from the central disk of the star.

        Mark suddenly heard someone walking towards the control room.

        "End immediately.  Display footage taken of the projected
location of the Bellikan outpost."

        The infrared view of the valley and bright image of the
descending Bellikan ship filled the screen.  He felt Tanaria
lean on his left shoulder from behind, and she kissed him on the
back of the neck.

        "Good morning."

        Mark turned around in his chair, and they kissed for a while,
as the images continued to play on the main screen.  Just as
their lips parted, they heard Mushlik emerging from his room,
and Mark turned back to the control console.

        "End display."

        The screen went blank, and he switched on the display screens
for the remaining two probes, still taking continuous footage
near both the palace and the northern fortifications.

        The sun was shining brightly, and hundreds of troops were
encircled both inside and outside the palace wall.  The same was
true for the northern base.  No fighting was visible, but the
aerial view revealed that numerous rebel prisoners were being
held at the center of the encampment, surrounded by more
Cinrekkian soldiers.

        "It looks pretty quiet, at least in terms of any ongoing
fighting." Mark said.

        "Well" Mushlik said as he stretched his arms, "The real
violence taking place today will be throughout the capital city
and in many of the surrounding villages.  The Cinrekkians
probably have hundreds, maybe thousands of other rebels to find,
in many cases going on information they were able to get from
their existing prisoner population."

        "I'm hungry" Tanaria said.  "Let's eat."

        They left their consideration of the bloodshed being wrought by
the Cinrekkians, their stomachs now demanding full attention.

                               79.

        Henlar eased the shuttle over the shallow ridge of trees.  As
the bow of the vessel tipped upward, the sky filled his eyes,
and the bright sun, now a quarter of the way between horizon and
zenith, caused him to squint.

        The engines of the shuttle whined as he powered them further,
causing the trees to whip underneath the viewscreen.  Leveling
the craft, he saw the wooded landscape beneath himself, rolling
slowly as he flew toward Moga.  Checking the cloaking power
module one more time, he was satisfied that all was operating
properly.

        In less than half an hour, he would be floating over the
Mishrian palace, taking footage of what remained of the battle.
Strategists would analyze the data, to determine the next course
of action in maintaining the Cinrekkians' power.

        He knew that, following his return with aerial images showing
rebel troop buildups, the Cinrekkians might have suffered a
serious blow had they not been warned in advance.  The strategy
had been perfect, the distribution of forces ideal.

        He almost wished he could meet the Mishrian officer who had
devised the plan and composed the details -- he knew that he
must be a genius.  As with wars on many worlds in the past,
however, a technological edge went further than tactical
cleverness.  How many times, even in the past history of his own
world, had superior weaponry made up for lack of strategy?

        No one accompanied him in the shuttle.  Only he and his
faithful copilot, the onboard computer, were present.  Having
taken part in over half the meetings with the Cinrekkians, he
knew that he could rest much easier on a routine mission such as
this.  He would remain almost a thousand feet in altitude, never
having to drop to roof level above the Mishrian palace.

        The sensors onboard the shuttle suddenly tripped an interrupt
program running on the computer, and a message flashed on the
screen.

        "Unidentified energy transmission.  Please locate and confirm."

        Reaching the controls on the scanner system, he called up a
plot of the transmission's position.  It was originating from
high above him, which instantly caused him to freeze.  Was it a
council vessel, locking onto his craft?

        Onboard distancing immediately indicated that the transmitter
was situated high above the planet surface.  The computer
indicated that, by the altitude and location above a fixed point
on the planet surface, it was probably a satellite in
synchronous orbit.

        Henlar engaged his communicator.  After a quick snap of static,
he heard the familiar voice of his commanding officer, who was
presently monitoring the journey.       

        "This is Grob.  What have you found?"

        "I am monitoring what appears to be the Council relay
satellite.  It is presently transmitting, apparently in all
directions.  The intensity I read is very constant."

        "We've got it also.  We're recording the signal.  Actually, it
seems to be the energy residue from a hyperspatial transmission.
Continue on present course.  This matter is in our hands now."

        Grob, seated in his comfortable chair over a hundred feet
beneath the surface of Dalthigia, switched off the speaker, and
he leaned back into the soft upholstery.

        The signal analyzer revealed what he suspected.  The
transmission, which had lasted roughly a minute, was routine for
such devices, meant to inform any nearby vessels, particularly
the Council vessel which had brought explorers to this world,
that it was still operating properly.

        More importantly, however, it supplied him with incredibly
accurate coordinates for the satellite's location.   Grob knew
that the explorers, no doubt stuffy nosed academics from some
meaningless university halfway across the galaxy, were not aware
of their presence.  Now they, the Bellikans, knew exactly where
the Council explorers were based.

        Computer mapping displayed the terrain above what he now knew
was the rebel base.  Surveying the area further was a bad idea,
since the Council base undoubtedly possessed sensors.  The
receiver/transmitter linking the Council explorers to the
satellite would pick up energy from the Bellikan scanners.

