Foreword:

This is the 're-launch' of my 'magnum opus' fanfic, Foundation of Republic. Originally, after a smooth start with regular updates, I fell into a pattern of inexcusable tardiness that probably made reading my story a chore rather than an ejoyable activity. So now I have decided to do what I should have done in the beginning: wait till it was written, and then post the thing in regular updates. To those who have already started reading, this will mean a long wait till any new material arrives (though the whole thing has been edited a little): to all of you, I apologise. To new readers, it will hopefully make for a better reading experience than your predecessors got. To begin with, I am uploading the first two chapters; further updates will be on a weekly basis once I have ascertained a reasonable reader count.

A note of thanks to the following, who generously reviewed my story in its previous incarnation:

NuncaTeDije; Bard's Soul; JazzyLittleMonster; LoveTriumphs; NamedForTheWind; filmyfurry; holy cleopatra; ariex04; Joan Grace Alamo; Wrandom Writer; Write Lyes; Oneven; Malitai; Ceres Wunderkind; Deraptor; Spotted Lesbian; Selene Appia; and several anonymous reviewers. To all of you, your commentary is greatly appreciated and encouraged me to write.

Disclaimer:

Philip Pulman owns His Dark Materials and the characters therein, some of whom I have borrowed for this story. The rest is, of course, my own.

. . . . .

A final note before I begin: To begin with, this story follows two different plots - one in Will's world, one in another. They will be followed in alternating chapters, which will hopefully not be too confusing, nor be seen as too pretentious. Eventually, characters shift between plots and they will become intertwined, but at most times there will not be more than two parallel threads.

-StarMan.

ONE

Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 23rd January 2010

. . . . .

It is almost completely dark in the hallway, the only light being a slight glow around the corners of the closed door leading to the living room. Samantha feels for the 'light' button on her digital watch, and finding it, she reads the time off the briefly illuminated surface. 12:32. Normally she should have been in bed and asleep hours ago, but that is far from her thoughts now. She knows something is very wrong.

Very carefully, she pulls down the door handle, opening the door only a few centimeters and looking into the room. There are three men standing there; she does not register their faces, for her eyes already move to a fourth figure. Someone is sitting hunched over on the sofa, unmoving except for the rhythmic up-down motion of her shoulders as she inhales and exhales. Samantha recognises this person very well: it is her mother. The men are holding guns and pointing them at their prisoner. Without thinking, Samantha opens her mouth to scream, but as she does so, a hiccup rises in her throat and chokes out any sound she might have made. Only later would she realise that this little involuntary spasm almost certainly saved her own life.

The men in the room have not said a word, but now one of them, a tall, lean man with straw-blond hair, nods to his companions, and points with his thumb in the direction of the kitchen, on the other side of the living room. One of the other two slings his rifle over his shoulder, and begins to look through the cupboards. Then the tall man turns and approaches the door behind which Samantha is standing, momentarily paralysed with horror and fear.

At first she thinks the man has seen her, but it takes less than a second for her to realise that his ambling pace indicates that while his target is the door, he is seeking to walk through, not to find anyone lurking behind it. Regaining her senses, Samantha pulls away from the door, her bare feet making no sound on the carpet in the hallway.

As she retreats toward the stairs, she considers her next course of action. She is surprised by her own levelheadedness, considering the danger of the situation she is in. She is too young to understand the extent to which the human consciousness is able to postpone the reactions to such events, in order to preserve itself; to her, her lack of emotion is unexpected. But then, she had never expected this kind of thing to happen at all.

Samantha has reached the top of the stairs by the time that the man reaches the door, and it is still only half a minute since she first saw her mother's unconscious body. Samantha carefully places one foot in front of the other, tracing her hand along the wall beside her, for up here the darkness is absolute. Her mind is quickly cycling through possible place to hide. She wonders why she didn't try and run out the front door – it was right next to her as she stood in the hallway – but it is too late for that now. The men are walking around below, methodically making their way through the rooms. They are searching for something.

