"This is awkward," Jack whispered to me. We sat around the edge of a small room not far from the place where we had first seen Pion digging for new clothes. Mr. Fisher, Jack, Brian and J.P. sat next to me and across from us sat Soldat, Pion, Nantis and two others who until ten minutes ago were part of the mob trying to kill me. So, that would have been awkward enough, but that's not what Jack was talking about. What was awkward was that the Chatrang had decided to start bombing the crap out of us and Soldat wanted to know why. I cleared my throat. At least I meant to clear my throat, but it came out like a strangled squeak that led to a coughing fit that brought tears to my eyes. When I could breath again, I looked up to see everyone staring at me.

"Uh, I think I, well you see I'm pretty sure--"

  "What Tom is trying to say," Jack interrupted, "is that the reason the Chatrang are so pissed off is that we stole one of their HTS." Everyone started yelling at once, including me, as I tried to patiently explain to eight people why I had no choice but to steal the HTS. Unfortunately, all eight were asking different questions, so my explanation didn't seem to satisfy anyone. Eventually J.P. screaming "We're all gonna die!" as loudly as he could shocked us all to silence. Jack smacked him on the back of his head and said, “Be quiet!"

Mr. Fisher stood up and said, “Tom, I'm sure you did what you thought was right, but I think you owe us all an explanation.”

     Everyone turned my way. My face felt hot and my hands suddenly went all clammy. I took a deep breath to try and slow my racing heart and told them everything. I told them about my parents in the cage with the Maggoricus, the Prince's plan and our failed attempt to sneak onto the Chatrang planet—whichresulted in a lot of laughter and snide comments about our intelligence from Soldat and his people. Then I described our escape and how Jack and I stole the HTS. 

     "Seriously? No wonder those guys were so pissed off," said Brian. "And, oh man, the Princess is going to be in serious trouble for helping us." 

     I felt sick to my stomach now, too. I hadn't given any thought to the Princess since we'd escaped.

"Do you have the stone with you now?" asked Soldat. I reached into my pocket and took it out. Between the escape from the Chatrang and being captured by Soldat, I hadn't had time to look at it since we grabbed it and ran. The size of an egg, but closer to the shape of a sphere, the stone felt lighter that it looked. None of the dancing lights that had been present on the Prince's stone could be seen on this one. It was as black as charcoal. Looking at it closely for the first time, I had an idea.

"I have an idea," I said. "I know how we can save my parents and keep the Chatrang from attacking."

"Sure, why don't you solve world hunger while you're at it," suggested Jack. I have mentioned before that he can be annoying, haven't I?

    "Maybe global warming," he continued, apparently unable to read my mind and realize how close to death he was. "The high price of video  games? Hey, how about childhood obesity? That would be really great."

    "Jack!" snapped Mr. Fisher. "Seriously, shut up."

    "Aw, come on, I'm just kidding. I'm sure Tom's idea is top notch. Gonna be home in time for dinner and all that, right, Tom?"

    I began to seriously question whether Jack had gone insane and therefore failed to notice that no one was talking until Mr. Fisher cleared his throat. "Eh, Tom, I think now would be a good time to share your plan."

    "Right, sorry. Okay. First, Soldat, do you have anymore HTS, like something about the same size as the Chatrang one I stole?"

    "Do have any idea how rare those are?" he asked and my heart sank. My whole plan depended on the Chatrang and Ashtapada being wrong about having harvested or destroyed all the HTS from Latrunculorum. Soldat had already proven at least one existed. I had been counting on the likelihood that it was not the only one Soldat and his people had discovered.

    "I am really hoping that there are more of them than the Chatrang think there are," I said and then something occurred to me. "After all, you said they were rare, not that you didn't have one."

    "I did, didn't I. You are very observant and you are correct. I think I can see where you are going with this plan of yours. I believe we may have something that will work. Perhaps even better than you can imagine."
    Brian raised his hand like we were in algebra or something.

    "Would you guys mind sharing whatever you're talking about with the rest of us?"

    "Are we going to get to blow anything up? Anything that, you know, might belong to the Chatrang?" asked Pion from the edge of the room. He sat there, forgotten, nursing a major headache from his fall.    

