One planet closer to the star Myria, the Hake Hans sat on a low, grass-clad rise overlooking the Sea of Selfar among a crowd of Sheeple. The silvery waters stretching away to the horizon were calm today, amplifying the voice of Rimdar who stood at their edge addressing the group of Hakes gathered before him.

  “You ask why the Sheeks oppress you,” he spoke with authority. “I tell you, you are to love your enemies; to bless those who persecute you; to forgive those who do you wrong. The Sheeks do as they may, but to respond with equal intent is to be as they are. You know they do wrong. So when you rise and return your own evil, I assure you that you commit the worse offense.

  “You say the Sheeks are a wicked race; that I have caused the earth to rise against them. He who has ears, let him hear: Do you not perceive that whatever a Sheepel is on the outside, it cannot defile them? How they eat, where they live, and the way they breathe is not the mark of wickedness. It is what enters the heart and mind that makes one defiled… in this manner Hakes and Sheeks are equally guilty of resenting each other and failing to act with love. You gather your weapons against the other, seeking to destroy. This may have been acceptable in the past, but now it must be ended.”

  Hans listened intently, but warily. He thought of Quinn, who led the Hakes through many battles. With Quinn's leadership and uncanny luck, the Hakes were able to defend themselves from complete annihilation. But this, this was new. He’d expected Quinn's successor to speak of a great resistance, a final effort to confound the Sheek Army, to restore Hake properties and free the Hake prisoners in the north. Instead, Rimdar seemed content to let the Sheeks regroup, giving them time to prepare fresh assaults against the Hakes. Even when reports came in of persecution, the Hake Leader only said: “Offer no resistance, that you may not be like them.”

  Hans didn’t understand it. He felt let down. Who is this Sheepel that stops us from restoring justice; who likens us to the Sheeks? Many Hakes echoed his resentment inside, but the reality of the Seven Scrolls and the great light in the sky which marked Rimdar’s coming kept them always hopeful that perhaps it was just a matter of time. This Sheepel was the one prophesied to end the war… and there was no reason to doubt him. The Leader held great power. He had already survived many attempts against his life, from both Hake and Sheek. He had rendered useless every gun and war-flyr on the planet, though with what magic or secret weapon Hans could not guess.

  As Rimdar spoke, Hans’ mind wandered. He looked up into the sky. It is a foul hue, a portent of greater trouble. Unusual bands of reddish-pink crossed the zenith overhead. The horizon spanning the sea was a mottled pink also, as if the gods had taken paint from their daughters’ bedrooms and flung it across the sky. North, above the plains of Selfar, the sky was odder still. An eerie light-red color hung like mist in the distance, topped by a thick blanket of gray clouds flashing with silent white lightning.

  A commotion near the far edge of the crowd caught Hans' attention. Hans looked at Rimdar expectantly but the Leader seemed not to notice. Rising, Hans pushed his way through the stand of Sheeple.

  “What's going on here?” he asked one of many Hakes grouped in a ring, shouting and throwing punches at a Sheek soldier who was easily fending them off.

  “This soldier's trying to get to Rimdar. His gun's no good, but I think he's armed with a dagger. Help us restrain him!”

  “I demand to speak with the Leader!” protested the Sheek. Hideous scars covered his face; his arm plates were rough and mangled. A troublemaker for sure, Hans knew. The soldier was throwing Sheeple off of him left and right as Hakes grabbed for his legs and arms, trying to corral him. Hans jumped in to the fray, finding a dagger in the Sheek's belt and throwing it aside. Then he helped the others whip the soldier around so he was facing the way he'd come from.

  “Let's march him back to his flyr!”

  “No, we'll throw him in the sea and keep the flyr!”

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  The Hakes spun him around again and dragged the battle-scarred Sheek up a small hill when suddenly they were face to face with Rimdar.

  “Release him.”

  Hans dropped the arm he was holding. The other Hakes did the same. The Sheek fell to the ground before the Hake Leader, exhausted. Hans looked down scornfully upon the body and turned to Rimdar with a grave expression. “This Sheek has committed great atrocities against our race. He has fought in wars, killed innocent Hakes, and done great evil. How shall such a one be judged?”