Samantha is trying to remember playing hide-and-seek with her brother, Edward, years ago. He had been much older than her, and was too big to hide himself anywhere. But she had always managed to find good hiding places, and he would spend ages looking... And sometimes, if he couldn't find her, he took his revenge by giving up and not telling her that he had done so, so she just stayed in hiding until she got bored, or realised that she had been tricked...

A memory comes back to her of one such incident, and she thinks of a place she could hide.

As she passes the open door of the study, Samantha notices a very faint, barely audible humming coming from inside - the sound of a computer fan. Curious, she goes into the room, knowing that she can reach her destination through the study, anyway. As she looks around, she sees that the computer is indeed on, but there is a screen-saver, so it does not produce enough light to be seen from the hallway. Her mother must have been working here when she heard someone at the door, and turned the light out behind her as she left the room. And she had let the people in...

Samantha pushes this thought out of her mind. Thinking of the computer, though, Samantha suddenly realises something. Inserted into a drive in the computer is a disk. It is a heavy, square, black thing, a kind of disk hardly seen or used at all nowadays. Samantha recognises it immediately, though she has no idea what it contains. It is one of her mother's secrets.

For years, Samantha has known that her mother had secrets that she would share with no one, not even her daughter. Samantha knows that these secrets have something to do with her father, who had died nearly thirteen years ago, before she was born. Samantha knows that her mother is unaware of just how much she knows.

It occurs to Samantha, quite suddenly, that this disk might be the very object that the intruders are searching for. So she quickly ejects it from the machine, and holds it fast in her hand, as there are no pockets on her pyjamas that could hold it. Then she proceeds out through another door in the study, that leads into the spare bedroom. Well, it is her brother's bedroom, actually, but he hasn't used it in a long time, having left home for London years ago.

The room is plainly furnished, and far neater than it had ever been while in use: there is a low wooden bed, a bookshelf (devoid of contents), and a built-in wardrobe. That is her destination. Samantha heaves the heavy wooden door open. It slides on its metal rollers, but it has not been opened in a while, and it takes considerable effort for twelve-year old Samantha to get it completely open. She moves the door back and forth a few times to loosen the grimy build-up on the rollers, remembering that she will have to be able to open and close the door from the inside, without handles.

The wardrobe itself is not the hiding-place: anyone searching the house would be bound to open it, and there is nothing inside that can conceal a person, not even a little one. No, it is because there is a fifteen-centimeter wide space between the back of the inside of the wardrobe and the wall, which is not visible from the outside, and would not be noticed unless one were specifically looking for something unusual in it. The back of the wardrobe is a thin wooden board, and it is loose. Samantha knows this. She accidentally pushed it in when she was hiding from her brother in the wardrobe, years ago. She hadn't told anybody, afraid she might get into trouble. She had never thought it would prove useful for more than playing hide-and-seek.

Once inside, Samantha closes the door behind her with the friction of her palms pressed flat against the sliding door, and then pulls away the backing of the wardrobe, setting it back in place as she hides behind it. It is very cramped inside. She has forgotten to take into account how much she'd grown, and there is a wooden beam that runs through the space at what is now her head height. The space is not wide enough to kneel, so Samantha has to crane her neck down uncomfortably as she waits in the blackness.

Time drags by at a torturously slow pace. It isn't quite the stereotypical 'minutes seeming like hours' thing, but the ten minutes Samantha does spend in darkness and discomfort certainly feel longer than that. She can't hear anything either – the thick wooden doors of the wardrobe are enough to block out almost all sound from the rest of the house.

Being so helpless is very frustrating to Samantha: she is used to looking after herself: she has lived alone with her mother much of her life, and her mother has always been busy with work. Not to busy to be loving and kind and motherly, but too busy for just about everything else. Samantha is used to being active, doing something, not just standing and waiting to see what will happen. Worst of all is the discomforting thought that her life is no longer in her own hands – whatever happens to her would depend on how thoroughly these intruders were inclined to search. She can't stay hidden forever. The air in here is dusty and will soon begin to get stale.

