Rocky Jones, Space Ranger

Greetings, all you cadets who Travel Among Stars!

I just finished watching all the episodes of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger, conveniently located on YouTube, for anyone interested.  So, since it's fresh in my mind, I thought I'd talk about it today.

Rocky Jones is a TV show that aired back in 1954.  Technically, I think it was a kids show, but it was still pretty good.  Rocky Jones is--now get this--a Space Ranger (didn't see that one coming, did you?).  The Space Rangers are sort of space cops who patrol space to uphold the laws and treaties of the United Worlds.  

He patrols the spaceways in a V-2 type rocket ship.  First in one called the Orbit Jet, which is later replaced by the Silver Moon.  He has a co-pilot named Winky (replaced later when the actor was arrested for carrying a firearm), later replaced by Biffen Cardoza, an alien from Herculon.  His crew often included space navigator, Vena Ray, and Junior Space Cadet Bobby--the token kid all these shows require.  There was often a scientist on board too.  Earlier episodes featured Professor Newton, Bobby's ward (replaced when the actor died), and later replaced by Professor Mayberry.

Other characters made regular appearances, most notably Secretary Drake, the head of the Office of Space Affairs (and the Space Rangers), and Ranger Clark who was in charge of space station O.W.9.  

The show featured episodic stories that mostly formed short 3-chapter story arcs, with a few one-episode stories thrown into the mix.  During this run, we travel to various moons and planetoids, all conveniently coated with an oxygen-rich atmosphere.  We also meet a wide array of indigenous alien peoples...who all look human and either speak or learn English.

Some of the science is kinda wonky, but makes for interesting stuff.  Like a pair of moons connected by a chain of atmosphere, their gravity pulling one another across the galaxy on an unfixed course, until one inevitably crashes into a planet that is running on a fixed orbit.  There was some silly double-talk about how the heat in the desert makes you see mirages that are not there, so super-cold light can turn something that is there invisible.  

All the cheesy tropes and clichés that you think of with 50's sci-fi are here, but they were new at the time, and setting up the tropes and clichés we all think of. It's actually more sophisticated stuff than I was expecting.  And you can clearly see where it may have influenced later stuff.

The Space Ranger uniforms, for example, look as though they may have inspired the uniforms worn by the ship's crew in Forbidden Planet, and certain Star Trek uniforms.  Vena Ray was a female bridge officer on a star ship long before Lt. Uhura.  And Professor Newton's costume and hair reminded me (a lot) of William Harnell as the first incarnation of Dr. Who.

Apparently episodes got edited together to make a bunch of movies, and a couple of these were featured on Mystery Science Theater 3000.  Some of these are also available on various streaming platforms, and apparently it's also available on DVD.  But as I said earlier, you can watch the entire series on YouTube for free!

Well, I guess that's all I have to say about that (at least for now)!  So be sure to tune in next time when I talk about...uh...something else!

Until then, I wish you all...

Good Adventuring!
Timothy A. Sayell

Arena of the Blood Moon Part Four

 

ARENA OF THE BLOOD MOON

First published online in Abandoned Towers Ezine October 9-September 14, 2009

Part Four

A murmur of anticipation rolled through the Nilbog audience above the arena. 

Brackett stood motionless, backed against one of the partitions and trapped by three Sen’oggi whose laser axes pointed at him and crackled threateningly. As he waited for the Wor’osh to arrive, his eyes swept over the other prisoners, the Nilboggi gladiators, and the seemingly inescapable arena, wondering how he was going to get out of this one.  His eyes flashed toward Ginsberg and he guessed that his partner was wondering the same thing.

He didn’t have long to ponder before the doors beneath the platform slid open again and Brackett heard the faint hums and whirring sounds of the robotic armor.  The noises grew louder, and then Gom’jol, Wor’osh of the Nilboggi, stepped into the light.

His robotic armor; a complicated skin of servos, winking lights and glowing sigils; made him look strong and menacing.  The helmet hid his features, and its lifeless lenses glowed red, as though with a madness for battle and bloodshed.  The Wor’osh strode into the battleground with confidence.  He held the staff of a laser axe in the firm grasp of one metal hand, with the other he motioned to his Sen’oggi.  “Let no one interfere,” his synthesized voice commanded, “This contest is for me and you-man alone.”

As one, the three Sen’oggi warriors saluted and slowly backed away from Brackett, their weapons still trained on him.  Then they turned to police the crowd of prisoners gaping from the relative safety of the arena’s perimeter wall.