        "What a good place for their base.  Right near a river, to
obtain any necessary water, possibly to cool their power system.
I wonder why they are here.  Probably a typical Council
cultural research project.  Actually, we've seen such outposts
on at least half of the worlds we have investigated in Council
space."

        "Computer" he said aloud.  "Store coordinates of location of
Council base."

        The screen indicated that this had been accomplished.  Grob
leaned forward in his chair, massaging one of his eyelids.  He
was tired from watching the crushing of the rebellion, and
staring at monitor screens had given him a headache.  Swiveling
on his chair to face the familiar yet confusing array of monitor
screens, he switched on the central screen, affording him a view
of the Dalthigian terrain, as viewed by the observation shuttle.

        "Soon," he thought, "we'll have a body count."

        He leaned back in his chair again, and a new headache began
behind his middle eye.

                                80.

        Myer had just finished dinner when he found out the news.  As
he read the information from the monitor screen in his quarters,
he grew worried.

        "A Bellikan scout ship was pursued and boarded three days ago. 
The vessel was traveling at subluminal speed between the worlds
of Arka and Sheenan, in the Arkan star system."

        Myer knew that this system was far from the boundaries of the
Bellikan Empire -- at least 2500 light years, as indicated on
the star chart he brought onto the screen.  He returned to the
Council news release.

        "The vessel was armed and carrying munitions to Sheenan, home
of several class ten civilizations.  As a reminder, a class ten
civilization is pre-mechanized, where the inhabitants have
harnessed the use of animals for performing work and developed
language and the rudiments of mathematics."

        "A very primitive culture, to need Bellikan arms" Myer thought
as he rubbed his chin and continued.

        "The Bellikan crew of five is being held without possibility of
extradition on the nearest base to the Arkan system.  They are
to be tried for interfering in the development of a culture on a
restricted world.

        "The arms smuggling appears to be in exchange for the
construction of a secret base of operations, from which to
launch further missions into Council space.  Even the Bellikan
ambassador to the Council has remained silent on the matter,
realizing there is no reasonable defense.

        "A wide sweep of all primitive civilizations is now being
proposed by certain groups within the Council, in an effort to
locate and purge other Bellikan outposts."

        Myer brought up the star chart once again, this time zooming in
on a region of space roughly halfway between the Arkan system
and the border of the Bellikan Empire.  There, floating
gracefully about its mother star, was the planet of Dalthigia.

        Leaving his desk immediately, he nearly walked through the door
while exiting his quarters. The corridor was quiet for now, but
he could hear much talking from the nearest shuttle door.  He
rounded the gentle curve of the Corona's hull and saw a group of
six crewmates.  They were discussing the news that Myer had just
read.

        "This time I wouldn't be surprised if we set up a blockade
around their whole damn border" one of the men said.

        "That would be impractical, wouldn't it?" a woman asked.  "With
cloaking devices, the Bellikans would have to be able to slip
some of their ships by us."

        "Don't forget" Myer said loudly, attracting everyone's
immediate attention, "that we just left an expedition on
Dalthigia.  It is a world similar to those in the Arkan system,
and it is also in a strategic location.  It's halfway between
the Arkan system and the Bellikan Empire."

        "But what are the odds that Dalthigia, or any primitive planet,
is occupied by the Bellikans?"

        "I don't know, Toris" Myer replied, "But the odds are
definitely above zero, which means I'm worried.  Mushlik and his
apprentices are essentially unarmed and highly vulnerable to an
attack."

        "But" Toris replied, "haven't we been getting the routine
transmissions from their emergency satellite?"

        "I checked the computer log, and we have been getting such
transmissions, so far at exactly the correct times.  The access
codes change on the timescales of hundredths of a second, so I
doubt seriously that the Bellikans could know them."

        "Then they're okay."

        "I hope.  The problem, however, is that no one from the outpost
itself has to activate that routine message sending procedure. 
It's automated within the satellite itself.  It constantly
checks for health and safety telemetry from the outpost, but
again, that telemetry is automated, and not the work of living
hands."

        "You mean then" Toris continued, as he twisted his thick, black
mustache, "that the Bellikans could have them prisoner without
damaging the base or allowing any emergency signals to be sent,
so the base computer thinks nothing is wrong?"

        "Precisely" Myer said.  "And I think if the Council is going to
initiate a large scale sweep, our part in it should be to head
straight back to Dalthigia, to ensure the safety of our fellow
crewmen."

        "I agree" Toris said, the others nodding quietly in agreement.
"This must be brought up to the Captain" he said.  With that,
the shuttle door opened, and they stepped inside. Myer was the
last to enter, and he saw that the button for the crew mess hall
had already been selected.  He waited for the feeling of
momentary lightness to pass, as the shuttle began its descent
through the Corona, and he continued.

        "The Captain has no doubt been given some direct information on
this incident.  Perhaps we are going to partake in whatever
Council operation is planned, which might, at least for now, not
even include Dalthigia."

        "Is Dalthigia rich in any rare metals?" a woman asked.

        "I think so" Toris answered.  "I did some reading on the
planet, since we just left Mushlik's expedition there, and I
remember some of the sparse data gathered by the geological team
which first surveyed the planet.  Supposedly, it is rich in
several exotic ores, one of which, I think, was Torbium."

