Earth United
Chapter 8

Frank was seated behind his desk, working on his computer. He heard a knock at his door. “Come in.” He looked up and saw a young private, seeming a bit nervous, standing in the doorway holding a portable data pod. “What is it, Private?”

The private stepped toward Frank and held out the data pod. “A new report, sir. It just came from the Presidential Mansion.”

“Well, what is it, Private? Go ahead and read it,” Frank said. He had enough work to get done as it was. The private could at least read the report. That was standard procedure. Especially for unannounced reports, which were almost always routine.

The private pulled the data pod back, paused, then held it out again, then pulled it back. “Uh, well, are you sure, sir? It’s not good news.”

“Yes, yes. Now get on with it. I have a million things to get done,” Frank said. “I assume you’ve read it already?”

“Yes, sir,” the private replied.

“Then summarize it for me,” Frank said. “I’ll read the full report later.”

The private laid the data pod on the edge of Frank’s desk slowly and carefully. “Sir, it’s a report on Jake Saunders and Cal Danielson. It says they were involved in a hilaetite smuggling operation. That they’re now wanted by the Legion for treason for breaking Treaty 5274, and described as armed and dangerous criminals. They’re also charged with kidnapping Ambassador Danielson, and for stealing Legion equipment. The order in the report gives any Legion soldier authority to shoot to kill.”

Frank sat back in his chair and stared at the private. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had just spoken with them early that morning. He hadn’t heard a word about any of this. Of course he hadn’t. None of it was true. But who had issued such a report? What had Cal, Jake, and Diane found on Craton, or what had they done? Why hadn’t they reported to him? He should never have sent them there. He knew it was a bad idea from the start. Jake was too close to everything. Now, clearly, someone in the Presidential Mansion wanted them out of the picture. Okay, he had to think. He had to do something. “Thank you, Private. That’ll be all.”

“But there’s more sir,” the private said softly. “It gets worse.”

Worse? How much worse could it get? Frank thought. “Well, don’t just stand there. Out with it. What else does it say?”

“Sir,” the private continued, “both Jake Saunders and Cal Danielson, along with Ambassador Diane Danielson, were killed on the planet Craton while Private Saunders and Private Danielson were trying to arrange a hilaetite sale with Craton General Romalor Leximer.”

“What?” Frank blurted out, not thinking, just reacting. “Impossible. Let me see that.” He leaned forward, picked up the data pod and read. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. But it was true. It was all right there in the report, under the president’s seal. He leaned back again, dropping the data pod on his desk. He put his face in his hands. His head ached. What was going on? They couldn’t be dead. But they were. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to do.

The private broke the long silence. “Sir, the report says that General Leximer is cooperating fully with the Legion’s investigation, that he has returned the Legion’s transport ship stolen by Private Saunders and Private Danielson, and he has returned the hilaetite crystal that they were trying to sell him.”

Frank picked up the data pod again, squeezing it tightly in his fist. “I’ll bet he’s cooperating. Right.” Frank looked down at the report. He read, ‘General Leximer has shown an excellent display of good faith, which confirms what a very strong ally of Earth and the Legion that General Leximer has become.’ Frank threw the data pod against the wall. It shattered into pieces. The private flinched and stepped back. Frank slammed his fist on the desk. The private moved backwards again. Frank closed his eyes. He had caused this. This was his fault. He had ordered them to go to Craton. Yes, but it was also the government’s fault, even the Legion’s fault. What had happened on Craton? Somebody other than Romalor didn’t want the three of them to return to Earth. What did they learn? He would replace out if it was the last thing he ever did. For what purpose, he didn’t know. It wouldn’t bring them back. But he had to clear their names. Somebody had to pay. He owed them that much. But who could he talk to? Who could he trust? He had to calm down and think. He would have to work from the bottom up. He would call in some favors. Call on people he had helped get into lower level Legion and corporate positions. These people he could trust. He could trust that they had nothing to do with this whole conspiracy or cover-up or whatever it was. And, more importantly, he could trust that they would keep his investigation quiet.