No, she corrects herself, the worst is what might happen to her mother. These men could not have good intentions. They had come in the middle of the night with guns and were threatening her mother and they were looking for something. And when they don't find it? Would they kill her? Samantha is beginning to wonder if she should perhaps give up the disc, in the hopes that the men will leave, when a sudden noise and a vibration travelling through the walls signal the wardrobe being opened. Samantha freezes, willing herself not to move.

There is a man standing less than a meter away. Samantha can't see him, of course, but she can hear his breathing, heavy, aggressive, and the sound he makes as he shifts his feet. Then he calls to someone in a loud voice. For the second time Samantha is almost startled into revealing her location.

"Still haven't found her!" He says. His voice seems so loud, Samantha sustains the brief hope that he might alert their neighbours, who could call help – but no, they should mostly be deep in sleep, and even if someone did hear, they probably wouldn't think twice about it. "I'm telling you, Mike, there was supposed to be a kid 'round here as well!"

A reply comes almost immediately, from some distance away and in a quieter voice, but now with no more than a centimeter of wood between them, Samantha can still make out the words:

"Don't concern yourself with it, brother. Our mission was to capture the heretic and retrieve a disc. We're not here to murder children."

"You know the Lord will absolve us of any sin committed for His greater glory" The first man replies. "And no one is supposed to witness anything that happens. We can't afford to be discovered."

"Come on, how much harm can one child do, even if she was to try? Let's find the files and then leave. We don't want to still be here in the morning. Do you think the disc could be in that room?"

"No, the room's completely bare. You couldn't hide a flea here..." The irony of this statement is lost to Samantha as she is still shocked by the thought that someone has actually been searching for her. She listens as the man walks away from the wardrobe and leaves the room.

After a few more uncomfortable minutes Samantha suddenly hears a cry from the direction of the study. She immediately thinks they must have realised the disk had been taken from the computer, though she can't imagine how. Then she remembers that she hadn't seen the screen: there was a screen-saver on. Suppose the computer had been in the middle of reading a file of the disc... It would display and angry warning message, wouldn't it?

In fact, this is exactly what the men had discovered. And they came to a conclusion that was quite close to the truth: The girl, the woman's daughter, had taken the disc. But they make one mistake: they immediately assume that the girl must have fled. After a brief discussion, now too quiet for Samantha to hear, they decide to abandon the search.

A few minutes later Samantha hears, coming through the bedroom's window, the distinct sound of a car starting. Samantha relaxes – she is safe, for now. But what does that matter, after all? They have taken her mother.

Samantha pushes aside the thin board and stumbles out, forgetting to prop the board back up. It clatters against the other side of the wardrobe. After having got used to the cramped conditions, she is now reminded of the discomfort, as she feels the aching in her legs and back and neck. Not only that, but now that the immediate danger has passed, there is no longer any reasoning with which her consciousness can keep her nerves in check: She involuntarily falls to her knees and trembles uncontrollably, until she was finds herself too exhausted for even that simple movement. A long time passes before she comes to her senses again.

The most immediate idea that comes to mind is to find her mother, and free her. Almost as soon as the thoughts comes, however, Samantha painfully dismisses it as impossible. How could she? She has no idea who those men were, and what clues have they left? She thinks carefully. If it were a movie, she decides, there would have to be something about: a scrap of paper with an address or phone number that one of them has dropped; a torn of piece of a coat or hat that happened to have the owner's name; or maybe the car has left tyre tracks behind, and she would only have to follow that. Needless to say, Samantha doesn't even bother to look for anything like that. This wasn't a movie.

The next thought is to contact the police. They could certainly help her; She might be able to help them, too. She tries to remember if there was anything in the brief snatch of conversation she had heard that might be useful, but there doesn't seem to be anything remarkable. One of them had seemed pretty nasty, he'd wanted to kill her; the other had seemed less evil. But he had still kidnapped her mother, so that was only relative. But what was that word – heretic, that was it – they'd used it to describe her mother? What does 'heretic' mean? Samantha has no idea. Her vocabulary is pretty good for a twelve year old, but she has never heard of a 'heretic'.