Gom’jol waved an invitation to the patrolman.  “Whenever you are ready to die, you-man, let us begin!”

Brackett frowned then, grunting through gritted teeth, he brought his laser axe around in a wide arc. 

But the Nilbog leader was too quick, and with impressive speed he brought up his own staff to block the attack. He pushed Brackett’s weapon away, then his own staff belched forth a blade of pure energy which he thrust forward.

Eyes wide with panic, Brackett managed to push the invading weapon aside then swung for the Wor’osh again.  The armored warlord jumped back, brought his axe up, knocking Brackett’s weapon into the free-standing partition, where it stuck in place.

Brackett tugged at the staff with all his strength, but could not pull it free.  As Gom’jol’s axe came crashing down upon him, he jumped back with a cry of alarm. The Wor’osh stabbed again but Brackett deftly dodged and rushed in to slam his enemy against the partition wall, ripping the laser axe from his armored hands.

With lightning-quick reflexes, the Nilbog warlord reached up and seized Brackett’s weapon, still stuck in the partition wall, and pulled it free. He slammed the staff against Brackett’s with such force that it sent the patrolman into a spin.

Brackett swung around, slammed Gom’jol’s staff aside, and thrust his laser axe into the chest of the robotic armor.  The Wor’osh’s chest exploded with sparks, electricity crackling over the metal skin of his suit.  As the lightning-dance subsided, Brackett pulled his blade from the warlord’s chest plate. The Wor’osh fell to the floor with a crash that reverberated through the vast audience chamber above.

The patrolman coughed and waved the smoke away, helping it dissipate.  “Now then,” he said, “we’re going to discuss the release of all these prisoners, and we’re going to do it face-to-face!”  He rolled Gom’jol over onto his back then brought the laser axe down to the Wor’osh’s throat and destroyed the clamps that held the helmet in place.  Thrusting the butt-end of the handle beneath the helmet, Brackett forced it off the Nilbog’s head.

Then he looked down at the Wor’osh’s face and gasped at what he saw…

The Wor’osh’s face was thin, hollow.  His wrinkled, leathery skin, a sickly pale pallor, hung loosely from his muscles like an over-sized suit.  Blemishes and spots were scattered across his hairless cranium.  But his eyes were lit with the fire of hate, and he glared up at Brackett even as he gulped for breath.

“Kill me then,” Gom’jol rasped, “But know that you will never escape this moon alive!”

Brackett frowned down at the aged Nilbog with macabre fascination.

“What are you waiting for?” Jol’bur yelled down from his private box.  “He is your enemy who has taken away your freedom and forced you to duel to the death!  He is a great threat to you all!”

“No he isn’t!” Brackett spat back.  “Look at him!  He’s nothing more than a poor old man!  I’ll bet he can’t even move without this mechanical suit.”

A murmur rippled through the Nilbog audience above, and Jol’bur acknowledged it with a worried glance before shaking a fist at Brackett.  “The Wor’osh is strong and cunning! He is the veteran of many battles!  If you do not kill him now, you will suffer his retribution!” 

Brackett allowed himself a moment to wonder whom Jol’bur was trying to convince, then waved his partner over.  “Ginsberg, help me stand him up.” 

Together, the two patrol officers pulled the Wor’osh to his feet.

Above them, the Nilbogs began to disperse.  “Where are you going?” Jol’bur cried as he leapt out of his seat.  “Remain in your seats!  The duel is not yet finished!  My P’Trohg is a great threat!  His daring plan will make us all heroes when the Empire has regained the sector!”  He was ignored and  before long, only Jol’bur remained in the audience, abandoned by his people, his guards, his advisors, and even the Sen’oggi.  Alone, he fell into his seat and despaired.

The old Wor’osh frowned at Brackett.  “You are a cruel one, you-man. It would have been kinder to kill me.”

“I’ve already told you,” Brackett replied, “that’s not our way.”

Ginsberg shook his head.  “I don’t get it, where’d they go?”

Professor Tholgrum approached, a smile on his face, with Sorenson at his side. She tossed a quizzical frown up toward the empty audience seats. The Professor clapped Brackett on the back.  “Nicely done, my boy!” he cried, amid some good-natured laughs.  “You have caused them to lose faith in their leader!  When the Nilboggi believe in their leaders, they can do great and terrible things.  But shatter that fragile faith, and they flee like the cowards they truly are!”

