Knocking over those crates of beer was a death
sentence. I did it on purpose, in front of everyone, and then I did the only
thing I could—I ran. I think I saved the starman. Now, the only way I’ll know,
is if the supply ship comes in time to drive the raiders away—and I get back
out of Blacklegs’ Forest alive. Wish me luck, okay? I’m gonna need it.