But She also realised that if she tells the police, then they would cause a lot of trouble for her, too: They'd find some place for her to stay, and they'd want to ask her lots of questions, and chances were, they might not even be able to find her mother at all... And would she have to tell them about her mother's secrets, the details of which she doesn't even know herself? And the disc. She still has it in her hand, although she had forgotten it was even there. Would she – should she – tell anybody about that? No, best not.

She decides that first she should see for herself what is on the disc. She knows her mother usually keeps it hidden; it seems to be pure coincidence that she happened to be looking through it now. Samantha knows it has something to do with her father: his name is printed on the disc in permanent marker: 'DR. Thomas COOMBS' and beneath that, in smaller print 'INTERDIMENTIONAL TRAVEL IN PRACTICE – CONFIDENTIAL : R.o.H CLEARANCE LEVEL 5/V'. That's it. Samantha doesn't understand any of it, but she doesn't espect to. Perhaps the files on the disc itself will explain, though.

The disc fits back into the drive. A little message box appears on screen to show that the computer is reading the disc. Samantha watches expectantly as the little status bar fills up repeatedly. Then a window opens with a selection of files on it. They are numbered, not named - Samantha has no idea what information they might contain. Yet. click Samantha opens one. The computer asks for a password – well, that is a dead end. This is the same for the other files as well. Except the only one that is named – it is labeled 'Allison'. That's her mother's name.

It is a word-processed document that opens itself with notepad. It is a short note, and is indeed addressed to her mother:

I've copied all our research notes/papers/schematics etc. pertaining to inter-dimensional travel onto this disc. It's the only thing I could find that can be accessed by a computer in our world. There's trouble approaching, and when the republic starts crashing down around our ears (literally and metaphorically!),we might have to leave in a hurry, and home is the only obvious place to go. The ability to travel between worlds is vital to being able to build the republic, so we've got to keep the knowledge.

For now, just keep transferring copies of everything you're working on onto the disc. Now that they've got me working on those weird thought-controlled aircraft, you're in the best position to do this. The files are protected by passwords: that's simple, just think of what we're fighting for.

Tom.

Samantha is shocked. Partly because this is the only writing from her father she has ever read – and it is just a brief explanatory note, at that – and partly because what little is mentioned raises far more questions than it answers. Samantha had almost found herself believing that she would finally know what her mother had been keeping secret for so long; instead, she is completely confused. None of this makes any sense.

Her brother might know more. He would have been... ten years old then, and if he had been with his parents, maybe he would understand what their father was going on about. There is no mention of him in the note, but then, it only seems fixed on the importance of a 'republic' and 'inter-dimensional travel' – whatever that is.

But that is a possibility: finding her brother, Edward. If he can at least understand what is so important about this information, and who it needs to go to, then maybe they can find allies. And together they could get her mother back. It's a pretty shaky plan, but it's as good as any she can think of, and at least then she can do something. That's what matters most.

Samantha carefully makes her way downstairs. She is pretty certain the house is empty, but she decides it is best to be cautious anyway. Downstairs everything is dark except for the living room; but the light spilling through the open door is enough for Samantha to easily find her way to the light switch in the hall. She flicks the light on and looks around. She has been expecting the place to be a mess, with furniture turned upside-down and things scattered all over the floor. She doesn't quite know why it should be like that: it is just the kind of scene she associates with break-ins. Too many tv-shows, probably. Instead, everything is neat and orderly as if nothing has happened: To her disappointment, Samantha realises that her mother hadn't put up any fight at all before they drugged her. They must have tricked her into letting her guard down, Samantha decides.

Samantha finds the phone in its usual place, and, among a pile of papers with contact details, she finds a piece of paper with her brother's phone number on it. That shows how often they keep in touch: All commonly used numbers are listed on a little sticker on the phone itself, but Edward's is among one-time acquaintances and some colleagues of her mother's whom she only rarely has reason to speak to.