“Flee?” Brackett exclaimed, “What do you mean ‘flee’?”

“He is right,” Gom’jol rasped, “My refugees will anticipate that your first move will be to transmit your location and send for support. I daresay that even now, my people rush to evacuate the base and commandeer whatever ships are convenient in the hopes of returning to Nilbog space.”  He gasped for air then glumly added, “It is our way.”

****

Four days later, a cruiser arrived from DSO-29 and members of the occupation force rolled into the dome.  As the doors slid open, Brackett snapped to attention, as did Ginsberg and Sorenson.  The occupation team advanced, led by a man who seemed nearly regal in his flowing robes. The leader regarded them coolly and asked, “Who is in charge here?”

“I am sir, Captain Bradley Brackett.”

“I’m Lorne Dennison, Steward First Class.  I’m here to accept command of this place and see what sort of use it might be put to.”

“You’re welcome to it!” Brackett exclaimed.  “I’ve got about fifty kidnapped people here, all anxious to get back to their lives, and twenty-six Nilbogs waiting to be processed and transported to an approved prison facility.” 

Dennison nodded.  “We’ll see to all that.  I trust you’ve filled out your reports on what’s happened here?”

“Yes sir, right here,” Brackett said as he passed a datapad to the Steward.  “I’m sure you’ll find everything in order.  With your permission, I’d like to prepare the Lancelot for departure.  We’ve got orders to take Professor Tholgrum to Deep Space Outpost Twenty-Nine.”

The Steward looked up sharply.  “That request is approved as far as the Sergeant is concerned.  Sergeant Sorenson?  Collect the Professor and deliver him as per your original orders.” 

With a curt nod, Sorenson said, “Yes sir,” and proceeded down the corridor. 

“Take this,” the Steward said as he pulled a second datapad from his belt and handed it to Brackett.

Brackett switched it on and stared at a picture of a Marquadian.

“That is Nuurik Izzar,” Dennison announced, “He’s wanted for the murder of a Galactic Patrol officer at the Diora spaceport.  He managed to escape in a ship called the Rigel Dawn.  Your orders are to apprehend him, before he kills again.”

The End

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Thongor Against the Gods by Lin Carter

Howdy Friends and Neighbors!  

I got news!  Been busy lately, expanding the availability of my stories.  As I'm sure you know, I already had stories available on Amazon, and also on DriveThru Fiction.  Now, I'm also at Barnes & Noble!  See the links on the top right-hand side to visit any of my stores!

I've really no idea to what to write about this time, so I decided to cheat!  I'm recycling an old article that I wrote a few years back for my "Odd Reviews by Oddcube", a feature of the former Abandoned Towers ezine.  It's about the science fantasy adventure story "Thongor Against the Gods".  I've only slightly re-purposed it for here.

Be warned, There Are Spoilers!  Let's begin:

So anyway, the book is called “Thongor Against the Gods”, and it’s written by Lin Carter, I found it some months ago when I took my Poor Old Mother ™ to one of the local used book stores.  The cover says it is “A classic of science and sorcery by the master of fantasy” and I just had to chuckle because apparently whoever wrote that doesn’t peruse the same internet sites that I do.  Cruising around certain online forums that shall remain nameless, I get the definite impression that Lin Carter is considered a great fan and a wonderful editor who used the extent of his power and influence to promote science fiction and fantasy literature to the very utmost best of his ability.  But as a writer, he seems to get shrugged off as a kind of hack.

Now in the undeniable words of Chico Marx (hey, I only quote from the best) from the movie “Duck Soup”:  “Atsa not my idea, atsa his idea.”  Actually, after minimal online research, I think that if nothing else, Lin Carter knew what he liked…and tried to emulate it.  He wrote a whole bunch of books that were homage’s to various classic authors.  He basically wrote “His Version Of…” whatever he liked.  He’s got a series that’s His Version Of John Carter of Mars, and another series that is His Version Of Doc Savage, and another series that is His Version Of Conan.  The man was apparently a master of “the same thing, only different”.  You know, like in that episode of “Futurama” when they make fun of “The Wizard of Oz” and the not-Munchkins sing “We resemble, but are legally distinct from, the Lollipop Guild”.

