I guess I fell asleep in Shael's arms because the next thing I knew most of the lights were down and Shael was snoring softly. He was leaning against the headboard of his bunk and I was leaning up against him. A blanket had been pulled up over us, probably by our collective mother, Nash. The dark lumps on the floor were difficult to identify at first, but when one of them rolled over and scratched at his chest I recognized that the triplets had fallen asleep on the floor around us, in a lazy sort of guard duty.

Very, very gently, I eased out of Shael's embrace and glided across the floor. I'd have been happily content to stay right where I had been, except that my stomach was quite certain it was being ignored and was pulling out all the stops to get my attention. Since the rumblings were becoming disturbingly loud, I crept into the kitchen and pilfered a small gundark and cheese sandwich and a glass of nerf milk.

Taking my grub, I headed for the tables, looking forward to basking in the quiet sounds of my whole family sleeping, safe and alive. Well, almost my whole family. Nash was up and around doing Force only knew what, and I nearly tripped over Mason on my way to the nearest table. He probably thought that he would be out of the way, since most everyone was asleep and he wasn't in the path from the bunks to the 'freshers. He just happened to be right in the line of travel from the kitchen to the tables, though.

Meditating, no less.

"Sorry," I whispered hurriedly while trying to balance my plate and cup.

Mason unfolded his long length and rose with smooth and thoughtless grace. He reached out a hand and took my plate from me, his other hand coming gently against my back to guide me to the nearest table. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked softly.

"Yeah. What were you doing?" I questioned as he pulled out a chair for me. "If anybody sees you meditating you're going to start people wondering."

"The only one awake was the Trianii, Nashraak." He managed to even include the rumbling growl in the proper pronunciation of the feline's name. "And she is unlikely to mention it, as meditation is a fundamental component of her religion."

"Is it?" I wondered, surprised. I hadn't even known that Nash had a religion.

Mason smiled, his blue eyes dancing in the dim lighting, as he set my plate down in front of me. Even if I'd managed to keep my surprise out of my voice or off my face, he'd noticed. "It is. Now eat, and don't worry about me. This isn't the first time I've been in a tricky situation."

I frowned at him, but did as I was told to silence the rumblings in my stomach. As I ate I stared vaguely into space, aware that beside me the Jedi had also zoned out, probably finishing what I had interrupted. My mind began a slow replay of the events of the day as I sat and chewed. The ride into Heaven, the garage, the meeting room, my impressions of those I'd seen and of the general emotional state of all involved. That conversation between Velocity and Jayek.

"I'm certain now that Velocity's involved, but Jayek's the one fingering the cops. I wonder how he does it?" I murmured to myself.

"What was that?" Mason asked.

I waved what was left of my sandwich and spoke around a mouthful. "Jayek, Velocity's lieutenant, is the one fingering the cops. I just wish I knew how he was doing it. I mean, he was glaring at me suspiciously through the whole thing, no matter how perfect my body language was." I frowned sternly at the memory. "He gives me the creeps."

Mason's attention sharpened considerably. "Gives you the creeps? How?"

I shrugged. "It's not anything specific. It's just a feeling. Before you showed up, Ishtari was the only one who could tell if I wasn't really feeling the way I looked like I was. It was kind of a shock. Anyway, this guy gave me kinda the same feeling, like he could see through me." I shuddered. "It's just creepy. I mean it's not like he's a Jedi or anything."

"How can you tell?" Mason asked me pointedly.

I smiled. "You Jedi think you're so hard to figure out. You all move with that effortless grace, like prowling cats. Must be the combat training. And then there's the politeness, you are all so polished and smooth. Ishtari says that's the diplomatic training you get."

"Sounds like Ishtari says a lot," Mason stated in a droll tone.

I smirked at him. "Yup. And then there's that self-control. You guys are so closed and so hard to read."

"Even to you?"

"Even to me, on occasion," I qualified. "The point is, he didn't move like a Jedi, he didn't sound like a Jedi, he wasn't a Jedi. In fact, he's not even a native here. I think he's Thyferran, or maybe Calderan."