Five years ago, Edward had left home, hurriedly, even though he was still in his last year at school. Samantha had been too young to understand what he had been upset about, but he had definitely been upset. He had returned to visit them several times in the following years, but he had stayed apart. Samantha had at first missed the father figure that her brother had substituted for her, but she'd grown to live without it.

Picking up the phone, she punches in the number, knowing full well that at this time of the night her brother will be either asleep or not at home. If he is asleep, hopefully his phone can wake him; otherwise, she will have to find his mobile phone number, and he might not be in much of a state to talk. In fact, neither of these happen: after half a minute waiting, the phone is picked up by a man whose voice she doesn't recognise, and who is very annoyed at having been dragged out of bed. After receiving a stream of verbal abuse, Samantha manages, as politely as possible, to ask:

"I'm really sorry if I woke you up, mister, but it's really urgent. I need to talk to Edward. Is Edward Coombs there?" There is a pause as the man at the other end seems to be trying to get his half-sleeping brain into action.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are kid, and I don't know why you'd be ringing Ed at this time of the night – or morning – but I do know that Ed hasn't been living here for two fucking months." Samantha remembers that Edward has been sharing a flat, so it makes sense that he could have moved and changed phone numbers.

"Oh. Sorry. Do you know where he is then, or his phone number? Please?" She tries to sound as sweet as possible, in an attempt to win the man's sympathy. It works, partly: at least he calms down enough to tell her that Edward has moved in with his latest girlfriend and no, he doesn't know the number, and if that was all could he go back to bed. In fact, he doesn't wait for answer, and he hangs up straight away, leaving Samantha with no option but the mobile phone. There is a reason Samantha has avoided that before: Edward has been through more mobile phones than he has girlfriends, and she is almost sure to be unable to find the right number. She is right: after ten minutes searching, and two calls to wrong numbers (one of the phones had been switched off, and just as she rang she noticed that it was labeled to actually be the number of one of her friends; the other phone was picked up by a woman, a colleague of her mother, who was still working at this hour. Not wanting to have to answer any questions, Samantha hung up immediately. Time is passing by and she is no closer to getting in contact with Edward.

Samantha realises that the only way she could possibly find her brother is to look for him herself. How can she manage that? She has been to London before, but then her mother had driven her there. But it is the only possibility she can think of, and after all, London isn't that far away, is it? Well, okay, it is far enough. There is a lot to prepare, and she had better get to it, she thinks.

It is past two in the morning by the time she feels she is ready; She has packed a rucksack with everything she thinks she might need: Spare changes of clothes, basic toiletries, a little food. After some searching, she found her mother's bag, with her wallet inside: there was about twenty-five pounds in it. It was a good thing she had got money out recently. Samantha doesn't know the PIN on her mother's credit card (she certainly isn't supposed to!), so she would be limited to what she could find in cash. She also has a ten-pound note of her own left over from her birthday, only two weeks ago. Altogether it a fair bit, but she will have to be pretty sparing if she still wants to have money by the time she gets to London. Finally, she packs a swiss-army knife (her mother's), and, after spending a few minutes debating the thought, she goes to the cabinet in the living room downstairs and takes out the pistol that is kept locked up there. It must have belonged to her father, she thinks, although it could be her mother's; it is a rather plain, ugly, black thing, the standard military sidearm kind of weapon. It is actually unregistered, though Samantha doesn't know about such things; And anyway, she had thought her mother only kept it as a memento, but there are still bullets for it, and since the revelation that there were enemies out there...

Samantha hopes she won't even have to hold it, but she decides it is safest to have it with her. She buries it at the very bottom of her pack. Finally, she wraps the disc in some bubble wrap (it isn't actually fragile at all, but Samantha has no idea of that) and carefully puts it, too, in the pack. Then, having decided everything is as ready as it could possibly be, she changes out of her pyjamas into more suitable clothing (pale blue jeans, and a short sleeved t-shirt), and finally lets herself succumb to her weariness, collapsing asleep on the sofa.

. . . . .