Anyway, as I was saying, I found the book at a used book store.  I read the title, I read the blurb, I looked at the cover by Kevin Johnson (of a warrior with sword and shield looking down at the burning skeletal remains of an enemy warrior, all beneath a gigantic sliver of yellow moon) and knew that it was my kind of cheese!  There were actually two books there, “Thongor Against the Gods” and “Thongor At the End of Time”.  Well, they turn out to be books three and five (respectively) of a six-book series.  Ain’t that always the way?

First off, I want to make it clear that this was (more-or-less) a stand-alone story.  I think this is a series because they are all about Thongor, not because it’s seriously an ongoing storyline.  On the other hand, I think there were some characters and references to events from the two earlier books.  So I don’t know if it would have been helpful to read them first or not.  I had no problem following the story without them.

The story begins in a shadowy, subterranean meeting-chamber beneath the city of Tsargol, where four or five bad-guys sit around whining about what a pain in the buttocks Thongor is.  Apparently Thongor started out as a barbarian wanderer in the northern part of Lemuria, but by the beginning of this book he is the king of the city-state of Patanga, and allied with two other city-states.  One of these bad guys, Hajash Tor, general of the armies of Tsargol, has a plan…

So they send Zandar Zan, the Thief of Tsargol into the city-state of Patanga to kidnap Thongor’s wife, Sumia, and his newborn son…whose name I can’t remember and am too lazy to look up.  (He was supposed to get kidnapped, but didn’t, then you, like never hear about him again.)  Zandar Zan sneaks into the royal bedchambers and grabs Sumia, who calls out in surprise, of course, and alerts Thongor who just HAPPENED to be on his way to her anyhow.  Thongor busts in and chases the kidnapper to the roof of the building, where Zandar Zan swipes an airship and runs for it. 

Yes, I said “air ship”.  There’s a little bit of Burroughs mixed in with the Howardian influence.  The air ships are made from a manufactured magical metal called urlium, which floats instead of falls.

Anyway, Thongor hustles to the next convenient air ship and proceeds to give chase.  Meanwhile, Thongor’s friends, allies, and advisors say “What happened?” and quickly figure out that Sumia is kidnapped and Thongor is in hot pursuit.  But, what if this was a coy ploy designed to get us all in hot pursuit so some bad-guy could march into town with his army and take over?  Only one thing to do:  go visit the ancient and wise Sharajsha, the Wizard of Lemuria, and ask him for some advice.  No lie!  The King and Queen of the free world are lured or taken directly into untold danger, including a possible ambush, but we can’t do anything about it until we have a committee!  So this prince from another city-state, a guy named Karm Karvus, goes to see the wizard.

Meanwhile, Sumia, the kidnapped queen, gets bored and tries to save herself.  She KO’s her kidnapper—while her hands are still bound!—and then tries to get herself untied.  Zandar Zan quickly wakes up, but has no idea how long he was unconscious.  Their air ship flies into a cloud bank and crashes into a mountain.  Basically, Their Airship Sank!

Thongor, who was, as you remember, in hot pursuit, sees one person jump from the air ship before it crashed, but could not make out if it was male or female.  The front of the ship bursts open at the seams, and the metal spreads out like flower petals (just like in the cartoons!) and gets caught on the mountain.  So, of course Thongor just HAS to board the wreck and see if his chick is there.  So he anchors his air ship on a rocky outcropping, and walks across the top of the ruined airship.  The only way he can find to get inside is by stepping onto a three-inch-wide ledge and climbing in through the big gaping hole in the front of the ship.

Except that when he steps onto the three-inch ledge, he shifts the weight of the ship and it floats away.  Oh snap!

So it turns out that the one who jumped was Sumia, and she just HAPPENS to fall into a convenient lake at the base of the mountain.  She also just HAPPENS to be spotted by this exiled prince of the Jegga tribe of Rmoahal nomads.  These Rmoahal people are humanoid, but eight or nine feet tall, blue, and have no hair.  Sorta like the Na’vi from “Avatar”, but bald.  His name is Shangoth, and he thinks she’s a goddess who fell from the sky, so he jumps into the lake to save her.  When he pulls her out, she is unconscious, and he thinks she’s dead.  He realizes she’s not a god because, hey, gods don’t die!  So he plans to burn her up in a pyre, cuz hey, it’s the least he can do.