     Soldat smiled and put his hand on his son's shoulder. "I'm afraid we are going to have to be much more subtle than that."

    "And lucky," I added.

    "Yes, that too," he agreed. "For the Chatrang have already violated our agreement."

    "What agreement?" asked Mr. Fisher.

    "The one we are about to propose to them, of course," Soldat said, as if that made any sense what so ever.

    "Can you speak in a language we can understand, please?" asked Brian who rarely found himself needing things explained and clearly was not a big fan of the process.

    "I will do so as we run for cover. Now!"

    As we ran, Soldat explained that HTS somehow affect the space and time in the areas in which they are used. While it's impossible to know exactly what changed because an HTS was used, it is possible to detect that it was used. If a major event is changed or a large HTS is used to send a message back a significant amount of time, it can leave echoes that can be detected even before the HTS is used.

    "Wait," I said confused. "You mean you can tell if someone is going to use an HTS even before they decide to use it?"

    "It is rare, but yes."

    "Wow, the Prince never said anything about that. Not that he told me all his secrets," I said.

    "I doubt the Prince has any idea about this technology. We have had many years to think of little else apart from survival while the Prince and his enemies were content to develop the HTS for war and now ironically live in relative peace while we flinch at every noise." Soldat spoke with such bitterness I couldn't think of anything to say in response that seemed appropriate.

    "I'm sorry," was all I could come up with.

Two hours later I stood with Jack, Brian, J.P., Mr. Fisher and Soldat along side our wrecked ship. The sun, or whatever they called it here, was high in the sky and hot. We'd only been outside for ten minutes and I was sweating like I'd just run a mile in August. The fact that I was scared to death wasn't helping and neither was Jack's running commentary about the likelihood of us not getting blasted into a million pieces by the Chatrang.

    "Don't get me wrong," he said for the four hundred billionth time, "I think it's a good plan, really, best we can hope for under the circumstances and all. The Chatrang seem like reasonable people when they aren't trying to blow you up. Maybe they already blew us up, right Soldat. Maybe they have ways of interrogating us after they kill us."

    "Really?" asked J.P.

    "Oh, yeah, you never know what kind of alien technologies they might have. They probably don't even need your whole body, just your brain."

    After a moment of seriously considering the possibility that Jack had any idea what he was talking about, J.P. reconnected with reality. "Shut up, Jack!"

    "I agree," I added quickly. "Shut up."

     I had enough to worry about without Jack making it worse. Even though Soldat seemed as optimistic as any of us that our plan would work, he had sent the rest of his people farther into the tunnels just in case things went south. It was this exodus of people that had delayed our plans. There were thousands of men, women and children, all of whom were living somewhere in the caverns beneath us--and we had put them all at risk by crashing here with an HTS in my pocket. Even if everything we were about to try worked perfectly, there was no guarantee they would be safe. None of us could think of what else to do, though. Their situation was horrible and the best we could do was to try and make sure it didn't get any worse.

    "Here they come," said Brian.

    A deep constant rumble came from the sky like a sixteen hundred pound bowling ball rolling down the lane directly toward us. As if reading my mind, Mr. Fisher said, "I feel a little like a bowling pin waiting to be struck down."

    "Good point. Hey J.P., you mind standing up front," Jack said jokingly.

    Instead of punching Jack or calling him some name that Mr. Fisher would disapprove of, J.P. just smiled weakly, which said a lot about how far we'd come as a group.

    "Thank you," Soldat said to me.

    "For what? There's still a good chance our being here is going to get you killed and make life even worse for your people."

    "Thank you, for saving my son."

    "Oh, sure, you're welcome," I said, feeling a little embarrassed by Soldat's attention. "He was trying to help us after all."