"What makes you think that?"

"Speech patterns, mannerisms, attitudes." I brushed a stray lock of hair out of my face and pushed that last bite of sandwich into my mouth, then spoke around it. "Down here in the shadows we see all kinds. I've seen aliens I don't even have names for, and I've managed to meet just about every Human variant there is and I've learned to spot most of them."

"So he's not from Coruscant and he's not a Jedi. What else can you tell me about this Jayek person?"

"He's ruthless. He wanted to try and convince people that I was working with the cops. I think he wanted to try and get me killed." I shrugged it off casually, but Mason's expression changed radically to one of anxiousness.

"Can he do it?" His voice was low and intense.

"No," I scoffed. "Most of the others wouldn't believe him, too many of them know my story. And the Horsemen would all just laugh in his face, then punch it in, for saying something like that about me."

Mason nodded slowly, but he still didn't look happy. "What else happened at the meeting?"

"Well, everyone was pretty much wary of each other, but no one was looking to start a war."

"Death said that there was a weapons search?"

"Yeah, but just for blasters. And we even managed to smuggle one of those in. There were all sorts of knives and other things that the other gangs brought. Velocity started making talk like she wanted to form a gang union or some such silly thing. Roble shot smoking holes in her pretty speech, though. Jayek didn't like that much." I tilted my head to one side as I thought about it. "I think maybe he was the one that wrote it for her. Anyway, I managed to get in the back area and took a look around. I didn't see any of the faces Shael described for me from the attack on him and Trapper. Things sort of fell apart and people started to leave and Velocity blew her top. Then there was all sorts of blaster fire and people shouting and Death and Reeabok hustled me out of there."

"And this story I heard about you nearly killing yourself?" he asked pointedly.

"No such thing. I just drew the attention of some shooters so that Roble and Reeabok could get them out of our way." I shivered again at the memory of the frozen fear. "But I won't be doing it again any time real soon."

"Shael will be only too happy to hear that, I'm sure."

Mason rose and walked away with my dishes before I had a chance to think about taking them back to the kitchen. I shrugged. He was a Jedi after all. Instead of thinking up a proper way to remind him that he wasn't supposed to be acting like a Jedi while he was with the Horsemen, my thoughts returned yet again to Jayek, like a canine chewing at a favorite bone. Something about the man bothered me greatly. I'm not sure if it was the way he'd managed to usurp control of the Angels without Velocity realizing, or if it was the way they both thought that they were the ones in charge of the relationship. Maybe it was that I could see the danger in the route he was flying. He was underestimating Velocity. She'd clawed her way up to where she was at and would fight like a cornered womprat to stay there. As soon as she realized what had happened, Jayek was going to have a real fight on his hands.

Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. Provoking a fight between the two would at least keep them out of our hair for a while. And whoever eventually won, we'd have that many fewer problems in the end. The trick was that I hadn't a clue how to convince Velocity that her right-hand man wasn't dealing from the top of the deck. I discarded the idea and rose from the table. I was going to go back to sleep and I wasn't going to think about any of this for at least six hours.

Crawling back into Shael's arms, I cuddled up against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. He was safe. I was safe. All was well for the moment. I could only pray to the Force that we would all stay that way.

*******

There was nothing at all from the other gangs for the next couple of days. It was a brooding, dangerous silence, like the calm before a storm, or maybe the frightened lull after a bad one fearing worse to come, or so a few of the patrol riders told me. I didn't get a chance to find out for myself. Shael hardly let me out of arm's reach, and was always stroking his hands down my arms and hair, as if to reassure himself all over again that I was fine. I could see that Mason wanted to discuss the meeting a little more with me, but we couldn't get a single second alone. He needn't have worried about the details fading over time. I don't think I'll ever forget even the tiniest subtlety of expression from that room, or what I saw of the fight after it, for as long as I live.