So, Karm Karvus goes to see Sharajsha, the Wizard of Lemuria, who already seems to know what’s going on.  Well, he IS a wizard!  And he tells Karm Karvus that the whole thing is being orchestrated by some bad-guys in Tsargol and to rally the troops before they conquer Patanga!  He also announces that he is dying, cuz he’s like nine hundred years old and is entitled.  So he tells Karm Karvus to take this book of magic and lock it up with the most treasured relics of Patanga cuz you guys are gonna need it in the future.  Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe not until two books later, but you guys are gonna need it!  (Spoiler:  they did NOT need the magic book in this story!)

Meanwhile Thongor (remember him?  He’s the hero?  His name is in the title?)  is still standing on a three-inch-wide ledge on the mountain waiting for the wind to push his air ship close enough to him that he can make a daring leap.  Instead it gets caught in an updraft and Zandar Zan jumps aboard and flies away!  Well, the ledge Thongor is standing on begins to crumble beneath him.  With no other possible choice, he takes a flying leap…

Sumia wakes up before Shangoth; the big, blue, bald not-an-Indian; can burn her up in a pyre.  She kills this wild boar-thing that he’s been hunting so as to make peace with the Gods.  She explains what she’s doing there.  Shangoth explains that he is the son of the Chief of his tribe, but the evil tribal Shaman got them exiled.  Shangoth was going to take her back to camp to meet his dad, but they are inexplicably drawn to a tower of black glass…

Thongor jumped off the mountain and found free-floating debris from the crashed airship.  By grabbing some, it acted like a parachute and lowered him safely to the lake below.  He captures a triceratops-looking beast to ride, and just HAPPENS to find the exiled Chieftain of the Jegga nomads.  His name is Jomdath, and he is being tortured by Tengri, the evil Shaman who got him exiled.  Thongor decides that an evil Shaman with three or four henchman beating up on an old guy is dirty pool, and quickly intervenes.  His not-a-triceratops tramples over them so only the Shaman and one henchman escape.

Thongor befriends Jomdath and they decide to relocate the campsite to a predetermined alternate site that Jomdath’s son, Shangoth, will be able to find.  However, in order to get there, they have to ride through this field of POPPIES, Poppies, poppies; except in Lemuria they are called the Rose-of-Death.  Their fragrance knocks you out and as you sleep, their vines suck out all your blood; I expect you can find these in Mr. Mushnik’s Flower Shop down on Skid Row, right next to the Audrey Two.  (That’s a “Little Shop of Horrors” reference, folks!)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I mean, city-state…of Patanga:  Karm Karvus returns and tells the rest of Thongor’s friends, allies, and advisors that the bad-guys are in Tsargol.  They all talk it over and decide to load all the soldiers onto air ships and fly over the enemy’s walls and just plain old, kick butt!  They proceed with this plan as the narration cuts to General Hajash Tor, who apparently expects this and hints that he has a secret weapon…bum, bum, BU-UM!

But all this does nothing for Thongor and Jomdath who are sleeping in a field of POPPIES, Poppies, poppies with no means of escape.  But that’s okay, cuz Tengri the evil Shaman comes back with more henchmen and save them from the bloodsucking flowers!  Tengri takes them back to the ruins that the Rmoahal are currently living out of and plan to burn them at the stake.  His fellow nomads are kinda nervous about this, because the lives of Chieftains are supposed to be holy, and they are worried about ticking off the gods.  They feel these worries are justified when a big metal thing flies through the sky towards them!

It is Zandar Zan, the Thief of Tsargol wondering where in the heck he is and how to get somewhere that might be safe for him.  He decides this ain’t the place.  But the chaos his arrival causes is adequate distraction for Thongor to escape.  The nomads quickly denounce the evil Shaman and reinstate Jomdath as Chieftain.  Jomdath’s first order of business is to banish Tengri and his trusted henchmen, promising to burn them at the stake if they ever dare come back.

Meanwhile, the grappling line Thongor used to anchor his air ship to the mountain was still hanging loose; he jumped for it, climbed up to the airship and fought Zandar Zan, who ends up plummeting to his death in a marvelous accident.  The paperwork is always easier when it’s an accident.  And then Thongor gets a vision of Sharajsha, the wizard of Lemuria, who says “I’m dying and you can’t do anything about that, but you can stop your chick from dying if keep going this-a-way.”  Thongor says “thanks” and floors it!

