“No,” Norr replied. “It doesn’t . . . Not right now. But perhaps later it will.”
The reading came to an end shortly after that, Norr went to lunch with Rebo, and a metal man followed the couple back to the guildhall.
The spaceport, or what hadbeen the spaceport, had been transformed into a huge crater some 4,216 years earlier, when an ark ship crashed there. Most of the ship’s hull had been salvaged and converted into tools, implements, and construction materials that were still being recycled and used. But a few pieces of riblike metal continued to curve up toward the sky and harkened back to days only dimly remembered. A sobering reminder of what could happen to those who traveled among the stars. But that didn’t stop thousands of runners, merchants, thieves, holy men, assassins, romantics, con artists, scholars, and lunatics of every possible description from gambling their lives each year. A fact made apparent by the long column of heavily burdened people who wound their way down out of the elevated city of Tryst to follow a narrow footpath out toward the crater. Of course, some of the people were spectators, children in tow, who would return to their homes by nightfall. But those who wore packs, or carried bundles between them, were intent on boarding the shuttle if it landed. Those who were veteran travelers, individuals like Rebo, Norr, and Hoggles, carried just what they needed, while neophytes had a tendency to neglect essentials like fuel, food, and medicine in favor of frivolous items like folding furniture, elaborate shelters, and fancy clothing—much of which would either be stolen by their fellow passengers, converted into fuel to ward off the cold, or abandoned as impractical. For his part Rebo felt pretty good about the provisions the three of them carried, especially the locally made fuel tablets, packets of dried food, and the hand-loaded ammunition acquired the day before. And, adding to the runner’s sense of well-being was the powerful talisman that he had purchased to supplement the much-stressed amulet that had seen him through the last few months. Norr believed such things were silly, not to mention superstitious, but Rebo knew better. He was alive, wasn’t he? Even though plenty of people wanted him dead. That spoke for itself. The runner’s thoughts were interrupted by a sound similar to rolling thunder as a wedge-shaped shuttle broke the sound barrier and circled high above. There was a shout of jubilation as spectators and travelers alike paused to celebrate the ship’s return. They couldn’t see Shewhoswims, of course, since the vessel was far too large to negotiate a planetary atmosphere, but the sight of the shuttle was wondrous enough, especially for those who had never seen a fl?ying machine before. And there were at least a thousand pilgrims, many of whom had walked hundreds of miles in hopes of bearing witness to a landing and thereby confi? rming what some people said. Out beyond the darkness lay other planets, populated by humans just like them, all having a common ancestry. The visitors were understandably excited as the fantastic apparition lost altitude and prepared to land. Horns sounded, drums rattled, and bells tolled as the long, colorful procession followed the seldom-used path down into the crater and the mound of hard-packed earth that dominated the center of it. For it was there, on what amounted to a huge pedestal, that the space black shuttle would put down.
Even though her central processing unit remained in orbit, Shewhoswims could “see” via the shuttle’s sensors and felt a deep sense of regret as she looked down on what amounted to a grave. Not for one of her brother-sister ships, because the wreckage predated them, but for a lesser vessel that had succumbed to mechanical failure, human error, or entropy.
“So,” Norr said, as the shuttle settled onto its skids, “do you think he’ll board the ship with us?”
There was no need for the runner to ask who the sensitive was referring to, since the unseen combat variant had been on all of their minds since the break-in and Lysander’s visitation. In fact, though he wouldn’t have been willing to admit it, Rebo had spent a good deal of time looking over his shoulder during the last couple of days. “It beats me,”
the runner replied. “But I doubt it. . . . Logos claims that the local star gate is buried deep underground. But there must be a way to access it, or this Shaz character would be on the incoming shuttle. That would suggest that he’s on Derius by now . . . waiting for us to complete the trip the hard way.”
But the Techno Society operative wasn’t on Derius. Not yet and wouldn’t be for weeks. First he had to ensure that the troublesome trio actually boarded the shuttle, then he was scheduled to return to Anafa, where Chairman Tepho was waiting for a report. Then and only then would the variant make the jump to Derius. The brass telescope had been rented from one of the many vendors who had positioned themselves along the crater’s rim and allowed Shaz to monitor their progress from a safe distance as the threesome left the bottom of the depression and wound their way up onto the landing pad. Boarding had yet to begin, and wouldn’t, until such time as Shewhoswims sent the necessary signal. That left the wouldbe passengers to mill around the recently arrived ship and jockey for position.
Those who had never been aboard a spaceship before were pushing and shoving, hoping to be among the fi?rst to enter the vessel, while veterans like Rebo, Norr, and Hoggles were careful to hang back, secure in the knowledge that the last people to board the shuttle would be among the fi?rst to exit, thereby positioning themselves for the subsequent race into the main hold. And it was then, while they were waiting to enter the ship, that Hoggles tapped Rebo on the shoulder. “Jak . . . See the man with the beard? He looks familiar somehow.”
Rebo eyed the man in question and frowned. “Yeah, he does look familiar. . . . But I can’t place him. Lonni, how
’bout you?”
The sensitive looked, then looked again. “Uh-oh,” she said ominously. “I think we’re in trouble.”
“In trouble?” the runner inquired mildly. “Why?”
“That isn’t a man, or maybe it is, but the last time I saw him he was dressed as a woman and was throwing hatchets at the local prefect!”
Rebo took another look, realized that Norr was correct, and scanned the faces around the person in question. It was hard to tell, since the circus performers had been wearing heavy makeup the last time he’d seen them, but the runner thought he recognized an acrobat, a clown, and the strongman that Logos had zapped. It was then, as the ramp began to deploy, that the travelers came to understand the full extent of their misfortune. Not only were they about to risk their lives on an extremely uncertain journey—they were going to be locked inside a durasteel hull with the full cast of the Circus Solara!
And, as if to underscore that fact, a man with a horribly scarred face lurched out of the crowd. He had tiny little eyes and green teeth that went on full display as he smiled at Norr. “Remember me?” the beast master demanded. “No?
Well I remember you. It’s a long way to Derius, sweetheart—
and your friends will have to sleep sometime. But don’t worry, my friends and I know how to treat a lady, especially one who looks like you do!”
That elicited a series of guffaws from the beast master’s cronies, some of whom bore obvious injuries acquired during the melee in the arena and were eager for revenge. And they might have moved in on the threesome right then had it not been for Hoggles. The heavy unlimbered his ragwrapped war hammer and took a giant step forward. That sent the troupe scuttling, if only for the moment, and Norr uttered a sigh. “Maybe we should wait for the next