* * * *

Diane stood unwillingly beside Romalor, looking west out from the retracted roof of the central command center. There was nothing but desert and rock as far as her eyes could see, except for what Romalor referred to as the Pit. She could see most of it very clearly. It was a giant rectangular hole in the ground, about one hundred yards long and thirty yards wide, and approximately ninety feet deep. The sides were solid rock, rising at ninety-degree angles from the bottom. Circling the Pit were crude bleachers made of wood and rock, as well as other makeshift seats. A rock tunnel stretched from the base of the mountain range directly below them out to the edge of the Pit, which was a distance of about thirty yards.

“I see you’re taking it all in, Ambassador,” Romalor said with a grin. “Isn’t it exciting? Let me tell you how it works. That tunnel down there connects to the mountain range and our military headquarters so that our guards can safely escort the contestants to the Pit. See that opening in the bleachers at the farthest end of the Pit? That’s where the spectators enter. And that wooden booth, manned by a Craton military officer. That’s used for placing bets.”

Diane didn’t speak. She didn’t even look at Romalor. She just stared out through the glass. She noticed that beyond the entrance opening, there was a large flat area with parked hover cars, aircraft, and spacecraft, probably used by the Cratonites and visitors fortunate enough to own some type of transportation.

Romalor continued, “The only way in and out of the Pit is by a rope ladder which the guards will lower down. And all that debris you see covering the bottom of the Pit, well, let’s just say that the Pit also serves as our junkyard. But the parts make very nice weapons. Very deadly.”

Diane moved her gaze to the bottom of the Pit. She could see the farthest two-thirds of the bottom, but the high, steep sides impeded her view of the portion closest to her. The bottom of the Pit was full of rocks and rubbish, mostly scrap metal items, from discarded goliath swords and other weapons to poles, rods, and other metallic ‘junk,’ broken hover cars, and dismantled aircraft and spacecraft.

“You see,” Romalor said, “the Pit serves for both punishment of prisoners and criminals, and entertainment for the spectators. What an invention. This is why we have little, if any, crime. All crimes are punishable by the Pit. Ingenious, right?”

Diane finally looked at Romalor. “Ingenious? Invention? This is barbaric. This is nothing but a Roman coliseum. We had them centuries ago on Earth. But then we grew up!”

Romalor smiled. “Come now. After all, your friends were spying, trying to steal military secrets. That’s a crime punishable by death, by the standards of any planet, including Earth. But unlike Earth, we give such criminals a fighting chance. Let me finish explaining how it works. It’s quite simple. The prisoners enter the Pit with the champion Craton warrior and it’s a fight to the death. Our current champion is a not-so-friendly chap named Hargar. If your friends kill Hargar, they may leave the Pit, free, and you can all go home. But of course, if they lose, well, then I guess you’re stuck with me.” Romalor smiled. “We have been administering this system for hundreds of years. It’s simple and it’s fair.”

“Fair?” Diane said, gripping the handrail in front of her tightly. “What’s fair about it? No chance for a prisoner to explain himself! No trial!” She shouted louder with each word. “No jury! You’re insane!”

“Now now, you do get angry,” Romalor said. “I like that. And I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. It’s pretty much impossible for a prisoner to win. But, it has been done. Prisoners have won. However, unfortunately for your friends, Hargar has over one hundred kills to his credit, and, I’m sorry to say, no losses.”

If the Pit was where Jake and Cal were going, she knew they didn’t have much of a chance. Her heart ached for them, for both of them. Her little brother that she’d practically raised. How could his life end so quickly, so brutally? And Jake, oh Jake. The little boy who used to play at her house. Who used to act grown up just to impress her. Who grew up into a handsome young man. A young man that she had fallen in love with. And she never told him. She never once told him how she felt about him. If only he knew. If only she could turn back the clock. If only. She would not let her feelings show to Romalor. She would not weep. She would not give him the satisfaction.