And then there was something else to take our attention away from Velocity and her Angels. It had been coming for weeks, though with all the upset in routine and all the tensions it's no wonder people sort of forgot until it finally arrived. When it did, though, not even the complete collapse of the Republic would have stopped it from happening. We had constant patrols scheduled for all day, but Roble changed them, turned them all into short shifts so that everyone who wanted to could watch or participate.

The Fights.

Every six months or so we'd hold the competition. It was all in fun, or so the men all claimed, but it did allow minor grudges and bruised egos a chance to even the score.

Everyone watched or fought. Shael, Bulldog, Famine, and the triplets always fought. Trapper always lounged on the sidelines and egged everyone on in his slow, lazy drawl. Ishtari, Reeabok and Nashraak would have fought, but women weren't allowed. As the smallest being in the gang, I didn't mind in the least. Unfair as the other women thought this, personally I could see why the men wouldn't want a Wookiee, a Trianii, or an ex-Jedi joining the competition. I very much doubted that their fragile egos could have handled having all three of the top slots taken by women.

Without the women, who contented themselves with jeers and catcalls at the losers, Shael, Lyman, and Bulldog usually sorted the top slots among them. But this time, though hardly anyone knew it, there was a skifter in the sabacc deck.

Mason.

When I saw his name on the list I put my spare credits back in my pillow case and stayed away from the betting table Plague was running. I could see right where that would lead. So could everyone else. Mason and Shael would end up in the ring together if their competitors had to throw fights to make it happen, though I very much doubted it would come to that. Everyone wanted to see who would win that one.

I ignored the good-natured ribbing thrown my way and refused to say which I favored in the fight: my man, or the man I was sponsoring, though Sloan was quite vocal in support of his brother. I just gave them all a small, knowing smile and hid my conflicting loyalties behind a pleasant expression.

Mason or Shael? Shael or Mason? I honestly couldn't have made even a hesitant guess as to who would win. Mason had years of training and practice, with his smooth grace and the Force on his side. But Shael had grown up on the streets. There wasn't a dirty fighting trick he didn't know. And while Mason had been training Shael had been fighting, often for his life. Street smarts and instincts against polish and the Force.

Force preserve me, but I hadn't a clue which way that fight would go or who I would truly be cheering for.

People rushed about, grabbing breakfast as they could, moving swoops to make room, setting up the ring, shuffling in and out on staggered patrols, and stopping by the betting table to lay odds on the opening rounds. Doc took the triplets aside and painted bright, different colored letters on their foreheads so that everyone could tell them apart. Their first year in the fights only one of them had entered and he had been doing spectacularly. No one caught on until one of the boys on the sidelines showed up with a rapidly blackening eye. Ever since we've flooded the chamber before [i]that[/i] engine could start.

As 'impartial' referees and judges, 'Bok, Ishtari, and Nash shuffled the names into pairs and the pairs into a rough order. The order was always rough because Death reserved the right to step in and fight anyone he wanted at any time. The fight wouldn't really be a part of the competition since Roble never fought more than once, but it did shake things up a bit and the schedules had to be more flexible than would be normal at these sorts of things.

Shael came by to collect a good luck kiss, several actually, and then headed off for his first fight and I stood on the side lines and watched. There were few surprises in the first round. Shael put Bait on the mat with cheerful efficiency, then helped him to his feet and shook his hand. Phyl, Gil, and Bil battered their way to victory with more strength and determination than skill. Mason made his win with apologetic grace and disgusting ease. Lyman, Bulldog, Famine, and half of the rest of the fighters made it into the second round.

Money changed hands, the new chart was made for the second round, odds were figured and bets laid. Roble circulated through the crowd, watching and having fun with the rest, but always keeping one eye on the commboard, ready for any signal a patrol might send in.

As Lyman stepped into the ring with Tri'est and the shouting and cheering started up again, Roble stepped up next to me on the sidelines. For a while we watched Lyman put his left jab and right hook to devastating use.

"You and Shael, you got all that worked out?"

"Yup."

He nodded and fell silent again for a moment. "And Cade?"