Meanwhile back with the princess and Shangoth in the mysterious Tower of Black Glass…  Well, it turns out to be a wizard’s tower, but who didn’t see THAT coming?  The wizard is Adamancus, who is one of the Council of Nine, a group of evil wizards who rule the Black City of Zaar.  He has had absolutely NOTHING to do with the story so far, and arrives out of nowhere to try to tie this adventure to the first two books by claiming the evil wizards of the Black City of Zaar have some grand scheme to release these demony things upon the world and that Thongor keeps screwing it up!  But now he has Thongor’s wife, Sumia, and he plans to rip her soul out of her body and replace it with an elemental spirit that he can control, bwah-haha-ha!  And yes, he even did the evil laugh so that we knew he meant it!  Oh yeah, as an afterthought he also mentions that the Patangan armies are rushing into a trap.

Of course, he summons the elemental spirit, but before he could bend it to his will Thongor’s air ship crashes through the wall!  Adamancus shrieks an expletive, and it wasn’t “Holy Guacamole!” and jumps back—out of his protective circle—and the elemental spirit, no doubt upset for missing his favorite episode of the Simpsons due to this rude summoning, attacks the evil wizard and drags him back to the elemental’s home dimension.

So Thongor And Sumia are reunited! And after a round of “I’m ok, are you ok”, Thongor Accompanies Shangoth back to his dad and tribe.

Meanwhile, the armies of Patanga are loaded onto their airships and drop in (that’s right, I said it, I ain’t got no shame) on the evil dudes in Tsargol.  But General Hajash Tor knew the guy who originally made the anti-gravity metal urlium that the air ships are made out of.  He also knows the recipe for another unnamed element that takes away the anti-gravity effect!  Oh snap!  He’s got this stuff in dust form, in glass orbs that his armies fire with catapults.  The air ships get hit and saunter vaguely downwards.

To make a long story short (yeah, I know, too late), our good-guy army is getting their butts kicked.  But then Thongor shows up with his airship full of Rmoahal nomads who help us win the day.  Whew!  I don’t know about you, but I was worried!

Presumably, everyone who lived, lived happily ever after…until the next book!

So, now I’ve read it, I have to say that I was right all along:  it IS my kind of cheese!  This was a fun book.  Was it some highbrow, socially-relevant literature?  Heck no!  That’s what they used to MAKE you read in high school, this is what you wanted to read instead!  This is Grade A Saturday afternoon matinee serial-style material here.  I recommend it whole-heartedly.  And if this is the sort of “hack” material that Lin Carter came up with, then I’m pretty sure I’m gonna have to read some more of his stuff!  (Actually I’m relieved about that, cuz I’ve got some other books that he wrote.)

(And Now...We Return To Today!)

You know, I still haven't read that other book, or looked for the rest.  But I DID enjoy it!  I need to get around to that...

Until then, I wish you all...

Good Adventuring!
Timothy A. Sayell 

Arena of the Blood Moon Part Three

 

ARENA OF THE BLOOD MOON

First published online in Abandoned Towers Ezine October 9-September 14, 2009

Part Three

“It’s really no use, you know, my boy,” the shrill voice said to him.  Brackett looked up at the defeated expression on Professor Tholgrum’s long face.  “There is only one way out of this terrible place.”

Slowly, Brackett took his hands off of the wall.  “Yes,” he said slowly,” It does appear that way.  But if that’s the only way, then it’s the one we’ll have to use to make our escape.”

The Professor chuckled, letting loose a sound not unlike the sparkling Drassis birds on Glowasoo.  “Ah, to be young and have hope!” he marveled.  Then, he sighed heavily.  “You are a new one, not one of the officers meant to deliver me.”

“No sir, I’m Captain Brackett.  My partner and I were sent to find you and your escort, and deliver you to the space station.” Brackett declared with determination.  “And that’s just what I mean to do.”

“Impossible!” the Professor declared.  “The only way out of this cell is into that arena.  If you can get past whatever opponents or animals they throw at you, you would still have to get past a small army of well-armed Nilboggi!”

Brackett fixed the Professor with a steady gaze.  “Yes sir, and I will fight each and every one of them if I have to, in the course of my duty.  Even their leader…”  With a pause, he frowned down at the floor.  “…whatever his name was.”

“You mean Gom’jol?” the Professor asked.  “He must be a great warrior.  Nilbogs will only follow warriors who pose a formidable threat to their enemies.”

Brackett considered this with no small concern.  “Well…” he said at last, “The ideal thing would be to find a way out through the arena, preferably with minimal combat involved.  But I’ll have to have a look over the place before I can plan anything.”