Diane looked down again and there she saw Jake and Cal stumbling out of the tunnel, their hands and feet tied crudely with rope, prodded by two Craton guards carrying goliaths and plasma guns. Her heart ached even more. She wanted to cry out to them .She wanted to run down and hug them. She wanted to fight with them and, if necessary, die with them. But she knew she couldn’t. So she would not make a sound. Nothing to give Romalor any pleasure. She just stared toward the Pit. She wanted to walk away and not watch. But that too would be what Romalor would want. So she watched. The bleachers were full of rough, ragged-looking Cratonites. Most were dirty, wearing old leather and animal fur clothes, and were unshaven, with long matted hair. Those that couldn’t get seats were standing along the edge of the Pit. She could tell that this was probably their only entertainment.

“Oh, and I almost left out another important part of this sport,” Romalor said. “This gives the poor Cratonites living in the west a chance to get wealthy. If they bet enough on an underdog and win, they just might be able to move to Craton City on the other side of the mountain. Your friends are scrawny. They are extreme underdogs and will make for a big payoff if they win. There will be fools who will bet on them, hoping for that payoff. There always are. But they’ll lose.”

The crowd erupted in an enormous boo when Jake and Cal exited the tunnel.

“See,” Romalor said, “almost all of them have bet on Hargar, so they’re booing your friends. That won’t help your friends’ confidence any.” He smiled.

Then, as if the booing wasn’t loud enough, the crowd erupted even louder with cheers. At the other end of the Pit, through the entrance opening in the bleachers, appeared an extraordinarily large Cratonite. In Diane’s estimation, he stood a little over seven feet tall and had to weigh over three hundred pounds, mostly all muscle. Like most of the people in the crowd, he was unkempt, with long, tangled hair and a rough, unshaven face. He also appeared to be missing several teeth. And those that he had were yellow. He had a caveman sort of appearance, wearing only an animal fur around his waist that hung to just above his knees. It was held up by one leather shoulder strap that ran diagonally across his chest. He stood for a moment, then raised his huge wooden club in the air. He shook the club as the crowd shouted, “HARGAR, HARGAR,” over and over.

“That would be Hargar,” Romalor said, again with a smile. “They love him. He’s won them a lot of money, even though the odds are stacked in his favor. But a little winning is better than none, or better than losing.”

* * * *

Jake and Cal exited the dark tunnel. Jake squinted and held his hand over his eyes. The bright light of Craton’s sun, glaring off the sand and rock, blinded him. And the heat was intense. He had felt temperatures over one hundred before, but this felt even hotter. His eyes started to adjust to the light. He could feel the dried blood on the side of his face. The numbness was gone, replaced by a throbbing pain. He wished the numbness would return. He could hear the crowd chanting. He turned to Cal. “What are they saying?”

“I believe it’s ‘Hargar,’” Cal replied. “That must be our opponent.”

Jake looked to the rim of the Pit on the far side. He could see Hargar shaking his club in the air.

The crowd continued to chant, “HARGAR, HARGAR.” Jake could make it out now.

“How about you take this one, and I’ll get the next one,” Cal said with a slight smile.

Cal always was good at trying to calm one’s nerves in times of crisis. But this was more than a crisis. This situation was next to hopeless. Jake knew they had little chance of getting out of this one alive. He surveyed the surroundings. The bleachers were packed with yelling, sweaty, unruly Cratonites. There were just as many people standing on the ground between the front row of the bleachers and the edge of the Pit, as were in the bleachers. Those standing were shoving and yelling at each other, probably trying to get a view down into the Pit. People in the front few rows of the bleachers were shouting at the people standing: “Get out of the way,” and “Sit down, I can’t see” and “Move or I’ll come down there and toss you into the Pit.”

The guards pushed Cal and Jake forward. The first guard spoke. “Come on. Get moving. Just think, all these people here, just to see you guys. Aren’t you flattered?”

Cal and Jake shuffled their feet, which were still tied in ropes, until they reached the edge of the Pit. With plasma guns still aimed at their backs, one guard cut their hands and feet free. Another guard lowered two ropes into the Pit, secured to metal stakes in the rock-hard ground at the edge of the Pit.

