“Well, show them in.” His manner was brusque as he stood and faced the door. Thelma fled past Besh with an embarrassed smile, and the party entered.

“I don’t seem to recall your faces,” said the Professor.

Sam walked forward, hand extended. Besh closed the door. As the Professor lifted his hand uncertainly, Sam doubled his fist and struck the man to the floor. Beasley gasped. Sam knelt by the gaping Professor and pressed the engraved handgun against his cheek menacingly.

Besh walked to the Captain and asked in surprise, “Why did you hit the Professor?”

Sam looked up and answered, “I don’t know. I’m in a hurry?” He scowled at the Professor and grated, “We’re looking for the Prince. Seen him?”

The Professor looked up from face to face with a glint of dawning realization in his eyes. Sam cocked the gun, and the Professor’s eyes snapped back to him. Sam pulled the older man to his feet, keeping the gun close and obvious. The Professor gripped the desk for support.

Sam said, “I’m not a man for war. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got a real twitchy trigger finger. I’m not particularly political, but I think you’re a big part of this Badger movement. Whatever the nonsense, you’ve thrown your hat in with that scumbag Overlord and put the Prince in the middle. I just want to find the Prince and get off this merry-go-round.” He pressed the gun close beneath the Professor’s chin, and added, “Now, where is he? Talk to the finger.”

“Part of the movement?” asked the man with a smirk. “I am the movement.”

Besh asked, “So you serve the Overlord?”

The Professor smiled. “Hah! The Overlord serves me.”

The Captain raised the handgun and struck the Professor across the face. “Where’s the Prince?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” replied the Professor angrily. “He doesn’t tell me where he goes. He does his part as do we all.”

Besh said, “Sir, war is not the answer. Whatever the grievance.”

The Professor smiled and said in a cold, inimical voice, “We will not be slaves to the Consortium. We will be free.”

Sam took a step back, working his fingers around the engraved handle. They moved with a mind of their own as if seeking to sate a need. The Professor recognized the gun; his eyes widened in fear.

“You!” he gasped.

Sam placed the muzzle of the gun against the Professor’s chest and squeezed the trigger. The projectile passed through and out, splintering the chalkboard as it embedded in the wall. The sudden report was loud. Besh stepped back in surprise. Raul gasped as the body fell, and Beasley covered his ears in terror.

“Quick,” commanded the Captain. “Out through the windows.”

Sam broke through and led the way. Noises could be heard in the hall. Besh pushed part the broken glass and waved the young men through. As they raced along the back of the building, bitter screams came from the classroom. In the heat of the moment, there is no course but action. There is no room for thought. Sam took them to ground, hiding behind bushes. He peeked around the corner to the plaza, calculating possible paths to safety.

“Stand up,” he told the others. “Follow me. Act normal.” He hid the handgun and led the way.

Besh walked beside him. “Really, Captain?” he asked. “You could have knocked him out.”

Sam answered casually, “He was a threat to the King.”

Besh had no answer as they walked into the crowd. The people were agitated. News of the shooting passed word of mouth. They walked tightly, weaving a path through the Badgers. They reached an opening among the people and headed calmly toward the park. Voices behind them registered threat. Besh turned to look back. Men pulled masks on as police huddled with teachers and students. He saw Thelma point.

“We’ve been spotted,” he said.

Sam took his arm and pulled him into a trot. “Head for the boats,” he said.

They ran full out. Fear gripped them as the Badgers, screaming, chased after them. Sam was the party’s strength, his calm command guided them to the dock. “Can you operate a boat?” he called to Besh.

Besh jumped into a large motorized dinghy with a canopy. He started the engine and turned immediately to open waters. He looked back to see Badgers filling boats in pursuit. As he headed south to the Asteroid Belt, Sam fired the handgun. A liquid fuel pump exploded, startling Besh. He turned again as Sam fired a second shot. Another pump exploded, sending smoke and fiery fumes in all directions. Raul held his hand tightly over his mouth. Beasley held the wig in his hand, pressing it to his chest in dismay. Screaming, Badgers leaped into the waters, flames trailing. Besh set his sight on a tiny island ahead of them as Sam fired again.

Threading the dinghy through the narrow channels between the small rocky islands proved to be difficult. The frenetic waves sloshed and lapped uncontrollably in the pull of a strong tidal influence. Cold water sprayed across the four men, soaking all in a bone-chilling froth. Sam came forward and took the wheel, shouting to be heard above the din.