It was a long wait, and the mounting suspense made him anxious.  Twelve hours later, the doors finally opened to reveal the arena and Brackett did not like what he saw…

The doors slid open to reveal a great, round, chamber cluttered with free-standing wall partitions of metal plates or steelglass.  The perimeter wall featured several pairs of doors, doubtlessly leading to other holding cells and high above it all were tiers of stadium seating, filled nearly to capacity with jeering Nilbog spectators, interrupted at one point by a separated platform for those of high rank.  On this platform, Brackett quickly spied Jol’bur seated to the right of a Nilbog clad from head to toe in an armored suit.  They were surrounded by guards and other Nilboggi.

The other prisoners in the cell reluctantly found their way towards the arena.  Professor Tholgrum sighed.  “Time again.”

“Why don’t we just stay in here?  If we refuse to fight…” Brackett started.  As if in answer to his question, a steady hissing sound began above him.  He looked up and saw several nozzles sticking out of the walls near the ceiling, each one spitting out thick green gas.  With an incredulous frown, he followed the other prisoners into the arena and the doors closed behind them. 

***

Brackett glanced around at the arena. “We’ve got to protect the Professor, and find a way out of here!”  He scanned the arena and swore when he realized that the air vents were twenty feet high on the steep perimeter wall, an impossible climb for any mere human.  “Well that won’t work!”

Jol’bur stood and addressed the prisoners, his voice booming from speakers scattered throughout the arena.  “Those of you who survive this challenge will be one step closer to your freedom!”   He made a grandiose gesture towards the seated figure in the armor.  “You have the word of my P’Trohg, the Wor-osh of Oublaat, that those who conquer their rivals will be rewarded!  But only the strong shall survive, and you must first prove your strength!  This battle shall continue until six of you have fallen.  Commence!”

A throaty roar erupted on the far side of the arena from somewhere behind the free-standing barriers. It was immediately followed with a scream of pain, and a chorus of other screams ranging from battle-cry to fear.

Brackett took off towards the sounds of the fight.  He rounded the partitions and found a group of insectoids being attacked by a humanoid creature that stood seven feet tall with elongated facial features, thick fangs that protruded from his lower jaw, and a single squat horn that sprouted from the top of his head.  In its hand, it grasped a length of pipe, an insectoid cowering on the floor below it, one leg sporting an extra, unnatural joint where the exoskeleton had shattered.

“Galactic Patrol!” Brackett barked out of habit, “Stop this, now!”

The brawny humanoid growled at Brackett as he raised his bludgeon high. “Quiet down, runt!  I’m gettin’ off this moon alive!”

The alien brute towered over Brackett, his length of pipe pulled back.  A blue-and-white blur came out of nowhere and latched on to the arm with the weapon. 

For a fraction of a moment, Brackett gaped, then, as the event registered in his mind, he sprang into action.  He launched himself at the alien, tackling its legs, and dumping all three of them to the floor.  They writhed and wrestled until Brackett managed to seize the length of pipe, wrenching it away, but he had no time to celebrate the achievement before a meaty fist struck him with enough force to send him sliding across the floor.

Brackett scrambled to his feet and charged. 

With a savage thrust of the brute’s boot, the other Patrol officer was knocked away and without missing a beat, the alien swung a fist, knocking the pipe from Brackett’s hand.  His antagonist grabbed him and threw him aside like a rag doll.

Brackett flew through the air to collide with his fellow officer, sprawling them both across the floor. 

“Nice shot, Brad!” Ginsberg huffed.

“Sorry,” Brackett returned as he climbed back to his feet. “This guy’s tough!”

“Yeah,” Ginsberg agreed. “He’s a Marquadian. They’re all tough!  But he’ll be easy enough to take down if we can get him in a choke-hold.”

Brackett looked across the arena at the alien through narrowed eyes. “All right, divide and conquer.”

They turned back to the brutish alien and separated, walking around him in a wide circle until the Marquadian stood between them.  Without warning, Brackett started forward.  The alien swung a thick fist, and he ducked beneath it. 

Ginsberg charged in as soon as the thug’s back was turned, but the Marquadian was too quick. He spun around and lashed out, knocking the patrolman sprawling once again. 

It was all the time Brackett needed.  Even as Ginsberg took the hit, Brackett jumped onto the alien’s back and wrapped one arm around its neck.  The Marquadian flailed about in a panic, gasping desperately for air.  Brackett held on tightly as it began to turn blue and fell to its knees.