“The rules are simple,” the second guard said. “Hargar’s ladder will remain hanging in the Pit. If you try to climb the ladder before Hargar is killed, you’ll be pushed over the edge back into the Pit, if not by guards, then by the people that have bet on Hargar. But Craton gives its prisoners a chance. All you have to do is kill Hargar. Then you leave by his ladder and are free.” The guard cracked a sadistic smile.

The first guard spoke. “Now climb down or be pushed down. Either way, you’re going to the bottom.”

Logic dictated that they climb down, given that those were the only two options at the moment. So they each climbed down a rope. No sooner had their feet hit the bottom than the guards yanked up the ropes. Jake turned around. At the other end of the Pit, they could see Hargar make his way to the edge. He had a rope and wood ladder hanging down into the Pit, secured at the top in the same manner as Jake’s and Cal’s ropes.

“I guess that’s our way out of here,” Jake said, pointing to the ladder.

“Yeah, all we have to do is get through him.” Cal nodded toward Hargar.

Hargar tossed his club into the Pit and slowly descended the ladder. Jake thought for a moment. They could just avoid Hargar altogether. They were likely faster than him. While there was too much debris to really run, he figured they could outmaneuver him and avoid any contact. He looked up. The sun was directly overhead, and it was hotter down in the bottom than up on top. No breeze at all. It was hot beyond belief. They wouldn’t last long without water and he was sure water would be lowered to Hargar, but not to them. So they better fight. That would be their best chance. Fight him while they were still fresh, or in Jake’s case, as fresh as one could be after being bludgeoned with a goliath. They would only be able to run so long before they dehydrated, or were unable to move. Jake looked at Cal. “Let’s split up and try to flank him. Come at him from different angles.”

“You know,” Cal said, “even if we do kill him, they’ll never let us go. You heard that Sloan guy, and you know Romalor.”

“I know,” Jake replied, “but first things first. We’re going to have to get through Hargar before we have any chance of escaping.”

Hargar slowly came toward them, holding his club in one hand and balancing himself with the other as he climbed over the debris. Cal slowly moved away from Jake to circle back behind Hargar. Hargar continued toward Jake. Jake searched around for a weapon. He tried to break a piece of metal free, but it wouldn’t give. He pulled on another piece of metal. Too flimsy. Hargar was getting close. He had to settle for a long thick board. Jake tried to get to higher ground but kept slipping into the debris. He noticed that Hargar was a lot more agile for his size than Jake had anticipated. Plus he probably had practice down here. Just as Jake pulled himself up from a slip, Hargar reached him. Hargar grunted, brought his club back over his head and swung. Jake held up the board with both hands. Jake’s hands shook and stung from the force of Hargar’s swing, which split the board in half and sent Jake tumbling backward. He heard the crowd roar. Most of them must have bet on Hargar. Jake scrambled up and started moving backwards, all the time watching Hargar and reaching behind him for anything to block the next blow. He had to replace something. Anything. His hand grasped a metal rod. He quickly moved it in front of his face just as the next swing came. Hargar growled as he swung. Again, the force of the blow broke the rod and sent Jake tumbling back into a pile of twisted metal. The crowd roared again. Before Jake could pull himself up, Hargar was standing over him. Jake saw the club high over Hargar’s head. The crowd shouted, “Kill him!” The club seemed to move slowly as it started to drop, straight toward his face.

The club froze in mid-air. A large board had smacked the back of Hargar’s head and split in two. It was Cal. Hargar barely flinched. Thank you Cal, Jake thought. But this is going to be impossible. Hargar turned toward Cal. Cal stumbled backward, off balance. Hargar swung his club around quickly. Cal started to duck, but the edge of the club caught the side of his forehead, sending him backward. The back of his head struck the rock wall of the Pit and he went limp. Cal slid down slowly, blood trickling from his forehead, the back of his head leaving a bloody streak on the rock. The crowd roared. Jake could hear Hargar mumble, “One gone, one to go.”

* * * *

Diane looked straight ahead at the Pit, not showing a bit of emotion. She could see Romalor out of the corner of her eye, looking at her. Probably looking for a tear, sadness, something showing weakness. She wouldn’t let that happen. She had just watched her brother be brutally murdered. She would grieve later.

