Chapter 2

Bixby felt less than heroic.

He had always been sure that something extraordinary would happen to him one day,

and he had been equally certain that when that day came he would rise to the challenge

and face danger with a strong chin and a cocky grin.

Now that it was happening, he wasn't quite as sure of himself,

and he was dead certain that no one would raise a statue of him as he was right now,

huddled in a ball, his knees pulled in tight to his chest,

in a dingy crawl space on an alien spacecraft.

He had raced up the gangplank and injured the ship, just moments ahead of the crew,

and had immediately begun looking for somewhere to hide.

Every chamber he discovered looked far too essential to the ship's operations,

although, thank goodness he discovered no more crew members.

It seemed like this was a two-man operation, or two, whatever they were. He still hadn't

seen them with their helmets off, and he didn't really want to. Finally, near the back of the ship

he had found what appeared to be a storeroom or cargo hold, and then discovered a loose grill on a

ventilation shaft and crawled in as quickly and quietly as he could.

At first he was afraid that every sound he made would carry through the entire ship.

But when the engines had started up, the low drone they made was like a wash of white noise that provided perfect cover.

Twenty feet along the shaft, it had widened out into a small chamber with cables snaking

through from every direction, and there he had stayed. That was six hours ago, and he had no

idea what was supposed to happen next. He assumed that a hero would have a clear vision of the

...