“Out, Hake scum!” A soldier reached into the hold of the transport-flyr and yanked Rimdar out. “Enjoy the view–it’ll be the last one you have.”

  Rimdar shaded his eyes, wincing at the bright light. It was noon in Seoltin; the sun was directly overhead, fiery orange in a blood red sky. The flyr had landed at the city airport–the air was swarming with flyrs carrying Sheeks and cargo in all directions, filling the sky with a deafening roar. The air reeked of propane and factory smoke. Tall black buildings twisted into the air, reaching up to the scarlet sky where thin black clouds skimmed their tops, seeming like bits of the building racing away to freedom.

  Rimdar was led along, stumbling in the heavy chains that bound his ankles. He was both hungry and thirsty, but crossing a footbridge over the Ghal River took away any desire for sustenance. The water was a blackened mass of oil and trash, scarcely flowing. It dumped out into the Red Sea, where the black of the river and the red of the sea mixed and churned like a horrific kaleidoscope. A rank haze rose from the river, drifting into the sky. There was no sign of life, only a few dead trees that had been long ago cemented into the riverbank.

  A Sheek kicked him. “Get a move on it. We don't have all day!”

  Along the narrow streets they marched, minutes passing like hours. A crowd followed, growing along the way until at last the congregation reached the Praetorium. There, even more Sheeks had gathered to see the stranger. Most had never even laid eyes on a Hake. As one, the crowd rose as Rimdar was dragged into the room. Were it not for his chains, his bruises, and the star symbol tacked onto his shirt, the crowd may have wondered at the fact that like all Hakes, he was in every other way indistinguishable from a Sheek.

  Members of the Sheek Authority stepped forth to mock and jeer. Taking turns, they questioned him… 'Why can’t you save yourself, Hake?' 'This is your punishment for ruining the sky.' 'Where are your followers, your army, your subjects?’

  When Rimdar did not answer, his escorts pulled out long whips with small shards of obsidian at the end. One by one, they took turns flogging him, but only silent screams escaped his lips… he was too exhausted to cry aloud any longer. Blood spilled over the Praetorium floor until finally he was stripped nearly naked and forced to stumble out of the gathering place back into the street.

  I could call this entire thing off, he thought. A simple signal and the Xenonites could whisk me away. But we have no other way into the Pit. There is no technology that can blast through miles of rock beneath a city on such short notice, so far from Xenon. The planet would be taken before the supplies could arrive. I must press on and endure this, for the sake of these same who will otherwise perish. Though I long for another way, there is none.

  Rimdar could barely hold himself up as he was marched along the avenue. Again a throng of Sheeks lined the way. Some stared in horror at his grotesque, disfigured body. Others smiled proudly, shouting insults. Above everything was a constant pounding sound inside his head, drowning out all other sounds. The guards of the Sheek Authority drove him along with spears, their guns useless due to the Xenonites' energy shield. Several times he collapsed to the ground, but on each occasion, he was forced back up as the procession continued. Reporters followed behind with vid-kams, broadcasting the parade to the entire globe.

  At last, Rimdar fell to the pavement, unable to step any farther. His body screamed in pain from head to toe. When the guards couldn't pull him up, an unhappy Sheek was yanked at random from the crowd and ordered to help carry the Hake's chains. With the weight reduced, Rimdar stumbled forward and the procession continued up the hill to the Prison in the capital's center.

  When they reached the Prison, a massive iron door swung open and three Sheek guards in crisp uniforms stepped out. If Rimdar recognized Daved (disguised as a guard named Garqu Zaagfalg), he did not show it as he stared forward with a dazed look. The other guards stared back with shock.

  “Who on Shamonj is this? We ain't got room for no prisoners!” snapped Ali in a huff.

  “You don't need room. This is Rimdar, Leader of the Hakes. Haven’t you been watching the news?”

  “'Course not. We been workin’, protecting your city from fire and Hakes. What's going on?”

  “He's to be thrown into the Pit, Emperor’s order.”

  “Gaelen’s dead,” said Ali.

  “Emperor Zabblyn has replaced Gaelen, and authorized this sentence, as approved by the Sheek Authority.” The soldier pointed his personal-information-center at Ali’s face, beaming a barcode with the seal of the Emperor. Ali stepped back, annoyed.

  “But… the Pit?” gasped Norgal. “We can't do that! It's against every law there is. Bring him back on Friday and we'll squeeze him into a mineral chamber.”