As the Marquadian fell to all fours, Brackett released it and landed on his feet. The brute frowned up at the patrolman with a furious gaze, sputtering and choking as the color returned to his features. “You nearly killed me!”  He croaked, then gasped a few more times before asking, “Why didn’t you?”

Brackett frowned back incredulously.  “I don’t want to kill you!” He turned to the group of other prisoners that had gathered around to watch them fight.  “We are citizens of the Allied Worlds. We don’t play by Nilboggi rules!”  He looked over the throng of prisoners, almost daring them to disagree. 

A murmur of consent swept through the prisoners.  One insectoid alien looked down at the length of pipe which he had picked up.  Slowly, he dropped it onto the floor and backed away.

Brackett nodded with satisfaction, then turned towards balcony of the Nilbog chief.  In a loud, clear voice he called up to them:  “We will not fight one another for your entertainment, do you hear?  We will not fight!”

Jol’bur trembled with rage as he jumped to his feet.  “If you will not fight against one another,” he shouted, “then you will fight against my gladiators!” He turned to a nearby underling and bellowed, “Send in the Sen’oggi!”

At Jol’bur’s command, a pair of doors beneath the platform creaked ominously open.  Brackett and the rest of the prisoners waited with baited breath as the sound of footsteps grew louder from the yawning portal. 

As six Nilbogs, each one carrying a metal staff and naked from the waist up except for a heavy pair of gauntlets and a metal collar around their necks, marched into the arena with military precision, the prisoners backed away from them. The Sen’oggi stopped as one, and turned on their heels.  They looked up to the Nilboggi officials, and raised their hands in salute.  Gom’jol, the Wor-osh, raised one armored hand in acknowledgement.

Jol’bur sneered down into the arena. “Now you will fight for us, or you will die!  Sen’oggi!  Slay!”

The six Sen’oggi tapped their rods against the floor. Each staff belched forth energy in the shape of an axe-blade.  The warriors each turned in a different direction, and began their ominous advance on the prisoners.

“Brad, it was a beautiful speech,” Ginsberg muttered under his breath, “but suddenly, I think it was a bad idea to give it!”

Brackett clapped his partner on the shoulder.  “Come on, Ginsberg!  You, me, and Sorenson are the only Patrol officers here!  It’s up to us to protect these citizens!  They’re unarmed!”

Ginsberg frowned back at him.  “So are we!”

Ignoring Ginsberg, Brackett charged. 

The Nilbog gladiator paused then swung his laser axe, and Brackett ducked beneath it. He tackled the Sen’oggi warrior, and they both rolled across the floor. When they came to a stop, Brackett found himself lying atop the Sen’oggi.  He swung his fist, slamming the alien’s head against the rough metal of the floor and knocked the gladiator unconscious. 

“Brad, look out!” Ginsberg called.

Brackett jumped to his feet with the laser axe in his ready hands and faced a pair of charging gladiators. 

The Nilboggi advanced with their weapons trained on the patrolman as he backed up a few cautious steps.

“Aw come on, guys,” Brackett said, “I don’t want to die here today, and you don’t either, do ya?”

“It is an honor and a privilege to die for the Wor-osh,” one Sen’ogg snapped as he thrust his axe towards Brackett’s chest.

Brackett jumped back and swung his own axe wildly. As he knocked the invading weapon aside, he spied a third Nilbog gladiator coming towards him and backed further away, deftly dodging the laser axes.  He stopped moving when he backed against one of the wall partitions that littered the arena. 

Three Nilboggi laser axes pointed at him. 

The patrolman gulped.  “So that’s the Nilbog way, huh?  I guess none of you could handle a fair fight.  Not you, or you, or you,” he said as he gestured to each one in turn.  “Not even your precious Wor-osh.  After all, you guys are only down here risking your lives because he’s too cowardly to do his own dirty work, right?”

The three Sen’oggi gasped.  One rasped, “What was that?”

“I said if your Wor-osh wasn’t such a coward, he’d come down here and fight himself!” Brackett shouted. A murmur rippled through the audience of Nilbogs above.

Jol’bur glared down at the cornered patrolman.  “You filthy you-man!” he cried.  “You dare to speak so about…”  He was silenced when the Wor-osh beside him grabbed him by the shoulder.

Gom’jol stood, his synthesized voice booming throughout the vast chamber.  “That sounded like a challenge to me. And I accept!”

To Be Continued...

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