He's a friend, and I'm his sponsor."

"Nothing more?"

"Nope."

"Shael know that?"

"Yup."

"Cade know that?"

I laughed lightly and glanced up at Death with a wide smile. "Yes, he knows it."

"Good. I don't want them killing each other."

"I've already talked with 'Bok and Nash. They have instructions on when to pull them apart."

"A step ahead of me, huh Crash?"

"That's why you pay me the big credits, Boss."

******* Much to my delight, and that of the other females in the gang, shirts and tunics had been stripped off long ago. If I had been a single woman, I would have been positively drooling over the impressively bare chests to be seen in Armageddon. The predictable two stood out among the rest, though for different reasons. Shael, bronzed and bulging, his muscles pumped from exertion and glistening with a sheen of sweat would have had me stalking Ishtari with mayhem in mind if I'd thought she was remotely interested in anything other than a good, long look. But she was practically licking her lips as her eyes followed Mason's broad-shouldered, lean-muscled form. With men like that around on a daily basis it's a wonder she left the Jedi Order. Force knew I'd have had a hard time making that decision.

As the fights went on, Shael, Mason, Lyman, and Bulldog slugged, clubbed, danced, battered, wrestled and fought their way through the rounds until they were all that was left. The gleam in Ishtari's eye and her steady grin told anyone who cared to look that the judges were doing everything they could to make the final rounds as exciting as they could.

"Death," Lyman shouted from the ringside as soon as Bulldog finished off Phyl, "You haven't fought yet. Care to take a shot at one of us?"

Roble waved the question away as heads turned to catch his answer. "A little sport and a lot of sweat I don't mind, but I don't have a death wish," he shouted back over the encouraging cheers. His words were met with a roar of approval and laughter.

"Fifteen minute break before the next fight," Ishtari announced and the crowd around the ring evaporated. Most headed toward Plague's betting table to see if they could lay credits on who the judges would pair together for the next fight. Some headed for the kitchens for a snack.

Shael found an area clear of people over near the bunks and flopped out on the floor, letting the cold permacrete leech some of the heat from his body. I knelt next to his head and used the tip of my braid to tickle his nose. I could already see several bruises blooming under his skin. His dark eyes popped open, and with a lightning quick move, he grabbed the braid. He tugged, hand over hand, and used it to pull me closer until we were almost eye to nose, upside-down.

"So, who are you betting on?" he asked, staring rather fixedly at my lips.

"I'm not. Seemed safer that way."

"Betting on your boyfriend is always safe."

"For your ego maybe." I pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. "You forget, I've seen both of you fight now. I've half a mind to make sure Doc's close at hand to revive what's left of you two when the fight's over."

"I'm not all that jealous of him anymore." "Still a little, though?"

He shrugged. "A little, but no more than I would be of time you spend with anyone else when you could be spending it with me." He pulled me down for a real kiss, which we lingered over.

"Well," I said when I had air of my own to speak with, "jealous or not, you're both men and you're both competitive. That spells danger. Just don't say I didn't warn you if you're too sore tonight for cuddling."

"So what are my odds right now?"

"Against Mason?" He nodded. "I'm giving you a fifty-fifty chance. Plague's giving you a very generous three to two and Mason's getting five to three."

"But the favorite to win always gets two to one odds," he protested in surprise.

"And notice that neither of you got that? He did give Mason slightly longer odds than you got. I don't think anyone's got a clue which of you to really bet on. I've seen several chance cubes tossed in the last hour or so."

Shael's face twisted into a very male, pouting frown, so I kissed him again to make him feel better. "Hey, relax. It's not like I'm riding on the outcome of this fight." A flash of chagrin told me I'd hit the target. So much for not being jealous. "I love you, you silly man. Your muscles are nice, but they're not why I love you," I told him.

"Oh yeah?" he challenged, a playful smile hovering about his lips. "Then come down here and prove it."

"Mmmmm."

"Knock it off you two. Some of us have eaten recently." Ishtari's voice was laced liberally with mock disgust.