At about the same time, somewhere in the uplands a good hundred-and-twenty kilometers north-west of Newcastle, a plain white van is winding its way along an unmarked dirt road. It has traveled far, and fast; the occupants of the van are not going to feel safe until they reach their destination. They have every reason to suspect that they will at the very least have the police on their tail. They have made a mess of their operation. At least they have been partly successful: their prisoner is sitting with them in the van, now beginning to show signs of waking. It does not matter. They're almost there.

Their destination is a military-style compound concealed in the hills, a place that these men call their home. At least, they see it as a military compound. In truth, the shoddy construction of asphalt and chicken-wire resembles an oversized basketball court more than anything else. The flat black surface is surrounded by a 'perimeter fence' only two meters high, and crowded to one side of this enclosure is a series of flat-roofed buildings of concrete and weatherboard and corrugated iron. Altogether it does not seem particularly imposing.

This is, in fact, quite intentional: those who run the camp are well aware that their activities can not go by the country's authorities completely unnoticed. They have supporters in high places, but not high enough to ensure that no one is aware of their existence. So instead they put an effort into setting up an aura of ineptitude. The security services don't even register them as a threat: were they to even consider the camp for a moment, they would think it to be a kind of retreat for down-and-outs to connect with God and change their lives around.

They would not think that it is the headquarters for a small army of highly trained, well led, and thoroughly indoctrinated zealots, who are waging an invisible war across the country. Nobody would consider such an unlikely possibility for a moment.

The van stops and the driver produces a security card, waving it in the face of one of the men standing guard. They hastily move to open the gates (held shut with all the complex machinations of a steel bar), and the van drives through and parks on the asphalt outside the central building.

This building, less than fifty meters square, serves as the center of coordination in the camp, and contains the living quarters and office of Father Geoffreys, the one man who's word is absolute authority here. It is to this office that brother Jacob Stevens and brother Michael Reid find themselves directed towards, while the third man (the driver) leads the prisoner away in the direction of another building.

None of these men are actually monks or priests in the sense of being ordained, although they certainly lead the austere and disciplined life typical of such people. Despite the way they address each other, they are all simply devoted members of their congregations who have answered what they believe to be the call of their faith, and found their way to priests like Father Geoffreys.

Over the course of the last few years they have built up an army, trained and housed in in this base, and a couple of even smaller bases in similarly remote locations around the country. The 'soldiers' themselves have little idea of the extent of their movement: only those in the highest positions of authority maintain contact with each other. This way, were one base to be discovered, the others can continue to operate in secret.

The two men stand outside the white-painted wooden door to Father Geoffreys' office. Jacob has already knocked twice, and is raising his hand to strike a third time when the stern voice of the priest calls to them to come in.

Father Geoffreys is sitting behind his desk, in the manner of a military officer, which is exactly what he models himself as: He is an officer in God's army. His clothing does not mirror an army uniform, however: his thin but sturdy frame is decked out in a simple white robe, and his white-grey hair is shaved very close to his scalp.

The room is plain and unadorned; the only furnishings are the desk, three chairs, and a cabinet, all of a simple and practical design. The desk is clear except for a neat stack of papers in the middle that the priest had been reading before he had been disturbed.

The two men enter with heads bowed, but do not sit; the extra chairs are for occasions where Father Geoffreys is in meeting with his immediate lieutenants, or is visited by distinguished guests. These two grunts would have to stand, as is respectful and proper.

"We were successful in capturing the heretic Coombs, Father!" Michael reports. He is nominally of higher rank in the Army than Jacob is, and had been in charge of the mission. The priest nods in approval, but that is the limit to his congratulations. He is not one known for delivering praise.

"And she is unharmed? I believe I stressed the importance of that to you when you undertook this task."

"Yes, she is. She was still awake – we didn't even have to break in. Jacob was able to... overpower her when she opened the door, and she has been drugged, but she's otherwise unharmed. Though if I may ask, Father, why's it so important that she's not harmed? I thought that all the heretics 're to be purged anyways."