  Norgal reached for the switch to close the electronic door, but a pike was rammed against his chest.

  “He goes into the Pit. Now. All previous laws are overruled. He's Rimdar, for heaven's sake.”

  “Um… this is most unorthodox…”

  “He's just a Hake,” interrupted Daved. “Who cares whether he dies Friday or dies today? We'll take him.”

  “But that crowd… they can't come in!” exclaimed Norgal. “We'll have enough of a time getting a few of your men through all the security checks. It ain't easy getting someone into the Prison alive!”

  “Yeah,” agreed Ali. “Half of your men should stay out here and keep the crowd under control. I don't want any of my flowers smashed.” He pointed to a garden along the side of the building where a row of plastic flowers leaned against the wall.

  “What about me?” whined the Sheek who was carrying Rimdar's chains. “Can I go now?”

  “I'm not carrying those,” muttered Norgal.

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  “You're not going anywhere,” explained a soldier, forcing the Sheek through the prison door.

  A few soldiers stayed behind to watch the crowd while the rest were led into a secure room. Ali ran background checks on all present as Daved and Norgal collected the soldiers' weapons in a heap. A few minutes later Ali announced the results. “Everyone's good to go. I've got a positive match on ten Sheek guards and a Hake.” He looked at Rimdar with disgust, then scooped up a long spear from the pile of weapons. “This is for my daughter…” he muttered.

  “Hey, watch it now–” cautioned Norgal.

  “What are you doing?” exclaimed Daved. “He's gone through enough already!”

  But it was too late. Ali thrust the spear into Rimdar's side, then ripped it out and threw the bloody weapon back to the floor. Rimdar groaned in pain, grabbing his side as blood dripped down the bare plates.

  Daved couldn't bear to watch the fellow Ciri suffer and turned away. If anyone deserved that, it’s Ali. But I must not be distracted by such thoughts. Success depends upon my deeds as much as Rimdar's, though he bears the more honorable role.

  “Come on,” urged Norgal. “I'll lead the way. Garqu, take the back and make sure no one touches anything. Ali will stay here and let us through the electronic gates.”

  “Here’s a radio. Alert me as you approach each gate. You have ten seconds to get through and they’ll only open twice a day, once to let you in and once to let you out. Don’t screw anything up, or you'll be in for a long nap.”

  Daved suddenly held up a coil of rope. “His feet are chained, but what about his arms? We'd better tie them so he doesn't cause any trouble when we're shoving him into the Pit.”

  “He’s right,” said Norgal. “We'll have a few seconds with the door open to get the prisoner through. Fifteen at most. Any longer and this whole city could go.”

  “Smart thinking,” said Ali, watching with approval as Daved wrapped the entire length of rope around Rimdar's arms with lightning speed. A glimmer of black caught his eye. Does that rope have a spool? No, it's gone. Must have been my imagination.

  With Rimdar's arms bound, Norgal and Garqu led the group down a long chamber while Ali worked in a control room, opening the sealed doors one by one as the group descended toward the Fire Chambers.

  Rimdar could scarcely think, scarcely breathe. He was relieved that the path fell downwards, as it meant easier walking. Several times he fell, but a flurry of kicks spurred him to rise and continue. He was thankful for Daved, who helped him up, his own arms rendered useless by the thick coil of rope.

  The Sheek carrying his chains was still protesting. “That I, a Sheek, should even be in the company of one such as this! I’ll have you in the courts!”

  On they went, ever deeper into the ground, through an endless array of sealed doors, opened only by remote terminals operated by Ali.

  “At last,” said Norgal, leading the group around a final bend. “The Fire Chambers.”

  Rimdar trembled as he looked down the hallway. Here were the gates to the Pit of Seoltin, hundreds upon hundreds of them–but they all opened to the Pit. Each sealed hatch opened to a tunnel running between 200 to 2000 feet, some sheer drops and others long winding caverns. Some were filled with acid, others empty, but all eventually led to the Pit itself, sprawling for miles beneath the city, a maze of catacombs and fire lakes.

  The only way in and out of the Pit was through these chamber doors deep within the Prison. They were securely locked with electromagnets to keep the acidic air and frequent eruptions of fire, called fireblasts, from making their way into the Sheek Prison and the rest of the city. Both Ali's electronic confirmation and a manual code known only to Norgal were required to open each gate.