"Find your own man," I told her around a kiss, waving a hand for her to go away.

"I did, but you found him first, so I'll have to see if I can't lure Mason my way."

I waved again. "Fine ... be my guest ... he's all yours." Shael's lips pulled into a grin under mine at those words, and his kisses became even more enthusiastic.

Knowing Ishtari, she probably smirked at us, but I couldn't tell you for sure. "Just make sure he gets enough air to fight again in a few minutes," she warned me before striding away, her boot heels clicking on the permacrete. A few minutes, and several kisses later, Nashraak's rumbling voice cut through the other party sounds. "Semi-final round," she announced carefully, "first fight will be Lyman and Cade."

There was a general stampede for the ringside and by the time Shael and I arrived the crowd was already four people deep at the closest point. "I can't see a thing," I complained loudly. Instantly the nearest two triplets had me up on a shoulder each, sitting comfortably between their heads, Gil standing behind us with a hand on my back to prevent a possible fall. Now I could see everything. Shael only shook his head and pushed his way through the throng to the ringside.

Mason waited in one corner, Lyman opposite him, while the judges pushed overeager watchers farther back. People who got too close to the ring had been known to get slugged. Accidentally, of course. Ishtari moved to stand behind one corner, Reeabok opposite her, and Nash perched atop a third, out of the way, but perfectly ready to step in should that be necessary.

"Begin," she purred.

Lyman jolted out of his corner and leapt at Mason, but the Jedi side stepped left and bobbed his head, easily avoiding a powerhouse right. Lyman let the momentum of the swing bring him all the way around in a small circle, keeping Mason from dodging farther left and out into the center of the ring. Shorter, but bulkier than Mason, Lyman rushed forward, trying to pin the Jedi against the ropes, but Mason was just too fast to be caught that way and he dodged aside and away with only a glancing blow to his shoulder to show for it.

"Gotta be quicker than that, Lyman," Ishtari jeered from her corner. She was seconded by a good many of the watchers. The shorter fighter growled, not at his opponent, but at the redheaded judge. "If you're gonna ... shoot off your mouth Red ... at least ... give me some ... useful advice."

Lyman continued to try and force Mason to close with him, having seen that the Jedi liked to stay well out and fight from a distance, but he couldn't keep up. True to Jedi form, or at least what I'd seen and heard of it from Ishtari, Mason danced and dodged, letting his opponent tire himself, though he took more than a couple stiff shots for his efforts. When the shorter man could no longer keep his guard up properly, Mason began attacking, punching, tripping. Finally, Lyman hit the mat and didn't get back up right away. Nash slunk forward, her whiskers arched, and began counting. At eight Lyman made an effort to push himself up, but it came too late and he just didn't have the energy left to finish the move.

"Mason Cade is the winner," Nash declared. "Clear the ring for Bulldog and Shael."

Reeabok stepped into the ring and lifted Lyman over her shoulder. He protested, his dignity and pride trying to win out over exhaustion. She relented and put him on his feet, but only after stepping out of the ring.

Shael and Bulldog stepped into the ring together and went to their corners. This was the one fight that had the possibility of upsetting everyone's plans, and Bulldog was just enough of a prankster to do it just to spite everyone else.

When Nash called out the start, both men came slowly out to the center and circled each other slowly, probing defenses and reactions with a few jabs and swings. I noticed Mason standing behind Reeabok, watching closely. He was going to be facing whoever won this fight in the final match, so I guess studying styles wasn't a bad idea. I just wasn't going to spare him a whole lot of attention. My man was in the ring.

Shael let another probing left jab dart out, and instead of pulling back again to check the reaction, he pounded forward with low, wicked punch to Bulldog's ribs. Bulldog responded with a grunt and a hurried swing for Shael's head that missed. All around the ring cheers and shouted encouragements rose in volume. I winced in sympathy as Bulldog got a solid uppercut through Shael's defenses, but my man repaid him with a knee to the ribs and a stiff shove that ruined his balance.

