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believed anything was
foolproof. “Is this why you challenged me?”
    “Yes.” Though softly spoken, the word rang
with impatience and significance. They continued to wrestle, each
skillful enough to evade the other’s moves. “Are you with me or
not?”
    “What are you planning?” Max had Dario
beneath him now, legs bent, in the perfect position to pin him.
    “No time! Make it look like you’re going to
pin me then shove me forward hard.”
    Understanding the maneuver, and cursing
himself for a fool, Max made his decision. “All right.” He pulled
Dario’s hips up and reached between them as if to position his
cock. Then he shoved Dario toward the corner of the stage and the
armed guard stationed there.
    Max leaped to his feet and whirled on the
other guard, grabbing his sword and slamming the flat of the blade
against the side of the guard’s head. The guard moaned and swayed.
Max raised the weapon to strike again, but the guard collapsed into
a messy heap as the onlookers watched in wonder.
    “Seize them!” Mikko’s command sent a wave of
fear through the stunned audience. Apparently they couldn’t decide
if this was part of the show. Those closest to the exits didn’t
wait to find out, but the crush of bodies had many people
trapped.
    Dario shoved his way to Naloni and grasped
her from behind, pressing the guard’s sword against her throat.
“Back off or she dies!” Dario shouted. She was no random hostage.
Dario had run directly to her.
    “Kill her!” Mikko yelled. “Kill them
both.”
    “Ask Tarhee first!” The confidence in Dario’s
voice slowed the response of the advancing guards.
    Infuriated yet trapped by his decision, Max
positioned himself at Dario’s back. Guards rushed toward them from
all over the villa, some brandishing pulse pistols. “Now what?” Max
whispered.
    “Call out to your brother,” Dario told
Naloni.
    “Fuck you,” she whispered in return.
    “This is Princess Naloni!” Dario took a
cautious step forward and Max matched his movement. “Harming her
sentences you to death.”
    “Which means you’re a dead man already!” Max
couldn’t see Prince Tarhee, but his voice rang out over the
thinning crowd. “Naloni, is that really you?”
    Silence.
    “Max, take off her fucking wig. She’s our
ticket out of here.”
    Rather than voice all of his concerns with
Dario’s plan, Max moved in front of them and quickly found the pins
anchoring the wig to her head. She glared at him in mutinous
silence, so he focused on the task and avoided her gaze.
    Movement blurred his peripheral vision. Max
spun and brought his sword arm up, smacking the guard’s forearm
with the flat of the blade. His pulse pistol discharged into the
ceiling and screams echoed through the room. He swept the guard’s
legs out from under him and stomped on his wrist. The guard cried
out, but his hand released and Max snatched up the fallen man’s
weapon.
    When he returned his attention to Dario, he
found the wig on the floor at Naloni’s feet. He wasn’t sure if she
had finally given in and removed it or if Dario had managed to
finish the task. With the pistol in one hand and a sword in the
other, Max returned to his position at Dario’s back.
    “Hold your fire!” Tarhee called. “They have
nowhere to run.”
    A fact that was utmost in Max’s mind. How did
Dario expect to force the emperor to do his bidding when he had no
way to contact him? The only people who had access to technology
were the Fedorans. Mikko and Tarhee would assure their guests that
there was nothing to worry about, perhaps even hint that anyone who
needlessly worried the emperor with this unfortunate incident would
no longer be welcome in New Pompeii.
    Didn’t Dario realize the power the founders
had over their customers? If a customer acted against the wishes of
the founders, they risked exposure or being ostracized. And these
people were addicted to these pleasures as surely as any drug
addict craved their next