The sun shone intensely over the horizon the next morning. Immediately, the air began to warm. The sunlight was bright on Jeb's skin.

  He should never have let Jeebz sleep. Losing his sword alone was hurting his pride. He was nine thousand years old, and these pesky Sacs had gotten the better of him.

  The ropes dug into his skin the more he resisted them. His now bare body ached from being pulled around and knocked about. This pain was debilitating in a Sac like this.

  As the sun shone on Jeb, Jeebz powered up. After a few seconds, Jeebz was aware of what Jeb was aware of.

  I don't think I should power down again in groups like that one.

  That's probably a good new policy to have. Within six hours, you'll be dead with no suit or shade. We need to get out of this now.

  “You think?” Jeb was annoyed. He looked at his current situation. He was tied from his neck to his feet, which then connected to his hands, bound behind his back and tied around his waist, knotted in the front. He lay on his side, facing the rising sun. He had nothing on him.

  Test the ropes, Jeebz. Can you tell what strength it's going to take to break them with a strength test?

  I can come up with an estimate, but no exactness. We don't know the exact material of this rope.

  Let's get an idea though. Jeb began to pull on the ropes with his feet, neck, and arms. The strain nearly made him black out from the rope around his neck. It was rigged to choke him out if he fought it.

  Damn it! Well, they are criminals here. Goes to show that Gabin was a criminal himself.

  Fair estimation.

  Well, what do we have here for the strength of the rope and chances of breaking it?

  The rope seems to be made out of some kind of animal hide, based on the sounds it made during stretching. Definitely biological in origin, though long dead. Based on its stretching, sounds, and how hard you pulled, breaking it will not work.

  Jeb thought for a bit. He could see Kevo's face as they skewered him in his sleep. It was what woke him up. They had repeatedly stabbed him until his body only shook from leftover spasms. His eyes were glazed over.

  Jeb had tried to jump to his aid, but it seemed all of them were in on it. Or at least being passive and letting it happen.

  The ones doing the skewering were the two who had been eyeing Jeb's sword. They had told Jeb, “We're going to let you have a chance at life. You bought this chance with your sword. Consider us even then?” The man laughed and walked away as Jeb fought his bonds.

  Kevo's body lay three paces away from him. The blood-soaked sand had dried up all of his blood. It didn't belong to Kevo anymore; it belonged to the dunes of this prison.

  The thought of death was odd to him. Jeb had gone through countless Transferences before. It made 'death'... obsolete. Even criminals were not sentenced to death. Or were they? He did not know.

  Looking at Kevo, he noticed something. Now in the daylight, Kevo had a small boot dagger. They had missed it when they rummaged him.

  Kevo’s boot. It has a dagger in it. I just need to get to it.

  Don’t pull too hard for too long. These Sacs can’t take oxygen deprivation for too long, Jeebz warned.

  Three paces away was not far, but the stink had grown strong.

  Wiggling, rolling, and inching his way over to Kevo, he finally got to the boot. He flipped over, painfully and nearly choking himself out, got his hands on the blade, and began to saw at any ropes he could reach.

  SNAP! The ropes came free, and Jeb slowly stretched out. His muscles were tense and tight. When he got up, he did many more stretches, swinging his arms around his body as though loose ropes as he spun his torso. He felt his spine pop from bottom to top.

  Looking down at Kevo, he realized he had grown somewhat fond of this criminal. It was not right what had happened to him.

  “I hope you don't mind. But I have to take some stuff off of you.” He started with the boots and pants. The shirt was too torn up with holes to wear, but he rubbed it into the sand and turned it into some kind of wrap for his head. The blood didn’t drip.

  The dagger he put back into his boot. Besides that, Kevo had been stripped bare. Including a small leather pouch of what looked to be metal discs.

  Coins. Primitive cultures use precious metals as currency. Jeebz commented upon Jeb’s curiosity looking into the small bag.

  Looking back down at Kevo, Jeb got a strange sensation. A sensation that something was right. Then fear struck through Jeb like lightning through a copper rod. Though, looking around, he knew that this fear was not his.