Circling again, the two men faced off. Shael didn't let the lull last long. He stutter-stepped at Bulldog, who dodged back in reaction. Just as he realized his mistake and moved forward again, Shael lunged ahead with a brutal punch that met him coming in. Bulldog didn't have a chance. It landed at the corner of his jaw and he was unconscious before he hit the mat.

"Don't you think that was a little harsh?" Roble called as Doc scurried under the ropes to check and make sure Shael hadn't dislocated Bulldog's jaw.

"Naw. He'll understand. I just didn't want to waste too much energy on this round."

I smiled and shook my head. Bulldog wasn't going to be upset. In fact, he was most likely to practice that move for the next few months, trying to get it right so he could use it the next time the Fights came around. A movement that was neither cheering nor jeering caught my attention and I watched as Mason slipped off through the crowd. I could tell he had some rethinking to do. It hadn't occurred to him that Shael might actually know some tactics.

There was a general rush for the betting table and Ishtari announced another fifteen minute break before the final bout. Shael simply flopped in the middle of the ring, calming his breathing, clearing his mind, and smiling up at me on my perch on Phyl and Bil's shoulders. "Gil, get her a muja and a sandwich. I haven't seen her eat anything all afternoon."

The gentle pressure on my back disappeared and I heard Gil's steps hurry off toward the kitchen area. I made a face at Shael, but he only laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. He knew that the boys would make sure I actually ate it.

When Mason stepped into the ring his face was calm, serene. It was that expression you would see on most any Jedi who doesn't want you to figure out what he's feeling. I couldn't decide if he was wary, confident, or just, well, there. His movements were loose, easy, but not cocky. There was an expectant hush over the crowd as Nash raised her hand. Shael glanced over and tossed a wink my way. I wasn't sure how to interpret it. Was it cockiness, or reassurance that this wasn't vindictive on his part?

"Begin."

As soon as the single word hissed from between the Trianii's pointed teeth, worrying about the matter became entirely pointless. For better or worse the fight had started and the Force only knew how it was going to turn out.

Mason danced forward toward the center of the ring from his corner, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. I think he was half expecting a rush like Lyman pulled. Instead Shael leaned back against the ropes in a deceptively negligent pose and waited, a little smirk on his face. The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter. Mason went with it, waving and bowing to the gang, a broad smile pulling at his normally calm expression. I saw him wink at Shael before turning to blow me a kiss. The gang whistled and hooted in response and it finally brought Shael out of his corner, but not in a rush. He too bounced lightly on his feet and jerked his head at Mason, as if to say, 'come on, let's give them what they want.'

Roble sidled up next to me, or at least as close as he could get with the triplets holding me up the way they were. "It really is worked out, isn't it?" he asked as Mason ducked a punch and spun under it, delivering an elbow to the ribs.

"I told you it was." Shael spun the opposite way and was there waiting with a short rabbit punch to the gut when Mason turned to set himself.

"Yeah, but-"

"But you weren't really sure, were you?" Mason only partially blocked it, hopping backward with the blow to lessen the impact and lashed out with a kick that landed in Shael's ribs.

"Nope." The kick, not properly set, had little force behind it though, and Shael shrugged it off and bulled forward with two left jabs and a short hook that missed and turned into a full spin with an elbow smash that connected to Mason's nose.

I winced in sympathy before replying, "That's what you get for doubting someone as perceptive, and intelligent, and beautiful as I am." Mason danced away, one hand gingerly touching an obviously broken nose, while Shael bounced lightly in the center of the ring and accepted the rousing cheers of the crowd.

Roble chuckled. "Must be."

"Don't let him get away with that, Cade!" Ishtari encouraged from her corner. Mason shifted his stance slightly and began to move back in as Shael set himself again.

"I thought judges were supposed to be impartial," I called across the ring. Shael did a quick foot shuffle, hoping no doubt to set Mason up the way he did Bulldog, but the Jedi didn't take the bait.

