There was no way to know.
Then, even as the outlaw watched, the man with the guns brought one of them up and pointed it at the camera. There was a smile on his face, as if he knew that the outlaw was watching, and wanted him to see it coming. Mog said,
“No!” the screen went black, and the cannibals were blind.
“Okay,” Rebo said, as he returned the Hogger to the crossdraw holster. “That ought to mess with their minds. . . . Assuming they have minds. Give me a time check.”
“Twenty seconds,” Logos said authoritatively. His voice seemed to originate from Norr but actually issued forth from the tattered coat that she wore.
“Light the fuse,” the runner ordered, “and hand the bomb to me.”
Norr held the canteen up to the torch that Hoggles was carrying, saw the oil-soaked rag catch fi?re, and passed the weighty container to Rebo. “All right,” the runner said grimly. “Get ready . . . And remember . . . We need to close with them fast. If they get a chance to fi?re those automatic weapons, we’ll be in deep trouble.”
The others nodded and took up positions to either side of the hatch. Logos provided the countdown. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, fi?ve . . .”
Suddenly, without warning, the red light mounted over the keypad fl?ashed green. The hatch was unlocked! There wasn’t time to ask Logos how such a thing could happen. All Rebo could do was pull the door open, lob the fuel bomb through the opening, and hope for the best. Thanks to Mog’s premonition, as well as the attack on the camera, both he and Ruk were armed and waiting when the assault began. But neither bandit was prepared for the previously impregnable hatch to swing open—quickly followed by an explosion of fl?ames as the earthenware canteen shattered, and highly fl?ammable oil sprayed in every direction. Some of the burning fl?uid splattered Ruk’s chest. That forced the outlaw to drop his machine pistol, slap at the fl?ames with his bare hands, and swear monotonously. Then, just as Mog triggered his weapon, the ship’s fi?re suppression system came on. Because even though Shewhoswims allowed small fi?res in the main hold, that was the only place where such activities were tolerated lest critical systems be damaged. Distracted by the fl?ames, plus the sudden onslaught of white foam, Mog’s bullets hit the overhead and whined away. That gave Rebo the opportunity he required. The Crosser barked three times, and while the outlaw was forced to take three steps backward as the slugs hammered his chest, Mog was still on his feet when Hoggles brought the war hammer down on the top of his skull. There was a thud, followed by a soft sigh, and a thump as the cannibal hit the foam-covered deck.
That left Ruk. No longer on fi?re, but unable to locate his machine pistol under the surrounding foam, he produced an eight-inch knife. And, since Norr was the closest opponent, she was the one he chose to attack.
The sensitive saw the movement, heard Logos shout,
“Run!” into her left ear, and parried the blade with her staff. There was a loud clack as the weapons made contact, followed by a grunt as the distal end of the stick sank into the outlaw’s belly, and a solid thwack as Norr struck Ruk’s temple. His eyes rolled back in his skull, and he was already falling when Rebo shot him.
“That wasn’t necessary,” the sensitive complained, as the outlaw’s life force drained out of his body.
“True,” the runner agreed matter-of-factly. “But it sure as hell felt good.”
The next voice to be heard belonged to Shewhoswims, or the AI’s voice synthesizer, which amounted to the same thing. “You have sixty seconds in which to evacuate the Security Control Center,” the ship announced. “Subsequent to that, the hatch will be sealed, the atmosphere will be pumped out of the compartment, and the external keypad will be permanently disabled.”
“She’s afraid that you will use the Control Center the same way the cannibals did,” Logos advised. “Let’s get out of here.”
Later, Rebo would wonder why he hadn’t taken the moment necessary to retrieve one of the automatic weapons that lay on the deck, but that was later, after the hatch had been sealed tight. They were still in the corridor, making their way back toward the hold, when Logos spoke. “The foam destroyed three percent of my photo receptors,” the AI complained to no one in particular. “I hope you’re satisfi?ed.”
“Yes,” Rebo responded wearily. “I think we are.”
FIVE
Old Wimmura, on the Planet Derius
By recognizing the assassin’s guild as a legitimate organizationhaving the same legal standing as the metalworker’s guild, orthe runner’s guild, Emperor Hios was able to take what hadpreviously been a criminal enterprise and convert it into some-thing positive. Because so long as the assassins worked for thegovernment, pursuing law breakers in return for bounties, theywere a force for good.
—Heva Manos, advisor to Emperor Hios,
in his biography, A Web of Stars
The angen snorted as it topped the hill, sent twin columns of lung-warmed air out through its fl?ared nostrils, and tossed its head when Shaz hauled back on the reins. Even though more than a thousand years had elapsed since Wimmura had been nuked, the burned-out ruins were much as they had been immediately after the massive explosion, except for the thin layer of vegetation that covered the city like a greenish gray scab. No one went there, no one in their right mind, that is, since everyone knew that the soil had been poisoned, the water was tainted, and evil spirits roamed the rubble-fi?lled streets at night. And Shaz couldn’t blame them, because as he looked out on the ruins, it felt as though the once-proud city was brooding over the disaster that had befallen it so many years before. And given the fact that the nuke had been transported through space using a star gate, there was little wonder as to why the local population remained fearful of technology. Interestingly enough it had been Milos Lysander in his incarnation as Emperor Hios, and Jevan Kane, in his role as Hios’s son, who nuked cities such as Wimmura in a last-ditch attempt to remain in power. Now, these many centuries later, the father worked to make amends, while the son sought to regain what he continued to see as his birthright.
Shaz found the whole thing to be amusing—and smiled thinly as he gazed down on the ruins. Many weeks had passed since the attack on Techno Society headquarters, and, assuming that the great starship had completed its journey from Thara, the shuttle would arrive soon. And then, as if in response to the combat variant’s thoughts, a white contrail marked the sky, artifi?cial thunder rolled across the land, and the past was brought back to life.
The shuttle was crowded, very crowded, and some of the passengers were spacesick. But given what they had managed to survive, and the prospect of putting down safely, most were in an excellent mood. Except for Jak Rebo, that is, and the source of his unhappiness was plain to see. The travelers had no reason to believe that Techno Society operatives would be waiting for them on the ground, but they knew it was possible, especially given the fact that Kane was in league with the technologists. That was why Rebo had suggested that both he and his companions wear disguises. What the runner failed to anticipate, however, was that Norr would turn to the Circus Solara for help. And that was how he wound up dressed as a clown. And not just any clown, but a particularly absurd creature with a head of curly blue hair, white cheeks, and a bulbous nose. His loose-fi?tting gown was white with red polka dots and came with fl?oppy shoes that he categorically refused to wear. The outfi?t smelled musty, made Rebo want to scratch, and was the subject of crude jokes by other passengers. It was an affront to the runner’s dignity and something that had begun to wear on him.
There was no way to conceal the fact that Hoggles was a heavy, but by placing a leather hood over the giant’s head and dressing the variant to look like a strongman, Norr hoped to disguise his identity if not his genotype. By chance, or by design, the sensitive’s outfi?t was a good deal more becoming than those worn by her companions. It consisted of a feathery headdress, a lime green skin-suit, and slippers. And so it was that after the shuttle put down, and the ramp hit the ground, the crowd that had assembled to witness the ultimate manifestation of evil, was confronted by a completely unexpected sight as thirty-plus fully costumed members of the Circus Solara marched off the ship and onto the surface of Derius.