        "Ah, used in the manufacture of high strength blast shields"
the woman said.  "The Bellikans would probably be interested in
such an ore.  The worlds in their own Empire are surprisingly
poor when it comes to special metals."

        "Thank God" Myer said.

        He ate very little that evening, deciding to see the Captain
the next day, concerning the safety of the Dalthigian expedition.

                               81.

        "I haven't had any time to translate the texts from the palace
records" Mushlik said as he swallowed the last of his fruit
drink.  He quaffed a mug of hot coffee, his hands clasped around
the ceramic mug as he savored its warmth.

        "We'll have time enough for that once we're safely onboard the
Corona, Dad.  How much more real data do you think we'll gather
anyway?"

        "We should stick as much as possible to using the probes.  The
Bellikans have to know we're here, and even if one of them
malfunctions and they capture the wreckage, it has no internal
recorder, so they won't know what we were monitoring anyway."

        "Unless we're spying on the location of their base" Mark added.

        "Yes, I suppose you're right.  We should stay clear of the
place, now that we know the general location.  We should leave
any further action against the Bellikans to the Council."

        "I just thought of something" Tanaria said, looking seriously
into her father's eyes.  They stopped eating.

        "What if the Bellikans have been monitoring the telemetry flow
from the probes?  Why wouldn't they?  If they have been doing
so, perhaps they even monitored the footage taken when we were
following them to home base."

        "You're forgetting something" Mushlik said, daubing his mouth
with a napkin.  "the data flow is much too highly encrypted for
them to decipher.  Also, the data flows in a unidirectional
beam, meaning that they would have to place their sensors along
the signal path."

        "Encryption is done by default?" Mark asked.

        "What do you mean?"

        "Well, what if we knew that no one other advanced race was on
the planet with us?  Why waste all the computer time to
disentangle the data?"

        "It's Corona regulation that the output from any probe or
transmitter be encrypted according to the codes determined by
the resident communications specialists.  I don't know if that's
a Council regulation, but I'm glad we adhere to it on our ship."

        Mark and Tanaria nodded in agreement.  They finished breakfast
in another five minutes and quickly cleaned up the table.

        "Let's switch on the screens" Mushlik said as he sat down at
the master console chair.  He tapped several instructions into
the computer.

        "Display probe 1 visual output on main screen" he ordered.

        Instantly, the screen displayed the palace.  The execution
platform was being completed, and, in the heat of the late
morning, the soldiers had discarded their armor plate on the
grass of the courtyard.  Several workers were shaving a vertical
pole, on which the foot platforms and coal boxes were being
attached by two other soldiers.

        No townspeople were visible within blocks of the palace,
obviously deciding to stay clear of the Cinrekkians.  Mushlik
swung the camera up to take a look at the surrounding city. 
Troop blockades lay across every street leading from the center
of the city, and only a handful of Mishrians were visible,
talking or arguing with the soldiers.  The sky was crisp and
blue above the horizon, free of clouds.  Certain areas of the
city were still smoldering, causing a region of haze to lay over
the western half of the city.

        Dropping the cameras view to the palace, Mushlik spied
Taythlin, standing out in the midst of the elevated garden.  He
was talking with two officers, who suddenly saluted him by
striking their chests with their left fists.

Activating the probe's propulsion system, he eased it slowly
downward and towards the garden, intrigued as to why the
military governor of Mishria would be relaxing after an
attempted revolt.  The view changed slowly as the probe dropped
at a foot per second, soon hanging directly over the roof of the
palace.

        "Maybe we can get some audio footage, concerning their plans
for the crackdown" Mushlik said to Tanaria, who was watching
from her own chair.

        Mushlik switched on the long range microphone system, tuning it
to pick up only the sound from the center of the camera's field
of view, where Taythlin now stood.  He was looking skyward, and
it seemed at first that he noticed the probe.  He loosened his
collar of draped fabric and breathed deeply.

        Mark glanced at the temperature monitor on the control console.

        "Why the hell is it 60 degrees Centigrade?"

        Mushlik looked at the gauge with annoyance, and he tapped the
console.  Just then, Tanaria noticed that the probe was moving,
barely at first, and suddenly with a jerk that tore the camera's
view from the garden.

        The camera adjusted its sensitivity to view the bright sky, and
Mushlik gritted his teeth and sucked in his breath.  His fist
slammed into the console.

        "Computer, infrared!" he shouted.  Suddenly, in the spinning
field of view, they saw the point blank image of some craft,
cloaked in visible light, now only feet away.

        Grabbing frantically onto the control joystick, he powered the
propulsion to full power and jammed the stick to the left.  The
microphone emitted a loud clang, and the telemetry disappeared,
replaced by a display of static on the viewing monitor.

        "Proximity alert!" the computer voice wailed, as klaxons
suddenly engaged in the control room.  "Collision of probe has
occurred!  Collision alert!  Last registered altitude was 995
feet."

        They looked at each other, dizzy with disbelief.

        "I think we're in trouble" Mushlik said, looking blankly to the
static on the main display.