" 'Supposed to' being the operative terms," the red head shouted back, a wide grin wreathing her face. Shael stepped in with a left right left combination. Mason blocked all three with his front arm and lanced a punch through his opponent's defenses and Shael staggered back. Mason flowed forward smoothly, obviously getting into his rhythm. Jab, jab, punch, duck, backfist, knee. Shael blocked, ducked, accepted, countered with a fast swing, rolled with and jumped back to avoid.

Ishtari wasn't the only one urging Mason on. More than a few wanted to see Shael lose his usual place at the top of the pile and saw this as the perfect opportunity. By that time the crowd was almost equally divided between the two fighters. When Bil shouted out something meant to spur Mason on, I whapped him sharply on the top of his head. In the thick of it, I guess I discovered who I was really rooting for, all my loud statements of neutrality aside.

Shael rebounded from the ropes and shot toward Mason with his right arm extended. Mason ducked the clothesline and spun rapidly to deliver an elbow to Shael's ribs as he rocketed past. My man grunted in response and stuck a foot in the middle of the Jedi's footwork, tripping him up and throwing him off balance. Shael launched a loose backfist that finished off Mason's vertical hold. Mason fell into a roll, trying to come up on his feet, but he was too close to the ropes and tangled a foot, messing up his timing.

Shael took the opportunity to step back and take stock. A lump was rising on his cheek and his lower lip was split. He had a couple reddish spots on his shoulders and ribs that were going to become spectacular bruises in a few hours. He still looked like he had plenty of energy, though. I watched Mason make a similar check as he regained his feet. A little blood was smeared across his cheek and lips from his broken nose and he was going to be just as black and blue as Shael. Both men were breathing a little hard, but other than that, they looked like they could keep it up for the next hour or more.

Coming back toward each other, they circled again. Shael stutter- stepped and Mason hopped back. A few jabs were tossed in both directions, but nothing that really landed. Shael stutter-stepped and Mason hopped back again. A third time, Shael stutter-stepped at Mason, and a third time the Jedi hopped back. This time, though he came back forward almost immediately. I waited for Shael's lunge and that finishing right cross and sure enough, Shael jumped forward. Mason, half way through his own forward motion, paused for a split second, obviously expecting the punch, but it didn't come and whatever Mason had been planning was short circuited. Instead, Shael stepped across Mason's body in the merest opening the Jedi's pause had revealed. Coming around in a circle, Shael cupped his left fist in his right hand and powered his elbow right into Mason's gut. Mason seemed to realize what was happening just before the blow landed and sucked in his stomach, bending over the strike and moving with the force to lessen it. A backward roll to a standing position brought him out of the immediate danger area before Shael could take advantage of his sudden upper hand.

Shael didn't wait to let him get set again, though, and took the Jedi in a tackle dive. Both men bumped up against the ropes in a tangle of arms and legs. They didn't stay there long. The furious ball of sweat and muscles and testosterone rolled across the ring as leverage shifted and fists and elbows rose and fell. I shifted on my shoulder-seat trying to see over the heads of the folks who had rushed to the side of the ring to get a better look.

Ishtari and Nash shot each other a glance that I hoped was a question about the looming possibility of breaking up the fight. The triplets moved forward, but not at the same pace, and I almost lost my seat. Wrapping my arms around Phyl's head to keep my balance drew an unhappy mutter. Shael reared up suddenly, his fist cocked, but Mason bucked hard and Shael had to throw out a hand to maintain balance. Mason slithered out from under Shael and came to his feet. Shael stayed in a low three-point crouch, his legs tucked under him, one arm free, waiting for Mason's move. Mason's blue eyes scanned the situation, assessing risks and advantages, then moved forward.

Suddenly the alarm hooted out, cutting through the conflicting shouts of the crowd and brought instant silence. Roble was at the comm board just as Shael vaulted the ropes, Mason close behind him. Everyone else stayed right where they were at, waiting expectantly. Roble listened to the voice issuing from the earpiece he had hurriedly snatched up. The call ended and Death turned to face the gang, his expression grim.

"The patrol's been ambushed."