  A dizziness swept over him and dropped to his knees. Closing his eyes, he got the image of a tunnel with a white light at the end of it. For some reason, this tunnel or white light was causing fear for someone.

  And just as soon as it was there, it was gone. Jeb opened his eyes and shook his head slightly in wonder.

  Everyone was empathic to some degree. You normally could tell someone’s mood just by being near them. But Jeb wasn't near anyone. He was pretty sure Kevo didn’t count. Though he didn't know the dynamics of death for someone without Transference. He was never told, and he never asked.

  Looking down at Kevo, he knew he had already made up his mind about what he was going to do. He could see tracks that led off. He already knew where they had been planning to go, which led to the town of mercenary town.

  Jeb, break down the time measurements for this planet. Jeb asked as he walked at a strong pace.

  This planet is roughly eight-thousand miles in diameter, 24,000 miles in circumference. Rotational speed is approximately 1,000 miles per hour…

  Giving it a 24-hour day and night, Jeb broke in.

  Approximately. At the equator. Further north, as we are, the length of the day is dependent upon the planet's current location in its orbit around the star, and the tilt.

  Do not forget that this planet has an elliptical orbit which causes changes in the length of daylight and temperature. Jeb nodded in acknowledgment.

  Jeebz, keep a clock running at all times on this. Jeebz acknowledged that it would be done.

  Jeb began to jog, alternating back and forth between jogging and walking. He couldn't be too far behind them. It had been about two hours since the whole coup had happened before Jeebz had woken up. So maybe three hours. If he jogged half the time, he figured he'd catch up with them in about an hour and a half.

  After transitioning between jogging and walking three times and about one hour later, Jeb came across some noise. There was a soft whisper of motion to his right, almost as though something was being pulled or stretched. A pointy stick flew by his ear. If he’d been standing still it would have gone through his Sac’s head.

  Jeb dropped to the ground and rolled as best he could on the sand. He was going down a dune, and it turned into a continuous roll. Mid-roll, he kicked off the ground and caught air better. This gave him time to orient himself in space. Forcing another roll in the air gave him the momentum and control to continue running down the hill.

  It also gave him a chance to see where that primitive projectile had come from. There! Two men, one with a primitive bow with an arrow knocked, the other with a sword out. Both were running after him, trying not to fall down the same way as he.

  The man fired again with his arrow. Again, he missed. This time wildly. Jeb changed his course and his speed. The next arrow missed as well. No more arrows came, just them running. Hopefully, they were out of arrows.

  Jeb got to the base of the dune and ran along the bottom portion. Looking over his shoulder, they both had their swords out. The bow was on the ground up the dune. Jeb stopped and waited for them, giving him a chance to catch his breath.

  The two men split, planning to take Jeb from two angles. This was fine. He stood there calmly, waiting, breathing. Jeb felt his heart rate increase slightly. His mind operating the body and controlling the adrenal glands. He could feel the air pressure on his skin, the heat from the sun, and the dry air in his lungs.

  Jeb’s mind began to speed up with the assistance of Jeebz, the result was that time began to perceivably slow in the physical universe around him.

  The two men struck simultaneously. One a large angular swing with the sword, the other a horizontal slash.

  Jeb twisted toward and under the horizontal slash. His speed caught the men off guard. Jeb felt as though he were dancing, now behind the attacker, he twisted, striking the man in the center of his spine with a fist. The bone tried to resist; it failed. This man would not walk again. He crumpled there, screaming something about his legs.

  The next man leapt over the cripple with a downward sweep of his blade, crazed eyes, and a slobbering mouth. Jeb sidestepped casually, and as the man’s legs began to make purchase on the earth once more, Jeb kicked the assailant's left knee in with a low left side kick, pivoting Jeb’s right elbow found its mark—the temple of his victim. To Jeb, it had all been one motion.

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  Jeb went to the wheezing cripple. Easing his way over, the man began to cry that he was sorry. Jeb broke his neck. They were criminals.

  Since there had been no blood, he found the clothes that fit him best. Took their blades, drank their water, and packed their food. When force is used, might is right.

