want is something to eat. . . . The gate can wait until tomorrow.”
“No,” the AI countered emphatically, “it can’t. We should scout it tonight—and use it tomorrow. Or would you like to walk the thousand-plus miles to the city of Feda instead?”
“All right, all right,” the runner grumbled. “Point us in the right direction and shut whatever it is that you talk through.”
Logos gave the humans some basic directions and let the biologicals fi?nd their way across the pit to a bank of ladders that carried them up to the appropriate bench. Once there, the threesome soon discovered that, unlike any other planet they had been on, the Techno Society’s local headquarters constituted a very popular destination. Not because the local population supported the organization’s goals—but because they opposed them. So much so that hundreds of people turned out each evening to parade back and forth in front of the much-abused building, hurl rocks at it, and shout antitechnic slogans. Such activities were tolerated it seemed—
so long as the crowd didn’t venture too close. Having been absorbed by the angry crowd, the offworlders found themselves pushed about like chips of wood on an angry sea. It was diffi?cult to hold a conversation due to the chaotic nature of the situation—but Norr managed a brief interchange with a friendly antitechnic priest. “Hi there!” she said, as the two of them bumped shoulders and were pushed along. “My friends and I just arrived. . . . Is it always like this?”
“No,” the young man replied. “No one comes here in the mornings. . . . The faithful have to work. We gather at night, to rebuke the techno devils and prevent them from polluting the minds of our children.”
“What about the authorities?” the sensitive wanted to know. “How do they feel about the confl?ict?”
“The evil ones bought them off!” the priest responded angrily. “Metal men guard the palace . . . Need I say more?”
The sensitive wanted to ask more questions, but a group of rock throwers turned toward the building at that point, and the priest accompanied them. There was a loud rattling noise as dozens of missiles struck the Techno Society’s facade followed by a ragged clatter as the rocks fell to the ground.
Shaz, who had been watching the mob for some time by then, steadied the telescope against the wooden window frame. The operative didn’t even fl?inch as a stone fl?ew through the same opening and hit the wall behind him.
“There they are,” the combat variant commented, before handing the brass tube across to Phan. “Just to the left of the burning effi?gy.”
Some of the antitechnics bore a replica of a metal man fashioned from straw. They lit the fi?gure on fi?re and held it aloft on poles. Thanks to the additional light that the fl?aming fi?gure produced, the assassin could see all three of the people she’d been hired to deal with. “You were correct,”
Phan commented, as she lowered the scope. “They came to look. . . . When will they attack?”
“Tomorrow,” Shaz predicted calmly. “In the morning.”
“We’ll be ready,” the assassin said confi?dently.
“Yes,” the combat variant agreed. “We certainly will.”
A storm front had moved in over New Wimmura during the hours of darkness, bringing precipitation with it. The rain announced itself by drumming on the steel over Rebo’s head until the runner groaned and rolled out of the narrow bed. There were no windows, which made it necessary to light a candle in order to see, and that brought Hoggles up off the fl?oor, where he’d been forced to sleep. There were very few beds that could accommodate his enormous frame, and the one on the opposite side of claustrophobic room wasn’t one of them. Once both men were up and packed, they emerged to fi?nd that Norr was waiting for them. “I couldn’t sleep,” the sensitive explained. “Not with all of that noise.”
What Norr didn’t say was that earlier, before the rain began to fall, she had experienced a bad dream. Nothing specifi?c, not that she could remember at any rate, but the kind of nightmare that continued to resonate after she awoke. But, without anything specifi?c to share, the sensitive chose to remain silent. Assuming that the raid on Techno Society headquarters was successful, the travelers would be on another planet within a matter of hours, so they paid for their rooms, sought some advice regarding the local eateries, and made their way down the water- slicked ramp to the badly churned muck below. The plateaulike benches were paved, thanks to the efforts of the local store owners, but the bottom of the pit was a morass of mud and hand-dug drainage channels that were fi? lled to overfl?owing with sluggish brown water. There were planks, however, that the already damp threesome followed to a bank of mud-smeared ladders, which they had no choice but to climb if they wanted to access the ledge above. It was hard work hauling both themselves and their packs up the nearly vertical incline to the point where a small army of rain-drenched street urchins waited to greet them. “Hey mister!” one of them shouted. “You can wash your hands in my bucket!” “Over here,” another insisted,
“I’ll scrape the mud off your boots!” “Ignore them,” a third youngster counseled, “I have an umbrella . . . Where would you like to go?”
Five minutes later, having been serviced by at least half of the eager children, the travelers made their way into a local restaurant, where Hoggles ordered an enormous meal and complained about what he maintained were minuscule portions.
Then, with breakfast out of the way, it was time to climb up to the next bench. Once there, it was a short walk to Techno Society headquarters. True to the prediction put forward by the young priest the night before, the crowd that previously controlled the area had disappeared, leaving nothing more than hundreds of scattered stones and the charred remains of the previous evening’s effi?gy to mark their nocturnal protest. “Okay,” Rebo said as he pulled Logos on over his jacket. “You know the drill . . . We go in fast, locate the decontamination chamber, and lock ourselves inside. The techies will attempt to shut the gate down, but Logos will override the controls, and we’ll make the jump. Questions? No? Then follow me.”
A short fl?ight of stairs led up to a brand-new door. It opened to reveal a large space that still showed signs of the black powder explosion that had gone off in the room weeks before. A brace of cudgel-wielding metal men moved forward to greet the visitors. Having already drawn the Crosser, Rebo was ready for them. “Good morning!” the runner said cheerfully, as he shot the fi?rst android between the eyes. Fast though its electronic brain was, the second robot was still processing the other unit’s unexpected demise when a second slug drilled a hole through its alloy skull. The android fell in a heap.
Having seized the initiative, Rebo knew it was important to maintain it as he went up the steps two at a time. Hoggles had entered by that time—and the entire staircase shook under his considerable weight. “Down!” Rebo shouted, as a male functionary appeared above him. “Get down or die!”