Father Geoffreys shakes his head. It is not good for a soldier to question, even when the question is as innocent as that. The inquisitive person can only keep questioning, until he becomes curious about everything, and will even dare to ponder the purpose and meaning of his faith. That is to be avoided at all costs.

"You may not ask" Father Geoffreys replies, decisively. "And have you retrieved the files that she possessed?"

"I'm afraid they're gone, Father. Somehow, someone – I guess the woman's child – was able to take the disc and escape, even as we searched the house. I'm prepared to do penance for-"

"That will not be necessary, Brother Michael." The priest approves of this attitude, but he sees no reason why the man should be punished for this particular error. "But we will need to retrieve those files as well. Hopefully, the heretic will divulge whatever knowledge she holds in her mind, and in time, the Lord will see the rest delivered to us. In the morning you may have new instructions. For now, you will need to rest."

He tells them to be on their way, but as they leave, he calls:

"Brother Michael? Before you return to the dormitory, will you find Father Stefanski? He should still be awake and at prayer in the chapel. Tell him to come here. That will be all."

Michael nods, and leaves the room with his head still bowed, before hurrying to catch up with Jacob. The two men are good friends; they joined the Army of the Holy Order together. Recently, Jacob has become increasingly worried by his friend's inquisitive attitude, and his readiness to interpret for himself the orders he is given. Jacob has chosen not to tell Father Geoffreys about Michael's unwillingness to kill the child, but he knows that he cannot continue to keep his friend safe if it obstructs the Lord's work.

Before he enters the dormitory, Michael turns aside and enters the small room next door that serves as their 'chapel'. There, kneeling in prayer, is Father Stefanski. Michael relays Father Geoffreys' message to him, and he crosses himself before getting up and heading outside in the direction of the central building.

Father Geoffreys is himself at prayer in his meager quarters adjoining the office when Father Stefanski arrives. Father Geoffreys sighs and gets to his feet, wincing briefly at the pain in his head. He has been getting bad headaches a lot recently. He would pray that the Lord God might relieve him of this, were that not a selfish and inconsiderate thing to ask. God is not a doctor.

"Father?" The priest on the other side of the door asks. Father Geoffreys recognises the voice, and, with a more amiable tone than he used to greet the two soldiers, asks the younger priest to come in.

Father Stefanski walks in an takes a seat in the room. He is one of Father Geoffrey's lieutenants, and is to be afforded this privilege. Despite his name, Kazimir Stefanski is three generations British, though he maintains his cultural heritage. His grandfather had been also been a priest, in Poland, but there were rumours that he had been supportive of the NAZIs during the second world war, and he had certainly not wanted to stay as the Communists came to power, so he had emigrated to England as quickly as he could.

As a Pole, Kazimir Stefanski is a Catholic, unlike the majority of the Army of the Holy Order, who belong to the Church of England. Still, Father Geoffreys believes that the particulars of a man's faith do not matter, so long as he is loyal to God, and to the cause of His army. After all, he is in allegiance with people of far more diverse faiths than any of his followers in the Army realise.

"You requested my presence, Benjamin?" The younger priest is well educated and well-spoken, as opposed to the majority of the Army's members, who come from a certain stratus in society, and not one very high up on the ladder.

"Indeed. Our soldiers suffered a partial defeat tonight. They were able to capture Coombs, but not the documents detailing her and her husband's work. You know what I'm speaking of?"

"The followers of... Lord Asriel. The war in another world. They claim to have to have defeated..." Kazimir Stefanski is nervous to even speak such blasphemy "... they claim to have killed God. That is all I know. That is all you have told me."

Father Stefanski is the only person in the Army besides Benjamin Geoffreys who knows anything of this, and as far as he is aware, in this whole world. Father Geoffreys himself would not have believed such things, had be not been visited by an Angel of God and told of what had happened.

That was twelve years ago. He has had a difficult task building God's army in this godless world that he lives in, but he knows it is his divinely appointed task and he also knows there are many like him, with more power, in worlds where God's flock is stronger and more faithful. He knows that he must prepare for a second holy war to re-establish the rule of God.