  Jeb felt good, but he still needed to get his sword back.

  “Two down. Nine to go,” he spoke out loud. Jeebz acknowledged that that was accurate.

  A few hours later, Jeb stood before the last of the mercenary band. They were a few miles out of town, and one man had taken them down, one or two at a time.

  The last two, one with his sword and the other with his clothes, were both kneeling on the ground before him.

  “I’m sorry. Please forgive us. We just want to eat and feed our families.”

  He’s sterile. You can tell by the colors in the whites of his eyes. Jeebz was always one for straight observation. Looking was always best. Listening was always worst.

  “I believe you have something of mine.” Jeb was calm. But for some reason, a mental image of Kevo kept popping into his mind, being repeatedly stuck with blades.

  The man on the right removed the belt holding the prized weapon and placed it delicately at Jeb’s feet.

  “And?” Jeb looked at the other man who immediately began to disrobe his clothes.

  Jeb had to make a choice. Either execute this man who had surrendered, or let him go. He didn’t have time to be a babysitter until he got to some policing authority. He didn’t know if there was one.

  Both execution and letting the guy go were simple.

  Why am I even worrying about this? He asked Jeebz.

  I have no programmed response. I could recite some psychological breakdown. Jeebz offered.

  No, no. I don’t that psychobabble bouncing around in my head. Last time you did that I couldn’t think for a month. Jeb replied.

  Jeb in a blur of motion simply lopped the guys head off. Quick, nearly painless. Him being on a mission, as well as him not wanting rumors going around, it was the only solution he could think of. Anything else would have produced potential liability.

  With that handled, he disrobed quickly and put his atmo suit back on. Immediately, he began to cool down, temperature now regulated. How good it felt was strange. Pleasure being associated with temperature.

  Well, that’s done. Now the town? Jeb asked Jeebz.

  Seems like as good a plan as any, Jeebz replied.

  A few miles and an hour or two later, he found himself walking among many small huts, mostly made of some kind of clay, domed with archways and clay steps.

  The people seemed to carry pottery and strips of cloth, a few animals tied to their master. One was a small, round, fluffy thing with a reddish beak and feathers all over, and two legs. Another animal with four legs, small with some kind of orange and white fur, its face having long hairs sticking out from the sides of its bestial mouth. Some larger four-legged animals with a tail as well but with long snouts.

  For a village of only a few hundred, it sure did seem like people were busy here! Music in the distance drew him to a small building with openings for windows. Tables inside where a few people sat and a man and a woman were singing.

  Jeb walked the dirt roads for a while. People eyed him and gave him birth. He guessed it was his clothing, and possibly his sword.

  Finally, Jeb heard a bit of a racket at the end of one of the roads. It was a tavern made clear by the markings of mugs on either side of the doorway.

  Before he could get to the front of the establishment a man was thrown through one of the open windows, landing hard on his back and shoulder. “And stay out!” came a deep voice from within.

  The man groaned as he eased himself into a sitting position, holding his shoulder.

  Jeb stepped past the man and entered the building. Inside were several tables, a bar in the back. At the tables were twenty men, laughing and drinking. The laughing and drinking slowed to a halt as the door closed behind him, drawing their attention to the newcomer.

  Finding a seat at the window the man had been tossed out of he sat down and leaned against the back of the chair. His body seemed to be thankful for the respite.

  After a few moments a large man came up to the table, wiping his hands on a cloth tied to his belt. “What can I get you?”

  Jeb’s Sac was starving. “I’ll have some food and water.”

  The man sighed. “No water here, just ale.”

  We are pretty far from any other areas, and we are not close to any fresh water from my limited scans. Jeebz included sidelntly into the conversation.

  “A pint of ale, and whatever meats you got.”

  “You got coin, stranger?” The barkeep asked.

  Jeb nodded. “Some.” He wasn’t sure how much he had, and what the exchange rate for supplies and other needs.

  The men had began talking, but it was not as boisterous as it had been. Looking out the window the man tossed had gotten up and limped out of sight.