“We can expect airships to join the search.”

“What, then?” Beshed called back.

“We need to run aground. Make it look like we capsized,” answered the Captain. “I know a place we can hide.”

Sam drove the craft through crags in the mesh of small islands. His plan was to reach open waters beyond the asteroid belt. White water pushed the craft over a small island and dropped it on the open sea. With increased speed, Sam took aim on a larger island beyond a dangerous-looking reef. He called Besh in close.

“We’re gonna hit hard and flip. You three jump from the back and swim to the big island. Go now! Jump or die!” Sam pushed Besh away and turned the craft into the reef.

Besh moved haltingly as the small craft lurched to the side. Raul and Beasley braced themselves with white-knuckle grips and saucer eyes. Besh pulled their hands free in a desperate grab as the dingy sailed jarringly into the air and turned on its side. Besh pushed the youths forward and followed them over the stern. The water was cold and hard. Surfacing, Besh spotted Raul first, then Beasley as his head came up. He directed them to the large grassy island ahead.

As they pulled themselves ashore, Besh rolled over to see the white canopy of the dingy slide under as the overturned craft spiraled behind a tidal crest. He stood and scanned the waves for Sam wiping seawater from his face and eyes. Beasley stood close beside him, shivering from the cold.

“The Captain?” he asked.

“I don’t see him,” Besh replied.

Raul was on the other side, arms wrapped around himself against the chill. His voice was choppy when he added, “Come on, Captain.”

Down the rocky shore, a sudden motion drew their attention to the left. It was more a splash than a wave. Besh pointed and called, “There!”

They sprinted in a stumbling manner. They hurried along the uneven shore as waves lapped against their legs, arriving as Sam pulled himself from the sea. He coughed seawater from his throat and struggled to his knees with help from Raul and Beasley. Besh extended a hand to the Captain as wide eyes assessed their triumph over the sea.

On his feet again, the Captain simply said, “This way,” and stumbled inland.

He led them to a small bluff where scraggy trees and brush survived on its blunted slope. Sam pulled a dense mat of creeping shrub aside to expose a small cave in the sandstone face.

“In,” commanded the Captain. “Hurry.”

Once in, the Captain adjusted the shrub and called for help with a sandstone plug. Raul and Beasley strained beneath the weight as Sam pushed it snugly into the entrance. Besh took timbers leaned against the wall and passed them to the Captain. With the rock firmly in place, the Captain stepped back and wiped his hands against the wet pea coat. There was enough light from the cracks to make out the interior of the cave.

Besh found himself in a cave just large enough to stand in. It was an uneven tube that snaked back into darkness. The floor was strewn with odd rocks and several weathered crates. They leaned against the cold wall and waited as the Captain rummaged in the far end of the cave. He called from the dark.

“Put those crates in a circle,” he directed.

The crates were abrasive to their cold skin, but five crates were quickly set in a circle for seating as the Captain returned dragging a canvas bag. He pulled the fifth crate into the center and all sat. Sam explored the bag and produced a small electric heater. He placed it atop the crate and thumbed it on. Instantly, a soft red glow lit the cave. Cold hands eagerly sought its warmth.

Sam volunteered, “This is an old haunt from my pirating days.”

He pulled biscuit tins and water bottles from the bag and set them around the heater. Then he stood and searched his coat pockets. Removing the handgun with a satisfied grunt, the Captain threw off the heavy coat and began to remove his boots.

He said, “Coats and shoes. You’ll warm faster without them.”

Coats and shoes aside, Raul vied with Beasley for a spot closer to the heater. “What a crazy ride,” said Raul.

Besh added, “I’m glad we all made it.”

Beasley pried open a tin and asked, “Forgive me, Captain, but how old are these biscuits?”

Sam replied, “Couldn’t say. They weren’t new when I took them.”

Sam stood and walked to the entrance where he methodically tested the bracing. Besh arose and stood behind the Captain. Sam put his ear to an opening and listened.

Besh asked quietly, “Are we safe here?”

“Pretty much,” answered Sam, turning. “They’ll see the boat floating in open water, make one or two fly-overs looking for bodies, then move on. They’ll think we died in the sea. Don’t worry, I’ve done this before.”