Perhaps, in time, he will make Father Stefanski privy to all the knowledge he holds, but not now. For now, his lieutenant knows enough to grasp the importance of retrieving these 'documents', lest they fall into the hands of their arch-enemies, the heretics who would consider abolishing God and establishing their 'Republic of Heaven'.

"You understand, then, that we must put all our efforts into finding the files. They are stored on a disc of some description, which is believed to be in possession of the woman's daughter, a girl by the name of Samantha Coombs."

"A girl, Benjamin? How old is she?"

"Twelve, if I recall. Her father died in the war before her birth."

"Then she cannot pose much of a danger, can she? Unless she is in contact with the agents of the Republic... which would be highly unlikely. Our own agents have found little evidence to prove that they have any organisation at all. In this world, that is."

This is true, and Father Geoffreys is thankful for it. While the world he knows is drastically lacking in faith, few of its people are any more likely to take the heretic's stance either. For the most part, they don't like to commit themselves to a cause, and that makes his task considerably easier. But Father Geoffreys has also heard stories from his other-worldly connections that one child can cause more damage to God's cause than the combined armies of Satan himself. Father Geoffreys finds this hard to believe, but he is careful none-the-less.

He knows that many of the Army's soldiers, and very likely Father Stefanski as well, are uneasy about killing a child - he himself would find such an act despicable, if it were not for the cause of the Lord his God. But it must be done. If the child has the documents, then they cannot be sure of how much she knows herself. As gently as possible, Father Geoffreys explains this to his lieutenant, who shifts uncomfortably in his chair as he listens.

Stefanski understands the authority of Father Geoffreys, however, and knows that in this cause he answers only to God. Who would he be, to question him?

"I understand, Benjamin. I will send a unit immediately to track down this child before she can cause any harm."

"Not immediately. Wait until the morning: it will be best if we send the same soldiers who apprehended the girl's mother. The less of them know about... what must be done, the better."

"Alright. Is... is that all?" The younger priest understands very well. This is a difficult task.

"No. There is something else, that should be carried out immediately. The girl has a brother, one Edward Coombs, who we do not believe is supportive of the Republic in any way, and would therefor not be considered an immediate threat.

"However, he is old enough to remember what his parents were involved in, during First War. It is likely that if the girl can contact the Republic, it will be through this man. He is to be found and eliminated at once."

"Where does he live?"

"London. I'm afraid that's all that we know. We will not be able to find him easily – finding one man among millions – but I have certain methods at my disposal. If the girl does reach him, he will have to be eliminated. Until then, it would be best to dispatch some soldiers to track him down, so that we can act efficiently, should it become necessary."

"That makes sense. I will organise a unit to prepare and head for London immediately – it is quite a distance. Do you want to be in radio contact with them?"

"I would like you to be in direct command of this operation, so that you might be in the right place if your leadership is needed. I can trust you with that. But keep me well informed - it may be that I will have to guide you myself. That is all"

Father Stefanski rises to his feet and bows his head in acknowledgment.

"God be with you" Father Geoffreys says, as his lieutenant leaves, his head now raised proudly. He is happy to be entrusted with seeing God's work done, whatever the nature of this work. He knows that God will forgive him any sins that must be committed to further his cause.

Father Geoffreys sighs. It is very late, and he has been awake for hours, waiting expectantly for the return of his soldiers, only to learn that even more had to be prepared. He is very tired. He returns to prayer, but his headache is worse than ever, and he decides that God will understand if he must sleep now.

In every world known to God, armies are preparing to fight the Second War for heaven. What Father Geoffreys does not know is that he is only one of a number of similar 'divinely chosen' leaders in his world alone. Even so, the forces of God in his world are very limited, and they will have a difficult time ahead of them.

. . . . .

Samantha's watch reads 11:12. She is walking down the road, in the direction of the metro station. She is unaware that an hour ago a plain white van has left a military-style compound in the middle of the uplands, carrying three men who are intent upon her destruction.

. . . . .