     Any more conversation was impossible as the Chatrang ship came into view over a series of low hill on the horizon. A few minutes later it came to a rest in a cloud of dust, as though exhaling after a particularly vigorous workout. The ship looked similar to the one we’d crashed, and by that I mean ugly, sort of like a giant lump of tinfoil with four legs attached. A ramp appeared out of nowhere and at least ten Chatrang soldiers marched out. Even though our intent was to talk, these men and women were clearly dressed for battle, with body armor, helmets and extremely scary looking guns. I began to have a very bad feeling about our hastily put together plan. The Captain with whom Soldat had arranged this meeting walked forward with a brief wave of acknowledgment.  Despite this seemingly friendly gesture, there was nothing friendly about the situation. I stuffed my hands deeper into my pockets, squeezing the HTS tightly. 

     “I do not have a good feeling about this,” Jack said. No joke, I thought. The Chatrang were now about fifty feet away, walking between two large boulders that were spaced about twenty feet apart. 

     “Soldat, are you sure we--” I didn't even see the shot that killed Brian. Mr. Fisher was dead before I hit the ground, screaming to the others to look out, to take cover. An explosion somewhere nearby left my ears ringing. The Chatrang were running toward us, shooting as they came. I turned to see Soldat drop to one knee, his hand pressed to his other thigh where a dark red stain was soaking through his pants. Oddly, he seemed to be whispering urgently into his hand. I caught a brief glimpse of something small and black between his fingers. This can't be happening, I thought, after all we'd been through, after the plan we'd made that would see me home and my parents safe. Gone, all gone. I looked up in time to see the Chatrang Captain point his gun at my head. His face was expressionless, as though he was simply performing a chore that had to be done before the day was over. I closed my eyes and waited for the end. 

     The Chatrang were about fifty feet away walking between two boulders when two loud explosions demolished the rocks sending rubble down upon the Chatrang. 

      I turned to Soldat who was surrounded by five of his guards and said “What the Hell just happened?” 

      “Get down!” he yelled as gunfire filled the air from the direction of the Chatrang soldiers who had not been killed in the explosion. I fell flat on the ground, my hands over my head. It looked like of the ten or so Chatrang that had exited the ship, there were still four relatively uninjured. J.P. tackled Brian as a bullet flew past his head and Mr. Fisher and Jack huddled behind a large metallic shield that grew out of Jack’s arm. Sparks flew off its face as various projectiles hit it. Two of the remaining Chatrang fell as Soldat’s bodyguards opened fire. 

      The Chatrang, led by their Captain, the man Soldat had brokered the agreement with, were approaching two boulders about fifty feet away when they suddenly stopped and the Captain turned around and started talking to his soldiers. 

      “What’s going on?” I asked. 

      “Trouble,” replied Soldat. “More trouble.” 

     As we watched, the Chatrang suddenly scattered and took cover away from the boulders. 

     “What’s that?” asked Brian, as a baseball-sized black object rolled across the ground towards us from the direction of the Chatrang. 

     “A bomb,” said Soldat, again whispering to his hand. I dove for cover just as the bomb exploded. 

     We watched the Chatrang Captain emerge from his ship followed closely behind by at least ten soldiers in full battle gear. He was almost to the bottom of the ramp when someone came running out of the ship and tackled him, knocking him to the ground. The attacker held a gun to the Captain’s head and yelled something I couldn’t quite hear. The other soldiers stood on the ramp watching, but seemed as confused as we were by what was happening unsure whether to raise their weapons or lower them. Then the last person (okay, second to last person) I expected to see walk off the Chatrang ship came down the ramp and headed straight for us.  Then she ignored me. 

“Princess, how--” I started to say, but she put her hand up to interrupt my question and turned to speak to Soldat. 

“Please, as you can see, we have stopped the Chatrang Captain’s misguided effort to acquire the HTS by force. Tell your people to lower their weapons so that we may talk,” she said. Only then did I realize that as she had walked the hundred or so feet from the ship to where we stood, several guns had been pointed directly at her from the twenty guards surrounding Soldat. I looked at Jack, Brian and J.P. who were staring back at me. We all spoke at once. 

“I thought Soldat sent his guards away,” I said. 

          “This sounds weird, but I thought, I mean, weren’t those guys shooting at us before,” commented Brian. 

          “My shoulder hurts all of a sudden,” said Jack. 

          “I feel sick,” said J.P. 

          “Amazing,” said Mr. Fisher. 

          “Shut up,” said Soldat, “Let’s go talk with the Princess.”