“You act like you don’t even care,” Romalor said. “I thought they were your friends. I know how you Earthlings sympathize with each other. I know you care. You people always care. That’s your weakness. That’s what’s going to destroy your planet.”

Diane looked at Romalor. She intentionally kept her face expressionless, cold. “That’s where you’re wrong, Romalor. That’s our strength. You’re right, we care, but we’re also willing to lay down our lives for our planet. For the freedom and values that we believe in. Jake and Cal are willing and I am willing. You can try all you want to make us believe that our whole government is against us, but we know differently. There’s only a few. And the actions of a few wicked will never defeat the power of the many righteous. Romalor, in the end, you will lose.”

Romalor smiled. “My my, such strong words coming from someone whose very life is in my hands.”

Diane turned back toward the glass. She felt almost numb. She couldn’t stand being in the same room as Romalor. She couldn’t stand watching Jake and Cal suffering, dying. But she forced herself to stay cold. She forced herself to remain emotionless. For the moment, she forced herself to not care.

* * * *

Jake scrambled up again when Hargar turned back toward him. Reaching behind him and feeling around, he kept his eyes on Hargar. Not Cal! He should have been quicker. He should have had Hargar down before Cal had to do anything. But how could he? He had never fought anyone or anything like him. And this heat. He was quickly losing what energy he had left. His throat was dry and ached for water. His mind started to race. He was losing focus. Not out of anger, out of fear. Cal was gone, Diane was in Romalor’s hands, his own planet had disowned him, and he had a behemoth of a Cratonite bearing down on him to kill him. He could replace nothing to grasp hold of that would break free. Hargar swung. Jake ducked. Hargar swung again and Jake ducked again, this time down and under, coming up behind Hargar and punching him in the lower back. The force of the punch jammed Jake’s wrist. He felt a sharp pain shoot up his arm. Hargar turned, smiled, and grabbed Jake by the throat with one hand and picked him up. He couldn’t breathe. Pain shot up both sides of his neck. His lungs burned. His bruised head throbbed. He kicked his feet toward Hargar, but caught nothing but air. He grabbed Hargar’s arm with both hands and tried to pry his throat free. No use. Too strong. His vision started to blur. Everything started to go dark. Then he felt himself flying backwards through the air. He landed hard on his back against a pile of debris. He rubbed his throat, coughing, gagging, and spitting. He could taste his own blood coming up from his throat. He tried to pull himself up, but his vision was still blurred. His head spun. He saw something coming at him, but it was fuzzy. He tried to react but couldn’t. He felt a sharp intense pain in his face and everything went black.

* * * *

Diane watched as Hargar’s club caught Jake square in the face. Jake was flung backwards into a pile of scrap metal and wooden boards. As he hit the bottom of the pile, it toppled over on him. There was no movement. All she could see of Jake was one arm, limp and lifeless, and a small trickle of blood coming out from underneath the pile of rubble that buried him. The crowd roared louder than ever. She screamed, “NO!” She instantly caught herself, but the reality of the situation was pressing down on her. First Cal, and now Jake. Dead. She wanted to reach for Romalor’s goliath and cut his throat. She didn’t care if he ended her life. In fact, she wished he would. Then this nightmare would be over. She backed away from the window. Looked Romalor in the face. She felt like she would explode. She looked at his goliath, then back at his face. No, it wasn’t worth it. She turned and walked straight for the door. A guard grabbed her arm. She jerked herself free, shoving the guard backwards. The guard quickly drew his goliath.

“No,” Romalor said. “Let her go. But see that she gets back to her room.”

Romalor walked over to his desk and sat down in his chair. “Now that was entertainment.” He pressed two controls on his desk and raised the retractable roof. “Now we have to get our ambassador prepared to help us with Vernius.”

* * * *

The majority of the crowd was still cheering as Hargar made his way toward his ladder. Hargar shook his club in the air. That made the crowd roar even louder. “HARGAR, HARGAR.” Hargar was soaking it all in. The Cratonites that had bet on Cal and Jake were angry. They started to push and shove those cheering for Hargar. Small skirmishes broke out here and there.