  The barkeep brought out the ale first and then soon after brought the food.

  “Who was that man tossed out?” Jeb asked as the barkeep put the plate on the table.

  The barkeep shrugged. “Not sure.”

  “What did he do to get removed? I’m assuming it was something criminal since he used an alternative means of exiting the premises.” Jeb asked.

  The barkeep smiled. “Yeah, people sometimes use the window, I stopped fixing it.” He looked around the room. “Non mercenaries are not liked here. This may be a pottery town, on the outside, but…” He took in Jeb’s outfit and sword. “There’s more traded here than just pottery. Best not be sniffing around.”

  Jeb nodded his understanding and quietly ate.

  After some time he paid the barkeep, the exchange rate didn’t seem to lighten his purse much, a few coppers, which he had plenty of.

  As he left, he heard a bunch of chairs scrape the floor.

  Heart rates are high. Anticipation. Jeebz notified Jeb.

  Outside Jeb looked around but there was no quick route away. Whatever this was, was going to be handled in the street, now.

  The men began to quickly poor out of the tavern, and slowed as they realized Jeb was standing there, waiting. He was soon encircled with a large man pushing his way through a few men in his front.

  The man was built like a large tree, huge shoulders and nearly six and a half feet tall. His legs looked as though they grew from the dirt. He had a sword on his back and leather straps crossing his chest with various knives held in place with sheaths.

  “Nice sword, stranger.” The man said, his eyes fixated on Jeb’s face.

  So, it was the sword they wanted. Another band of misfits and his sword. Kevo had been right.

  “This?” He touched the hilt over his shoulder. “It’s a toy my uncle made. Made from tin.”

  The large man smiled. “Then you wouldn’t mind me taking it. It’s just a toy, not worth anything.”

  Shit. Jeb said.

  Agreed. Jeebz said.

  The large man lunged at Jeb, surprising him for his speed. A Sac shouldn’t have that kind of speed, not in a prisoner Sac.

  But Jeb was faster, and he didn’t have a prisoner Sac. He moved out of the way, placing himself facing the moving tree in front of himself, to the trees right. Jeb’s hand had his wrist and was about to strike the mans reaching arm in the elbow. But it didn’t work, the man pivoted, pulling a dagger and attempted to stab Jeb through his gripping wrist. Jeb had to release to move it in time.

  The man squinted his eyes in a scowl at Jeb. “Who are you?” He asked Jeb. Jeb glanced around with his eyes, the others ha their swords out but did not move.

  “I’m Jeb.” He said. “And you are?” But the man lunged again, this time drawing his blade and attack him in a series of strikes. Jeb dodged and weaved through the strikes. After several seconds the entire circle of people had shifted nearly thirty feet in a mad hustle to keep the men within itself.

  “Enough!” Jeb yelled out. “That is not how you earn the sword.”

  The man stopped, blinking at Jeb.

  “This sword must be earned. It’s a simple ritual, and quite fast. Even if you were to beat me in combat, the sword would… be cursed.”

  What are you talking about? Jeebz asked.

  It’s not a curse, but the tech in the sword would not allow it to be used by anyone other than myself. You know this. It’ll just be dull. Nothing better than a stick. Jeb answered back.

  “What is the ritual?” The man said with a smile.

  “You must claim how many moves it takes to incapacitate the current owner-“ Jeb was cut off.

  “Four!” The man said. His green eyes burned in the daylight.

  “Are you sure? I think I just proved that four is unlikely.” Jeb said carefully.

  Something about those eyes! Jeb said to Jeebz.

  Nothing in my database, but much of my data has been purged. Jeebz said.

  “Four it is then. Sheath your blade.” The man did so. A few in the crowd yelled their disagreement, but the man stilled them all with a hand. His eyes never left Jeb’s.

  Standing before each other, a few paces apart, the world seemed to vanish. The tree exploded into motion, his blade out in a blur. Jeb drew his own blade in defense. But it was too much. He wasn’t ready for it. The prisoner was like an invisible wind of death. One, Two, Three, Four.