  The soldier crawled forward a foot to be closer to Rimdar, and spoke without lifting his head. “Sir, this one speaks truly. I have done great wrong. I have murdered many, stolen much, lied, hated, and caused grief. I am unworthy of life. But your teachings have spread across the planet as quickly as the wildfires race across dead fields of tallgrass. I heard your words and was cut to the heart. I have come to apologize and seek your pardon.”

  Rimdar bent down and lifted the Sheek’s scarred, ugly face. Only one eye looked back, the other a blackened hollow from a battle fought long ago. “If there is any here who has never stolen, never lied, never hated… let him judge this one.”

  Surprised, Hans stepped back. Fear gripped his heart. Does Rimdar know? His mind flashed to several months ago, when he'd murdered the prophet Zekrye at the Site of the Seven Scrolls. Surely this Sheek is evil, not I. It was a slip of the hand! he protested to himself. But he dared not voice his thoughts. Rimdar had been in the temple. What if he'd seen the entire thing? Afraid of what Rimdar might know, Hans slipped back into the crowd. The others drew away as well until Rimdar stood alone with the soldier. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, for where there is confession, there is healing. Do not fear the planet, or the Hakes, or the Sheeks. Love as you have been loved and tell all you meet to do the same.”

  * * * * * * * *

  The next day was hotter than ever, the air thick and stuffy. Ash hung low in the sky, blown in by a steady southern breeze. The crowd huddled under makeshift tents of linen, listening to Rimdar. His message added to the intensity of the sun. As always, his words were brief yet piercing; many controversial. Scarcely a Sheepel dared say they weren’t moved in some way or another. It was a fine line that divided those who were amazed by his words, and those who were furious.

  Hans listened in the kind of half-way he’d been doing the last few weeks, partly concentrating on Rimdar, but partly watching the crowd grow ever more restless. It grew in size each day, including an increasing number of sketchy looking Sheeks. Their presence made Hans uneasy, and he wondered why Rimdar put up with them. Once, he questioned Rimdar about it. The Leader replied, “It is not the well that need a doctor. Rather, I have come to heal the sick.” Hans wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. The Sheeks were certainly sick, that was true. He knew the Leader would rid the Hakes of the Sheeks one way or another. It was only a matter of time. Did not Quinn promise? Did not the Seven Scrolls predict?

  A commotion drew Hans' attention back to Rimdar. A Hake was confronting him, addressing the crowd as much as the Leader.

  “Rimdar, the Sheeks tax us 75% of our Yar. We are already poor. The mayor of this city acknowledged to the press just last year that this taxation was ‘excessive.’ He then signed a bill to tax not only our income, but our spending, as well! Should we pay these taxes? Should we not rise up, and pay to you, our Leader, instead? Should not this money go toward the restoration of our homes and of the lands in the Hakes' Area which were destroyed?”

  Rimdar gave the Hake a sad look. “Show me a Yar.” There was a moment of searching, and someone tossed a coin forward. Rimdar held it up. “The Sheeks minted this coin. Give to them what is theirs, and to me what is mine.”

  The Hake turned to the crowd angrily. “This ‘Leader’ has no intention of freeing us from the Sheeks!”

  The crowd marveled at his boldness, wondering if Rimdar would strike him down, but Rimdar stood unmoving.

  Another Hake stood up. “Sir, I fought the Sheeks my entire life, upholding the message of Quinn to protect this land from their destructive ways. Side by side with Quinn I fought, until his departure and our surrender. Have I done right?”

  The Leader responded, “To do right, you must love the Sheeks. In fact, you must love both Hake and Sheek, believing this love will set you free. Weapons, anger, hatred… they are to be destroyed. The ways of war can no longer continue.”

  The Hake was fuming. “You mock the words of the great Quinn! Many died for him, and believe in you because of him, yet you dance upon his grave.”

  Hans stood silent like an unnoticed shadow between Rimdar and the crowd. Only his eyes moved, flitting back and forth between the serene Rimdar and the agitated crowd. These arguments were ever more frequent. The crowd grew ever more restless. He wondered if casting his lot with Rimdar was a mistake. When, oh Leader, when will you free us from the Sheeks? We cannot sit here idle much longer… they are building… they are planning. Soon their Army will be restored, their flyrs rebuilt, their weapons improved beyond your ability to silence them. How long until we beat them into dust as they did us?