Hargar kept waving his club and turning his head from side to side all the way to the ladder. He stepped up on the ladder, but as he placed his second foot on the bottom rung, he heard a voice behind him. “You forgot to count to ten.”

Hargar turned his head. There was Jake, holding a rusty goliath, his clothes torn and stained with dirt, sweat, and blood. His face was covered in a mixture of dirt and blood. But even with all of that, Hargar could tell there was something different about his opponent now. It was his eyes. They were no longer full of fear and despair. Now they were full of anger and revenge.

* * * *

Jake felt his anger burn. It was the same anger that had driven him every day of his life since his Uncle Ben’s death. The same anger that his training officers continued to tell him that he needed to control, to focus. And now he added more anger and vengeance for the death of Cal and the loss of Diane. He didn’t want to control it. He just wanted to unleash it all on Hargar.

Jake gripped the goliath that he’d found on the bottom of the pile of rubble. It was old, but still sharp enough and solid, and it fit his hand nicely. Hargar growled and jumped off the ladder. Hargar picked up his club and headed for Jake. Jake didn’t back up. Not this time. Hargar raised his club and swung. Jake ducked, then immediately leaped into the air, his feet toward Hargar. With a quick, swift kick, his right foot landed squarely in the middle of Hargar’s face. Jake landed on his side. Hargar went tumbling over backward. The part of the crowd that had bet on Cal and Jake let out a roar. Not as loud as the roars from the others, but loud nonetheless. Jake felt his head throb for a moment. He ached all over and he would give anything just for a sip of water. But he was more angry than hurt. He climbed to his feet. Hargar got up and put his hand to his face, then looked at the blood on his hand. He’s probably never bled before, Jake thought. If he bleeds, he can be killed.

Hargar snarled and growled even louder, and came at Jake again. Jake jumped up on a pile of debris. As Hargar swung, Jake jumped up to a higher part of the pile. Hargar’s blow struck the debris, sending metal and wood splinters flying. As Hargar drew back to swing again, Jake leaped forward at Hargar’s head, again striking Hargar in the face with his boot. Hargar fell over again. Jake landed on both feet, and immediately jumped backward up onto a rock. Jake winced. His head throbbed. A mixture of sweat and blood oozed down his face, turning the dust and dirt into a muddy paste. The crowd roared even louder. Jake looked up. Now the Cratonites that had bet on Hargar started to skirmish among themselves, and the earlier skirmishes were becoming fights.

Jake wouldn’t let go of the anger. He didn’t need to control it. He would let it work for him. It helped block out the physical pain, and thoughts of Cal and Diane. He thought of nothing but killing the beast that was in front of him. Hargar got up, looking dazed, and headed at Jake yet again. Jake mustered up all the strength he had left. He leaped off the rock toward Hargar, his right knee and foot cocked, ready to kick. Hargar did exactly what Jake had hoped. Probably expecting another kick to the face, Hargar lowered and ducked his head to his left. But this time Jake didn’t kick. Jake held his goliath in his right hand, the point aimed toward Hargar. As Hargar ducked to the left, he moved his head right into the path of Jake’s goliath, which was exactly what Jake had hoped for. As Jake sailed past Hargar, he brought his right arm through, sending his goliath deep into Hargar’s neck. Jake let go and landed on both feet. Hargar immediately dropped his club and grabbed the handle of the goliath with both of his hands, pulling on it to dislodge it. It was no use—the sword was run too deep, and Hargar already had lost strength. The part of the crowd that had bet on Jake and Cal roared yet again. Hargar stood motionless for a moment, his eyes looking hazy. His hands dropped to his sides and he fell over backward. Hargar breathed his last.

Jake turned and saw Cal trying to get up. But he was stumbling. “Cal!” Jake hurried to him, grabbed one arm and pulled it around his neck. He put his other arm around Cal’s back and helped him up.

“What happened?” asked Cal groggily.

“Not now,” replied Jake. “We have to get out of here. Come on. We have to get to the ladder.”