  Jeb saw the hilt of the mans blade meet his body. HE’d been impaled on his left side, his atmo suit ruined. His blade lie ten feet away. It had been so fast he couldn’t remember how it’d happened.

  Nine thousand years of training, and a prison grade meat Sac had bested him.

  Wincing , Jeb asked, “What is your name?” The man had stepped to the sword on the ground and picked it up.

  He pulled the blade free, he could see the mans eyes in the reflection of the perfect metal. “Kendoson Brakta” he whispered.

  Jeb’s blaster was in his hand, the man said his name as he pulled the trigger. The insides of his head met daylight.

  The men were silent. They didn’t know what had happened. The only sound being that of Kendoson’s body hitting the ground. No one moved.

  Damage report. Jeb told Jeebz.

  No major organs hit. But you’ll need to get it removed as soon as possible. Then I can create the hormones and white blood cells to clog the injured areas. Jeebz answered.

  Three men lunged at Jeb, three trigger pulls and their chest offal became susceptible to sunburns.

  Jeb limped over to Kendoson and took his sword. He knew those eyes now. He recognized that green fire. Kendoson Brakta had been his sword master, three thousand years ago.

  The circle silently parted as he walked away, blaster in hand, sword sheathed.

  I suppose you have no notes on Kendoson. Jeb said to Jeebz.

  Correct.

  As he limped away he heard a commotion and someone yelling.

  What are they saying? He asked Jeebz.

  Something about a magician. It appears they are reporting you. Jeebz answered.

  Jeb looked back to see a few men facing his direction. One of them pointing at the dead men on the ground and then at Jeb.

  Shit. Jeb took a corner. He couldn’t run with this sword in his belly. He was bleeding.

  As he walked through the alley he heard a noise ahead of him, behind some barrels. He stopped and looked behind him. Not here yet. He may have some time before they get the courage to attack him. Probably with bows.

  “Come on out.” Jeb said. The pain was starting to increase now that his endorphins were waning.

  A man, the man, who’d been tossed out the window, slowly came out. He looked at Jeb and then at the sword hilt. Jeb now was leaning on the wall.

  “I could use a little help.” Jeb said to the man. He didn’t move though, the man seemed to be deciding if he was going to run or stay and help.

  “You killed Braka?” He asked cautiously.

  Jeb nodded that it was him.

  Jeb, you need the sword out for me to begin the regeneration, it won’t heal with it in. Jeebz told him. If you don’t get it out soon, you will bleed to death.

  The man stepped forward. “How did you do it from so far away. You had no bow or crossbow. And the holes you left in them. Like they’d been burned.”

  “If you help me with this sword, I’ll tell you all about it. But right now, I need the sword out so I can begin healing.” Jeb replied. He realized that it probably sounded fanciful to that man, being run through with a sword and all. “I don’t think it hit anything vital. But if I don’t get it out, I’ll bleed out.”

  Finally, slowly, the man came over. Jeb finally paid attention and could see this man up close. He had a bald head and an earing in his left ear. His eyes were black, and he wore loose fitting white clothing, with a medallion hanging around his neck.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “You’re gonna have to pull it out. I’ll tell you when.” Jeb said.

  Jeebz, I’m going to need something for the pain.

  I can only produce a certain amount of endorphin. But some of the shots you got from the ship help with pain.

  Jeb pulled a pouch out and opened it. His head was starting to get fuzzy. Finding the right syringe he plunged it into the other side of his abdomen. The sensation of fire spread and then soon the pain began to subside.

  Okay, whatever you got. He’s going to pull it out now. He told Jeebz.

  Jeb’s heart began to race again, it was difficult and his vision started to twirl. He found himself on his knees.

  “Go ahead. As straight as you can.” He told the man.

  The man grabbed the hilt with one hand, and Jeb’s shoulder with the other. With a nod from Jeb he pulled the blade out as straight as he could.

  It was everything he could do just to keep his muscles from tightening around the blade. He could feel it slither its way out.

  Once free the man tossed it on the ground and quickly caught Jeb.