“Sir, what’s happening?” Tom yelled as he crashed through the newsroom door, sped through the hallway, clung to the re-
ception desk, and slid around the corner. He lowered his head,
sprinted toward Nakar’s door, and stopped just short of the en-
trance. “The Festival, Sir! What’s happened to the Festival?”
Nakar took a deep breath as he slowly looked up from his
work. His well-trained hair, straight nose, and olive skin gave him
the presence of a news anchor ready to appear before the cameras at
any given moment. As he tried to hide the grin crossing his face, his
shoulders shook imperceptibly. He took another deep breath, then
exhaled slowly. Slowly, he looked up from his work.
The entire news crew had been on edge from the day that mys-
terious messenger arrived, giving Nakar no choice. Orders were
orders, and these orders were very specific.
Nakar stopped writing as he observed the distress of the lanky
fellow frantically gasping for air just outside his open door. Watch-
ing for a little while, he tapped his pencil on the desk. Again, his
dark eyes surveyed the wiry creature leaning against the doorjamb
trying to catch his breath.
Beads of sweat broke on Tom’s forehead. Pursing his lips, Nakar placed his pencil neatly beside the pa-
pers on his desk. He sat tall in his chair, gazed hard at Tom, and
said, “All right, Tom. You have my attention. What is the nature of
this problem that is disturbing you so much?”
“Sir!” Tom fumbled with his collar. “The festival . . . We were
watching in the lounge . . . time for the gates to open . . . cele-
bration to begin . . . great throng . . . purified . . . ready to enter
. . . The twelve guards came.” Tom was gesturing wildly between
gasps. “Such glorious pomp . . . beautiful . . . We were anticipating
the ceremonies: the Changing of the Guards . . . the Unlocking
of the Gates.” Tom stared at Nakar. “But instead of opening the
gates, they doubled the guards and ordered the cameras off! The
feed went black! Now, HNN is rebroadcasting highlights from last
year’s event.”
“Hmmm.” Nakar’s thick eyebrows rose as he pursed his lips.
“Hmmm.” He leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head.
His grin grew as he nodded. “Yes!” He took another deep breath,
then beamed at the words. “Yes, indeed. What a wonderful teaser.”
Tom banged his head on the doorjamb. “Sir, they just ran that
highlight,” he said. “The screen went black. It stayed black. Then
they started last year’s highlights again. There wasn’t a ‘Please Stand
By’ or any kind of explanation! They went from live feed at the
Celebration Gate to the same rerun they had just broadcast. Some-
thing’s wrong, Sir! Something must be wrong! Something must be
about to happen!”
Nakar leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he looked intently at
Tom. “Tom, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you have not
only lost your professional demeanor here as a reporter, but you
have also lost your former military bearing. Have you taken into
consideration that these things you have observed could simply be
a technical error?”
“From Headquarters, Sir?” Tom paced to the far end of the
reception desk. “Now?” he turned, his arms flailing. “All the chan-
nels? We both know better, Sir.”
Next page: From Chapter Three