Jake continued to support Cal as they made their way to the ladder. The crowd above was in a frenzy. There was fighting everywhere. The Hargar supporters were angry. If they always bet on Hargar, they had never lost before. The Jake and Cal supporters had newfound wealth. They were pushing and shoving to make their way to the betting booth, probably in fear that there wouldn’t be enough to pay all their winnings, or that the Hargar supporters would simply steal their money back and run. The guards that had brought Jake and Cal out of the tunnel were still on the tunnel side of the Pit. Jake looked back and saw them pushing their way through the mob toward the ladder. He and Cal had been right. Romalor would never let them leave alive. Jake helped Cal onto the ladder first, and supported him from beneath. They both started to climb. Jake looked back toward the guards. They were trying to aim their plasma guns at him and Cal, but too many people were in their way. Jake was sure that the guards weren’t worried about shooting a few Cratonites too, but the shots wouldn’t have a chance of getting through the crowd and hitting him and Cal. The guards kept pushing through the crowd, stopping every now and then, taking aim, but still no clear shot. The crowd was now in such a frenzy that people were being pushed over the edge, into the Pit. Jake saw the two guards motioning to the guards at the betting booth, near where Jake and Cal would be coming out of the Pit. Jake wasn’t worried. Those guards were barely keeping themselves alive amid the angry crowd, let alone able to make it to the Pit and apprehend them.

Jake shoved Cal up onto the rim of the Pit, then climbed out himself. He saw the guards from the tunnel still pushing toward them. “We have to make it to the parking lot before the guards get to us,” Jake said. “Come on. This way.” Jake put Cal’s arm around his neck again and helped him.

“I’m okay now,” Cal said and slipped his arm off of Jake.

The two of them pushed their way through the crowd toward the parking lot. The guards were talking into their coms, probably trying to alert the central command center. But it was too late. Jake saw some of the Cratonites, probably those that had bet on Cal and him, unable to reach the betting booth to collect their winnings, now mobbing the two guards. They took the guards’ guns, communication belts, and anything else of value. Jake figured the people probably felt that if they couldn’t collect their winnings in currency, they would collect it in goods from the guards. Thank you, Jake thought.

Jake and Cal made it clear of the crowd and into the parking area. “We need to replace some transportation that looks like it can handle space travel,” Cal said.

Jake looked around. Nothing there looked like it could.

“This one,” Cal said.

Jake went to Cal. It was a transport that sort of looked like a spacecraft, but also looked like it could simply fall apart at any minute. “Will this make it out of here?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know, but it looks like it has the best shot of any of these,” Cal said. “Come on. Get in.”

“I’ll drive,” Jake said. “You start it and navigate.”

Cal studied the instrument panels and computer system for a moment. “We’re in luck. Looks like it has quantum drive,” Cal said.

“Good pick,” Jake replied. “Now let’s go get Diane.”

Cal stopped working the controls. “Hold on just a minute. We can’t get Diane. Not yet. Not in this spacecraft. We need to go back to Earth and get help.”

“Back to Earth!” Jake shouted. “We can’t leave her here with Romalor. And how will we get help on Earth? You saw the video. By now, we’re wanted as much on Earth as we are here.”

“Jake,” Cal said calmly, “look, she’s my sister. I want to go get her as much as you do. But we have to be sensible about it. Any minute now, every guard at Romalor’s disposal will be looking for us. We have no weapons. This spacecraft has no guns. It would be suicide. We can’t help Diane that way. We go back to Earth and replace Frank. He’ll be able to get us some Legion support. And if this cover-up is bigger than Frank, he’ll at least be able to get us the equipment to give us a fighting chance to get back here ourselves. And in the meantime, Romalor isn’t going to do anything to Diane. She’s too valuable to him right now. You heard him. He wants her to use against Vernius. And if we do get out of here alive, he’ll want her for leverage to get us back or to use against Earth. We have time to regroup.”

Jake sighed. He knew Cal was right. But it still hurt thinking that they were flying away, leaving Diane. And for all he knew, she assumed they were dead and would never be back. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s get out of here.”

Cal quickly punched in coordinates on the computerized instrument panel. They were off, through Craton’s atmosphere and into space, undetected, within minutes.