  Norgal suddenly felt uneasy. Surely they will call us back now. Surely this was all for show; the Authorities know the risks of opening a chamber!

  “Which chamber are we throwing him into?” asked Daved.

  “I don't know.” Norgal spoke into his radio. “Ali, did you get confirmation from the Authorities?”

  “Yes, everything's cleared. Send him to number 305. It's been quiet today and looks safe to open. And that way, he'll have to walk the farthest… we're getting this all on the video hornet… it's quite the show! The entire planet is watching. Emperor Zabblyn wants it to be a good one.”

  “305 it is then. Down that way.” Norgal pointed down the hall, and the others passed him as he paused to catch a breath in the foul air. He watched Rimdar plod past. Every step he takes he trembles in fear. Fear of the Pit, the fire, the acid. It would be a blessing for him to die now rather than to be thrown in there.

  Daved was also eyeing Rimdar. “What if, instead of throwing him in number 305, we threw him in number seven?” he asked with a wicked smile.

  “Number seven? Whatever for? That’s where the green chair was thrown…”

  “Ah!” interrupted Ali, who had been listening on the radio. “A grand idea! Fitting indeed. The Leader of the Hakes, thrown into the same chamber as his stupid green chair, both to die an eternal death. Garqu, you're a genius! The media will love it!”

  “How are the stats on that chamber?”

  “Marginal, but we should be okay. Before you punch in the code, take a moment to listen. If you hear any rumbling, better stick with 305. It's running hot today.”

  “He'll survive the drop though, right?” asked Daved.

  Norgal frowned. “What do you mean? Who cares?”

  “The drop on this one is at an angle, isn’t it? There's a chance he'll survive the fall, long though it may be.”

  “So?”

  “So shouldn't we get a hornet in there after him to watch what happens? If the Emperor wants a show, why not give him one?”

  “Grotesque, but intriguing. Maybe we'll get a bonus from whoever thought up this foolhardy–” Norgal cut himself off, remembering the hornet was recording this.

  Rimdar did not speak as his fate was discussed. He continued to plod along, each step shooting pain up his legs. There was a loud roar and the tunnel trembled. “I can't stand it!” screamed the accompanying Sheek, dropping Rimdar's chains and fleeing into the darkness.

  “Let him be,” said Norgal. “He won't get far, and there's nothing he can break down here without a code. We'll pick him up later. Shame he went the wrong way, though. That's a dead end.”

  Rimdar grit his teeth, noted that several were broken, and pulled the entirety of his chains for the final stretch.

  At last they stopped before a large grate with a small label barely etched into one of the bars. “7” it read. Norgal inserted a key into a small lock near the number, and Daved helped him pull the grate to the side. Inside a narrow crevasse, a half ton steel cap was all that remained between the Sheeple and the Pit. For a moment, they listened in silence, but no more roars were heard.

  “Let's move quickly,” said Norgal, punching a code into the door.

  Garqu picked up his radio. “Ali, you there? We're ready for you to open chamber number seven.”

  A high pitch whining sound echoed through the dim hallway, followed by a grating screech. The massive cap slid to the side. Rimdar watched his doom unfold before him. The soldiers backed away from the heat pouring out of the opening. Ages crept past in a mere second.

  Norgal turned to see Daved fumbling with his radio.

  “Stupid thing! It’s stuck on. How do you turn it off?”

  Norgal reached to help him, and it flew out of Daved's hand. Together they grabbed it.

  “It almost fell into the Pit! Watch what you’re doing, newbie!” reprimanded Norgal. He looked back at the chamber. Acidic haze was spilling into the hallway. “We don’t have much time. Dump him in!”

  The soldiers grabbed Rimdar, wrapping his chains around him as they hoisted him up and over the dark hole. With a final push from Norgal and Daved, he was thrown headfirst into the chamber. The sound of his body rolling along the sharp rocks and steep cavern to the bottom could be heard for a few seconds, then everything was quiet.

  “Send in the hornet and close the lid before we die!” screamed Norgal over the radio. The screeching noise sounded once more and the steel cap closed.

  Daved slammed the iron grate over the cap’s controls and hit the button to rearm the lock.

  “That’ll take care of him,” said a soldier, wiping dust and blood from his hands. “Now let's find that runaway.”

  “I’m right here,” said a small, trembling voice. “Can I go now?”

  “Yes, we’re getting out of here.”

  The hallway was emptied and the lights went out.